m ' .i,: LIBRARY THE UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA SANTA BARBARA PRESENTED BY MRS. ERIC SCHMIDT Wi (Jlijitipttr^ ®yig$s \*< ^^ M 7 . "^ •.''''^ '_ ' :" I»SFIE ^kS'^ '0 \F ^ IBW^WA^o..^^^ ■^ rT. BAM.T ■0' X LIFE OF NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. ^Vmi A rRELBIIXARY VIEW OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. BY SIR WALTER SCOTT, Bart. EDINBURGH: ADA^J AND CHARLES BLACK, NORTH BRIDGE. MDCCCLV, POINTED AT THE UNIVEESITY PRUS3, THISTLB 8TRKET, BDINBDRGIl CONTENTS. PAGE Advertisement TO THE First Edition, 1 Advertisement to Edition 183i, ib- VIEW OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTION. Chap. I. — Review of the State of Europe after the Peace of Versailles -England — France — Spain-^ Prussia — Imprudent Innovations of the Emperor Joseph — Disturbances in his Dominions — Russia — France — her ancient System of Monarchy — how Organised^ — Causes of its Decay — Decay of the Nobi- lity as a Body — The new Nobles — The Country Nobles — The Nobles of the highest Order— The Church — The higher Orders of the Clergy — The lower Orders — The Commons — Their increase in Power and Importance — Their Claims opposed to those of the Privileged Classes, 3 CliAP. II. — State of France continued — State of Public Opinion — Men of Letters encouraged by the Great— Disadvantages attending this Patronage — Licentious tendency of the French Literature — Their Irreligious and Infidel Opinions — Free Opinions on Politics permitted to be expressed in an abstract and speculative, but not in a practical Form — Disadvantages arising from the Suppression of Free Discussion — Anglomania— Share of France in the American War — Disposition of the Troops who returned from America, 12 Chap. III. — Proximate Cause of the Revolution — Deranged State of the Finances — Refomis in the Royal Household — System of Turgot and Necker — Necker's Exposition of the State of the Public Revenue — The Red-Book — Necker displaced — Succeeded by Calonne — General State of the Revenue • — Assembly of the Notables — Calonne dismissed — Archbishop of Sens Administrator of the Finances — The King's Contest with the Parliament — Bed of Justice — Resistance of the Parliament and gene- ral Disorder in the Kingdom — Vacillating Policy of the Minister — Royal Sitting — Scheme of forming a Cour Pleniere — It proves inefJ'cctual — Archbishop of Sens retires, and is succeeded by Necker — He resolves to canvoke the States General — Second Assembly of Notables previous to Convocation of the States — Questions as to the Numbers of which the Tiers Etat should consist, and the Mode in which the Estates should deliberate, 20 Chap. IV. — Meeting of the States General — Predominant Influence of the Tiers Etat — Property not represented sufficiently in that Body — General character of the Members' — Disposition of the Estate of the Nobles — and of the Clergy — Plan of forming the Three Estates into two Houses — Its advan- tages — It fails — The Clergy unite with the Tiers Etat, which assumes the title of the National Assem- bly — They assume the task of Legislation, and declare all former Fiscal Regulations illegal— They assert their determination to continue their Sessions — Royal Sitting — Terminates in the Triumph of the Assembly— Parties in that Body — Mounier — Constitutionalists — Republicans — Jacobins — Or- leans, 128 Chap. V. — Plan of the Democrats to bring the King and Assembly to Paris — Banquet of the Garde du Corps — Riot at Paris — A formidable Mob of Women assemble to march to Versailles — The National Guard refuse to act against the Insurgents, and demand also to be led to Versailles — The Female Mob arrive — Their behaviour to the Assembly — to the King — Alarming Disorders at Night— La Fayette arrives with the National Guard — Mob force the Palace — Murder the Body Guards — The Queen's safety endangered — Fayette's arrival with his Force restores Order — Royal Family obliged to go to reside at Paris — The Procession — This Step agreeable to the Views of the Constitutionalists, Republi- cans, and Anarchists — Duke of Orleans sent to England, 43 Chap. VI. — La Fayette resolves to enforce order — A Baker is murdered by the Rabble — One of his Murderers executed — Decree imposing Martial Law — Introduction of the Doctrines of Equality — They are, in their exaggerated sense, inconsistent with Human Nature and the progress of Society — The Assembly abolish titles of Nobihty, Armorial bearings, and phrases of Courtesy — Reasoning on these Innovations — Disorder of Finance — Necker becomes unpopular — Seizure of Church Lands — Issue of Assignats — Necker leaves France in unpopularity — New Religious Institution — Oath imposed on the Clergy — Resisted by the greater part of the Order — General view of the Operations of the Con- stituent Assembly — Enthusiasm of the People for their new Privileges — Limited Privileges of the Crown — King is obliged to dissemble — His Negotiations with Mirabeau — with Bouille — Attack on the Palace — Prevented by Fayette — Royalists expelled from the Tuileries — Escape of Louis — He is , captured at Varennes — Brought back to Paris — Riot in the Champ de Mars — Louis accepts the Constitution, 48 Chap. VII. — Legislative Assembly — Its Composition — Constitutionalists — Girondists or Brissctins — Jacobins — Views and Sentiments of Foreign Nations— England — Views of the Tories and A\'higs — Anacharsis Clootz — Austria — Prussia — Russia — Sweden — Emigration of the French Princes and Clergy — Increasing Unpopularity of Louis from this Cause — Death of the Emperor Leopold, and its Effects- -France declares War — Views and interests of the difl'erent Parties in France at this Period iv CONTENTS. ■ — Decree against Monsieur — Louis interposes his Veto — Decree against the Priests who should refuse the ConstitutiiMial Oath — Louis again interposes his Veto — Consequences of these Refusals — Fall of De Lessart — Ministers now chosen from the Brissotins — all Parties favourable to War, . . 59 Chap. VIIL — Defeats of the French on the Frontier — Decay of Constitutionalists — They form the Club of Feuillans, and are dispersed by the Jacobins — The Ministry — Dumouriez — Breach of confidence betwixt the King and his Ministers — Dissolution of the King's Constitutional Guard — Extravagant measures of the Jacobins — Alarms of the Girondists — Departmental Army proposed — King puts his Veto on the decree, against Dumouriez's representations — Decree against the recusant Priests — King refuses it — Letter of the Ministers to the King — He dismisses Roland, Claviere, and Servan — Dumou- riez. Duranton, and Lacoste, appointed in their stead — King ratifies the decree concerning the Depart- mental Army — Dumouriez resigns, and departs for the Frontiers — New Ministers named from the Constitutionalists — Insurrection of 20th June- -Armed Mob intrude into the Assembly — Thence into the Tuileries — La Fayette repairs to Paris — Remonstrates in favour of the King — But is compelled to return to the Frontiers — Marseillois appear in Paris — Duke of Brunswick's manifesto, ... 70 Chap. IX. — The Day of the Tenth of August — Tocsin sounded early in the Morning — Swiss Guards, and relics of the Royal Party, repair to the Tuileries — Mandat assassinated — Dejection of Louis, and energy of the Queen — King's Ministers appear at the Bar of the Assembly, stating the peril of the Royal Family, and requesting a Deputation might be sent to the Palace — Assembly pass to the Order of the Day — Louis and his Family repair to the Assembly — Conflict at the Tuileries — Swiss ordered to repair to the King's Person — and are many of them shot and dispersed on their way to the Assembly — At the close of (he Day almost all of them are Massacred — Royal Family spend the Night in the Convent of the Feuillans, 79 Chap. X. — La Fayette compelled to Escape from France — Is made Prisoner by the Prussians, with three Companions — Reflections — The Triumvirate, Danton, Robespierre, and Marat — Revolutionary Tribunal appointed — -Stupor of the Legislative Assembly — Longwy, Stenay, and Verdun, taken by the Prussians •^Mob of Paris enraged — Great Massacre of Prisoners in Paris, commencing on the 2d, and ending 6th September — Apathy of the Assembly during and after these Events — Review of its Causes, . 83 Chap. XL — Election of Representatives for the National Convention — Jacobins are very active — Right hand Party — Left hand side — Neutral Members — The Girondists are in possession of the ostensible Power — They denounce the Jacobin Chiefs, but in an irregular and feeble manner — Marat, Robespierre, and Danton, supported by the Commune and Populace of Paris — France declared a Republic — Duke of Brunswick's Campaign — Neglects the French Emigrants — Is tardy in his Operations — Occupies the poorest part of Champagne — His Army becomes sickly — Prospects of a Battle — Dumouriez's Army recruited with Carmagnoles — The Duke resolves to Retreat — Thoughts on the consequences of that measure — The Retreat disastrous — The Emigrants disbanded in a great measure — Reflections on their Fate — The Prince of Conde's Army, 91 Chap. XII. — Jacobins determine upon the Execution of Louis — Progress and Reasons of the King's Un- popularity — Girondists taken by surprise, by a proposal for the Abolition of Royalty made by the Ja- cobins — Proposal carried — Thoughts on the New System of Government — Compared with that of Rome, Gr.sece, America, and other Republican States — Enthusiasm throughout France at the Change — Follies it gave birth to — and Crimes — Monuments of Art destroyed — Madame Roland interposes to save the Life cf the King — Barrere — Girondists move for a Departmental Legion — Carried — Revoked — and Girondists defeated — The Authority of the Community of Paris paramount even over the Con- vention — Documents of the Iron Chest — Parallel betwixt Charles I. and Louis XVI. — Motion by Pe- tion, that the King should be Tried before the Convention, J)5 Chap. XTIL— The Trial of Louis — Indecision of the Girondists, and its effects — The Royal Family in- sulted by the Agents of the Community — The King deprived of his Son's society — The King brought to Trial before the Convention — His first Examination — Carried back to Prison amidst Insult and Abuse — Tumult in the Assembly — The King deprived of Intercourse with his Family — Maleshcrbes appointed as Counsel to defend the King — and De Seze — Louis again brought before the Convention — Opening Speech of De Seze — King remanded to the Temple — Stormy Debate — Eloquent attack of Vergniaud on the Jacobins — Sentence of Death pronounced against the King — General Sympathy for his Fate ■ — Dumouriez arrives in Paris — Vainly tries to avert the King's Fate — Louis XVI. Beheaded on 21st January, 17P3 — Marie Antoinette on the 16th October thereafter — The Princess Elizabeth in May 1794 — The Dauphin perishes, by cruelty, June 8th, 1795 — The Princess Royal exchanged for La Fayette, 19th December, 1795, 108 Chap. XIV. — Dumouriez — His displeasure at the Treatment of the Flemish Provinces by the Conven- tion — His projects in consequence — Gains the ill-will of his Army — and is forced to fly to the Austrian Camp— Lives many years in retreat, and finally dies in England — Struggles betwixt the Girondists and Jacobins — Robespierre impeaches the Leaders of the Girondists-^and is denounced by them — Decree of Accusation against Marat — Commission of Twelve — Marat acquitted — Terror of the Girondists — Jacobins prepare to attack the Palais Royal, but are repulsed — Repair to the Convention, who recall the Commission of Twelve— Louvet and other Girondist Leaders fly from Paris — Convention go forth in procession to expostulate with the People — Forced back to their Hall, and compelled to Decree the Accusation of Thirty of their Body — Girondists finally ruined — and their principal Leaders perish — Close of their History, 117 Chap. XV.— Views of Parties in Britain relative to the Revolution— Affiliated Societies— Countei-poised by Aristocratic Associations— Aristocratic Party eager for War with France — The French proclaim the Navigation of the Scheldt — British Ambassador recalled from Paris, and French Envoy no longer accredited in London — France declares War against England — British Army sent to Holland, under the Duke of York— State of the Army — View of the Military Positions of France— in Flanders— on the Rhine — in Piedmont — Savoy — on the Pyrenees — State of the War in La Vendee — Description of the Country — Le Bocage — Le Louroux— Close Union betwixt the Nobles and Peasantry — Both CONTENTS. T Strongly attache J to Royalty, and abhorrent of the Revolution— The Priests — The Relipiion of the Vendeans outraged by the Convention — A general Insurrection takes place in 1793 — Military Organi- sation and Habits of the Vendeans — Division in the British Cabinet on the Mode of conducting the War — Pitt — Wyndhani — Reasoning upon the Subject — Vendeans defeated — They defeat, in their turn, the French Troops at Laval — But arc ultimately destroyed and dispersed — Unfortunate Expedition to Quiberon — La Charette defeated and executed, and the War of La Vendee finally terminated — Unsuc- cessful Resistance of Bourdeaux, Marseilles, and Lyons, to the Convention — Siege of Lyons — Its sur- render and dreadful Punishment — Siege of Toulon, 124 Chap. XVL — Views of the British Cabinet regarding the French Revolution — Extraordinary Situation of France — Explanation of the Anomaly which it exhibited — System of Terror — Committee of Public Safety— Of Public Security — David the" Painter — Law against suspected Persons— Revolutionary Tri- bunal — Effects of the Emigration of the Princes and Nobles — Causes of the Passiveness of the French People under the Tyranny of the Jacobins — Singular Address of the Committee of Public Safety — General Reflections, 139 Chap. XVII. — Marat, Danton, Robespierre — Marat poniarded — Danton and Robespierre become Rivals ^Commune of Paris— their gross Irreligion — Gobel — Goddess of Reason — Marriage reduced to a.Civil Contract — Views of Danton — and of Robespierre — Principal Leaders. of the Commune arrested — and Nineteen of them executed — Danton arrested by the Influence of Robespierre — and, along with Camille Desmoulins. Westermann, and La Croix, taken before the Revolutionary Tribunal, condemned, and executed — Decree issued, on the motion of Robespierre, acknowledging a Supreme Being — Ceeilee Regnault— Gradual Change in the Public Mind — Robespierre becomes unpopular — Makes every effort to retrieve his power— Stormy Debate in the Convention — Collot D'Merbois, 'I'allien, &c., expelled from the Jacobin Club at the instigation of Robespierre — Robespierre denounced in the Convention on the i)th Thermidor, {■27th Juiy, 1794,) and, after furious struggles, arrested, along with his brother, Cou- thon, and Saint Just — Henriot, Conmiandant of the National Guard, arrested — Terrorists take refuge in the Hotel de Ville — Attempt their own lives — Robespierre wounds himself— but lives, along with most of the others, long enough to be carried to the Guillotine, and executed — His character — Struggles that followed his Fate — Final Destruction of the Jacobinical System— and return oi Tran- quillity — Singular colour given to Society in Paris — Ball of the Victims, 14fi Chap. XVIIL— Retrospective View of the External Relations of France— Her great Military Successes — Whence they arose— Effect of the Compulsory Levies — Military Genius and Character of the French — French Generals — New Mode of Training the Troops — Light Troops — Successive Attacks in Column — Attachment of the Soldiers to the Revolution— Also of the Generals— Carnot— Effect of the French principles preached to the Countries invaded by their Arms— Close of the Revolution with the fall of Robespierre — Reflections upon what was to succeed, 1C4 LIFE OV NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. Chap. I.— Corsica — Family of Buonaparte— Napoleon horn 1.5th August, 1769 — His early habits — Sent to the Royal Military School at Brienne — His great Progress in Mathematical Science — Deficiency in Classical Literature — Anecdotes— Removed to the- General School of Paris — When in his Seventeenth Year, appointed Second Lieutenant of Artillery— His early Politics— Promoted to a Captaincy— Pascal Paoli— Napoleon sides with the French Government against Paoli— And is banished from Corsica- Visits Marseilles, and publishes the Souper de Beaucaire, 1^0 Chap. II.— Siege of Toulcn — Recapitulation— Buonaparte appointed to the Command of the Artillery at Toulon — Finds every thing in disorder — His plan for obtaining the Surrender of the Place — Adopted — Anecdotes during the Siege — Allied troops resolve to evacuate Toulon— Dreadful Particulars of the Evacuation — England censured on this occasion— Lord Lynedoch — Fame of Buonaparte increases, and he is appointed Chief of Battalion in the Army of Italy— Joins Headquarters at Nice— On the Fall of Robespierre, Buonaparte superseded in command — Arrives in Paris in May, 1795, to solicit eniploy- ment — He is unsuccessful — Retrospect of the Proceedings of the National Assembly— Difficulties in forming a new Constitution— Appointment of the Directory— of the Two Councils of Elders and of Five Hundred— Nation at large, and Paris in particular, di.sgusted with their pretensions— Paris as- sembles in Sections— General Danican appointed their Commander-in-Chief— Menou appointed by the Directory to disarm the National Guards— but suspended for incapacity — Buonaparte appointed m his room— The day of the Sections— Conflict betwixt the Troops of the Convention under Buonaparte, and those of the Sections of Paris under Danican— The latter defeated with much slaughter— Buonaparte appointed Second in Command of the Army of the Interior— then General-in-Chief— Marries Madame ^ _ Beauharnois — Her Character — Buonaparte immediately afterwards joins the Army of Italy, . . lib Chap. III. — The Alps— Feelings and Views of Buonaparte on being appointed to the Command of the Army of Italy— General Account of his new Principles of Warfare— Mountainous Countries peculiarly favourable to them — Retrospect of Military I'roceedings since October, 1795— Hostility of the French Government to the Pope— Massacre of the French Envoy Basseville, at Rome— Austrian Army under Beaulieu— Napoleon's Plan for entering Italy— Battle of Montenotte, and Buonaparte's first Victory— Again defeats the Austrians at Millesimo— and again under Colli— 'lakes possession of Cherasco — King_ of Sardinia requests an Armistice, which leads to a Peace, concluded on very severe Terms— Close of the Piedmontese Campaign — Napoleon's Character at this period, 189 Chap. IV. — Farther progress of the French Army under Buonaparte— lie crosses the Po, at Placcnza, on 7th May— Battle of Lodi takes place on the lOth, in which the French are victorious— Remarks on Napoleon's Tactics in this celebrated Action— French take possession of Cremona and Pizzighitone — Milan deserted by the Archduke Ferdinand and his Duchess— Buonaparte enters Milan on the 15ih vi CONTENTS. TAom May — General situation of the Italian States at this period — Napoleon inflicts Fines upon the neutral and unoffending States of Parma and Modena, and extorts the surrender of some of their finest Pictures — Remarks upon this novel procedure, 196 Chap. V. — Directory proposes to divide the Army of Italy betvvixt Buonaparte and Kellermann — Buona- parte resigns, and the Directory give up the point — Insurrection against the French at Pavia — crushed — and the Leaders shot — Also at the Imperial Fiefs, and Lugo, quelled and punished in the same way — Reflections — Avistrians defeated at Borghetto, and retreat behind the Adige — Buonaparte narrowly escapes being made Prisoner at Valleggio— Mantua blockaded — Verona occupied by the French — King of Naples secedes from Austria — Armistice purchased by the Pope — The Neutrality of Tuscany violated, and Leghorn occupied by the French Troops — Views of Buonaparte respecting the Revolu- tionizing of Italy — He temporizes — Conduct of the Austrian Government at this Crisis — Beaulieu dis- placed, and succeeded by Wurmser — Buonaparte sits down before Mantua, 206 Chap. VI. — Campaign on the Rhine — General Plan — Wartensleben and the Archduke Charles retire before Jourdan and Moreau — The Archduke forms a junction with Wartensleben, and defeats Jourdan, who retires — Moreau also makes his celebrated Retreat through the Black Forest — Buonaparte raises the Siege of Mantua, and defeats the Austrians at Salo and Lonato — Misbehaviour of the French General Valette, at Castiglione — Lonato taken, with the French Artillery, on 3d August — Retaken by Massena and Augereau — Singular escape of Buonaparte from being captured at Lonato — Wurmser defeated between Lonato and Castiglione, and retreats on Trent and Roveredo — Buonaparte resumes his position before Mantua — Effects of the French Victories on the different Italian States — Inflexibility of Austria — Wurmser recruited — Battle of Roveredo — French victorious, and Messena occupies Trent — Buonaparte defeats Wurmser at Primolano — and at Bassano, 8th September — Wurmser flies to Vicenza — Battle of Saint-George — Wurmser finally shut up within the walls of Mantua, . . 21. Chap. VII. — Corsica reunited with France— Critical situation of Buonaparte in Italy at this period — The Austrian General Alvinzi placed at the head of a new Amiy — Various Contests, attended with no de- cisive result — Want of Concert among the Austrian Generals — French Army begin to murmur — First Battle of Areola — Napoleon in personal danger — No decisive result — Second Battle of Areola — The French victorious — Fresh want of Concert among the Austrian Generals — General Views of Military and Political Affairs, after the conclusion of the fourth Italian Campaign — Austria commences a fifth Campaign — but has not profited by experience — Battle of Rivoli, and Victory of the French — Further cuccessful at La Favorita — French regain their lost ground in Italy — Surrender of Mantua — Instances of Napoleon's Generosity, , . 219 Chap. VIII. — Situation and Views of Buonaparte at this period — His politic Conduct towards the Italians — Popularity — Severe terms of Peace proposed to the Pope — rejected — Napoleon differs from the Directory, and negotiations are renewed — but again rejected — The Pope raises his Army to 40,000 men — Napoleon invades the Papal Territories — The Papal Troops defeated near Imola — and at Ancona — which is captured — Loretto taken — Clemency of Buonaparte to the French recusant Clergy — Peace of Tolentino — Napoleon's Letter to the Pope — San Marino — View of the Situation of the different Italian States — Rome — Naples — Tuscany — Venice, . 227 Chap. IX. — Archduke Charles — Compared with Napoleon — Fettered by the Aulic Council — Napoleon, by a stratagem, passes the Tagliamento, and compels the Archduke to retreat — Gradisca carried by storm — Chusa-Veneta taken — Trieste and Fiume occupied — Venice breaks the Neutrality — Terrified on learning that an Armistice had taken place betwixt France and Austria — The Archduke retreats by hasty marches on Vienna — The Government irresolute — and the Treaty of Leoben signed — Venice makes humiliating submissions — Napoleon's Speech to her Envoys — He declares War against Venice, and evades obeying the orders of the Directory to spare it — The Great Council, on 31st May, concede every thing to Buonaparte — Terms granted, 235 Chap. X. — Napoleon's Amatory Correspondence with Josephine — His Court at Montebello — Negotia- tions and Pleasure mingled there — Genoa — Revolutionary spirit of the Genoese — They rise in insurrec- tion, but are quelled by the Government, and the French plundered and imprisoned — Buonaparte interferes, and appoints the Outlines of a new Government — Sardinia — Naples — -The Cispadane, Trans- padane, and Emilian Republics, united under the name of the Cisalpine Republic — The Valteline — The Grisons — The Valteline united to Lombardy — Great improvement of Italy, and the Italian Cha- racter, from these changes — Difficulties in the way of Pacification betwixt France and Austria — The Directory and Napoleon take different Views — Treaty of Canipio Formio — Buonaparte takes leave of the Army of Italy, to act as French Plenipotentiary at Rastadt, 24.3 Chap. XI. — Retrospect — The Directory — they become unpopular — Causes of their unpopularity — Also at enmity among themselves — State of Public feeling in France — In point of numbers, favourable to the Bourbons ; but the Army and Monied Interest against them — Pichegru, head of the Royalists, appointed President of the Council of Five Hundred — Barbe Marbois, another Royalist, President of the Council of Ancients — Directory throw themselves upon the succour of Hoche and Buonaparte — Buonaparte's personal Polities discussed — Pichegru's Correspondence with the Bourbons — known to Buonaparte — He despatches Augereau to Paris — Directory arrest their principal Opponents in the Councils on the 18th Fructidor, and Banish them to Guiana — Narrow and Impolitic Conduct of the Directory to Buonaparte — Projected Invasion of England, 248 Chap. XII. — View of the respective Situations of Great Britain and France, at the Period of Napoleon's return from Italy — Negotiations at Lisle — broken off — Army of England decreed, and Buonaparte named to the Command — He takes up his Residence in Paris — Public Honours — The real Views of the Directory discovered to be the Expedition to Egypt — Armies of Italy and the Rhine, compared and contrasted — Napoleon's Objects and Motives in heading the Egyptian Expedition— those of the Directory regarding it — Its actual Impolicy — Curious Statement by Miot — The Armament sails from Toulon, on 19th May, 1798 — Napoleon arrives before Malta on 10th June — Proceeds on his course, CONTENTS. vii PAOR and, escaping the British Squadron, lands at Alexandria on the 1st July — Description of the various Classes who inhabit Egypt : — 1. The Fellahs and Bedouins— 2. The Cophts— 3. The Majnelukes— Na- poleon issues a Proclamation against the Mamelukes — Marches against them on the 7th July — Dis- content of the French troops— Battle of the Pyramids on 2151 of July — Cairo surrenders, • . . 25S Chap. XIII. — French Fleet — Conflicting Statements of Buonaparte and Admiral Gautheaume — Battle OF Aboukik on 1st August, 1798— The French Admiral, Brueyes, killed, and his Sliip, L'Orient, blown up^The Victory complete— EiTects of this disaster — Means by which Napoleon proposed to establish himself in Egypt — His Administration, in many respects, praiseworthy — in others, his Conduct absurd —He aspiresto be regarded an Envoy of the Deity — His endeavours to propitiate the Porte— The Fort of F.l Arish falls into his hands— Massacre of Jaffa— Admitted by Buonaparte himself— His Arguments in its defence — Replies to them — General Conclusions — Plague in the French Artiiy — Napoleon's Hu- manity and Courage upon this occasion — Proceeds against Acre to attack Djezzar Pacha — Sir Sidney Smith— His Character — Captures a French Convoy, and throws himself into .A.cre — French arrive before Acre on 17th JIareh, 1799, and effect a breach on the 28th, but are driven back — Assaulted by an Army of Moslems assembled without the "Walls of Acre, whom they defeat and disperse— Personal Misunderstanding and Hostility betwixt Napoleon and Sir Sidney Smith — Explained — Buonaparte is finally compelled to raise the Siege, 2C3 Chap. XIV. — Discussion concerning the alleged Poisoning of the Sick in the Hospitals at Jaffa — Napo- leon acquitted of the charge — French Army re-enter Cairo on the 14th June — Retrospect of what had taken place in Upper and Lower Egypt during Napoleon's Absence — Incursion of Murad Bey — 18,000 Turks occupy Aboukir — Attacked and defeated — This Victory terminates Napoleon's Career in Egypt — Admiral Gantheaume receives Orders to make ready for Sea — On the 22d August, Napoleon embarks for France — Arrives in Ajaccio on the 30th September — and lands at Frejus on the 9th October, 2'/ 4 Chap. XV. — Retrospect of Public Events since the Departure of Napoleon for Egypt — Invasion and Conquest of Switzerland— Seizure of Turin — Expulsion of the Pope— The Neapolitans declare War against Fi-ance — The French enter Naples — Disgraceful Avcirice exhibited by the Directory — Particu- larly in their Negotiations with the United States of America — Russia comes forward in the general Cause — Her Strength and Resources — Reverses of the French in Italy, and on the Rhine— Insurrec- tions in Belgium and Holland against the French — .\nglo-Russian Expedition sent to Holland—The Chouans again in the Field — Great and Universal Unpopularity of the Directory — State of Parties in France — Law of Hostages — Abbe Sieyes becomes one of the Directory— His Character and Genius — Description of the Constitution proposed by him for the Year Three — Ducos, Gohier, and Jloulins, also introduced into the Director*- — Family of N'apoleon strive to keep him in the Recollection of the People • — Favourable Change in the French Affairs — Holland Evacuated by the Anglo-Russian Army — Korsa- kow defeated by Massena — and Suwarrow retreats before Lecourbe, 278 Chap. XVL^General rejoicing on the return of Buonaparte — Advances made to him en all sides — Na- poleon coalesces with Sieyes — Revolution of the loth Brumaire (Nov. 9)— Clashing views of the Councils of Ancients, and the Five Hundred — Barras and his Colleagues resign— Proceedings of the Councils on the 18th— and 19th — Sittings removed from Paris to St. Cloud— Commotion in the Council of Five Hundred — Napoleon menaced and assaulted, and finally extricated by his Grensdiers — Lucien Buonaparte, the President, retires from the Hall — Declares the Council dissolved— Provisional Consular Government of Buonaparte, Sieyes, and Ducos, 285 Chap. XVII. — Clemency of the New Consulate — Beneficial chanj^e in the Finances— Law of Hostages repealed— Religious liberty allowed— Improvements in the War Department- Pacification of La Vendee — Ascendency of Napoleon — Disappointment of Sieyes — Committee formed to consider Sieyes' Plan of a Constitution — Rejected as to essentials — A new one adopted, monarchical in every thing but form — Sieves retires from Public life — General view of the new Government — Despotic Power of the First Consul, 292 Chap. XVIIL — Proceedings of Buonaparte in order to consolidate his power— His great Success— Causes that led to it— Cambaceres and Le Brun chosen Second and third Consuls— Tallevn-and appointed Minister for Foreign Affairs, and Fouche Minister of Police— Their Characters— Other Ministers nominated — Various Changes made in order to mark the Commencement of a new Era— Napoleon addresses a Letter personally to the King of England— Answered by Lord Grenville — Negotiation for peace that followed, speedily broken of — Campaigns in Italy and on the Rhine— Successes of Moreau — Censured by Napoleon for over-caution— The Charge considered— The Chief Consul resolves to bring back, in person, victory to the French Standards in Italy— His Measures for that purpose, . Chap. XIX.— The Chief Consul leaves Paris on 6th May 1800— Has an Interview with Necker at Geneva on 8th — Arrives at Lausanne on the 13th — Various Corps put in motion to cro>s the Alps— Napoleon, at the head of the Main Army, marches on the 1,5th, and ascends Mont St. Bern,ard— On the 16th, the Vanguard takes possession of Aosta— Fortress and Town of Bard threaten to baffle the whole plan — The Town is Captured, and Napoleon contrives to send his Artillery through it, under the fire of the Fort, his Infantry and Cavalry passing over the Albaredo— Lannes carries Ivrea — Recapitulation— Operations of the Austrian General Melas— At the Commencement ot the Campaign, Meias advances towards Genoa — Actions betwixt him and Massena— In March, Lord Keith blockades Genoa — Melas compelled to retreat— Enters Nice— Recalled from thence by the news of Napoleon's having crossed Mont. St. Bernard— Genoa surrenders — Buonaparte enters Milan — Battle of Monte- bellfi— The Chief Consul is joined by Desaix— Battle of Marengo on the I4th— Death of Desaix— Capi- tulation on the loth, by wliieh Genoa, &c., are yielded— Napoleon returns to Paris on the 2d July, Chap. XX. — Napoleon offers, and the Austrian Envoy accepts, a new Treaty— The Emperor refuses it, unless England is included — Negotiations with England— fail — Renewal of the War — Armistice — Resumf>tion of Hostilities— Battle of Hohenlinden— Other Battles— The Austrians agree to a SeparAtfl 299 305 riii CONTENTS, Peace — Treaty of Liineville — Convention between France and the United Statea— The Queen of Naples repairs to Petersburgh — Paul receives her with cordiality, and applies in her behalf to Buonaparte — His Envoy received at Paris with the utmost distinction, and the Royal Family of Naples saved for the present — Rome restored to the authority of the Pope — Napoleon demands of the King of Spain to declare War against Portugal — Olivenza and Almeida taken — Malta, after a blockade of two years, obliged to submit to the English, 313 Chap. XXI. — Internal Government of France — General Attachment to the Chief Consul — Plot to remove him by Assassination^Defeated — Vain hopes of the Royalists, that Napoleon would restore the Boui'bons — Infernal iVIachine — It fails — Suspicion first falls on the Republicans — The actual Con- spirators executed — Use made by Buonaparte of the Conspiracy to consolidate Despotism — System of Police— Fouche — His Skill, Influence, and Power — Apprehension entertained by the Chief Consul of the effects of Literature — Persecution of Madame de Staei — The Concordat — Plan for a General Sys- tem of Jurisprudence — Amnesty granted to the Emigrants— Plans of Public Education — Hopes of a General Peace, 319 Chap. XXII. — Return to the external Relations of France — Her universal Ascendency — Napoleon's advances to the Emperor Paul — Plan of destroying the British Power in India — Right of Search at Sea — Death of Paul — Its effects on Buonaparte — Affairs of Egypt — Assassination of Kleber — Menou appointed to succeed him — British Army lands in Egypt — Battle and Victory of Alexandria — ^Death of Sir Ralph Abercromby — General Hutchinson succeeds him — The French General Belliard capitu- lates—as does Menou — War in Egypt brought to a victorious conclusion, 3"27 Chap. XXIII. — Preparations for the Invasion of Britain — Nelson put in command of the Sea — Attack of the Boulogne Flotilla — Pitt leaves the Ministry — succeeded by Mr. Addington — Negotiations for peace — Just punishment of England in regard to the conquered Settlements of the enemy — Forced to restore them all, save Ceylon and Trinidad — Malta is placed under the guarantee of a neutral Power ■ — Preliminaries of peace signed — Joy of the English Populace, and doubts of the better classes — Treaty of Amiens signed^The ambitious projects of Napoleon, nevertheless, proceed without interrup- tion — Extension of his power in Italy — He is appointed Consul for life, with the power of naming his Successor — His Situation at this period, 33] Chap. XXIV. — 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 feel- ings 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 compeHed to furnish France with a Subsidiary Army of ItijOOO Troops— The Chief Consul adopts the title of Grand Mediator of the Helvetic Republic, , 334 Chap. XXV. — Increasing jealousies betwixt France and England — Encroachments on the part of the former — Instructions given by the First Consul to his Commercial Agents — Orders issued by the Eng- lish Ministei-s — Peltier's celebrated Royalist publication, L'Ambigu — Peltier tried for a Libel against the First Consul — found Guilty- — -Angry Discussions respecting the Treaty of Amiens — Malta — Report of Sebastiana — Resolution of the British Government — Conferences betwi.xt Buonaparte and Lord Whitworth — Britain declares War against France on 18th May 1803, 338 Chap. XXVI. — St. Domingo — The Negroes split into parties under different Chiefs — Toussaint L'Ouver- ture the most distinguished of these — Appoints a Consular Goverimient — France sends an Expedition against St. Domingo, under General Leclerc, in December 1801 — Toussaint submits — He is sent to France, where he dies — The French are assaulted by the Negroes — Leclerc is succeeded by Rocham- beau — The French finally obliged to capitulate to an English Squadron — Buonaparte's Scheme to consolidate his power — The Consular Guard augmented — Legion of Honour — Opposition formed against the Consular Government — Application to the Cuunt de Provence (Louis XVIII.) . . . 345 Chap. XXVII. — Renewal of the War — England lays an embargo on French Vessels — Napoleon reta- liates by detaining British Subjects — Effects of this unprecedented Measure- -Hanover and other places occupied by the French — Scheme of Invasion renewed — Napoleon's Preparations — Defensive Measures of England, 350 Chap. XXVIII. — Disaffection begins to arise against Napoleon among the Soldiery — Purpose of setting up Moreau against him — Character of Moreau— Causes of his Estrangement from Buonaparte — Piche- fru — The Duke d'Enghien — Georges Cadoudal, Pichegru, and other Royalists, landed in France — )esperate Enterprise of Georges — Defeated — Arrest of Moreau — of Pichegru — and Georges — Captain Wright — Duke d'Enghien seized at Strasburg — Hurried to Paris — Transferred to Vineennes — Tried by a Military Commission — Condemned — and Executed — Universal Horror of France and Europe — Buo- naparte's Vindication of his Conduct — His Defence considered — Pichegru found dead in his Prison — Attempt to explain his Death by charging him with Suicide — Captain Wright found with his Throat cut — A similar Attempt made — Georges and other Conspirators Tried — Condemned — and Executed — Royalists Silenced — Moreau sent into Exile, 355 Chap. XXIX. — General Indignation of Europe in consequence of the Murder of the Duke d'Enghien — Russia complains to Talleyrand of the Violation of Baden — and, along with Sweden, remonstrates in a Note laid before the German Diet — but without effect — Charges brought by Buonaparte against Mr. Drake and Mr. Spencer Smith — who are accordingly dismissed from the Courts of Stuttgard and Mu- nich — Seizure — Imprisonment — and Dismissal — of Sir George Rumbold, the British Envoy at Lower Saxony — Treachery attempted against Lord Elgin, by the Agents of Buonaparte — Details— Defeated by the exemplary Prudence of that Nobleman — These Charges brought before the House of Common? ' — and peremptorily Denied by the Chancellor of the Exchequer, . . ... 3'j CONTENTS. is FA'ia CHAP. XXX. — Napoleon meditates a change of title from Chief Consul to Emperor — A Motion to this Purpose brought forward in the Tribunate — Opposed by Carnot — Adopted by the Tribunate and Se- nate — Outline of the New System — Coldly received by the People — Napoleon visits Boulugue, Aix-la- Chapelle, and the Frontiers of Germany, where he is received with respect — The Coronation — Pius VII. is summoned from Rome to perform the Ceremony at Paris — Details — Reflpctions — Changes that took place in Italy— Napoleon appointed Sovereign of Italy, and Crowned at Milan — Genoa annexed to France, 365 Chap. XXXI. — Napoleon addresses a Second Letter to the King of England personally — Answered by tha British Secretary of State to Talleyrand — Alliance formed betwixt Russia and England — Prussia keeps aloof, and the Emperor Alexander visits Berlin — Austria prepares for War, and marches an Army into Bavaria — Her Impolicy in prematurely commencing Hostilities, and in her Conduct to Ba- varia — Unsoldierlike Conduct of the Austrian General Mack — Buonaparte is joined by the Electors of Bavaria and Wirtemberg, and the Duke of Baden — Skilful Manoeuvres of the French Generals, and successive Losses of the Austrians — Napoleon violates the Neutrality of Prussia, by marching through Anspach and Bayreuth — Further Losses of the Austrian Leaders, and consequent Disunion among them — ^lack is cooped up in Ulm — Issues a formidable Declaration on the i()th October — and surren- ders on the following Day — Fatal Results of this Man's Poltroonery, want of Skill, and probable Treachery, 373 Chap. XXXII. — Position of the French Armies — Napoleon advances towards Vienna — The Emperor Francis leaves his Capital — French enter Vienna on the 13th November — Review of the French Suc- cesses in Italy and the Tyrol — Schemes of Napoleon to force on a General Battle — Battle of Auster- litz is fought on the 2d December, and the combined Austro-Russian Armies completely Defeated — Interview betwixt the Emperor of Austria and Napoleon — The Emperor Alexander retreats towards Russia — Treaty of Presburgh signed on the 26th December- — Its Conditions^ — Fate of the King of Swe- den — and of the Two Sicilies, 380 Chap. XXXIII. — Relative situations of France and England — Hostilities commenced with Spain, by the Stoppage, by Commodore ]\Ioore, of four Spanish Galleons, when three of their Escort were taken, and one blew up — Napoleon's Plan of Invasion stated and discussed — John Clerk of Eldin's great Sys- stem of Breaking the Line, explained — The French Admiral, Villeneuve, forms a junction with the Spanish Fleet under Gravina — Attacked and defeated by Sir Robert Calder — Nelson appointed to the Command in the Mediterranean — Battle of Trafalgar fought 21st October, 180.5 — Death of Nelson Behaviour of Napoleon on learning the Intelligence of this signal Defeat — Villeneuve commits Suicide — Address of Buonaparte to the Legislative Body — Statement of M. de Charapagny on the Internal Im- provements of France — Elevation of Napoleon's Brothers, Louis and Joseph, to the Thrones of Hol- land and Naples — Principality of Lucca conferred on Eliza, the eldest Sister of Buonaparte, and that of Guastalla on Pauline, the youngest — Other Alliances made by his Family — Napoleon appoints a new Hereditary Nobility — Converts from the old Noblesse anxiously sought for and liberally rewarded — Confederation of the Rhine established, and Napoleon appointed Protector — The Emperor Francis lays- aside the Imperial Crown of German}', retaining only the Title of Emperor of Austria — ^Vacillat- ing and Impolitic Conduct of Prussia, 387 Chap. XXXIV. — Death of Pitt — He is succeeded by Fox as Prime Minister — Negotiation with France — The Earl of Lauderdale sent to Paris as the British Negotiator — Negotiation broken off, in conse- quence of the refusal of England to cede Sicily to France — Temporizing Policy of Pnissia — An attempt made by her to form a Confederacy in opposition to that of the Rhine, defeated by Napoleon — General Disposition of the Prussians to "War — Legal Murder of Palm, a Bookseller — The Emperor Alexander again visits Berlin — Prussia begins to arm in August 1806, and, after some Negotiation, takes the field in October, under the Duke of Brunswick — Impolicy of the Plans of the Campaign — Details — Action at Saalfeld — Battle of Auerstadt, or Jena, on 14th October — Duke of Brunswick mortally wounded — Consequences of this total Defeat — Buonaparte takes possession of Berlin on the 25th — Situations of Austria and Prussia, after their several Defeats— Reflections on the Fall of Prussia, . . . 398 Chap. XXXV. — Ungenerous conduct of Buonaparte to the Duke of Brunswick — The Approach of the French Troops to Brunswick compels the dying Prince to cause himself to be carried to Altona, where he expires — (Jath of Revenge taken by his Son — At Potsdam and Berlin, the proceedings of Napoleon are equally cruel and vindictive — His Clemency towards the Prince of Hatzfeld — His Treatment of the Lesser Powers — Jerome Buonaparte — Seizure of Hamburgh — Berlin Decrees against British Com- merce — Napoleon rejects all Application from the Continental Commercial Towns to relax or repeal them — Commerce, nevertheless, flourishes in spite of them — Second Anticipation called for of the Con- scription for 1807 — The King of Prussia applies for an Armistice, which is clogged with such harsh Terms, that he refuses them, 410 Chap. XXXVI. — Retrospect of the Partition of Poland — Napoleon receives addresses from Poland, wbi^h he evades — He advances into Poland, Bennigsen retreating before him — Character of the Rus- sian Soldiery — The Cossacks — Engagement at Pultusk, on 2fith November, terminating to the disad- vantage of the French — Bennigsen continues his retreat — The French go into winter quarters — Ben- nigsen appointed Commander-in-chief in the place of Kaminskoy, who shows symptoms of insanity — He resumes offensive operations — Battle of Eylau, 8th February, 1807 — Claimed as a victory by both parties — The loss on both sides amounts to 50,000 men killed, the greater part Frenchmen — Bennig- sen retreats upon Kiinigsberg — Napoleon offers favourable terms for an Armistice to the King of Prus- sia, who refuses to treat, save for a general Peace — Napoleon falls back to the line of tiic Vistula — Dantzic is besieged, and surrenders — Russian army is poorly recruited — the French powerfully — Ac- tions during the Summer — Battle of Ileilsberg, and retreat of the Russians — Battle of Friedland, I4th June — An Armistice takes place on the 23d, 415 Chap. XXXVII. — British Expedition to Calaliria, under Sir John Stuart — Character of the People — Oppcsed by General Reynier — Battle of Maida, 4th July 1806 — Defeat of the French — Calabria eva- X CONTENTS. P\03 ciiated by the British — Ei-roneoiis Commercial Views, and Militarj Plans, of the British Ministry — Un- successful Attack on Buenos Ayres — General Whitelocke — is cashiered — Expedition against Turkey, and its Dependencies — Admiral Duckworth's Squadron sent against Constantinople — Passes and re- passes tlie Dardanelles, without accomplishing any thing — Expedition against Alexandria — Rosetta attacked — British troops defeated — and withdrawn from Egypt, September, 1807 — Curacoa and Cape of Good Hope taken by England — British Expedition against Copenhagen — its Citadel, Forts, and Fleet, surrendered to the British — Effects of this proceeding upon France and Russia— Coalition of France, Russia, Austria, and Prussia, against British Commerce, 429 Chap. XXXVIII. — View of the Internal Government of Napoleon at the period of the Peace of Tilsit —The Tribunate abolished — Council of State — Prefectures — Their nature and objects described — The Code Napoleon — Its Provisions — Its Merits and Defects — Comparison betwixt that Code and the Ju- risprudence of England — Laudable efllbrts of Napoleon to carry it into effect, .... 435 Chap. XXXIX. — System of Education introduced into France by Napoleon — National University — its nature and Objects — Lyceums — Proposed Establishment at Meudon, 449 Chap. XL. — Military Details — Plan of the Conscription— its nature — and effects — Enforced with un- sparing rigour — Its influence upon the General Character of the French Soldiery — New ]Mode of Con- ducting Hostilities introduced bythe Revolution — Constitution of the French Armies, Forced Marches — La Maurade — its nature — and effects — on the Enemy's Country, and on the French Soldiers them- selves — Policy of Napoleon, in his personal conduct to his Officers and Soldiers — Altered Character of the French Soldiery during, and after, the Revolution, 450 Chap. XLI.^Effects of the Peace of Tilsit — Napoleon's Views of a State of Peace — Contrasted with those of England — The Continental System — Berlin and Milan Decrees — British Orders in Council — ■ Spain — Retrospect of the Relations of that Country with France since the Revolution — Godoy — his influence — character — and Political Views — Ferdinand, Prince of Asturias, applies to Napoleon for Aid — Affairs of Portugal — Treaty of Fontainbleau — Departure of the Prince Regent for Brazil — Entrance of .Junot into Lisbon — His unbounded Rapacity — Disturbances at Madrid — Ferdinand detected in a Plot against his Father, and Imprisoned — King Charles applies to Napoleon — Wily Policy of Buona- parte — Orders the French Army to enter Spain, 453 Chap. XLII. — Pampeluna, Barcelona, Montjouy, and St. Sebastians, are fraudulently seized by the French — King Charles proposes to sail for South America — Insurrection at Aranjuez — Charles resigns the Crown in favour of Ferdinand — Murat enters Madrid — Charles disavows h.is Resignation — General Savary arrives at Madrid — Napoleon's letter to Murat, touching the Invasion of Spain — Ferdinand sets out to meet Napoleon — Halts at Vittoria, and learns too late Napoleon's designs against him — Joins Buonaparte at Bayonne — Napoleon opens his designs to Escoiquiz and Cevallos, both of whom he finds intractable — He sends for Charles, his Queen, and Godoy, to Bayonne — Ferdinand is induced to Abdicate the Crown in favour of his Father, who resigns it next day to Napoleon — This transfer is reluctantly confirmed by Ferdinand, who, with his Brothers, is sent to splendid Imprisonment at Va- lencay — Joseph Buonaparte is appointed to the Throne of Spain, and joins Napoleon at Bayonne — Assembly of Notables convoked, 459 Chap. XLIII. — State of Morals and JNIanners in Spain — The Nobility — the INIiddle C lasses — he Lower Ranks — the indignation of the People strongly excited against the French — Insurrection at Madrid on the 2d May — Murat proclaims an Amnesty, notwithstanding which, many Spanish prisoners are put to death — King Charles appoints Murat Lieutenant-General of the Kingdom, and Ferdinand's Resig- nation of the Throne is announced — Murat unfolds the Plan of Government to the Council of Castile, and Addresses of Submission are sent to Buonaparte from various quarters — Notables appointed to meet at Bayonne on 15th June — The Flame of Resistance becomes Universal throughout Spain, 466 Chap. XLIV. — Plans of Defence of the Spanish Juntas — defeated by the ardour of the Insurrectionary Armies — Cruelty of the French troops, and Inveteracy of tbe Spaniards — Successes of the Invaders — Defeat of Rio Secco — Exultation of Napoleon — Joseph enters Madrid — His reception — Duhesmc com- pelled to retreat to Barcelona, and Moncey from before Valencia — Defeat of Dupont by Castanos at Baylen — His Army surrenders Prisoners of War — Effects of this Victory and Capitulation — Unreason- able Expectations of the British Public — Joseph leaves Madrid, and retires to Vittoria — Defence of Zaragossa, ... 47 1 Chap. XLV. — Zeal of Britain with regard to the Spanish struggle — It is resolved to send an Expedition to Portugal — Retrospect of what had passed in that Country — Portuguese Assembly ot Notables sum- moned to Bayonne — Their singular Audience of Buonaparte — Effects of the Spanish Success on Por- tugal^Sir Arthur Wellesley — His Character as a General— Despatched at the head of the Expedition to Portugal — Attacks and Defeats the French at Roriqa — Battle and Victory of Vimeiro — Sir Harry Burrard Neale assumes the command, and frustrates the i-esults proposed by Sir Arthur Wellesley from the Battle — Sir Harry Burrard is superseded by Sir Hew Dah'j'mple — Convention of Cintra — Its Un- popularity in England — A Court of Enquiry is held, 47ft Chap. XLVI. — Duplicity of Buonaparte on his return to Paris — Official Statements in the Moniteur — Reports issued by Champagny, Minister of the Foreign Department — French Relations with the Dif- ferent Powers of Europe — Spirit of Resistance throughout Germany — Russia — Napoleon and Alexan- der meet at Erfurt on 27th September, and separate in apparent Friendship on 17th October — Actual feehngs of the Autocrats — Their joint Letter to the King of Great Britain, proposing a General Peace on the principle of M<2 /jos.s«/f/«s — Why rejected — Procedure in Spain— Catalonia — Return of Romana to Spain — Armies of Blake, Castanos, and Palafox — Expedition of General Moore — His desponding Views of the Spanish Cause — His Plans — Defeat of Blake — and Castanos — Treachery of Morla — Sir John Moore retreats to Corunna— Disasters on the March — Battle of Coranna, and Death of Sir John Moore, iU. CONTENTS. xi PAGI Chap. XLVII.— General Belliard occupies Madrid — Napoleon returns to France — Cause of his hurried return — View of the Circumstances leading to a Rupture with Austria — Feelings of Russia upon this occasion — Secret intrigues of Talleyrand to preserve Peace — Immense exertions made by Austria — Counter efforts of Buonaparte — The Austrian Army enters Bavaria, 9th April, 1809 — Napoleon hastens to meet them — Austrians defeated at Abensberg on the 20tli — and at Eckmlihl on the '2"2d — They are driven out of Ratisbon on the 23d — The Archduke Charles retreats into Bohemia — Napoleon pushes forward to Vienna — which, after a brief defence, is occupied by the French, on the 12th of May — Re- trospect of the events of the War in Poland, Italy, the North of Germany, and the Tyrol — Enterprises of Schill — of the Duke of Brunswick Oels — Movements in the Tyrol — Character and Manners of the Tyrolese — Retreat of the Archduke John into Hungary, 491 Chap. XLVIII. — Position of the French and Austrian Armies after the Battle of Eckm'uhl — Napoleon crosses the Danube — Great Conflict at Asperne, when victory was claimed by both parties — Battle of Wagram fought 6th July — Armistice concluded at Znaim — Close of the Career of Schill and the Duke of Brunswick Oels — Defence of the Tyrol — Its final unfortunate result — Growing resistance through- out Germany — Its efiects on Buonaparte — He publishes a singular Manifesto in the Moniteur, . 498 Chap. XLIX. — Conduct of Russia and England during the AVar with Austria — Meditated Expedition of British troops to the Continent — Sent to AValchcren — Its Calamitous Details and Result — Proceed- ings of Napoleon with regard to the Pope — General Miollis enters Rome — Napoleon publishes a Decree, uniting the States of the Church to the French Empire — Is Excommunicated — Pius VII. is banished from Rome, and sent to Grenoble — afterwards brought back to Savona — Buonaparte is attacked by an Assassin — Definitive Treaty of Peace signed at Schoenbrun — Napoleon returns to France on the 14th November, 1809, 505 Chap. L. — Change in Napoleon's Domestic Life— Causes which led to it — His anxiety for an Heir — A Son of his brother Louis is fixed upon, but Dies in Childhood — Character and Influence of Josephine — Strong mutual attachment betwixt her and Napoleon — Fouche opens to Josephine the Plan of a Divorce — her extreme Distress — On 5th December, Napoleon announces her Fate to Josephine — On 15th they are formally Separated before the Imperial Council — Josephine retaining the Rank of Em- press for Life^Espousals of Buonaparte and Maria Louisa of Austria take place at Vienna, 11th March, 1810, 513 Chap. LI. — Almost all the foreign French Settlements fall into the hands of the British — French Squa- dron destroyed at the Isle of Aix, by Lord Cochrane — and at the Isle of Rosas, by Lord Collingwood — Return to the Proceedings in Spain — Soult takes Oporto — Attacked and Defeated by Sir Arthur Wellesley — Ferrol and Corunna retaken by the Patriots — Battle of Talavera, gained by Sir Arthur Wellesley — Created Lord Wellington — The French Armies take many Towns and strong Places — Supreme Junta retreat to Cadiz — The Guerilla System — Growing disappointment of Buonaparte — His immense exertions — Battle of Busaco — Lord Wellington's famous Retreat on Torres Vedras, 517 Chap. Lll. — Change in Napoleon's Principles of Government — Becomes suspicious of Talleyrand and Fouche^Fouche endeavours, without the knowledge of Napoleon, to ascertain the Views of England with respect to Peace — His Plan is defeated by a singular Collision with a similar one of Napoleon— and Fouche is sent away as Governor-General of Rome — His Moral and Political Character — Mur- muringS;0f the People against the Austrian Alliance — Continental System — Ignorance of Napoleon of the Actual Political Feelings of Great Britain — The License System — Louis Buonaparte — Endeavours in vain to defend Holland from the Effects of the Continental System — He Abdicates the Throne, and retires to Gratz, in Styria— Holland is annexed to the French Empire, 523 Chap. LIII. — Gustavus IV. of Sweden is Dethroned, and succeeded by his Uncle — The Crown Prince killed by a fall from his horse — Candidates proposed for the Succession — The Swedes, thinking to con- ciliate Napoleon, fix on Bernadotte — Buonaparte reluctantly acquiesces in the choice — Farting 'In- terview between Bernadotte and Napoleon — Subsequent attempts of the latter to bind Sweden to the policy of France — The Crown Prince unwillingly accedes to the Continental System — Napoleon makes a Tour through Flanders and Holland — returns to Paris, and takes measures for extending the Con- tinental System — Seizure of the Valois — Coast along the German Ocean annexed to France — Protest by the Czar against the appropriation of Oldenburg — Russia allows the Importation, at certain Sea- ports, of various articles of British Commerce — Negotiations for Exchange of Prisoners between France and England, and for a General Peace, broken off by Buonaparte's unreasonable Demands, . 53l Chap. LIV. — View of Napoleon's gigantic Power — The Empress Maria Louisa delivered of a Son — Cri- ticism on the Title given him, of King of Rome — Speculations in regard to the advantages or disadvan- tages arising from this Event — Retrospect— Ex-Queen of Etruria — Her severe and unjustifiable Treat- ment by Napoleon — Lucien Buonaparte is invited to England, where he wiites Epic Poetry — Attempt to deliver Ferdinand, defeated — Operations in Portugal — Retreat of Massena — Battles of Fuentcs d'Onoro fought by Lord Wellington — On the South Frontier of Portugal, by I-ord Beresford — Of Jia- rossa, by General Graham — Enterprise of Arroyo-Molinas — Spaniards defeated under Blake — Valen- cia captured by the French, and he and his Army made Prisoners of War — Disunion among the French Generals — Joseph wishes to Abdicate the Throne of Spain, 537 Chap. LV. — Retrospect of the Causes leading to the Rupture with Russia — originate in the Treaty of Tilsit — Russia's alleged Reasons of Complaint — Arguments of Napoleon's Counsellors against W^ar with Russia — Fouche is against the War — Presents a Memorial to Napoleon upon the Subject — His Answer — Napoleon's Views in favour of the War, as urged to his various Advisers, . . . 543 Thap. LVI. — Allies on whose assistance Buonaparte might count — Causes which alienated from him the Prince- Royal of Sweden — who signs a Treaty with Russia^ Delicate situation of the King of Prussia, whose Alliance the Emperor Alexander on that account Declines — A Treaty with France dictated to Prussia — Relations between Austria and France — in order to preserve thcmi, Buonaparte is obliged to t»2iG uuder an engagement not to revolutionize Poland — His error of policy in neglecting to cultivate xii CONTEXTS. PARS the allianco of the Porte — Amount of Buonaparte's Amiy — Levies for tlie Protection of France in the Empei'or's Absence — Storming of Ciudad Rodrigo by Lord Wellington — Buonaparte makes overtures of Peace to Lord Castlereagh — Tiie Correspondence broken off — Ultimatum of Russia rejected — Na- poleon sets out from Paris, 9th May, 1812 — and meets the Sovereigns, his allies, at Dresden — A last attempt of Napoleon to negotiate with Alexander proves unsuccessful, 5J7 Chap. LVIL — Napoleon's Plan of the Campaign against Russia— Understood and provided against by Barclay de Tolly, the Russian Generalissimo — Statement of the Grand French Army — Of the Grand Russian Army — Disaster on the River Wilia — Difficulties of the Campaign on the part of the French — Their defective Commissariat and Hospital Department — Cause of Buonaparte's determination to advance — His forced marches occasion actual delay — Napoleon remains for some days at Wilna — Abbe de Pradt — His intrigues to excite the Poles— Neutrahsed by Napoleon's engagements with Aus- tria — An attempt to excite Insun'ection in Lithuania also fails, ic>o Chap. LVIII. — Proceedings of the Army under Prince Bagration — Napoleon's manoeuvres against him — King Jerome of Westphalia is disgraced for alleged inactivity — Bagration is defeated by Davoust, but succeeds in gaining the Interior of Russia, and re-establishing his communication with the Grand Army — which retreats to Drissa — Barclay and Bagration meet at Smolensk on the 20th July — The French Generals become anxious that Napoleon should close the campaign at Witepsk for the season — He persists in proceeding — Smolensk evacuated by De Tolly, after setting fire to the place — Re- duced condition of the French, and growing strength of the Russian Armies — Peace effected between Russia and England, Sweden and Turkey — Napoleon resolves to advance upon Moscow, . , 562 Chap. LIX. — Napoleon detaches Murat and other Generals in pursuit of the Russians— Bloody, but in- decisive action at Valoutina — Barclay de Tolly's defensive system relinquished, and Koutousoff ap- pointed to the chief command of the Russian Army — Napoleon advances from Smolensk— Battle of Borodino fought on 5th September — Prince Bagration slain — Koutousoff retreats upon Mojaisk, and thence upon Moscow — Napoleon continues his advance on the 12th — Count Rostopchin, Governor of Moscow- — -His Character — The Russians abandon Moscow, which is evacuated by the Inhabitants — The Grand Russian Army marches through Moscow — Last public Court of Justice held there by Ros- topchin, after which he follows the march of the Army, . 568 Chap. LX. — On 14th September, Napoleon reaches Moscow, which lie finds deserted by the Inhabitants — The City is discovered to be on fire--Napoleon takes up his Quarters in the Kremlin — The fire is stopped next day, but arises again at night — Believed to be wilful, and several Russians apprehended and. shot — On the third night, the Kremlin is discovered to be on fire — Buonaparte leaves it, and takes his abode at Petrowski — The fire rages till the 19th, when four-fifths of the City are burned down — On the 20th, Buonaparte returns to the Kremlin — Discussion as to the Origin of this great Conflagra- tion — Disorganisation and Indiscipline of the French Army — Difficulty as to the Route on leaving Moscow — Lauriston sent with a letter to the Emperor Alexander — Retrospect of the March of the Russian Army, after leaving Moscow — Lauriston has an Inter^^ew with Koutousoff on 5th October — The Result — Armistice made by Murat — Preparations for Retreat — The Emperor Alexander refuses to treat, ' 573 Chap. LXI. — JNIurat's Armistice broken off — Napoleon leaves Moscow on 19th October — Bloody Skirmish at Malo-Yarowslavetz — Napoleon in great danger while reconnoitring — He retreats to Vereia, where he meets Mortier and the Young Guard — Winzengerode made prisoner, and insulted by Buonaparte ■ — The Kremlin is blown up by the French — Napoleon continues his retreat towards Poland — Its Hor- rors — Conflict near Wiazma, on 3d November, where the French lose 4000 men — Cross the River Wiazma during the night — The Viceroy of Italy reaches Smolensk in great distress — Buonaparte ar- rives at Smolensk with the headmost Division of the Grand Army — Calamitous retreat of Ney's Divi- sion — The whole French Army now collected at Smolensk — Cautious Conduct of Prince Sehwartzen- berg — Winzengerode freed on his road to Paris by a Body of Cossacks — Tchitchagoft" occupies Minsk ■ — Perilous Situation of Napoleon, . . . . ^ 579 Chap. LXII. — Napoleon divides his Army into four Corps, which leave Smolensk on their retreat towards Poland — Cautious Proceedings of Koutousoff — The Viceroy's division is attacked by Miloradowitch, and effects a junction with Napoleon at Krasnoi, after severe loss^Koutousoft" attacks the French at Krasnoi, but only by a distant Cannonade — The Division under Davoust is reunited to Napoleon, but in a miseralile state — Napoleon marches to Liady, and Mortier and Davoust are attacked, and suffer heavy loss — Details of the retreat of Ney — He crosses the Losmina, %vith great loss of men and baggage, and joins Napoleon at Orcsa, with his Di\ision reduced to 1500 men — The whole Grand Army is now reduced to 12,000 effective men, besides 30,000 stragglers — Dreadful distress and ditiiculties of Buonaparte and his Army — Singular Scene betwixt Napoleon and Duroc and Daru — Napoleon moves towards Borizoff, and falls in with the corps of Victor and Oudinot — Koutousoff halts at Kopyn, without attacking Buonaparte — Napoleon crosses the Beresina at Studzianka — Partouneaux's Division cut off by Witgenstein — Severe fighting on both sides of the River — Dreadful losses of the French in crossing it — According to the Russian oflicial account, 36,000 bodies were found in the Beresina after the Thaw, £89 Chap. LXIII. — Napoleon determines to return to P;a is — He leaves Smorgoni on 5th December — Reaches Warsaw on the lOth — Curious Interview with the Abbe de Pradt — Arrives at Dresden on the 14th — and at Paris on the 18th, at midnight — Dreadful State of the Grand Army, when left by Napoleon — Arrive at Wilna, whence they are driven by the Cossacks, directing their flight upon Kowuo — Dissen- sions among the French Generals — Cautious Policy of the Austrians under Schwartzenberg — Preca- rious State of Macdonald — He retreats upon Tilsit — D'Yorck separates his Troops from the French — Macdonald effects his retreat to Konigsbei'g — Close of the Russian expedition, with a loss on the part of the French of 450,000 Men in Killed and Prisoners — Discussion of the Causes which led to this I'uinous Catastrophe, 596 C'UAP. LXIV. — Effects of Napoleon's return upon the Parisians — Congratulations and Addresses by all CONTENTS. xiii , . PA'jB the public Functionaiies — Conspiracy of Mallet — very nearly successful — How at last defcated^The impression made by this event upon Buonaparte — Discus? icns with the Pope, who is brought to France, but remains inflexible — State of AtVairs in Spain — Napoleon's great and successful exertions to recruit his Army— Guards of Honour — In the month of April, the Army is raised to 350,000 men, independ- ently of the Troops left in Garrison in Germany, and in Spain and Italy, 605 Chap. LXV. — Murat leaves the Grand Army abruptly — Eugene appointed in his place^Measures taken by the King of Prussia for his disenthraldom — He leaves Berlin for Breslau — Treaty signed between Russia and Prussia early in March — Alexander arrives at Ereslau on loth ; on the 16th Pi-ussia de- clares war against France — Warlike Preparations of Prussia — Universal enthusiasm — Blucher ap- pointed Generalissimo — Vindication of the Crown Prince of Sweden for joining the Confederacy against France — Proceedings of Austria — Unabated spirit and pretensions of Napoleon — A Regency is ap- pointed in France during his absence, and Maria Louisa appointed Regent, with nominal powers, 610 Chap. LXVI. — State of the French Grand Army — The Russians advance, and show themselves on the Elbe — The French evacuate Berlin, and retreat on the Elbe — -The Crown Prince of Sweden joins the Allies with 35,000 men — Dresden is occupied by the Sovereigns of Russia and Prussia — Marshal Bes- sieres killed on 1st May — Battle of Lutzen fought on the Sd — The Allies retire to Bautzen — Hamburgh taken possession of by the Danes and French — Battle of Bautzen fought on the 20th and 21st May — The Allies retire in good order — The French Generals, Bruyeres and Duroc, killed on the 22d — Grief of Napoleon for the death of the latter — An Armistice signed en 4th June, 614 Chap. LXVII. — Change in the results formerly produced by the French Yictories — Despondency of the Generals — Decay in the Discipline of the Troops — Views of Austria — Arguments in favour of Peace stated and discussed — Pertinacity of Napoleon — State of the French Interior— hid from him by the Slavery of the Press — Interview betwixt Napoleon and the Austrian Minister, Metternich — Delays in the Negotiations — Plan of Pacification proposed by Austria on 7th August — The Armistice broken off on the 10th, when Austria joins the Allies — Sudden placability of Napoleon at this period — Ascribed . to the news of the Battle of Vittoria, 619 Chap. LXVIII. — Amount and Distribution of the French Army at the Resumption of Hostilities — of the Armies of the Allies — Plan of the Campaign on both sides — Return of Moreau from America to join the Allies — Attack on Dresden by the Allies on 26th August — Napoleon arrives to its succour — Battle continued on the 27th — Death of General Moreau — Defeat and Retreat of the Allies, with great loss — Napoleon returns from the pursuit to Dresden indisposed — Yandamme attacks the Allies at Culm — is driven back towards Peterswald — Conflict on the heights of Peterswald — Vandamme is de- feated and made prisoner — Effects of the Victory of Culm on the Allies — and on Napoleon, . . 625 Chap. LXIX. — Military Proceedings in the north of Germany — Luckau submits to the Crown Prince of Sweden — Battles of Gross-Beeren and Katzbach — Operations of Ney upon Berlin — He is defeated at Dennewitz on the 6th September — Difficult and emban-assing situation of Napoleon — He abandons all the right side of the Elbe to the Allies — Operations of the Alhes in order to efr'ect a Junction — Coun- ter-exertions of Napoleon — The French Generals averse to continuing the War in Germany — Dissen- tions betwixt them and the Emperor — Napoleon at length resohts to retreat upon Leipsic, • 630 Chap. LXX. — Napoleon reaches Leipsic on 15th of October — Statement of the French and Allied Forces — Battle of Leipsic, commenced on 16th, and terminates with disadvantage to the French at nightfall — Napoleon dispatches General Mehrfeldt (his prisoner) to the Emperor of Austria, with pro- posals for an Armistice — No answer is returned — The Battle is renewed on the morning of the 18th, and lasts till night, when the French are compelled to retreat, after immense loss on both sides — They evacuate Leipsic on the 19th, the Allies in full pursuit — Blowing up of one of the Bridges — Prince Poniatowski drowned in the Elster — 25,000 French are made prisoners — The Allied Sovereigns meet in triumph, at noon, in the Great Square at Liepsic— King of Saxony sent under a Guard to Berlin — Reflections, 635 Chap. LXXI. — Retreat of the French from Germany — General Defection of Napoleon's Partisans — Battle of Hanau fought on 30th and 31st October — Napoleon arrives at Paris on 9th November — State in which he finds the public mind in the Capital — Fate of the French Garrisons left in Germany — Arrival of the Allied Armies on the banks of the Rhine — General \'iew of Napoleon's political Rela- tions — Italy — Spain — Restoration of Ferdinand — Liberation of the Pope, who returns to Rome — Eman- cipation of Holland, 641 Chap. LXXII. — Preparations of Napoleon against the Invasion of France — Terms of Peace offered by the Alhes — Congress held at Manheim — Lord Castlereagh — Manifesto of the Allies — Buonaparte's Reply — State of Parties in France — The population of France, in general, wearied of the War, and de- sirous ot the Deposition of Buonaparte — His unsuccessful attempts to arouse the national spirit — Coun- cil of State Extraordinary held Nov. 11th, when new Taxes are imposed, and a new Conscription of 300,000 men decreed — Gloom of the Council, and violence of Buonaparte — Report of the State of the Nation presented to Napoleon by the Legislative Body — The Legislative Body is prorogued — Un- ceasing activity of the Emperor — National Guard called out — Napoleon, presenting to them his Em- press and Child, takes leave of the People — He leaves Paris for the Armies, 617 Chap. LXXIII. — Declaration of the Allies on entering France— Switzerland— Schwartzenberg crosses the Rhine — Apathy of the French — Junction of Blucher with the Grand Army — Crown Prince of Swe- den — Inferiority of Napoleon's numerical Force — Battles of Brienne — and La Rothiere — Difficulties of Buonaparte, during which he meditates to resign the Crown — He makes a successful Attack on the Silesian Army at Champ- Aubert— Blucher is compelled to retreat — The Grand Army carries Nogent and Montereau — Buonaparte's violence to his Generals — The Austrians resolve on a general Retreat, as far as Nanoy and Langres — Prince Wenceslaus sent to Buonaparte's headquarters — The French entei XIV CONTENTS. Troyes — Execution of Goualt, a Royalist — A Decree of Death ag&inst all wearing the Bourbon em- blems, and all Emigrants who should join the Allies, 654 Chap. LXXIV. — Retrospect of Events on the Frontiers — Defection of Murat — Its consequences — Au- gereau abandons Franche Comte — Carnot intrusted \^'ith the command of Antwerp — Attack on Ber- gen-op-Zoom, by Sir Thomas Graham — The Allies take, and evacuate Soissons — Bulow and Winzen- gerode unite with Blucher — Wellington forces bis way through the Pays des Gaves — Royalists in the West— Discontent of the old Republicans — Views of the different JMembers of the Alliance as to the Dynasties of IBourbon, and Napoleon — Proceedings of the Dukes of Berri and Angouleme, and Monsieur — Battle of Orthez — Bourdeaux surrendered to Marshal Beresford — Negotiations of Chatillon — Treaty of Chaumont— Napoleon's contre-projet — Congress at Chatillou broken up, . . . 663 Chap. LXXV.— Buonaparte marches upon Blucher, who is in possession of Soissons — Attacks the place without success — Battle of Craonne — Blucher retreats on Laon — Battle of Laon — Napoleon is com- pelled to withdraw on the 11th — He attacks Rheims, which is evacuated by the Russians — Defeat at Bur-sur-Aube of Oudinot and Gerard, who, with Macdonald, are forced to retreat towards Paris — Schwartzenberg wishes to retreat behind the Aube — but, the Emperor Alexander and Lord Castlereagh opposing the measure, it is determined to proceed upon Paris — Napoleon occupies Arcis — Battle of Arcis— Napoleon is joined, in the night after the battle, by Macdonald, Oudinot, and Gerard — and retreats along the Aube, 671 Chap. LXXVI. — Plans of Buonaparte — Military and Political Questions regarding Paris — Napoleon crosses the Marne on 22d March — Retrospect of Events in the vicinity of Lyons, &c. — Defeats of the French in various quarters — Marmont and Mortier retreat under the Walls of Paris — Joseph Buona- parte — Maria Louisa, with the Civil Authorities, leave the City — Attack of Paris on the 30th — A Truce accorded — Joseph fUes, 676 Chap. LXXVIl. — State of Parties in Paris — Royalists — Revolutionists — Buonapartists — Talleyrand — Chateaubriand — Mission to the Allied Sovereigns — Their Answer — Efforts of the Buonapartists — Feel- ings of the Lowest Classes — of the Middling Ranks — Neutrality of the National Guard — Growing con- fidence of the Royalists^Proclamations and White Cockades — Crowds assemble at the Boulevards — The Allies are received with shouts of welcome — Their Army retires to Quarters— and the Cossacks bivouac in the Champs Elysees, 684 Chap. LXXVIII. — Fears of the Parisians — Proceedings of Napoleon — Operations of the French Cavalry in rear of the Allies — Capture of Weissemberg — The Emperor Franris is nearly surprised — Napoleon reaches Troyes on the night of the ^Qth March — Opinion of Macdonald as to the possibility of relieving Paris — Napoleon leaves Troyes, on the 30th, and meets Belliard, a few miles from Paris, in full retreat • — Conversation betwixt them — He determines to proceed to Paris, but is at length dissuaded — and des- patches Caulaincourt to receive terms from the Allied Sovereigns — He himself returns to Fontain- bleau, 687 Chap. LXXIX. — The Allied Sovereigns issue a Proclamation that they will not treat with Buonaparte — A Provisional Government is named by the Conservative Senate, who also decree the forfeiture of Na- poleon — This Decree is sanctioned by all the Public Bodies in Paris — The Legality of these Proceed- ings discussed — Feelings towards Napoleon, of the Lower Classes, and of the Military — On 4th April, Buonaparte issues a document abdicating the Throne of France — His subsequent agitation, and wish to continue the War — The Deed is finally despatched, 689 Chap. LXXX. — Victor, and other Marechals give in their adhesion to the Provisional Government — Marmont enters into a separate Convention ; but assists at the Conferences held at Paris, leaving Sou- ham second in command of his Army^The Commanders have an interview with the Emperor Alex- ander — Souham enters, with his Army, into the lines of the Allies ; in consequence, the Allied Sove- reigns-insist upon the unconditional Submission of Napoleon — His reluctant acquiescence — The Terms granted to him — Disapprobation of Lord Castlereagh— General Desertion of Napoleon — Death of Jo- sephine — Singular Statement made by Baron Fain, Napoleon's Secretary, of the Emperor's attempt to commit Suicide — After this he becomes more resigned — Leaves Fontainbleau, 28th April, . . 694 Chap. LXXXI. — Commissioners appointed to escort Napoleon — He leaves Fontainbleau on the 20th April — His interview with Augoreau at Valence — Expressions of popular dislike towards Napoleon in the South of France — Fears for his personal safety — His own agitation and precautions — He arrives at Frejus, and embarks on board the Undaunted, with the British and Austrian Commissioners — Arrives at Elba on 4th May, 700 Chap. LXXXII. — Elba — Napoleon's Mode of Life and Occupation there — Effects of his residence at Elba upon the adjoining Kingdom of Italy — He is \'isited by his Mother and the Princess Pauline — and by a Polish lady — Sir Niel Campbell the only Commissioner left at Elba — Napoleon's Conversations on the State of Europe — His pecuniary Difficulties — and fears of Assassination — Symptoms of some ap- proaching Crisis — A part of the Old Guard disbanded — Napoleon escapes from Elba — Fruitless pur- suit by Sir Niel Campbell, 703 Chap. LXXXIII. — Retrospect — Restoration of the Bourbons displeasing to the Soldiery, but satisfactory to the People — Terms favourable to France granted by the Allies — Discontent about the Manner of conceding the Charter — Other Grounds of Dissatisfaction — Apprehensions lest the Church and Crown Lands should be resumed — Resuscitation of the Jacobin Faction — Increased Dissatisfaction in the Army — The Claims of the Emigrants mooted in the Chamber of Delegates — Marechal Macdonald's Proposal — Financial Difficulties — Restriction on the Press— Reflections on this Subject, . . 709 Chap. LXXXIV. — Carnot's Jlemorial on Public Affairs — Fouche joins the Jacobins — Projects of that Party ; which finally joins the Buonapartists — Active Intrigues — Congress of Vienna — Murat, alarmed at its proceedings, opens an intercourse with Napoleon — Plans of the Conspirators — Buonaparte's Es- cape from Elba — He lands at Cannes— Is joined at Grenoble, by 3000 Troops — Halts at Lyons, ap- CONTENTS. XV PAOS points a Ministry, and issues several Decrees — Dismay of the Government — Intrigues of Fouche — Treacliery of Ney — Revolt of the Royal Army at Melun — The King leaves Paris, and Buonaparte ar- riveis there — His Reception, 719 Chap. LXXXV. — Various attempts to organise a Defence for the Bourbons fail — Buonaparte, again re- instated on the Throne of France, is desirous of continuing the Peace with the Allies — but no answer is returned to his letters — Treaty of Vienna — Grievances alleged by Buonaparte in justification of the step he had taken — Debates in the British House of Commons, on the renewal of AV'^ar— Murat occu- pies Rome with 50,000 Men — His Proclamation summoning all Italians to arms — He advances against the Austrians — is repulsed at Occhio-Bello — defeated at Tolentino — flies to Naples, and thence, in dis- guise, to France — where Napoleon refuses to receive him, 73] Chap. liXXXVI. — Buonaparte's attempts to conciliate Britain — Plot to carry off Mai'ia Louisa fails- State of feeling in France — The Army — The Jacobins — The Constitutionalists — Fouche and Sieyes made Peers — Freedom of the Press granted, and outraged — Independent Conduct of Comte, editor of Le Censur — Disaffections among the lower Orders — Part of these assemble before the Tuileries, and ap- plaud the Emperor — Festival of the Federates — New Constitution — It is received with dissatisfaction — Meeting of the Champ de Mai to ratify it — Buonaparte's Address to the Chambers of Peers and De- puties — The Spirit of Jacobinism predominant in the latter, 736 Chap. LXXXVII. — Preparations for War — Positions of the Allied Forces, amounting in whole to One Million of Men — Buonaparte's Force not more than 200,000 — Conscription not ventured upon — Na- tional Guard — their reluctance to serve — Many Provinces hostile to Napoleon — Fouche's Report makes ■■ known the Disaflection- — Insurrection in La Vendee — quelled — Military Resources — Plan of Campaign — Paris placed in a complete State of Defence — Frontier Passes and Towns fortified — Generals who ac- cept Command under Napoleon — He announces his Purpose to measure himself with Wellington, 742 Chap. LXXXVIII. — Army of Wellington covers Brussels — that of Blucher on the Sambre and Meuse — Napoleon reviews his Grand Armj' on I4th June — Advances upon Charleroi — His plan to separate the Armies of the two opposing Generals fails — Interview of Wellington and Blucher at Brie — British Army concentrated at Quatre-13ras — Napoleon's plan of attack — Battle of Ligny, and Defeat of Blu- cher on 16th June — Action at Quatre-Bras on the same day — The British retain possession of the field — Blucher eludes the French pursuit — Napoleon joins Ney — Retreat of the British upon AVaterloo, 743 Chap. LXXXIX. — Strength of the two Armies — Plans of their Generals — The Battle of Waterloo commenced on the forenoon of the I8th June — French attack directed against the British centre — shifted to their right — Charges of the Cuirassiers — and their reception — Advance of the Prussians — Ney's Charge at the head of the Guards — His Repulse — and Napoleon's orders for retreat — The victo- rious Generals meet at La Belle Alliance — Behaviour of Napoleon during the Engagement — Blucher's pursuit of the French— Loss of the British — of the French — Napoleon's subsequent attempts to under- value the military skill of the Duke of Wellington answered — His uujust censures of Grouchy — The notion that the British were on the point of losing the battle when the Prussians came up, shown to be erroneous, 749 Chap. XC. — Buonaparte's arrival at Paris — The Chambers assemble, and adopt Resolutions, indicating fc wish for Napoleon's Abdication — Fouche presents Napoleon's Abdication, which stipulates that his Son shall succeed him — Carnots Report to the Peers, of the means of Defence — Contradicted by Ney — Stormy Debate on the Abdication Act — Both Chambers evade formally recognising Napoleon II. — Provisional Government — Napoleon at Malmaison — His offer of his services in the defence of Paris re- jected — Surveillance of General Beker — Means provided at Rochefort for his departure to the United States — He arrives at Rochefort on 3d July — The Provisional Government attempt in vain to treat ■with the Allies — The Allies advance to Paris — Chamber of Peers disperse — Louis XVIII. re-enters Paris on 8th July, 758 Chap. XCL — Disposition of the British Fleet along the Western Coast of France, in order to prevent Buonaparte's Escape — The Bellerophon off Rochefort — Orders under which Captain Maitland acted — Plans agitated for Napoleon's escape — Savary and Las Cases open a Negotiation with Captain Mait- land — Captain Maitland's Account of what passed at their Interviews — Las Cases' Account— The Statements compared — Napoleon's Letter to the Prince Regent — He surrenders himself on board the Bellerophon, on 15th July — -His arrival off PljTnouth — All approach to the Ship prohibited — Final determination of the English Government that Buonaparte shall be sent to St. Helena — His Protest, 7C9 Chap. XCII. — Napoleon's real view of the measure of sending him to St. Helena — Allegation that Cap- tain Maitland made terms with him — disproved — Probability that the insinuation arose with Las Cases ^Scheme of removing Napoleon from the Bellerophon, by citing him as a witness in a case of Libel — Threats of Self-destruction — Napoleon goes on board the Northumberland, which sails for St. Helena ■ — His behaviour on the voj'age — He arrives at St. Helena, 16th October, 776 Chap^XCIII. — Causes which justify the English Government in the measure of Napoleon's Banishment —Napoleon's wish to retire to England, in order that, being near France, he might again interfere in Her Affairs — Reasons for withholding from him the title of Emperor — Sir George Cockburn's Instruc- tions — Temporary Accommodation at Briars — Napoleon removes to Longwood — Precautions taken for the safe Custody of the Prisoner, 781 Chap. XCIV. — Buonaparte's alleged Grievances considered — Right to restrict his Liberty — Limits al- lowed Napoleon — Complaints urged by Las Cases against Sir George Cock burn — Sir H^adson Lowe appointed Governor of St. Helena — Information given by General Gourgaud to Government — Agita- tion of various Plans for Buonaparte's Escape — Writers on the Subject of Napoleon's Residence at St. Helena — Napoleon's irritating Treatment of Sir Hudson Lowe — Interviews between them, , . 785 Chap. XCV. — Instructions to Sir Hudson Lowe — Sura allowed for the Ex-Emperor's Expenses — Na- poleon s proposal to defray his own Expenses— Sale of his Plate — made in order to produce a false im- xvi CONTENTS. PA5« preasioii : he had at that time a large sum of Money in his strong-box — Wooden-House constructed in London, and transported to St. Helena — Interview between Sir H. Lowe and Napoleon — Delays It the Erection of the House— The Regulation that a British Officer should attend Napoleon in his Rides — Communication with Europe carried on by the Inmates of Longwood — Regulation respect- ing Napoleon's Intercourse with the Inhabitants of St. Helena — General Reflections on the Disputes between him and Sir U. Lowe, 7!?t> Chap. XCVI. —Napoleon's domestic Habits — Manner in which he spent the Day — his Dress— Nature of the Fragmen,;s of Memoirs he dictated to Gourgaud and Montholon — His admiration of Ossian — He prefers Racine and Corneille to Voltaire — Dislike of Tacitus — His Vindication of the Character of Cjesar — His Behaviour towards the Persons of his Household — Amusements and Exercises — His Cha- racter of Sir Pulteney Malcolm — Degree of his Intercourse with the Islanders, and with Visitors to the Island — Interview with Captain Basil Hall — with Lord Amherst and the Gentlemen attached to the Chinese Embassy, 804 Chap. XCVII. — Napoleon's Illness — viz. Cancer in the Stomach— Removal of Las Cases — Montholon's Complaints brought forward 'oy Lord Holland — and replied to by Lord Bathurst — Effect of the Failure of Lord Holland's Motion — Removal of Dr. O'Meai'a from his attendance on Buonaparte — who refuses to permit the visits of any other English Physician — Two Priests sent to St. Helena at his desire— Dr. Antommarchi — Continued Disputes with Sir Hudson Lowe — Plans for*eft'ecting Buonaparte's Escape • — Scheme of a Smuggler to approach St. Helena in a Submarine Vessel — Seizure of the Vessel — Letter expressing the King of England's interest in the Illness of Napoleon — Consent of the latter to admit the visits of Dr. Arnott — Napoleon employs himself in making liis Will — and gives other directions connected with his Decease — Extreme Unction administered to him — His Death, on 5th May, 1821 — Anatomization of the Body — His Funeral, 811 Conclusion, 821 Appendix, No. I. — Buonaparte's Letter to General Paoli, 831 No. II. — Letter of Napoleon Buonaparte to M. Matteo Buttafuoco, Deputy from Corsica to the National Assembly, ib. . No. HI. — The Supper of Beaucaire, 834 . No. IV. — Letters of Napoleon to Josephine, 835 No. V. — Descent of the French in South Wales, under General Tate, .... 837 ■ No. VI. — Buonapartes Camp Library, ib. No. VIL— Buonaparte's Proclamation to the People of Egypt, 838 No. VIII. — Historical Notes of the Eighteenth Brumaire, ib. No. IX. — Instructions by Napoleon to Talleyrand, Prince of Beneventum, . . . 842 . . No. X. — Further Particulars concerning the Arrest, Trial, and Death of the Duke D'Enghien, ib. . No. XL— Reflections on the Conduct of Napoleon towards the Prince-Royal ol Sweden, 847 _ No. XII. — Extract from Manuscript Observations on Napoleon's Russian Campaign, by an Elnglish Officer of Rank, 850 No. XIII. — Remarks on the Campaign of 1815, by Captain John W. Pringle, of the Royal Engineers, 851 No. XIV. — Buonaparte's Protest, 860 ■ No. XV. — States of Thei-mometer, 861 . No. XVI. — Interview betwixt Napoleon Buonaparte and Henry Ellis, Esq., Third Commis- sioner of Lord Amherst's Embassy to China, ib. — No. XVII. — Memorandum of the Establishment at Longwood, 863 . No. XVIII. — Interview between Buonaparte and the Widow of Theobald WoKe Tone, 864 ■ No. XIX. — Buonaparte's Last AVill and Testament, ...«•• ^ ih- ADVERTISEMENT TO THE FIRST EDITION. The extent and purpose of this "Work, have, in the course of its prog-ress, gradually but essen- tially changed from what the Author orig-inally proposed. It was at first intended merely as a brief and popular abstract of the life of the most wonderful man, and the most extraordinary events, of the last thirty years ; in short, to emulate the concise yet most interesting' history of the great British Admiral, by the Poet-Laureate of Britain. The Author was partly induced to undertake the task, by having formerly drawn up for a periodical work — " The Edinburgh Annual Register" —the history of the two great campaigns of 1814 and 1815 ; and three volumes were the compass assigned to the proposed work. An introductory volume, giving a general account of the Rise and Progress of the French Revolution, was thought necessary ; and the single volume, on a theme of such extent, soon swelled into two. As the Author composed under an anonymous title, he could neither seek nor expect informa- tion from those who had been actively engaged in the changeful scenes which he was attempting to record ; nor was his object more ambitious than that of compressing and arranging such infor- mation as the ordinary authorities aftbrded. Circumstances, however, unconnected with the under- taking, induced him to lay aside an incognito,^ any farther attempt to preserve which must have been considered as affectation ; and since his having done so, he has been favoured with access to some valuable materials, most of which have now, for the first time, seen the light. For these he refers to the Appendix at the close of the Work, where the reader will find several articles of no- velty and interest. Though not at liberty, in every case, to mention the quarter from which his information has been derived, the Author has been careful not to rely upon any which did not come from sufficient authority. He has neither grubbed for anecdotes in the libels and private scandal of the time, nor has he solicited information from individuals who could not be impartial witnesses in the facts to which they gave evidence. Yet the various public documents and private infor- mation which he has received, have much enlarged his stock of materials, and increased the M'hole work to more than twice the size originally intended. On the execution of his task, it becomes the Author to be silent. He is aware it must exhibit many faults ; but he claims credit for having brought to the undertaking a mind disposed to do his subject as impartial justice as his judgment could supply. He wiU be found no enemy to the person of Napoleon. The term of hostility is ended when the battle has been won, and the foe exists no longer. His splendid personal qualities — his great military actions and political services to France — vfiW not, it is hoped, be found depreciated in the narrative. Unhappily, the Author's task involved a duty of another kind, the discharge of which is due to France, to Britain, to Europe, and to the world. If the general system of Napoleon has rested upon force or fraud, it is neither the greatness of his talents, nor the success of his undertakings, that ought to stifle the voice or dazzle the eyes of him who adventures to be his historian. The reasons, however, are care- fully summed up where the Author has presumed to express a favourable or unfavourable opinion of the distinguished person of whom these volumes treat ; so that each reader may judge of their vahdity for himself. The name, by an original error of the press, which proceeded too far before it was discovered, has been printed with a u, — Buonaparte instead of Bonaparte. Both spellings were indifferently adopted in the family ; but Napoleon always used the last,* and had an unquestionable right tn choose the orthography which he preferred. Edinburgh, 1th Jurx 1827. ADVERTISEMENT TO EDITION 1834.3 Sm Walter Scott left two interleaved copies of his Life of Napoleon, in both of which his executors have found various corrections of the text, and additional notes. They were directed by his testament to take care, that, in case a new edition of the work were called for, the annotations of it might be completed in the fashion here adopted, dates and other marginal elucidations regu- larly introduced, and the text itself, wherever there appearedanyredundancy of statement, abridged. With these instructions, except the last, the Editor has now endeavoured to comply. 1 Thiswork was begun in the summer of 1825; the failure of the Author's booksellers, Messrs Constable and Co., which occurred in Januarj- 1826, necessarily involved the disclosure of their private transactions with Sir Walter Scott ; and he him* self made the public confession of his being tlie sole writer of the Waverley Novels, at the first dinner of the Edinburgli Theatrical Fund Association, on the 23d of February 1827. ; Barras, in his official account of the affair of the 13th Vcndemiaire, (October 5, 179.5,) calls him General Buonaparte ; and in the contract of marriage between Napoleon and Josephine, still existing in the registrj- of the second arronilissonient ot Paris, dated March 9, 1796, his signature is so written. No document has ever been produced, in which the word appeals as Bonaparte, prior to Napoleon's appointment to the command of the Army of Italy. 3 [In the present edition Sir W'alter Scott's Notes have the letter S affixed to them, all of the others having been collected by the Editor.] VOL. II. R Sed non in Cxsare tantum Nomen erat, nee faraa ducis ; sed nescia virtus Stare loco : solusque pudor non vincere bello. Acer et indomitus ; quo spes quoque ira rocasset, Ferre manum, et nunquam temerando parcere ferro: Successus urgere suos: instare favori Numinis : impellens quicquid sibi summa petenti Obstaret: gaudensque viam fecisse ruina. LucANi PJtarsalia, Lib. I. I J " But Csesar's greatness, and his strength, was more Than past renown and antiquated power ; 'Twas not the fame of what he once had been, Or tales in old records and annals seen ; But 'twas a valour restless, unconfined. Which no success could sate, nor limits bind ; 'Twas shame, a soldier's shame, untaught to yield. That blush'd for nothing but an ill-fought field ; Fierce in his hopes he was, nor knew to stay Where vengeance or ambition led the way ; Still prodigal of war whene'er withstood. Nor spared to stain the g:uilty sword with blood ; Urging advantage, he improved all odds, And made the most of fortune and the gods ; Pleased to o'erturn whate'er withheld liis prize, And saw the ruin with rejoicing eyes." — Bowa. LIFE OP NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. CHAPTER T. VIEW OF THE FRENCH REVOLUTIOX, H^rietc of the state of Euroi'e after the Peace of Ver- sailles — England — France — Spain — Prussia — Imprudent Innovations of the Emperor Joseph — Disturbances in his Dominions — ihissia — France • — Her ancient System of Monarchy — hoic organ- ized — Causes of its Decay — Decay of the Nobility as a body — The new Nobles — The Country Nobles ■ — The Nobles of the highest Order — The Church — The higher Orders of the Clergy — The loicer Orders — 7'he Commons — Their increase in Power and Importance— Their Claims opposed to those of the Privileged Classes. When we look back on past events, however im- portant, it is difficult to recall the precise sensations with which we viewed them in then* progress, and to recollect the fears, hopes, doubts, and difficulties, for which Time and the course of Fortune have formed a termination, so different probably from that which we had anticipated. When the rush of the inundation was before our eyes, and in our ears, we were scarce able to remember the state of things before its rage commenced, and when, subsequently, the deluge has subsided within the natui'al limits of the stream, it is still more difficult to recollect with precision the terrors it inspired when at its height. That which is present possesses such power over our senses and our imagination, that it requires no common effort to recall those sensations which ex- pired with preceding events. Yet, to do this is the peculiar province of history, which will be written and read in vain, unless it can connect with its de- tails an accurate idea of the impression which these produced on men's minds while they were yet in 1 In consequence of the censure passed on the Peace liy the House of Commons, the Shclburno miuistry was dis- Bolvpd on the 26th of February, 1783. a ■' During nearly twenty years, ever since the termination 01 the war with 1' ranee in 1763, the British flag had scarcely their transit. It is with this view that we attempt to resume the history of France and of Europe, at the conclusion of the American war — a period now only remembered by the more advanced part of the present generation. The peace concluded at Versailles in 1783, was reasonably supposed to augur a long repose to Europe. The high and emulous tone assumed in former times by the rival nations, had been lowered and tamed by recent circumstances. England, un- der the guidance of a weak, at least a most unlucky administration,^ had purchased peace at the expense of her North American Empire, and the resignation of supremacy over her colonies ; a loss great in it- self, but exaggerated in the eyes of the nation, by the rending asunder of the ties of common descent, and exclusive commercial intercourse, and by a sense of the wars waged, and expenses encountered for the protection and advancement of the fair em- pire which England found herself obliged to sur- render. The lustre of the British arms, so brilliant at the Peace of Fontainbleau, had been tarnished, if not extinguished. In spite of the gallant defence of Gibraltar, the general result of the war on land had been unfavourable to her military reputation ; and notwithstanding the opportune and splendid victories of Rodney, the coasts of Britain had been insulted, and her fleets compelled to retire into port, while those of her combined enemies rode masters of the channel." The spirit of the country also had been lowered, by the unequal contest which had been sustained, and by the sense that her naval superiority was an object of invidious hatred to united Europe. This had been lately made mani- fest, by the armed alliance of the northern nations, which, though termed a neutrality, was, in fact, a league made to abate the pretensions of England been liny where triumphant; while the navies of the House of Bourbon, throuijhout the profrrcss of the American contest, annually insulted us in the Channel, intercepted our mer- cantile convdys, blocked our harbuuis, aud threatened our coasts."— Wraxall 1782. SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. to maritime supremacy. There are to he added to these disheartening and depressing circumstances, the decay of commerce during the long course of hostiUties, with the want of credit and depression of the price of land, which are the usual conse- quences of a transition from war to peace, ere capital has regained its natural channel. All these things being considered, it appeared the manifest interest of England to husband her exhausted re- sources, and recruit her diminished wealth, by cul- tivating peace and tranquillity for a long course of time. William Pitt, never more distinguished than 'n his financial operations, was engaged in new- modelling the revenue of the country, and adding to the return of the taxes, while he diminished their pressure. It could scarcely be supposed that Bny object of national ambition would have been permitted to disturb him in a task so necessary. Neither had France, the natural rival of England, come off from the contest in such circumstances of triumph and advantage, as were likely to encourage her to a speedy renewal of the struggle. It is true, she had seen and contributed to the humiliation of her ancient enemy, but she had paid dearly for the gratification of her revenge, as nations and indivi- duals are wont to do. Her finances, tampered with by successive sets of ministers, who looked no far- ther than to temporary expedients for carrying on the necessary expenses of government, now pre- sented an alarming prospect ; and it seemed as if the wildest and most enterprising ministers would hardly have dared, in their most sanguine moments, to have recommended either war itself, or any mea- sures of which war might be the consequence. Spain was in a like state of exhaustion. She had been hun-ied into the alliance against England, partly by the consequences of the family alliance betwixt her Bourbons and those of France, but still more by the eager and engrossing desire to possess herself once more of Gibraltar. The Cas- tilian pride, long galled by beholding this important fortress in the hands of heretics and foreigners, highly applauded the war, which gave a chance of its recovery, and seconded, with all the power of the kingdom, the gigantic efforts made for that purpose. All these immense preparations, with the most formidable means of attack ever used on Buch an occasion, had totally failed, and the king- dom of Spain remained at once stunned and morti- fied by the failure, and broken down by the ex- penses of so huge an undertaking. An attack upon Algiers, in 1784-5, tended to exhaust the remains of laer military ardour. Spain, therefore, relapsed into inactivity and repose, dispirited by the mis- carriage of her favourite scheme, and possessing neither the means nor the audacity necessary to meditate its speedy renewal. Neither were the sovereigns of the late bellige- rent powers of that ambitious and active character which was likely to drag the kingdoms which they 1 " The deepest wounds were inflicted on the empire during the minorities of the sons and grandsons of Theodosius; and after those incapable princes seemed to attain the age of man- hood, they abandoned the church to the bishops, the state to the eunuchs, and the provinces to the barbarians. Europe is now divided into twelve powerful, though unequal kingdoms, thre« respectable conimonwealtlis, and a variety of smaller, though independent states: the chances of royal and minis- terial talents are multiplied, at least with the number of its rulers; and a Julian, or Semiramis, may reign in tlie north, ■while ArcadiuB and Honorius again slumber on the thrones of the south." — Gibbon's Decline and Fall, vol. iii., p. 636. " It may not be generally known that Louis the Sixteenth swayed into the renewal of hostilities. The classic eye of the historian Gibbon saw Arcadius and Honorius, the weakest and most indolent of the Roman Emperors, slumbering upon the thrones of the House of Bourbon ;i and the just and loyal character of George III. precluded any effort on his part to undermine the peace which he signed unwillingly, or to attempt the resumption of those rights which he had formally, though reluctantly, surrendered. His expression to the ambassador of the United States,^ was a trait of character never to be omitted or forgotten : — " I have been the last man in my dominions to accede to this peace, which separates America from my kingdoms — I will be the first man, now it is made, to resist any attempt to infringe it." The acute historian whom we have already quoted seems to have apprehended, in the cha- racter and ambition of the northern potentates, those causes of disturbance which were not to be found in the western part of the European repub- lic. But Catherine, the Semiramis of the north, had her views of extensive dominion chiefly turned towards her eastern and southern frontier, and the finances of her immense, but comparatively poor and unpeopled empire, were burdened with the expenses of a luxurious court, requiring at once to be gratified with the splendour of Asia and the refinements of Europe. The strength of her empire also, though immense, was unwieldy, and the em- pire had not been uniformly fortunate in its war3 with the more prompt, though less numerous ar- mies of the King of Prussia, her neighbour. Thus Russia, no less than other powers in Europe, appeared more desirous of reposing her gigantic strength, than of adventuring upon new and ha- zardous conquests. Even her views upon Turkey, which circumstances seemed to render more flat- tering than ever, she was contented to resign, in 1784, when only half accomplished; a pledge, not only that her thoughts were sincerely bent upon peace, but that she felt the necessity of resisting even the most tempting opportunities for resuming the course of victory which she had, four years before, pursued so successfully. Frederick of Prussia himself, who had been so long, by dint of genius and talent, the animating soul of the political intrigues in Europe, had run too many risks, in the course of his adventurous and eventful reign, to be desirous of encountering new hazards in the extremity of life. His empire, extended as it was from the shores of the Baltic to the frontiers of Holland, consisted of various de- tached portions, which it required the aid of time to consolidate into a single kingdom. And, accus- tomed to study the signs of the times, it could not have escaped Frederick, that sentiments and feel- ings were afloat, connected with, and fostered by, the spirit of unlimited investigation, which he himself had termed philosophy, such as might soon is a great reader, and a great reader of English books. On perusing a passage in my History, which seems to compare him to Arcadius or Honorius, he expressed his resentment to the Prince of B * * * * *, from whom the intelligence was conveyed to me. 1 shall neither disclaim the allusion, nor examine the likeness ; but the situation of the late King of France excludes all suspicion of flattery ; and I am ready to declare, that the concluding observations of my third volume were written before his accession to the throne/'— Gibbon's Memoirs, vol. i., p. 162. - On the occasion of the first audience of Mr. Adams, in June, 1785.— See Wraxali-'s Ou)n Time, Tol. i., p. 31)1. FRENCH REVOLUTION. call upon the sovereigns to arm in a common cause, and ought to prevent them, in the meanwhile, from wasting their strength in mutual struggles, and giving advantage to a common enemy. If such anticipations occupied and agitated the last years of Frederick's life, they had not the same effect upon the Emperor Joseph II., who, without the same clear-eyed precision of judgment, endea- voured to tread in the steps of the King of Prussia, as a reformer, and as a conqueror. It would he unjust to deny to this prince the praise of consi- derable talents, and inclination to employ them for the good of the counti-y which he ruled. But it frequently happens, that the talents, and even the virtues of sovereigns, exercised without respect to time and circumstances, become the misfortune of their government. It is particularly the lot of princes, endowed with such personal advantages, to be confident in their own abilities, and, unless educated in the severe school of adversity, to prefer favourites, who assent to and repeat their opinions, to independent counsellors, whose experience might correct their own hasty conclusions. And thus, although the personal merits of Joseph II. were in every respect acknowledged, his talents in a great measure recognised, and his patriotic intentions scarcely disputable, it fell to his lot, during the period we treat of, to excite more apprehension and discontent among his subjects, than if he had been a prince content to rule by a minister, and wear out an indolent life in the foi-ms and plea- sures of a court. Accordingly, the Emperor, in many of his schemes of reform, too hastily adopt- ed, or at least too incautiously and peremptorily executed, had the misfortune to introduce fearful commotions among the people, whose situation he meant to ameliorate, while in his external relations he rendered Austria the quarter from which a breach of European peace was most to be appre- hended. It seemed, indeed, as if the Emperor had contrived to reconcile his philosophical professions with the exercise of the most selfish policy towards the United Provinces, both in opening the Scheldt, and in dismantling the barrier towns, which had been placed in their hands as a defence against the power of France. By the first of these measures the Emperor gained nothing but the paltry sum of money for which he sold his pretensions, and the shame of having shown himself imgrateful for the important services which the United Provinces had rendered to his ancestors. But the dismantling of the Dutch barrier was subsequently attended by circumstances alike calamitous to Austria, and to the whole continent of Europe. In another respect, the reforms can-ied through by Joseph II. tended to prepare the public mind for future innovations, made with a inider hand, 1 " The sum, after long debates, was fixed by tlie Emperor at ten million guilders." — Coxe's House of Austria, vol. ii., p. 58H. 2 " Joseph the Second borrowed the languaRe of philoso- phy, when he wished to suppress the monks of Bclf,'ium, and .o seize their revenues : but there was seen on him a mask only of philosophy, covering the hideous countenance of a greedy despot: and the people ran to arms. Nothing better than another kind of despotism has been seen in the revolu- tionary powers."— Brissot, Letter to his Constituents, 1794. 3 " In I7H(), there were 2024 convents in the Austrian domi- nions: These were diminished to 700, and 30,000 monks and nuns to 2700. Joseph mifiht have applied to his own reforms the remark he afterwards made to General D'Alten, on the reforms of the French :^' Tlie new constitution of France has Bot been very polite to the high clergy and nobility ; and I and upon a much larger scale.' The suppression of the religious orders, and the appropriation of their revenues to the general purposes of govern- ment, had in it something to flatter the feelings of those of the Reformed religion ; but, in a moral point of view, the seizing upon the property of any private individual, or public body, is an invasion of the most sacred principles of public justice, and such spoliation cannot be vindicated by urgent cir- cumstances of state-necessity, or any plausible pre- text of state-advantage whatsoever, since no neces- sity can vindicate what is in itself unjust, and no public advantage can compensate a breach of pub- lic faith.'' Joseph was also the first Catholic sove- reign who broke through the solemn degree of reverence attached by that religion to the person of the Sovereign Pontiff. The Pope's fruitless and humiliating visit to Vienna furnished the shadow of a precedent for the conduct of Napoleon to Pius VII.* Another and yet less justifiable cause of innova- tion, placed in peril, and left in doubt and discon- tent, some of the fairest provinces of the Austrian dominions, and those which the wisest of their princes had governed with peculiar tenderness and moderation. The Austrian Netherlands had been in a literal sense dismantled and left open to the first invader, by the demolition of the barrier for- tresses ; and it seems to have been the systematic purpose of the Emperor to eradicate and destroy that love and regard for their prince and his govern- ment, which in time of need proves the most effec- tual moral substitute for moats and ramparts. The history of the house of Burgundy bore witness on every page to the love of the Flemings for liberty, and the jealousy with which they have, from the earliest ages, watched the privileges they had obtained from their princes. Yet in that country, and amongst these people, Joseph carried on his mea- sures of innovation with a hand so unsparing, as if he meant to bring the question of liberty or arbi- trary power to a very brief and military decision betwixt him and his subjects. His alterations were not in Flanders, as else- where, confined to the ecclesiastical state alone, although such innovations were peculiarly offensive to a people rigidly Catholic, but were extended through the most important parts of the civil go- vernment. Changes in the courts of justice were threatened-^the great seal, which had hitherto remained with the chancellor of the States, was transferred to the Imperial minister — a Council of State, composed of commissioners nominated by the Emperor, was appointed to discharge the duties hitherto intrusted to a standing committee of the States of Brabant — their universities were altered and new-modelled — and their magisti-ates subjected still doubt much if all these fine things can be carried into execution !' "—CoxE, vol. ii., p. 578. •* " The Pope reached Vienna in February, 17^2. He was received with every mark of exterior homage and veneration but his exhortations and remonstrances were treated with coldness and reserve, and he was so narrowly watched, that the back-door of his ap;irtments was blocked up to prevent him from receiving private visitors. Chagrined with the in- flexibility of the Emperor, and mortified by an unmeaning ceremonial, and an affected display of veneration for the Holy Sec, while it was robbed of its richest possessions, and its most valuable privileges, Pius quitted Vienna at the expiration of a month, equally disgusted and humiliated, after having ex- hibited himself as a disay)pointed suiijiliant at the foot of that throne which bad been so often shalcen by the tbuTider of th« Vatican."— /(//(/., p CkiA. SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. to arbitrary arrests and sent to Vienna, instead of being tried in their own country and by their own laws. The Flemish people beheld these innova- tions ■with the sentiments natural to freemen, and not a httle stimulated certainly by the scenes which had lately passed in North America, where, under circumstances of far less provocation, a large empire had emancipated itself from the mother country. The States remonstrated loudly, and refused sub- mission to the decrees which encroached on their constitutional liberties, and at length arrayed a mili- tary force in support of their patriotic opposition. Joseph, who at the same time he thus wantonly provoked the States and people of Flanders, had been seduced by Russia to join her ambitious plan upon Turkey, bent apparently before the storm he had excited, and for a time j-ielded to accommoda- tion with his subjects of Flanders, renounced the most obnoxious of his new measures, and confirmed the privileges of the nation, at what was called the Joyous Entry.' But this spirit of conciUation was only assumed for the purpose of deception ; for so soon as he had assembled in Flanders what was deemed a sufficient armed force to sustain his des- potic purposes, the Emperor threw off the mask, and, by the most violent acts of military force, endeavoured to overthrow the constitution he had agreed to observe, and to enforce the arbitrary measures which he had pretended to abandon. For a brief period of two years, Flanders remained in a state of suppressed, but deeply-founded and wide- extended discontent, watching fox a moment favour- able to freedom and to vengeance. It proved an ample store-house of combustibles, prompt to catch tire, as the flame now arising in France began to expand itself ; nor can it be doubted, that the con- dition of the Flemish provinces, whether considered in a military or in a political light, was one of the principal causes of the subsequent success of the French Republican arms. Joseph himself, broken- hearted and dispirited, died in the very beginning of the troubles he had wantonly provoked.^ De- sirous of fame as a legislator and a warrior, and certainly born with talents to acquire it, he left his arms dishonoured by the successes of the despised Turks, and his fair dominions of the Netherlands and of Hungary upon the very eve of insurrection. A lampoon, written upon the hospital for lunatics at Vienna, might be said to be no unjust epitaph for a monarch, one so hopeful and so beloved — " Josephus, ubique Secundus, hie Primus." These Flemish disturbances might be regarded as sjinptoms of the new opinions which were tacitly gaining ground in Europe, and which preceded the grand explosion, as slight shocks of an earthquake usually announce the approach of its general con- ^Tilsion. The like may be said of the short-lived Dutch revolution of 1787, in which the ancient faction of Louvestein, under the encouragement of France, for a time completely triumphed over that of the Stadtholder, deposed him from his heredi- tary command of Captain-General of the Army of the States, and reduced, or endeavoured to reduce, the confederation of the United States to a pure democracy. This was also a strong sign of the times; for, although totally opposite to the incli- ' The charter by which the privileges of the Flemings Tvcre nettled, had been promulgated on the entry o{ Philip the Good Vlito Brussels. Hence this name.— See Coxe. - " Joseph expired at Vienna, in February, 1/90, at the age nation of the majority of the States-General, of the equestrian body, of the landed proprietors, nay, of the very populace, most of whom were from habit and principle attached to the House of Orange, the burghers of the large towns drove on the work of revolution with such warmth of zeal and prompti- tude of action, as showed a great part of the mid- dling cla=ses to be deeply tinctured with the desire of gaining further liberty, and a larger share in the legislation and administration of the country, than pertained to them under the old oligarchical constitution. The revolutionary government, in the Dutch provinces, did not, however, conduct their affairs with prudence. Without waiting to organize their own force, or weaken that of the enemy — without obtaining the necessary countenance and protection of France, or co-operating with the malecontents in the Austrian Netherlands, they gave, by arrest- ing the Princess of Orange, (sister of the King of Prussia,) an opportunity of foreign interference, of which that prince failed not to avail himself. His armies, commanded by the Duke of Brunswick, poured into the United Pro^-inces, and with little difficulty possessed themselves of Utrecht, Amster- dam, and the other cities which constituted the strength of the Louvestein or republican faction. The King then replaced the House of Orange in all its power, privileges, and fvmctions. The con- duct "tof the Dutch republicans during their brief hour of authority had been neither so moderate nor so popular as to make their sudden and almost un- resisting fall a matter of general regret. On the contrary, it was considered as a probable pledge of the continuance of peace in Europe, especially as France, busied with her own affairs, declined inter* ference in those of the United States. The intrigues of Russia had, in accomplishment of the ambitious schemes of Catherine, lighted up war with Sweden, as well as with Turkey ; but in both cases hostilities were commenced upon the old plan of fighting one or two battles, and wresting a fortress of a province from a neighbourmg state ; and it seems likely, that the intervention of France and England, equally interested in preserving the balance of power, might have ended these troubles, but for the progi-ess of that great and hitherto un- heard-of course of events, which prepared, carried on, and matured, the French Revolution. It is necessary, for the execution of our plan, that we should review this period of historj', the most important, perhaps, during its currency, and in its consequences, which the annals of mankind afford ; and although the very title is sufficient to awaken in most bosoms either horror or admira- tion, yet, neither insensible of the blessings of national liberty, nor of those which flow from the protection of just laws, and a moderate but firm executive government, we may perhaps be enabled to trace its events with the candour of one, who, looking back on past scenes, feels divested of the keen and angry spirit with which, in common with his contemporaries, he may have judged tbeni while they were yet in progress. We have shortly reviewed the state of Europe of forty nine, extenuated by diseases, caused or accelerated in their progress by his own irritability of temper, acitation of mind, and the embarrassment of his afl'airs." — Wraxall vol. i., p. 277. FRENCH REVOLUTION. in general, which v.e have seen to be either pacific, or disturbed by troubles of no long duration ; but it was in France that a thousand circumstances, some arising out of the general history of the world, some peculiar to that country herself, mingled, like the ingredients in the witches' cauldron, to produce in succession many a formidable but passing appa- rition, until concluded by the stern Vision of abso- lute and military power, as those in the drama are introduced by that of the Armed Head.' The first and most effective cause of the Revo- lution, was the change which had taken place in the feelings of the French towards their govern- ment, and the monarch who was its head. The devoted loyalty of the people to their king had been for several ages the most marked characteris- tic of the nation ; it was their honour in their own ej'es, and matter of contempt and ridicule in those of the English, because it seemed in its excess to swallow up all ideas of patriotism. That very ex- cess of loyalty, however, was founded not on a ser- vile, but upon a generous pi'inciple. France is ambitious, fond of military glory, and willingly identifies herself with the fame acquired by her soldiers. Down to the reign of Louis XV., the French monarch was, in the eyes of his subjects, a general, and the whole people an army. An army must be under severe discipline, and a general must possess absolute power ; but the soldier feels no de- gradation from the restraint w^hich is necessary to his profession, and without which he cannot be led to conquest. Every true Frenchman, therefore, submitted, without scruple, to that abridgement of personal liberty which appeared necessary to render the monarch great, and France victorious. The King, according to this system, was regarded less as an individual tlian as the representative of the con- centrated honour of the kingdom ; and in this sen- timent, however extravagant and Quixotic, there mingled much that w as generous, patriotic, and dis- interested. The same feeling was awakened after all the changes of the Revolution, by the wonder- ful successes of the Individual of whom the future volumes are to treat, and who transferred, in many instances to his own person, by deeds almost ex- ceeding credibility, the species of devoted attach- ment with which France formerly regarded the ancient line of her kings. The nobility shared with the king in the advan- tages which this predilection spread around him. If the monarch was regarded as the chief ornament of the commvmity, they were the minor gems by whose lustre that of the crown was reheved or adorned. If he was the supreme general of the state, they were the officers attached to his person, and necessary to the execution of his commands, each in his degree bound to advance the honour and glory of the common country. When such sentiments were at their height, there could be no murmuring against the peculiar privileges of the nobility, any more than against the almost absolute authority of the monarch. Each had that rank in the state which was regarded as his birth-right, and for one of the lower orders to repine that he en- joyed not the immunities peculiar to the noblesse, would liave been as imavailing, and as foolish, as to lament that he was not born to an independent ' See .^Tncheth, act iv., sc. i. * Xhc >ld French proverb bnre, — estate. Thus, the Frenchman, contented, though with an illusion, laughed, danced, and indulged all the gaiety of his national character, in circum- stances under which his insular neighbours would have thought the slightest token of patience dis- honourable and degrading. The distress or priva- tion which the French plebeian suffered in his own person, was made up to him in imagination by hia interest in the national glory. Was a citizen of Paris postponed in rank to the lowest military officer, he consoled himself by read- ing the victories of the French arms in the Gazette; and was he xmduly and unequally taxed to support the expense of the crown, still the public feasts which were given, and the palaces which were built, were to him a source of compensation. He looked on at the Carousel, he admired the splen- dour of Versailles, and enjoyed a reflected share of their splendour, in recollecting that they displayed the magnificence of his country. This state of things, however illusory, seemed, while the illusion lasted, to realize the wish of those legislators, who have endeavoured to form a general fund of na- tional liappiness, from which each individual is to draw his personal share of enjoyment. If the mo- narch enjoyed the display of his own grace and agility, while he hunted, or rode at the ring, the spectators had their share of pleasure in witnessing it : if Louis had the satisfaction of beholding the splendid piles of Versailles and the Louvre arise at his command, the subject admired them when raised, and his real portion of pleasure was not, perhaps, inferior to that of the foimder. The people were like men inconveniently placed in a crowded theatre, who think little of the personal inconveniences they are subjected to by the heat and pressure, while their mind is engrossed by the splendours of the representation. In short, not only the political opinions of Frenchmen but their actual feehngs, were, in the earlier days of the eighteenth century, expressed in the motto which they chose for theii" national palace — " Earth hath no nation like the French— no Nation a City like Paris, or a King hke Louis." The French enjoyed this assumed superiority with the less chance of being undeceived, that they listened not to any voice from other lands, which pointed out the deficiencies in the frame* of govern- ment under w-hich they lived, or which hinted the superior privileges enjoyed by the subjects of a more free state. The intense love of our own coun- try, and admiration of its constitution, is usually accompanied with a contempt or disUke of foreign states, and theu' modes of government. The French, in the reign of Louis XIV., enamoured of their own institutions, regarded those of other nations as un- worthy of their consideration ; and if they paused for a moment to gaze on the complicated constitu- tion of their gi'eat rival, it was soon dismissed as a subject totally unintelligible, with some expression of pity, perhaps, for tlie poor sovereign who had the ill luck to preside over a government embar- rassed by so many restraints and limitations.''' Yet, into whatever political errors the French peoplo were led by the excess of their loyalty, it would be unjust to brand them as a nation of a mean and slavish spirit. Servitude infei's dishonour, and dis- honour to a Frenchman is the last of evils. Burka " I.C roi d'An^leterre, Est Ic roi d Enfer."— S 18 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. more justly regarded them as a people misled to their disadvantage, by high and romantic ideas of honour and fidelity, and who, actuated by a prin- ciple of public spirit in their submission to their monarch, worshipped, in his person, the Fortime of France their common country. During the reign of Louis XIV., every thing tended to support the sentiment which connected the national honour with the wars and undertakings of the king. His success, in the earlier years of his reign, was splendid, and he might be regarded for many years, as the dictator of Europe. During this period, the universal opinion of his talents, together with his successes abroad, and his magni- ficence at home, fostered the idea that the Grand Monarque was in himself the tutelar deity, and only representative, of the great nation whose powers he wielded. Sorrow and desolation came on his latter years ; but be it said to the honour of the French people, that the devoted allegiance they had paid to Louis in prosperity, was not withdrawn when fortune seemed to have turned her back upon her original favourite. France poured her youth forth as readily, if not so gaily, to repair the defeats of her monarch's old age, as she had previously yielded them to secure and extend tlie victories of his early reign. Louis had perfectly succeeded in establishing the crown as the sole pivot upon which public affairs turned, and in attaching to his person, as the representative of France, all the importance ■which in other countries is given to the great body of the nation. Nor had the spirit of the French monarchy, in surrounding itself with all the dignity of absolute power, failed to secure the support of those auxi- liaries which have the most extended influence upon the pubUc mind, by engaging at once religion and literature in defence of its authority. The Gallican Church, more dependent upon the monarch, and less so upon the Pope, than is usual in Catholic countries, gave to the power of the crown all the mysterious and supernatural terrors annexed to an origin in divine right, and directed against those who encroached on the limits of the royal prero- gative, or even ventured to scrutinize too minutely the foundation of its authority, the penalties an- nexed to a breach of the divine law. Louis XIV. repaid this important service by a constant, and even scrupulous attention to observances prescribed by the Church, which strengthened, in the eyes of the public, the alliance so strictly formed betwixt the altar and the throne. Those who look to the private morals of the monarch may indeed form some doubt of the sincerity of his religious profes- sions, considering how little they influenced his practice ; and yet, when we reflect upon the fre- quent inconsistencies of mankind in this particular, we may hesitate to charge with hypocrisy a conduct, which was dictated perhaps as much by conscience as by political convenience. Even judging more severely, it must be allowed that hypocrisy, though 60 diff"erent from religion, indicates its existence, as smoke points out that of pure fire. Hypocrisy cannot exist unless religion be to a certain extent held in esteem, because no one would be at the trouble to assume a mask which was not respect- able, and so far compliance with the external forms of religion is a tribute paid to the doctrines which it teaches. The fcypocrite assumes a virtue if he has It not, and the example of his conduct may be salutary to others, though his pretensions to piety are wickedness to Him, who trieth the heart and reius. On the other hand, the Academy formed by the wily Richelieu served to unite the literature of France into one focus, under the immediate pa- tronage of the crown, to whose bounty its profes- sors were taught to look even for the very means of subsistence. The greater nobles caught this ardour of patronage from the sovereign, and as the latter pensioned and supported the principal literary cha- racters of his reign, the former granted shelter and support to others of the same rank, who were lodged at their hotels, fed at their tables, and were admitted to their society upon terms somewhat less degrading than those which were granted to artists and mu- sicians, and who gave to the Great, knowledge or amusement in exchange for the hospitality they re- ceived. Men m a situation so subordinate, could only at first accommodate their compositions to the taste and interest of their protectors. They height- ened by adulation and flattery the claims of the king and the nobles upon the community ; and the na- tion, indifferent at that time to all literature which was not of native growth, felt their respect for their own government enhanced and extended by the works of those men of genius who flom-ished vmder its protection. Such was the system of French monarchy, and such it remained, in outward show at least, until the peace of Fontainbleau. But its foundation had been gradually imdermined ; public opinion had undergone a silent but almost a total change, and it might be compared to some ancient tower swayed from its base by the lapse of time, and waiting the first blast of a hurricane, or shock of an earthquake, to be prostrated in the dust. How the lapse of halt a century, or little more, could have produced a change so total, must next be considered ; and this can only be done by viewing separately the various changes which the lapse of years had produced on the various orders of the state. First, then, it is to be observed, that in these latter times the wasting effects of luxury and vanity had totally ruined the greater part of the French nobility, a word which, in respect of tliat country, comprehended what is called in Britain the nobility and gentry, or natural aristocracy of the kingdom. This body, during the reign of Louis XIV., though far even then from supporting the part which their fathers had acted in history, yet existed, as it were, through their remembrances, and disguised their dependence upon the throne by the outward show of fortune, as well as by the consequence attached to hereditary right. They were one step nearer the days, not then totally forgotten, when the nobles of France, with their retainers, actually formed the army of the kingdom ; and they still presented, to the imagination at least, the descendants of a body of chivalrous heroes, ready to tread in the path of their ancestors, should the times ever render neces- sary the calling forth the Ban, or Arriere-Ban — • the feudal array of the Gallic chivalry. But this delusion had passed away ; the defence of states was intrusted in France, as in other countries, to the exertions of a standing army ; and, in the latter part of the eighteenth century, the nobles of France pre- sented a melancholy contrast to their predecessors. The number of the order was of itself sufficient to diminish its consequence. It had been impru- FRENCH REVOLUTION. dently increased by new creations. Tliere were in the kingdom about eighty thousand families enjoy- ing the privileges of nobility ; and the order was divided into different classes, which looked on each other with mutual jealousy and contempt. The first general distinction was betwixt the Ancient, and Modern, or new noblesse. The for- mer were nobles of old creation, whose ancestors had obtained their rank from real or supposed services rendered to the nation in her councils or her battles. The new nobles had found an easier access to the same elevation, by the purchase of territories, or of offices, or of letters of nobility, any of which easy modes invested the owners with titles and rank, often held by men whose wealth had been accumulated in mean and sordid occupa- tions, or by farmers-general, and financiers, whom the people considered as acquiring their fortunes at the expense of the state. These numerous ad- ditions to the privileged body of nobles accorded ill with its original composition, and introduced Bchism and disunion into the body itself. The de- scendants of the ancient chivalry of France looked with scorn upon the new men, who, rising perhaps from the very lees of the people, claimed from su- perior wealth a share in the privileges of the aris- tocracy. Again, secondly, there was, amongst the ancient nobles themselves, but too ample room for division between the upper and wealthier class of nobility, who had fortunes adequate to maintain their rank, and the much more numerous body, whose poverty rendered them pensioners upon the state for the means of supporting their dignity. Of about one thousand houses, of which the ancient noblesse is computed to have consisted, there were not above two or three hundred families who had retained the means of maintaining their rank without the as- sistance of the crown. Their claims to monopolize commissions in the army, and situations in the go- vernment, together with their exemption from taxes, were their sole resom-ces ; resources burden- some to the state, and odious to the people, with- out being in the same degi'ee beneficial to those who enjoyed them. Even in military service. which was considered as their birth-right, the no- bility of the second class were seldom permitted to rise above a certain limited rank. Long service might exalt one of them to the cfrade of lieutenant- colonel, or the government of some small town, but all the better rewards of a life spent in the army were reserved for nobles of the highest order. It followed as a matter of course, that amidst so many of this privileged body who languished in poverty, and could not rise from it by the ordinary paths of industry, some must have had recourse to loose and dishonourable practices ; and that gambling-houses and places of debauchery should have been fre- quented and patronised by individuals, whose an- cient descent, titles, and emblems of nobility, did not save them from the suspicion of very dishon- ourable conduct, the disgrace of which affected the character of the whole body. There must be noticed a third classification of the order, into the Haute Noblesse, or men of the highest rank, most of whom spent their lives at court, and in discharge of the great offices of the ■ See the Memoin of the Marchioness De La Rochejaquc- lein, p. 4fi. crown and state, and the Noblesse Campagnarde, who continued to reside upon their patrimonial estates in the provinces. The noblesse of the latter class had fallen gra* dually into a state of general contempt, which was deeply to be regretted. They were ridiculed and scorned by the courtiers, who despised the rusticity of their manners, and by the nobles of newer crea- tion, who, conscious of their own wealth, contemned the poverty of these ancient but decayed families. The " bold peasant" himself, is not more a king- dom's pride than is the plain country gentleman^ who, living on his own means, and amongst his own people, becomes the natural protector and referee of the farmer and the peasant, and, in case of need, either the firmest assertor of their rights and his own against the aggressions of the crown, or the independent and undaunted defender of the crown's rights, against the innovations of political fanaticism. In La Vende'e alone, the nobles had united their interest and their fortune with those of the peasants who cultivated their estates, and there alone were they found in their proper and honourable character of proprietors residing on their own domains, and discharging the duties which are inalienably attached to the owner of landed property. And — mark- worthy circum- stance ! — in La Vende'e alone was any stand made in behalf of the ancient proprietors, constitution, or religion of Fi'ance ; for there alone the nobles and the cultivators of the soil held towards each other their natural and proper relations of patron and client, faithful dependents, and generous and affectionate superiors.' In the other provinces of France, the nobility, speaking generally, possessed neither power nor influence among the peasantry, while the population around them was guided and influenced by men belonging to the Church, to the law, or to business ; classes which were in general better educated, better informed, and possessed of more talent and knowledge of the world, than the poor Noblesse Campagnarde, who seemed as much limited, caged, and imprisoned, within the restraints of their rank, as if they had been shut up within the dungeons of their ruinous chateaux ; and who had only their titles and dusty parchments to op- pose to the real superiority of wealth and informa- tion so generally to be found in the class which they afiected to despise. Hence, Se'gur describes the country gentlemen of his younger days as punctilious, ignorant, and quarrelsome, shunned by the better-informed of the middle classes, idle and dissipated, and wasting their leisure hours in coft'ee-houses, theatres, and bilhard-rooms.'-' The more wealthy families, and the high noblesse, as they were called, saw this degradation of the in- ferior part of their order without pity, or rather with pleasure. These last had risen as much above their natural duties, as the rural nobility had sunk beneath them. They had too well followed tha course which Richelieu had contrived to recom- mend to their fathers, and instead of acting as the natural chiefs and leaders of the nobility and gen- try of the provinces, they were continually engaged in intriguing for charges round the king's person, for posts in the administration, for additional titles and decorations — for all and every thing which 2 Slur's Memoirs, toL i., p. 7(>- 10 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. could make the successful courtier, and distinguish him from the independent noble. Tlieir education and habits also were totally unfavourable to grave or serious thought and exertion. If the trumpet had sounded, it would have found a ready echo in their bosoms ; but light litera,ture at best, and much more frequently silly and frivolous amuse- inents, a constant pursuit of pleasure, and a perpe- tual succession of intrigues, either of love or petty politics, made their character, in time of peace, ap- proach in insignificance to that of the women of the court, whom it was the business of their lives to captivate and amuse.* There were noble excep- tions, but in general the order, in every thing but military courage, had assumed a trivial and efte- luinate character, from which patriotic sacrifices, or masculine wisdom, were scarcely to be expected. While the first nobles of Fi'ance were engaged in these frivolous pursuits, their procureurs, bailiffs, Stewards, intendants, or by whatever name their agents and managers were designated, enjoyed the real influence which their constituents rejected as beneath them, rose into a degree of authority and credit, which eclipsed recollection of the distant and regardless proprietor, and formed a rank in the state not very different from that of the middle- men in Ireland. These agents were necessarily of plebeian birth, and their profession required that they should be familiar with the details of public business, which they administered in the nanie of their seigneurs. Many of this condition gained power and wealth m the course of the Revolution, thus succeeding, like an able and intelligent vizier, to the power which was forfeited by the idle and voluptuous sultan. Of the high noblesse it might with truth be said, that they still formed the grace of the court of France, though they had ceased to be its defence. They were accomplished, bi'ave, full of honour, and in many instances endowed with' talent. But the communication was broken off betwixt them and the subordinate orders, over whom, in just degree, they ought to have possessed a natural influence. The chain of gradual and insensible connexion was misted by time, in almost all its dependencies ; forcibly distorted, and con- temptuously wrenched asunder, in many. The noble had neglected and flung from him the most precious jewel in his coronet — the love and respect ■f the country-gentleman, the farmer, and the peasant, an advantage so natural to his condition in a well-constituted society, and founded upon prin- ciples so estimable, that he who contemns or de- stroys it, is guilty of little less than high treason, both to his own rank, and to the community in general. Such a change, however, had taken place in France, so that the noblesse might be compared to a court-sword, the hilt carved, orna- mented, and gilded, such as might grace a day of parade, but the blade gone, or composed of the most worthless materials. It only remains to be mentioned, that there subsisted, besides all the distinctions we have no- ticed, an essential difference in political opinions among the noblesse themselves, considered as a body. There were many of the order, who, look- ing to the exigencies of the kingdom, were pa- triotically disposed to sacrifice their own exclusive 1 For a curious picture of the life of tlie French nobles of fifty years since, see the first volume of Madame Uenlis's Memoirs. Had there been any more solid pursuits in society privileges, in order to afford a chance of its rege- neration. These of course were disposed to favour an alteration or reform in the original constitution of France ; but besides these enlightened indivi- duals, the nobility had the misfortune to include many disappointed and desperate men, ungratified by any of the advantages which their rank made them capable of receiving, and whose advantages of birth and education only rendered them more deeply dangerous, or more daringly profligate. A ple- beian, dishonoured by his vices, or depressed by the poverty which is their consequence, sinks easily into the insignificance from which wealth or cha- racter alone raised him ; but the noble often re- tains the means, as well as the desire, to avenge himself on society, for an expulsion which he feels not the less because he is conscious of deserving it. Such were the debauched Roman youth, among whom were found Cataline, and associates equal in talents and in depravity to their leader ; and such was the celebrated Mirabeau, who, almost expelled from his own class, as an irreclaimable profligate, entered the arena of the Revolution as a first-rate reformer, and a popular advocate of the lower orders. The state of the Church, that second pillar of the throne, was scarce more solid than that of the nobi- lity. Generally speaking, it might be said, that, for a long time, the higher orders of the clergy had ceased to take a vital concern in their profession, or to exercise its functions in a manner which inter- ested the feelings and affections of men. The Catholic Church had grown old, and unfor- tunately did not possess the means of renovating her doctrines, or improving her constitution, so as to keep pace with the enlargement of the human understanding. The lofty claims to infallibility which she had set up and maintained during the middle ages, claims which she could neither re- nounce nor modify, now threatened, in more en- lightened times, like battlements too heavy for the foundation, to be the means of ruining the edifice they were designed to defend. Vestigia nulla re- trorsum, continued to be the motto of the Church of Rome. She could explain nothing, softeia no- thing, renounce nothing, consistently with her assertion of impeccability. The whole trash which had been accumulated for ages of darkness and ignorance, whether consisting of extravagant pre- tensions, incredible assertions, absurd doctrines which confounded the understanding, or puerile ceremonies which revolted the taste, were alike incapable of being explained away or abandoned. It would certainly have been — humanly speaking — advantageous, alike for the Church of Rome, and for Cliristianity in general, that the former had possessed the means of relinquishing her extrava- gant claims, modifying her more obnoxious doc- trines,and retrenching her superstitious ceremonial, as increasing knowledge showed the injustice of the one, and the absurdity of the other. But this power she dared not assume ; and hence, perhaps, the great schism which divides the Christian world, which might otherwise never have existed, or at least not in its present extended and embittered state. But, in all events, the Church of Rome, retaining the spiritual empire over so large and than the pay trifles she so pleasantly describes, they could not have escaped so intelligent an observer. — S. FRENCH REVOLUTION. 11 fair a portion of the Christian worid, would not have been reduced to the alternative of either de- fending propositions, which, in the eyes of all enlightened men, are altogethei* untenable, or ci beholding the most essential and vital doctrines of Christianity confounded with them, and the whole system exposed to the scorn of the infidel. The more enlightened and better informed part of the French nation had fallen very generally into the latter extreme. Infidelity, in attacking the absurd claims and extravagant doctrines of the Church of Rome, had artfully availed herself of those abuses, as if they had been really a part of the Christian religion ; and they whose credulity could not digest the grossest articles of the Papist creed, thought themselves en- titled to conclude, in general, against religion itself, from the abuses engrafted upon it by ignorance and priestcraft. The same circumstances which favoui'ed the assault, tended to weaken the defence. Embarrassed by the necessity of defending the mass of human inventions with which their Church had obscured and deformed Christianity, the Catholic clergy were not the best advocates even in the best of causes ; and though there were many brilliant exceptions, yet it must be owned that a great part of the higher orders of the priesthood gave them- selves little trouble about maintaining the doctrines, or extending the influence of the Church, consider- ing it only in the light of an asylum, where, under the condition of certain renunciations, they enjoyed, in indolent tranquillity, a state of ease and luxury. Those who thought on the subject more deeply, ■were contented quietly to repose the safety of the Church upon the restrictions on the press, which prevented the possibihty of free discussion. The usual effect followed ; and many who, if manly and open debate upon theological subjects had been allowed, would doubtless have been enabled to win- now the wheat from the chaff, were, in the state of darkness to which they were reduced, led to reject Christianity itself, along with the corruptions of the Romish Church, and to become absolute infidels in- stead of reformed Christians. The long and violent dispute also betwixt the Jesuits and the Jansenists, had for many years tended to lessen the general consideration for the Church at large, and especially for the higher or- ders of the clergy. In that quarrel, much had taken place that was disgi-aceful. The mask of re- ligion has been often used to cover more savage and extensive persecutions, but at no time did the spirit of intrigue, of personal maUce, of slander, and circumvention, appear more disgustingly from un- der the sacred disguise ; and in the eyes of the thoughtless and the \-ulgar, the general cause of re- ligion suffered in proportion. The number of the clergy who were thus indif- ferent to doctrine or duty, was greatly increased, since the promotion to the great benefices had ceased to be distributed with regard to the morals, piety, talents, and erudition of the candidates, but was bestowed among the younger branches of the noblesse, upon men who were at little pains to re- concile the looseness of their former habits and opinions with the sanctity of their new profession, and who, embracing the Church solely as a means of maintenance, were little calculated by their lives or learning to extend its consideration. Among other vile innovations of the celebrated regent, Duke of Orleans, he set the most barefaced exam- ple of such dishonourable preferment, and had in- creased in proportion the contempt entertained for the hierarchy, even in its highest dignities, — since how was it possible to respect the purple itself, after it had covered the shoulders of the infamous Dubois ? > It might have been expected, and it was doubt- less in a great measure the case, that the respect paid to the characters and efficient utility of the curates, upon whom, generally speaking, the charge of souls actually devolved, might have made up for the want of consideration withheld from the higher orders of the Church. There can be no doubt that this respectable body of churchmen possessed great and deserved influence over their parishioners ; but then they were themselves languishing under po- verty and neglect, and, as human beings, cannot be supposed to have viewed with indifference their superiors enjoying wealth and ease, while in some cases they dishonoured the robe they wore, and in others disowned the doctrines they were appointed to teach. Alive to feelings so natm-al, and ming- ling with the middling classes, of which they formed a most respectable portion, they must necessarily have become embued with their principles and opi- nions, and a very obvious train of reasoning would extend the consequences to their own condition. If the state was encumbered rather than benefited by the privileges of the higher order, was not the Church in the same condition ? And if secular rank was to be thrown open as a general object of ambition to the able and the wortliy, ought not the dignities of the Church to be rendered more acces- sible to those, who, in humility and truth, discharged the toilsome duties of its inferior offices, and who might therefore claim, in due degree of succession, to attain higher preferment ? There can be no in- justice in ascribing to this body sentiments, which might have been no less just regarding the Church than advantageous to themselves ; and, according- ly, it was not long before this body of churchmen showed distinctly, that their political views were the same with those of the Third Estate, to which they solemnly united themselves, strengthening thereby greatly the first revolutionary movements. But their conduct, when they beheld the whole sys- tem of their religion aimed at, should acquit the French clergj- of the charge of self-interest, since no body, considered as such, ever showed itself more willing to encounter persecution, and submit to privation for conscience' sake. Wliile the Noblesse and the Church, considered as branches of the state, were thus divided amongst 1 " A person of mean extraction, remarkable only for his ▼ices, had heen employed in correcting the Hegent's tasks, and, by a servile complacence for all his inclinations, had ac- quired an ascendency over his pupil, which he abused, for the purpose of cormpting his morals, debasing his character, and ultimately rendering his administration an object of universal indignation. Soon after his patron's accession to power, Du- bois was admitted into the council of state. He asked for the Archbishopric of Carabray. Unaccustomed as he was to de- licate scruples, the Regent was startled at the idea of encoun- tering the scandal to which such a prostitution of honours must expose him. He, however, ultimately yielded. This man. one of the most profligate that ever existed, was actually married at the time nc received Catholic orders, but he su- borned the witnesses, and contrived to have the parish regis- ters, which might have deposed against bim, destroyed."—" See Lacret£LLE, torn, i., p. 'MS. J2 SCOTTS i^nSCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. ^emselves, and fallen into discredit with the na- Wcn at large ; while they were envied for their ancient immunities without being any longer feared for their power ; while they were ridiculed at once and hated for the assumption of a superiority which their personal qualities did not always vindicate, the lowest order, the Commons, or, as they were at that time termed, the Third Estate, had gradually acquired an extent and importance unknown to the feudal ages, in which originated the ancient divi- sion of the estates of the kingdom. The Third Estate no longer, as in the days of Henry IV., consisted merely of the burghers and petty traders in the small towns of a feudal kingdom, bred up almost as the vassals of the nobles and clergy, by whose expenditure they acquired their living. Com- merce and colonies had introduced wealth, from sources to which the nobles and the churchmen had no access. Not only a very great proportion of the disposable capital was in the hands of the Third Estate, who thus formed the bulk of the moneyed interest of France, but a large share of the landed property was also in their possession. There was, moreover, the influence which many plebeians possessed, as creditors, over those needy nobles whom they had supplied with money, while another portion of the sanie class rose into wealth and consideration, at the expense of the more opu- lent patricians who were ruining themselves. Paris had increased to a tremendous extent, and her citi- zens had risen to a corresponding degree of consi- deration ; and while they profited by the luxury and dissipation, both of the court and courtiers, had become rich in proportion as the government and privileged classes grew poor. Those citizens who were thus em-iched, endeavoured, by bestowing on their families all the advantages of good education, to counterbalance their inferiority of bu'th, and to qualify their children to support their part in the scenes, to which their altered fortunes, and the pro- spects of the country, appeared to call them. In short, it is not too much to say, that the middling classes acquired the advantages of wealth, conse- quence, and effective power, in a proportion more than equal to that in which the nobility had lost these attributes. Thus, the Third Estate seemed to increase in extent, number, and strength, like a waxing inundation, threatening with every increas- ing wave to overwhelm the ancient and decayed barriers of exclusions and immunities, behind which the privileged ranks still fortified themselves. It was not in the nature of man, that the bold, the talented, the ambitious, of a rank which felt its own power and consequence, should be long con- tented to remain acquiescent in political regula- tions, which depressed them in the state of society beneath men to whom they felt themselves equal in all respects, excepting the factitious circumstances of birth, or of Church orders. It was no less im- possible that they should long continue satisfied with the feudial dogma, which exempted the no- blesse from taxes, because they served the nation with their sword, and the clergy, because they pro- pitiated Heaven in its favour with their prayers. The maxim, however true in the feudal ages when it originated, had become an extravagant legal fiction in the eighteenth century, when all the ' Thiers, Histoire de la R^v. Franf., torn, i., p. 34. * ilemoires de BouilliS, p. '2i)'.). world knew that both the noble soldier and th« priest were paid for the services they no longer rendered to the state, while the roturier had both valour and learning to fight his own battles and perform his own devotions ; and when, in fact, it was their arms which combated, and their learning which enlightened the state, rather than those of the privileged orders.^ Thus, a body, opulent and important, and car- rying along with their claims the sympathy of the whole people, were arranged in formidable array against the privileges of the nobles and clergy, and bound to further the approaching changes by the strongest of human ties, emulation and self-interest. The point was stated with unusual frankness by Emeri, a distinguished member of the National Assembly, and a man of honour and talent. In the course of a confidential communication with the celebrated Marquis de Bouille', the latter had avowed his principles of royalty, and his detesta- tion of the new constitution, to which he said he only rendered obedience, because the King had sworn to maintain it. " You are right, being your- self a nobleman," replied Emeri, with equal can- dour ; " and had I been born noble, such would have been my principles ; but I, a plebeian Avocat, must naturally desire a revolution, and cherish that constitution which has called me, and those of my rank, out of a state of degradation. "^ Considering the situation, therefore, of the three separate bodies, which, before the revolutionary impulse commenced, were the constituent parts of the kingdom of France, it was evident, that in case of a collision, the Nobles and Clergy might esteem themselves fortunate, if, divided as they were among themselves, they could maintain an effectual de- fence of the whole, or a portion of their privileges, while the Third Estate, confident in their numbers and in their unanimity, were ready to assail and carry by storm the whole system, over the least breach which might be effected in the ancient con- stitution. Lally Tolendal gave a comprehensive view of the state of parties in these words : — " The commons desired to conquer, the nobles to preserve what they already possessed. The clergy stood inactive, resolved to join the victorious party. If there was a man in France who wished for concord and peace, it was the king.'' CHAPTER II. State of France continued — State of Public Opinion — 3Ie7i of Letters encouraged by the Great — Dis- adtantages attending this Patronage — Licentious tendency of the French Literature — Their Irre- ligious and Infidel Opinions — Free Opinions on Politics permitted to be expressed in an abstract and speculatite, but not in a practical Form — Disadvantages arising from the Suppression of Free Discussion — Anglomania — Share of France in the American War — Disposition of the Troops who returned from America. We have viewed France as it stood In its grand political divisions previous to the Revolution, and we have seen that there existed strong motives for 3 Plaidoyer pour Louis Seize, 1793., FRENCH REVOLUTION. 13 change, and tliat a great force was prepared to level institutions which were crumbling to pieces of themselves. It is now necessary to review the state of tlie popular mind, and consider upon what principles, and to what extent, the approaching changes were likely to operate, and at what point they might be expected to stop. Here, as with respect to the ranks of society, a tacit but almost total change had been operated in the feelings and sentiments of the public, principally occasioned, doubtless, by the great ascendency acquired by literature — that tree of knowledge of good and evil, ■which, amidst the richest and most wholesome fruits, bears others, fair in show, and sweet to the taste, but having the properties of the most deadly poison. The French, the most ingenious people in Europe, and the most susceptible of those pleasures which arise from conversation and literary discussion, had early called in the assistance of men of genius to enhance their relish for society. The nobles, ■without renouncing their aristocratic superiority, ■ — which, on the contrary, was rendered more strik- ing by the contrast,— permitted literary talents to be a passport into their saloons. The wealthy finan- cier, and opulent merchant, emulated the nobility in this as in other articles of taste and splendour ; and their coteries, as well as those of the aristo- cracy, were open to men of letters, who -were in many cases contented to enjoy luxury at the ex- pense of independence. Assuredly this species of patronage, while it often flowed from the vanity or egotism of the patrons, was not much calculated to enhance the character of those who were protected. Professors of literature, thus mingling in the so- ciety of the noble and the wealthy upon sufferance, held a rank scarcely higher than that of musicians or actors, from amongst whom individuals have often, by their talents and character, become mem- bers of the best society, while the castes, to which such individuals belong, remain in general exposed to the most humiliating contempt. The lady of quality, who smiled on the man of letters, and the man of rank, who admitted him to his intimacy, still retained their consciousness that he was not like themselves, formed out of the " porcelain clay of the earth ;" and even while receiving their bounties, or participating in their pleasures, the favourite savant must often have been disturbed by the reflection, that he was only considered as a creature of sufferance, whom the caprice of fashion, or a sudden reaction of the ancient etiquette, might fling out of the society where he was at present tolerated. Under this disheartening, and even degrading inferiority, the man of letters might be tempted invidiously to compare the luxurious style of living at which he sat a permitted guest, with his own paltry hired apartment, and scanty and uncertain chance of support. And even those of a nobler mood, when they had conceded to their benefactors all the gratitude they could justly de- mand, must sometimes have regretted their ow^n situation, 1 Johnson's Vanity of Human Wishes. 2 See his Maximcs et Pciisees, &c. &c. He died by his own hand in 1794. 3 Revolution of America, 17^1, pp. 44, 58. When, however, Raynal beheld the abuse of iib<;rty in the progress of the French Revolution, he attempted to retrieve his errors. In May, 1791, he addressed to the Constituent Assembly a most " Condemn'd as needy supplicants to waif. Wliile ladies interpose and slaves debate." • It followed, that many of the men of letters, thus protected, became enemies of the persons, as well as the rank of their patrons ; as, for example, no one in the course of the Revolution expressed greater hatred to the nobility than Champfort,* the favourite and favoured secretary of the Prince of Conde'. Occasions, too, must frequently have occurred, in which the protected person was almost inevitably forced upon comparing his own natural and acquired talents with those of his aristocratic patron, and the result could not be other than a dislike of the institutions which placed him so far behind persons whom, but for those prescribed limits, he must have passed in the career of honoiur and distinction. Hence arose that frequent and close inquiry into the origin of ranks, that general system of impugn- ing the existing regulations, and appealing to the original states of society in vindication of the origi- nal equality of mankind — hence those ingenious arguments, and eloquent tirades in favour of pri- mitive and even savage independence, which the patricians of the day read and applauded with such a smile of mixed applause and pity, as they would have given to the reveries of a crazed poet, while the inferior ranks, participating the feelings under which they were written, caught the ardour of the eloquent authors, and rose from the perusal with minds prepared to act, whenever action should be necessary to realize a vision so flattering. It might have been expected that those belong- ing to the privileged classes at least, would have caught the alarm, from hearing doctrines so fatal to their own interests avowed so boldly, and main- tained -with so much talent. It might have been thought that they would have started, when Ray- nal proclaimed to the nations of the earth that they could only be free and happy when they had over- thrown every throne and every altar ;^ but no such alarm was taken. Men of rank considered liberal principles as the fashion of the day, and embraced them as the readiest mode of showing that they were above vulgar prejudices. In short, they adopt- ed political opinions as they put on round hats and jockey-coats, merely because they were current in good society. They assumed the tone of philoso- phers as they would have done that of Arcadian shepherds at a masquerade, but without any more thoughts of sacrificing their own rank and immu- nities in the one case, than of actually driving their flocks a-field in the other. Count Segur gives a most interesting account of the opinions of the young French nobles, in which he himself partook at this eventful period. " Impeded in this lisht career by the antiquated pride of the old court, tlic irksome etiquette'of the old order of tilings, the severity of the old clcrijy, the aversion of our parents to our new fashions and our costumes, which were favourable to the principles of equality, we felt disposed to adopt with en- thusiasm the philosopliical doctrines professed by literary men, remarkable for their boldness and their wit. ' Vidtaire seduced our imagination; Rousseau touclied our hearts; we felt a secret pleasure in seeing that their attacks were directed against an old fabric, which presented to us a Gotliic and ridi- elnquent letter, in which he .says, " I am, I own to you, deeply afflicted at the crimes which phinge this empire into mourn- ing. It is true that 1 am to look back with liorrur at myself for being one of those who, by feeling a noble iiuligiialioD against ambitious power, may have furnislied arms to licen- tiousness." Raynal was deprived of all his property during the Revolution, and died in poverty in \1'M. 14 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. culous appearance. We were thus pleased at this petty war, although it was undermining our own ranks and privileges, and the remains of our ancient power; but we felt not these attacks personally ; we merely witnessed them. It was as yet but a war of words and paper, which did not appear to ns to threaten the superiority of existence we enjoyed, consolidated as we thought it, by a possession of many centuries. * * * We were pleased with the courage of liberty, whatever lan- guage it assumed, and with the convenience of equality. The're is a satisfaction in descending from a high rank, as long as the resumption of it is thought to be free and unobstructed ; and regardless, therefore, of consequences, we enjoyed our patrician advantages, together with the sweets of a plebeian philosophy." l We anxiously desire not to be mistaken. It is not the purport of these remarlcs to blame the French aristocracy for extending their patronage to learning and to genius. The purpose was honour- able to themselves, and fraught with high advan- tages to the progress of society. The favour of the Great supplied the want of public encouragement, and fostered talent which otherwise might never have produced its important and inappreciable fruits. But it had been better for France, her no- bility, and her literature, had the patronage been extended in some manner which did not intimately associate the two classes of men. The want of in- dependence of circumstances is a severe if not an absolute check to independence of spirit ; and thus it often happened, that, to gratify the passions of their protectors, or to advance their interest, the men of letters were involved in the worst and most scandalous labyrinths of tracasserie, slander, and malignity; that they were divided into desperate factions against each other, and reduced to practise all those arts of dissimulation, flattery, and intrigue, which are the greatest shame of the literary pro- fession. As the eighteenth century advanced, the men of literature rose in importance, and, aware of their own increasing power in a society which was de- pendent on them for intellectual gratification, they supported each other in their claims to what began to be considered the dignity of a man of letters. This was soon carried into extremes, and assumed, even in the halls of their protectors, a fanatical vio- lence of opinion, and a dogmatical mode of expres- sion, which made the veteran Fontenelle declare himself terrified for the frightful degree of certainty that folks met with every where in society. The truth is, that men of letters, being usually men of mere theory, have no opportunity of measuring the opinions which they have adopted upon hypotheti- cal reasoning, by the standard of practical experi- ment. They feel their mental superiority to those whom they live with, and become habitual believers in, and assertors of, their own infallibility. If mo- deration, command of passions and of temper, be part of philosophy, we seldom find less philosophy actually displayed, than by a philosopher in defence of a favourite theory. Nor have we found that churchmen are so desirous of forming proselytes, or soldiers of extending conquests, as philosophers in making converts to their own opinions. In France they had discovered the command which they had acquired over the public mind, and united as they were — and more especially the En- cyclopedists,* — they augmented and secured that Impression, by never permitting the doctrines 1 SiJgur's Memoirs, vol. i., p. 39. 2 Diderot, &c., the conductors of the celebrated Eacyclo- p^ie. which they wished to propagate to die away upon the public ear. For this purpose, they took care these should be echoed, like thunder amongst hills, from a hundred different points, presented in a hundred new lights, illustrated by a himdred va- rious methods, until the public could no longer help receiving that as undeniable which they heard from so many different quarters. They could also direct every weapon of satirical hostility against those who ventured to combat their doctrines, and as their wrath was neither easily endured nor paci- fied, they drove fi-om the field most of those au- thors, who, in opposition to their opinions, might have exerted themselves as champions of the Church and Monarchy. We have already hinted at the disadvantages which literature experiences, when it is under the protection of private individuals of opulence, rather than of the public. But in yet another important respect, the air of salons, rucUes and boudoirs is fatal, in many cases, to the masculine spirit of philosophical self-denial which gives dignity to literary society. They who make part of the gay society of a coriiipted metropolis, must lend their countenance to follies and vices, if they do not themselves practise them ; and hence, perhaps, French literature, more than any other in Europe, has been liable to the reproach of lending its powerful arm to undermine whatever was serious in morals, or hitherto considered as fixed in priu' ciple. Some of their greatest authors, even Mon- tesquieu himself, have varied their deep reasonings on the origin of government, and the most profound problems of philosophy, with licentious tales tend- ing to inflame the passions. Hence, partaking of the license of its professors, the degraded literature of modern times called in to its alliance that im- morality, which not only Christian, but even hea- then philosophy had considered as the greatest obstacle to a pure, wise, and happy state of exist- ence. The licentiousness which walked abroad in such disgusting and undisguised nakedness, was a part of the unhappy bequest left by the Regent Duke of Orleans to the country which he governed. The decorum of the court during the times of Louia XIV. had prevented such excesses; if there waa enough of vice, it was at least decently veiled. But the conduct of Orleans and his minions was mark- ed with open infamy, deep enough to have called down, in the age of miracles, an immediate judg- ment from Heaven; and crimes which the worst of the Roman emperors would have at least hidden in his solitary Isle of Caprea, were acted as publicly as if men had had no eyes, or God no thunderbolts.' From this filthy Cocytus flowed those streams of impurity which disgraced France during the reigo of Louis XV., and which, notwithstanding the ex- ample of a prince who was himself a model of do- mestic virtue, continued in that of Louis XVI. to infect society, morals, and, above all, literature. We do not here allude merely to those lighter pieces of indecency in which humour and fancy outrun the bounds of delicacy. These are to be found in the literature of most nations, and are generally in the hands of mere libertines and men of pleasure, so well acquainted with the practice of 3 Lacretelle Hist, de France, torn, i., p. 105; U^moires de -Mad. Du Barry, torn, ii., p. 3. FRENCH REVOLUTION. 15 Tice, that the theory' cannot make them worse than they are. But there was a strain of voluptuous and seducing immorality which pervaded not only the lighter and gayer compositions of the French, but tinged the writings of those who called the world to admire them as poets of the highest mood, or to listen as to philosophers of the most lofty pre- tensions. Volta,ire, Rousseau, Diderot, Montes- quieu, — names wliich France must always esteem her highest honour, — were so guilty in this parti- cular, that the young and virtuous must either al- together abstain from the works which are every where the topic of ordinary discussion and admir- ation, or must peruse much that is hurtful to deli- cacy, and dangerous to morals, in the formation of tlieir future character. The latter alternative was universally adopted ; for the curious will read as the thirsty will drink, though the cup and page be polluted. So far had an indifference to delicacy influenced the society of France, and so widely spread was this habitual impurity of language and ideas, espe- cially among those who pretended to philosophy, tliat Madame Roland, a woman admirable for courage and talents, and not, so far as appears, vicious in her private morals, not only mentions the profligate novels of Louvet as replete with the graces of imagination, the salt of criticism, and the tone of philosophy, but affords the public, in her own person, details with which a courtezan of the higher class should be unwiUing to season her pri- vate conversation.^ This license, with the corruption of morals, of ■which it is both the sign and the cause, leads di- rectly to feelings the most inconsistent with manly and virtuous patriotism. Voluptuousness, and its consequences, render the libertine incapable of re- lish for what is simply and abstractedly beautiful or sublime, whether in literature or in the arts, and destroy the taste, while they degrade and blunt the understanding. But, above all, such libertin- ism leads to the exclusive pursuit of selfish gratifi- cation, for egotism is its foundation and its essence. Egotism is necessarily the very reverse of patriot- ism, since the one principle is founded exclusively upon the individual's pursuit of his own peculiar objects of pleasure or advantage, while the other demands a sacrifice, not only of these individual pursuits, but of fortune and life itself, to the cause of the public weal. Patriotism has, accordingly, always been found to flourish in that state of so- ciety which is most favourable to the stern and manly vu'tues of self-denial, temperance, chastity, contempt of luxury, patient exertion, and elevated contemplation ; and the public spirit of a nation has invariably borne a just proportion to its pri- vate morals. Religion cannot exist where immorality generally prevails, any more than a light can burn where the air is corrupted ; and, accordingly, infidelity was so general in France, as to predominate in almost every rank of society. The errors of the Church jf Riome, as we have already noticed, connected as they are with her ambitious attempts towards do- minion over men, in their temporal as well as spi- ritual capacity, had long become the argument of the philosopher, and the jest of the satirist ; but in exploding these pretensions, and holding them up to ridicule, the philosophers of the age involved with them the general doctrines of Christianity it- self ; nay, some went so far as not only to deny inspiration, but to extinguish, by their sophistry, the lights of natural religion, implanted in our bosoms as a part of our birth-right. Like the dis- orderly rabble at the time of the Reformation, (but with infinitely deeper guilt,) they not only pulled down the symbols of idolatry, which ignorance or priestcraft had introduced into the Christian Church, but sacrilegiously defaced and desecrated the altar itself. This work the philosophers, as they termed themselves, carried on with such an unlimited and eager zeal, as plainly to show that infidelity, as well as divinity, hath its fanaticism. An envenomed fury against religion and all its doc- trines ; a promptitude to avail themselves of every circumstance by which Christianity could be mis- represented ; an ingenuity in mixing up their opi- nions in works, which seemed the least fitting to involve such discussions ; above all, a pertinacity in slandermg, ridiculing, and vilifying all who ventured to oppose their principles, distinguished the correspondents in this celebrated conspiracy against a religion, which, however it may be de- faced by human inventions, breathes only that peace on earth, and good will to the children of men, which was proclaimed by Heaven at its di- vine origin. If these prejudiced and envenomed opponents had possessed half the desire of truth, or half the benevolence towards mankind, which were eter- nally on their lips, they would have formed the true estimate of the spirit of Christianity, not from the use which had been made of the mere name by ambitious priests or enthusiastic fools, but by its vital effects upon mankind at large. They would have seen, that under its influence a thousand brutal and sanguinary superstitions had died away ; that polygamy had been abohshed, and with poly- gamy all the obstacles which it offers to domestic happiness, as well as to the due education of youth, and the natural and gradual civilisation of society. They must then have owned, that slavery, which they regarded, or affected to regard, with such horror, had first been gradually ameliorated, and finally abolished by the influence of the Christian doctrines — that there was no one virtue teaching to elevate mankind or benefit society, wliich was not enjoined by the precepts they endeavoured to misrepresent and weaken — no one vice by which humanity is degraded and society endangered, upon which Christianity hath not imposed a solemn anathema. They might also, in their capacity of philosophers, have considered the peculiar aptitude of the Christian religion, not only to all ranks and conditions of mankind, but to all climates and to all stages of society. Nor ought it to have escaped them, that the system contains within itself a key to those difficulties, doubts, and mysteries, by which the human mind is agitated, so soon as it is raised beyond the mei-e objects which interest the senses, Milton has made the maze of metaphysics, and the bewildering state of mind which they engendei', a 1 Tlie particulars we allude to, though suppressed in the leeond edition of Madame Roland's Mtmoires, are restored in the "Collection dea M(;moiics r^latifs h la KC-volution Francaisc," published at Paris, [5fi vols. Rvo.] This is fair play ; for if the details be disRustin^', the lif-ht which they cast upon the character of the author is too valuable to be lost.— a. 16 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. part of the eniplo}-ment, and perhaps of the pun- ishment, of the lower regions.' Christianity alone ofifcrs a clew to this labyrinth, a solution to these melancholy and discouraging doubts ; and however its doctrines may be hard to unaided flesh and blood, yet explaining as they do the system of the universe, which without them is so incomprehen- sible, and through their practical influence render- ing men in all ages more worthy to act their part in the general plan, it seems wonderful how those, whose professed pursuit was wisdom, should have looked on religion not alone with that indiff'erence, which was the only feeling evinced by the heathen philosophers towards the gross mythology of their time, but with hatred, malice, and all uncharitable- ness. One would rather have expected, that, after such a review, men professing the real spirit which searches after truth and wisdom, if unhappily they were still unable to persuade themselves that a re- ligion so worthy of the Deity (if such an expression may be used) had emanated directly from revela- tion, might liave had the modesty to lay their finger on their lip and distrust their own judgment, instead of disturbing the faith of others ; or, if con- firmed in their incredulity, might have taken the leisure to compute at least what was to be gained by rooting up a tree which bore such goodly fruits, without having the means of replacing it by aught which could produce the same advantage to the commonwealth. Unhappily blinded by self-conceit, heated with the ardour of controversy, gratifying their literary pride by becoming members of a league, in which kings and princes were included, and procuring followers by flattering the vanity of some, and sti- mulating the cupidity of others, the men of the most distinguished parts in France became allied in a sort of anti-crusade against Christianity, and indeed against religious principles of every kind. How they succeeded is too universally known ; and when it is considered that these men of letters, who ended by degrading the morals, and destroy- ing the religion of so many of the citizens of France, had been first called into public estimation by the patronage of the higher orders, it is impossible not to think of the Israelitish champion, who, brought into the house of Dagon to make sport for the festive assembly, ended by pulling it down upon the heads of the guests — and upon his own. We do not tax the whole nation of France with being infirm in religious faith, and relaxed in morals ; still less do we aver that the Revolution, which broke forth in that country, owed its rise exclusively to the license and infidelity, which were but too current there. The necessity of a great change in the principles of the ancient French monarchy, had its source in the usurpations of pre- ceding kings over the liberties of the subject, and the opportunity for effecting this change was afford- ed by the weakness and pecuniary distresses of the present government. These would have existed had the French court, and her higher orders, retained the simple and virtuous manners of Sparta, united with the strong and pure faith of primitive Christians. The difference lay in this, that a simple, virtuous, and religious people would have rested content with such changes and alterations in ' Others apart 8at on a hill retired. In thouRhts more elevate, and reason'd hijjh Of providence, foreknowledge, will, and fate. the constitution of their government as might remove the evils of which they had just and pres- sing reason to complain. They would have endea- voured to redress obvious and practical errors in the body politic, without being led into extremes either by the love of realising visionary theories, the vanity of enforcing their own particular philo- sophical or political doctrines, or the selfish argu- ments of demagogues, who, in the prospect of bettering their own situation by wealth, or obtain- ing scope for their ambition, aspired, in the words of the dramatic poet, to throw the elements of society into confusion, and thus " disturb the peace of all the world. To rule it when 'twas wildest." It was to such men as these last that Heaven, in punishment of the sins of France and of Europe, and perhaps to teach mankind a dreadful lesson, abandoned the management of the French Revolu- tion, the original movements of which, so far as they went to secure to the people the restoration of their natural liberty, and the abohtion of the usurpations of the crown, had become not only desirable through the change of times, and by the influence of public opinion, but peremptorily ne- cessary and inevitable. The feudal system of France, like that of the rest of Europe, had, in its original composition, all the germs of national freedom. The great peers, in whose hands the common defence was reposed, acknowledged the king's power as suzerain, obeyed his commands as their military leader, and attend- ed his courts as their supreme judge ; but recog- nised no despotic authority in the crown, and were prompt to defend the slightest encroachment upon their own rights. If they themselves were not equally tender of the rights and liberties of their own vassals, their acts of encroachment flowed not from the feudal system, but from its imperfections. The tendency and spirit of these singular institu- tions, were to preserve to each individual his just and natural rights; but a system, almost purely miUtary, was liable to be frequently abused by the most formidable soldier, and was, besides, other- wise ill fitted to preserve rights which were purely civil. It is not necessary to trace the progress from the days of Louis XIII. downwards, by which ambitious monarchs, seconded by able and subtle ministers, contrived to emancipate themselves from the restraints of their powerful vassals, or by which the descendants of these high feudatories, who had been the controllera of the prince so soon as he outstepped the bounds of legitimate authority, were now ranked around the tlirone m the capacity of mere courtiers or satellites, who derived their lus- tre solely from the favour of royalty. This unhappy and shortsighted policy had, however, accomplish- ed its end, and the crown had concentrated within its prerogative almost the entire liberties of the French nation ; and now, like an overgorged ani- mal of prey, had reason to repent its fatal voracity, while it lay almost helpless, exposed to the assaults of those whom it had despoiled. We have already observed, that for a consider- able time the Frenchman's love of his country had been transferred to the crown ; that his national delight in martial glory fixed his attachment upon Fix'd fate, free-will, foreknowledge absolute. And found no end, in wand'nng mazes lost." Far. Lost, b. iL FRENCH REVOLUTION. 17 the monarch as the leader of his armies; and tliat this feelino; had supported the devotion of the nation to Louis XIV., not only during his victo- ries, but even amid his reverses. But the succeed- ing reign had less to impose on the imagination. The erection of a palace obtains for the nation the praise of magnificence, and the celebration of pub- lic and splendid festivals gives the people at least the pleasure of a holiday ; the pensioning artists and men of letters, again, is honourable to the country which fosters the arts ; but the court of Louis XV., undiminished in expense, was also selfish in its expenditure. The enriching of needy favourites, their relations, and their parasites, had none of the dazzling munificence of the Grand Monarque ; and while the taxes became daily more oppressive on the subjects, the mode in which the revenue was employed not only became less honourable to the court, and less creditable to the country, but lost the dazzle and show which gives the lower orders pleasure as the beholders of a pageant. The consolation which the imagination of the French had found in the military honour of their nation, seemed also about to fail them. The bravery of the troops remained the same, but the genius of the commanders, and the fortune of the monarch under whose auspices they fought, had in a great measure abandoned them, and the destiny of Fi-ance seemed to be on the wane. The victory of Fon- tenoy ' was all that was to be placed in opposition to the numerous disasters of the Seven Years' War, in which Fi-ance was almost everywhere else defeated ; and it was little wonder, tliat in a. reign attended with so many subjects of mortifica- tion, the enthusiastic devotion of the people to the sovereign should begin to give way. The king had engrossed so much power in his own person, that he had become as it were personally responsible for every miscarriage and defeat which the country underwent. Such is the risk incurred by absolute monarchs, who are exposed to all the popular ob- loquy for maladministration, from which, in limited governments, kings are in a great measure screen- ed by the intervention of the other powers of the constitution, or by the responsibility of ministers for the measures which they advise ; while he that has ascended to the actual peak and extreme sum- mit of power, has no barrier left to secure him from the tempest. Another and most powerful cause fanned the rising discontent, with which the French of the eighteenth century began to regard the govern- ment under which they lived. Like men awakened from a flattering dream, they compared their own condition with that of the subjects of free states, and perceived that they had either never enjoyed, or had been gradually robbed of, the chief part of the most valuable privileges and immunities to which man may claim a natural right. They had no national representation of any kind, and but for the slender barrier offered by the courts of justice, or parliaments, as they were called, were subject to unlimited exactions on the sole authority of the sovereign. The property of the nation was there- fore at the disposal of the crown, which might in- crease taxes to any amount, and cause them to be ' The battle was fought May 1, 1745, between the French, tinder Marshal Saxe, and the allies, under William Duke of Cumberland. VOL. II. levied by force, if force was necessary. The per sonal freedom of the citizen was equally exposed to aggressions by lettrcs de cacJut.^ The French people, in short, had neither, in the strict sense, 11 berty nor property, and if thej- did not suffer all the inconveniences in practice which so evil a govern- ment announces, it was because public opinion, the softened temper of the age, and the good disposi- tion of the kings themselves, did not permit the scenes of cruelty and despotism to be revived in the eighteenth century, which Louis XL had practised tliree ages before. These abuses, and others arising out of the dis- proportioned privileges of the noblesse and the clergy, who were exempted from contributing to the necessities of the state ; the unequal mode ot levying the taxes, and other great errors of the constitution ; above all, the total absorption of every right and authority in the person of the so- vereign, — these were too gross in their nattu-e, and too destructive in their consequences, to have escaped deep thought on the part of reflecting per- sons, and hatred and dislike from those who suf- fered more or less under the practical evils. They had not, in particular, eluded the observa- tion and censure of the acute reasoners and deep thinkers, who had already become the guiding spi- rits of the age ; but the despotism under which they lived prevented those speculations from assuming a practical and useful character. In a free coun- try, the wise and the learned are not only pennit- ted, but invited, to examine the institutions under which they live, to defend them against the sugges- tions of rash innovators, or to propose such altera- tions as the lapse of time and change of manners may render necessary. Their disquisitions are, therefore, usefully and beneficially directed to the repair of the existing government, not to its demo- lition, and if they propose alteration in parts, it is only for the purpose of securing the rest of the fabric. But in France, no opportunity was permit- ted of free discussion on politics, any more than on matters of religion. An essay upon the French monarchy, showing by what means the existing institutions might have been brought more into union with the wishes and wants of tlie people, must have procured for its autlior a place in the Bastile ; and yet subsequent events have shown, that a system, which might have introduced prudently and gradually into the decayed frame of the French government the spirit of liberty, which was originally inherent in every feudal monarchy, would have been the most valu- able present which political wisdom could have ren- dered to the country. The bonds which pressed so heavily on the subject might thus have been gra- dually slackened, and at length totally removed, without the perilous expedient of casting them all loose at once. But the philosophers, who had cer- tainly talents sufiicient for the purpose, were not permitted to apply to the state of the French go- vernment the original principles on which it was founded, or to trace the manner in which usurpa- tions and abuses had taken place, and propose a mode by which, without varying its form, thost en- croachments might be restrained, and those abuses corrected. An author was indeed at liberty to - Private letters or mandates, issued under the royal sip)ifl, fnr the apprehension of individuals who were ohnoxieus to the court. C 18 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. speculate at any length upon general doctrines of government ; he might imagine to himself a Uto- pia or Atalantis, and argue upon abstract ideas of the rights in which government originates ; but on no account was he permitted to render any of his lucubrations practically useful, by adapting them to the municipal regulations of France. The political sage was placed, with regard to his country, in the condition of a physician prescribing for the favour- ite Sultana of some jealous despot, whom he Ls re- quired to cure without seeing his patient, and with- out obtaining any accurate knowledge of her malady, its symptoms, and its progress. In this manner the theory of government was kept studiously se- parated from the practice. The political philoso- pher might, if he pleased, speculate upon the fomner, but he was prohibited, under severe personal pen- alties, to illustrate the subject by any allusion to the latter. Thus, the eloquent and profound work of Montesquieu professed, indeed, to explain the general rights of the people, and the principles upon which government itself rested, but his pages show no mode by which these could be resorted to for the reformation of the constitution of his coun- try. He laid before the patient a medical treatise on disease in general, instead of a special pre- scription, applying to his pecuhar habits and dis- temper. In consequence of these unhappy restrictions upon open and manly political discussion, the French go- vernment, in its actual state, was never represented as capable of either improvement or regeneration ; and while general and abstract doctrines of ori- ginal freedom were every where the subject of eulogy, it was never considered for a moment in what manner these new and more liberal principles could be applied to the improvement of the exist- ing system. The natural conclusion must have been, that the monarchical government in France was either perfection in itself, and consequently stood in need of no reformation, or that it was so utterly inconsistent with the liberties of the people as to be susceptible of none. No one was hardy enough to claim for it the former character, and, least of all, those who presided in its councils, and seemed to acknowledge the imperfection of the sys- tem, by prohibiting all discussion on the subject. It seemed, therefore, to follow, as no unfair infer- ence, that to obtain the advantages which the new elementary doctrines held forth, and which were so desirable and so much desired, a total abolition of the existing government to its very foundation, was an indispensable preliminary ; and there is little doubt that this opinion prevailed so gene- rally at the time of the Revolution, as to prevent any firm or resolute stand being made in defence even of such of the actual institutions of France, as might have been amalgamated with the proposed reform. While all practical discussion of the constitution ' SijRur, torn, i., p. 2G8; ii., p. 24. 2 One striking feature of this Ans'omania was the general institution of Clubs, and tlie consequent desertion of female society. "If our happy inconstancy," wrote Baron do Grimm, in 1790, " did not give room to hope that the fashion will not be everlasting, it might certainly be apprehended that the taste for clubs would lead insensibly to a very marked revolu- tion both in the spirit and morals of the nation ; but that dis- position, which we possess by nature, of growing tired of every thing, affords some satisfaction in all our follies." — Corres- pondence. " An instance is given, ludicrous in itself, but almost pro- of France, as a subject either above or beneath philosophical inquiry, was thus cautiously omitted in those works which pretended to treat of civil rights, that of England, with its counterpoises and checks, its liberal principle of equality of rights, the security which it affords for personal liberty and individual property, and the free opportunities of discussion upon every topic, became naturally the subject of eulogy amongst those who were awaken- ing their countrymen to a sense of the benefits of national freedom. The time was past, when, as in the daj's of Louis XIV., the French regarded tlie institutions of the English with contempt, as fit only for merchants and shopkeepers, but unworthy of a nation of warriors, whose pride was in their subordination to their nobles, as that of the nobles consisted in obedience to their king. That preju- dice had long passed away, and Frenchmen now admired, not without envy, the noble system of masculine freedom which had been consolidated by the successive efforts of so many patriots in so many ages. A sudden revulsion seemed to take place in their general feelings towards their neighbours, and France, who had so long dictated to all Europe in matters of fashion, seemed now herself disposed to borrow the more simple forms and fashions of her ancient rival. The spirit of imitating the English, was carried even to the verge of absurdity. 1 Not only did Frenchmen of quality adopt the round hat and frock coat, which set eti- quette at defiance — not only had they English car- riages, dogs, and horses, but even English butlers were hu-ed, that the wine, which was the growth of France, might be placed on the table with the grace peculiar to England.'-^ These were, indeed, the mere ebullitions of fashion carried to excess, but, like the foam on the crest of the billow, they argued the depth and strength of the wave beneath, and, insignificant in themselves, were formidable as evincing the contempt with which the French now regarded all those fox'ms and usages, which had hitherto been thought peculiar to their own country. This principle of imitation rose to such extravagance, that it was happily termed the Anglo- mania.-' While the young French gallants were emulously employed in this mimicry of the English fashions, relinquishing the external signs of rank which al- ways produced some effect on the vulgar, men of thought and reflection were engaged in analyzing those principles of the British government, on which the national character has been formed, and which have afi'orded her the means of rising from so many reverses, and maintaining a sway among the king- doms of Europe, so disproportioned to her popula- tion and extent. To complete the conquest of English opinions, even in France herself, over those of French ori- gin, came the consequences of the American War. Those true Frenchmen who disdained to borrow phetic, when connected with subsequent events. A courtier, deeply infe<;ted with the fashion of the time, was riding beside the kino's carriage at a full trot, without observing that his horse's heels threw the mud into the royal vehicle. " Vous me crottez, monsieur," said the king. The horseman, consi- dering the words were " Vous trottez," and that the prince complimented his equestrian performance, answered, " Oui, sire, a I'Angloise." The good-humoured monarch drew up the glass, and only said to the gentleman in the carriage, " Voila une Anglomanie bien furte!" Alas! the unhappy prince lived to see the example of England, in her most disuiai period, followed to a much more formidable extent. — S. FRENCH REVOLUTION. 19 the sentiments of political freedom from England, might now derive them from a country with whom France could have no rivalry, but in whom, on the contrary, she recognised the enemy of the island, in policy or prejudice termed her own natural foe. The deep sympathy manifested by the French in the success of the American insurgents, though dia- metrically opposite to the interests of their govern- ment, or perhaps of the nation at large, was com- pounded of too many ingredients influencing all ranks, to be overcome or silenced by cold consi- derations of political prudence. The nobility, jlways eager of martial distinction, were in general ■ ssirous of war, and most of them, the pupils of tiie celebrated Encyclopedic, -Kere doubly delighted to lend their swords to the cause of freedom. The statesmen imagined that they saw, in the success of the American insurgents, the total downfall of the English empire, or at least a far descent from that pinnacle of dignity which she had attained at the Peace of 1763, and they eagerly urged Louis XVI. to profit by the opportunity, hitherto sooght in vain, of humbling a rival so formidable. In the courtly circles, and particularly in that which sur- rounded Marie Antoinette, the American deputa- tion had the address or good fortune to become popular, by mingling in them with manners and sentiments entirely opposite to those of courts and courtiers, and exhibiting, amid the extremity of re- finement, in dress, speech, and manners, a repub- lican simplicity, rendered interesting both by the contrast, and by the talents which Benjamin Frank- lin and Silas Deane evinced, not only in the busi- ness of diplomacy, but in the intercourse of society. ^ Impelled by these and other combining causes, a despotic government, whose subjects were already thoroughly imbued with opinions hostile to its con- stitution in Church and State, with a discontented people, and a revenue wellnigh bankrupt, was thrust, as if by fatality, into a contest conducted upon prin- ciples most adverse to its own existence. The king, almost alone, whether dreading the expense of a ruinous war, whether alarmed already at the progress of democratic principles, or whether desirous of observing good faith with England, con- sidered that there ought to be a stronger motive for war, than barely the opportunity of waging it with success ; the king, therefore, almost alone, opposed this great political error. It was not the only oc- casion in which, wiser than his counsellors, he nevertheless yielded up to their urgency opinions founded in unbiassed morality, and unpretending common sense. A good judgment, and a sound moral sense, were the principal attributes of this excellent prince, and happy it would have been had they been mingled with more confidence in himself, and a deeper distrust of others. Other counsels prevailed over the private opinion of Louis — the war was commenced — successfully 1 See Segur, torn, i., p. 101. * Hy some young enthusiasts, the assumption of republican habits was carried to all the heifihts of revolutionary affecta- tion and extra .agance. Segur mentions a young coxcomb, named llaudult, who already distinguished himself by re- nouncing the ordinary courtesies of life, and insisting on being called by his Christian and surname, without the usual addi- tion of Monsieur.— S. — " Mauduit's career was short, and his end an unhappy one; for being employed at St. Domingo, he threw himself among a party of revoUers, and was assassina- ted by the negroes." — Segl-r. • "ITie passion for republican institutions infected even carried on, and victoriously concluded. We have seen that the French auxiliaries brought with them to America minds apt to recei%'e, if not already' imbued with, those principles of freedom for which the colonies had taken up arms against the mother country, and it is not to be wondered if they re- turned to France strongly prepossessed in favour of a cause, for which they had encountered danger, and in which they had reaped honour.' The inferior officers of the French auxiliary army, chiefly men of birth, agreeably to the exist- ing rules of the French service, belonged, most of them, to the class of country nobles, who, from causes, already noticed, were far from being .satis- fied with the system which rendered their rise dif- ficult, in the only profession which their prejudices, and those of France, permitted them to assume. The proportion of plebeians who had intruded them- selves, by connivance and indirect means, into the military ranks, looked with eagerness to some change which should give a free and open career to their courage and their ambition, and were pro- portionally discontented with regulations which were recently adopted, calculated to render their rise in the army more difficult than before.* In these sentiments were united the whole of the non- commissioned officers, and the ranks of the com- mon soldiery, all of whom, confiding in their own courage and fortime, now became indignant at those barriers which closed against them the road to military advancement, and to superior command. The officers of superior rank, who derived their descent from the high noblesse, were chiefly young men of ambitious enterprise and warm imagina- tions, whom not only a love of honour, but an en- thusiastic feeling of devotion to the new philosophy, and the political principles which it inculcated, had called to arms. Amongst these were Rochambeau, La Fayette, the Lameths, Chastellux, Segur, and others of exalted rank, but of no less exalted feel- ings for the popular cause. They readily forgot, in the full current of their enthusiasm, that their own rank in society was endangered by the pro- gress of popular opinions ; or, if they at all remem- bered that their interest was thus implicated, it was with the generous disinterestedness of youth, prompt to sacrifice to the public advantage what- ever of selfish immunities was attached to their own condition. The return of the French army from America thus brought a strong body of auxiliaries to the popular and now prevalent opinions ; and the French love of military glory, which had so long been the safeguard of the throne, became intimately identified with that distinguished portion of the army wliich had been so lately and so successfully engaged in defending the claims of the people against the rights of an established government.* Their laurels were green and newly gathered, while the courtiers of the palace. Thunders of applause shrok the theatre of Versailles at the celebrated lines of Voltaire— " Je suis fils de Brutus, ct je porte en mon coeur La liberty grav6c et les rois en horreur." Seguh, tom. i., p. 253. * Plebeians formerly got into the army by obtaining the subscription of four men of noble birth, attesting tlicir patri- cian descent ; and such certificates, however false, could al- ways be obtained for a small sum. But by a regulation of the Count S(?gur, after the American war, candidates for the mili- tary profession were obliged to produce a certificate of noble birth from the king's genealogist, in addition to the attesta- tions which were formerly held sufficient. — S. 6 Lacrctelle, torn, v., p. 341. ,. 20 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. those which had been ohtained in the cause of mo- narchy were of an ancient date, and tarnished by the reverses of the Seven Years' War. The recep- tion of the returned soldiery and tlieir leaders was proportionally enthusiastic ; and it became soon evident, that when the eventful struggle betwixt the existing monarchy and its adversaries should commence, the latter were to have the support in sentiment, and probably in action, of that distin- guished part of the army, which had of late main- tained and recovered the military character of France. It was, accordingly, from its ranks that the Revolution derived many of its most formidable champions, and it was their example which detach- ed a great proportion of the French soldiers from their natural allegiance to the sovereign, which had been for so many ages expressed in their war-cry of " Vive le Roi," and which was revived, though with an altered object,in that of" Vive I'Erapereur." There remains but to notice the other proximate cause of the Revolution, but which is so intimately connected with its rise and progress, that we can- not disjoin it from our bi'ief review of the revolu- tionary movements to which it gave the first deci- sive impulse. CHAPTER III. Proximate Cause of the Revolution — Deranged State of the Finances — Reforms in the Royal House- hold — System of Tiirgot and Necker — JVecker's Exposition of the State of the Public Revenue — The Red-Book — Necker displaced — Succeeded by Calonne — General State of the Revenue — Assembly of the Notables — Calonne dismissed — Archbishop ■ of Sens Administrator of the Finances — The King^s Contest with the Parliament — Bed of Justice — Resistance of the Parliament and gene- ral Disorder in the Kingdom — Vacillating Policy of the Minister — Royal Sitting — Scheme of form- ing a CourPltnitre— It proves ineffectual — Arch- bishop of Sens retires, and is succeeded by Necker — He resolves to convoke the States General — Second Assembly of Notables previous to Convo- cation of the States — Questions as to the Numbers of ichich the Tiers Etat should consist, and the ' Mode in which the Estates should deliberate. We have already compared the monarchy of France to an ancient building, which, however decayed by the wasting injuries of time, may long remain standing from the mere adhesion of its parts, unless it is assailed by some sudden and un- expected shock, the immediate violence of wliich completes the ruin which the lapse of ages had only prepared. Or if its materials have become dry and combustible, still they may long wait for the spark which is to awake a general conflagration. Thus, the monarchical government of France, not- withstanding the unsoundness of all its parts, might have for some time continued standing and uncou- sumed, nay, with timely and judicious repairs, might have been entire at this moment, had the state of the finances of the kingdom permitted the monarch to temporize with the existing discontents and the progress of new opinions, without increas- ing the taxes of a people already greatly overbur- ' When Buonaparte expressed much regret and anxiety on account of the assassination of the Emperor Paul, he was comforted by Fouch6 with words to the following effect : — dened, and now become fully sensible that these burdens were unequally imposed, and sometimes prodigally dispensed. A government, like an individual, may be guilty of many acts, both of injusti<;e and folly, ^^■ith some chance of impunity, provided it possess wealth enough to command partisans and to silence oppo- sition ; and history shows us, that as, on the one hand, wealthy and money-saving monarchs have usually been able to render themselves most inde- pendent of their subjects, so, on the other, it is from needy princes, and when exchequers are empty, that the people have obtained grants favour- able to freedom in exchange for their supplies. The period of pecuniary distress in a government, if it be that when the subjects are most exposed to oppression, is also the crisis in which they have tlie best chance of recovering their political rights. It is in vain that tlie constitution of a despotic government endeavours, in its forms, to guard against the dangers of such conjunctures, by vest- ing in the sovereign the most complete and un- bounded right to the property of his subjects. This doctrine, however ample in theory, cannot in prac- tice be carried beyond certain bounds, without pro- ducing either privy conspiracy or open insuiTec- tion, being the violent symptoms of the outraged feelings and exhausted patience of the subject, which, in absolute monarchies, supply the want of all regular poHtical checks upon the power of the crown. Whenever the point of human sufferance is exceeded, the despot must propitiate the wrath of an insurgent people with the head of bis minister, or he may tremble for his owm' In constitutions of a less determined despotical character, there almost always arises some power of check or control, however anomalous, which balances or countei"acts the arbitrary exactions of the sovereign, instead of the actual resistance of the subjects, as at Fez or Constantinople. This was the case in France. No constitution could have been more absolute in theory than that of France, for two hmidred years past, in the matter of finance ; but yet in practice there existed a power of control in the Parliaments, and particularly in that of Paris. These courts, though strictly speaking they were constituted only for the administration of justice, had forced themselves, or been forced by circum- stances, into a certain degree of political power, which they exercised in control of the crown, in the imposition of new taxes. It was agreed on all hands, that the royal edicts, enforcing such new impositions, must be registered by the Parliaments ; but while the crown held the registering such edicts to be an act purely ministerial, and the dis- charge of a function imposed by official duty, the magistrates insisted, on the other hand, that they possessed the power of deliberating and remon- strating, nay, of refusing to register the royal edicts. The Parliaments exercised this power of control on various occasions ; and as their inter- ference was always on behalf of the subject, the practice, however anomalous, was sanctioned by public opinion ; and, in the absence of all other re- presentatives of the people, France naturally look- ed up to the magistrates as the protectors of her " Que voulez vous enfin ? Ce'st une mode de destitution propr» a cc pais la!" — S. FRENCH REVOLUTION. 21 rights, and as the only power which could offer even the semblance of resistance to the arbitrary increase of the burdens of the state. These func- tionaries cannot be charged with carelessness or cowardice in the discharge of their duty ; and as taxes increased and became at the same time less productive, the opposition of the Parliaments be- came more formidable. Louis XIV. endeavoured to break their spirit by suppression of their court, and banishment of its membere from Paris ; but, notwithstanding this temporary victory, he is said to have predicted that his successor might not come off from the renewed contest so successfully. Louis XVL, with the plain well-meaning honesty which marked his character, restored the Parlia- ments to their constitutional powers immediately on his accession to the throne, having the genero- sity to regard their resistance to his grandfather as a merit rather than an offence. In the meanwhile, the revenue of the kingdom had fallen into a most disastrous condition. The continued and renewed expense of unsuccessful wars, the supplying the demands of a luxurious court, the gratifying hun- gry courtiers, and enricliing needy favourites, had occasioned large deficits upon the public income of each successive year. The ministers, meanwhile, anxious to provide for the passing moment of their own administration, were satisfied to put off the evil day by borrowing money at heavy interest, and leasing out, in security of these loans, the va- rious sources of revenue to the farmers-general. On their part, these financiers used the govern- ment as bankrupt prodigals are treated by usuri- ous money-brokers, who, feeding their extrava- gance with the one hand, with the other wring out of their ruined fortunes the most unreasonable re- compense for their advances. By a long succes- sion of these ruinous loans, and the various rights granted to guarantee them, the whole finances of France appear to have fallen into total confusion, and presented an mextricable chaos to those who endeavoured to bring them into order. The far- mers-general, therefore, however obnoxious to the people, who considered with justice that their overgrown fortunes were nourished by the life- blood of the community, continued to be essenti- ally necessary to the state, the expenses of which they alone could find means of defraying ; — thus supporting the government, although Mirabeau said with truth, it was only in the sense in which a rope supports a hanged man. Louis XVI., fully sensible of the disastrous state of the pubUc revenue, did all he could to contrive a remedy. He limited his personal expenses, and those of his household, with a rigour which ap- proached to parsimony, and dimmed the necessary ' Louis XV. had the arts if not the virtues of a monarch. He asked one of his ministers what he supposed might be the price of the carriage in which they were sitting. The minister, making a great allowance for the monarch's paving en prince, yet guessed within two-thirds less than the real sum. When the King named the actual price, the statesman exclaimed, but the monarch cut him short. " Do not attempt," he said, "to reform the expenses cf my household. There are too many, and too great men. who have their share in that extor- tion, and to make a reformation would give too much discon- tent. No minister can attempt it with success or with safety." This is the picture of the waste attending a despotic govern- ment : the cup which is filled to the very brim cannot be lifted to the lips without wasting the contents. — S. 2 Turgot was bnrn at Paris in 1727. Called to the head of the Finances in 177-}, he e.ttited the jealousy of the courtiers by his reforms, and of the parliaments by the abolition of the corvees. Beset on all sides, Louis, in 1776, dismissed him, ob- splendour of the throne. He abolished many pen- sions, and by doing so not only disobliged those who were deprived of the instant enjoyment of those gratuities, but lost the attachment of the much more numerous class of expectants, who served the court in the hope of obtaining similar gratifications in their tui-n.^ Lastly, he dismissed a very large proportion of his household troops and body-guards, affording another subject of dis- content to the nobles, out of whose families these corps were recruited, and destroying with his own hand a force devotedly attached to the royal per- son, and which, in the hour of popular fury, would have been a barrier of inappreciable value. Thus, it was the misfortune of this well-meaning prince, only to weaken his own cause and endanger his safety, by those sacrifices intended to relieve the burdens of the people, and supply the wants of the state. The king adopted a broader and more effectual course of reform, by using the advice of upright and skilful ministers, to introduce, as far as possi- ble, some degree of order into the French finances. Turgot,2 Malesherbes,' and Necker,'' were persons of unquestionable skill, of sound views, and undis- puted integrity ; and although the last-named minister finally simk in public esteem, it was only because circumstances had excited such an extravagant opinion of his powers, as could not have been met and realized by those of the first financier who ever lived. These virtuous and pa- triotic statesmen did all in their power to keep afloat the vessel of the state, and prevent at least the increase of the deficit, which now arose yearly on the public accounts. They, and Necker in par- ticular, introduced economy and retrenchment into all departments of the revenue, restored the pub- lic credit without increasing the national burdens, and, by obtaining loans on reasonable terms, were fortunate enough to find funds for the immediate support of the American war, expensive as it was, without pressing on the patience of the people by new impositions. Could this state of matters have been supported for some years, opportunities might in that time have occurred for adapting the French mode of government to the new Ughts which the age afforded. Public opinion, joined to the bene- ficence of the sovereign, had already wTought seve- ral important and desirable changes. Many ob- noxious and oppressive laws had been expressly abrogated, or tacitly suffered to become obsolete, and there never sate a king upon the French or any other throne, more willing than Louis XVI to sacrifice his own personal interest and preroga- tive to whatever seemed to be the benefit of the state. Even at the very commencement of his serving at the same time, that " Turgot, and he alone, loved the people." Malcsherbes said of him. that " he had the head of Bacon, and the heart of L'Hopital." He died in 1781. 3 llalesherbes, the descendant of an illustrious family, was born at Paris in 1721. When Louis the Sixteenth ascended the throne, he was appointed minister of the interior. Vhich he resigned on the retirement of his friend Turgot. He was called b;ick into public life, at the crisis of the Revolution, to be the legal defender of his sovereign ; but his pleadings only procured for himself the honourof perishing on the same scaf- fold in 17W, together with his daughter and grand daughter. * Necker was born at Geneva in 1732 ; he married, in 1764, Mademoiselle Curchod, the early object of Gibbon's aftection, and by her had the daughter so celebrated as the Baroness do Stael Holstein. M. Necker settled in Paris, rose into high re- putation as a banker, and was first called to ofiice under tU« government in 1776. He died in 1804. '^•2 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WOKKS. reign, and when obeying only the dictates of his own beneficence, he reformed tlie penal code of France, which then savoured of the barbarous times in which it had originated — he abolished the use of torture — he restored to freedom those pri- soners of state, the mournful inhabitants of the Bastile, and other fortresses, who had been the victims of his grandfather's jealousy — the compul- sory labour called the corvee,^ levied from the peasantry, and one principal source of popular dis- content, had been abolished in some provinces and modified in others — and while the police was under the regulation of the sage and virtuous Malesher- bes, its arbiti-ary powers had been seldom so exer- cised as to become the subject of complaint. In short, the monarch partook the influence of public opinion along with his subjects, and there seemed just reason to hope, that, had times remained mo- derate, the monarchy of France might have been reformed instead of being destroyed. Unhappily, convulsions of the state became from day to day more violent, and Louis XVI., who pos- sessed the benevolence and good intentions of his ancestor, Henry IV., wanted his military talents, and his political firmness. In consequence of this deficiency, the king suffered himself to be distracted by a variety of counsels ; and vacillating, as all must who act more from a general desire to do that which is right, than upon any determined and well-consi- dered system, he placed his power and his character at the mercy of the changeful course of events, which firmness might have at least combated, if it could not control. But it is remarkable, that Louis resembled Charles I. of England more than any of his own ancestors, in a want of self-confidence, which led to frequent alterations of mind and changes of measures, as well as in a tendency to uxoriousness, which enabled both Henrietta Marie, and Marie Antoinette, to use a fatal influence upon their counsels. Both sovereigns fell under the same suspicion of being deceitful and insincere, when perhaps Charles, but certainly Louis, only changed his course of conduct from a change of his own opinion, or from suffering himself to be over- persuaded, and deferring to the sentiments of others. Few monarchs of any country, certainly, have changed their nainisti'y, and with their ministry their counsels and measures, so often as Louis XVI. ; and with this unhappy consequence, that he neither persevered in a firm and severe course of government long enough to inspire respect, nor in a conciliatory and yielding policy for a sufficient time to propitiate regard and confidence. It is with regret we notice this imperfection in a character otherwise so excellent ; but it was one of the lead- ing causes of the Revolution, that a prince, pos- sessed of power too great to be either kept or re- signed with safety, hesitated between the natural resolution to defend his hereditary prerogative, and the sense of justice which induced him to restore such part of it as had been usurped from the people by his ancestors. By adhering to the one course, he might have been the conqueror of the Revolu- tion ; by adopting the other, he had a chance to be its guide and governor ; by hesitating between them, he became its victim. It was in consequence of this vacillation of pur- 1 The corvdes, or burdens imposed for the maintenance of the public roads, were bitterly complained of by the farmers. pose that Louis, in 1781, sacrificed Turgot and Necker to the intrigues of the court. These states- men had formed a plan for new-modelling the financial part of the French monarchy, which, while it should gratify the people by admitting represen- tatives on their part to some influence in the impo- sition of new taxes, might have released the king from the interference of the parliaments, (whose office of remonstrance, although valuable as a shel- ter from despotism, was often arbitrarily, and even factiously exercised,) and have transferred to the direct representatives of the people that superin- tendence, which ought never to have been in other hands. For this purpose the ministers proposed to insti- tute, in the several provinces of France, convoca- tions of a representative nature, one-half of whom was to be chosen from the Commons, or Third Estate, and the other named by the nobles and clergy in equal proportions, and which assemblies, without having the right of rejecting the edicts im- posing new taxes, were to apportion them amongst the subjects of their several provinces. This sys- tem contained in it much that was excellent, and might have opened the road for further improve- ments on the constitution ; while, at the same time, it would probably, so early as 1781, have been re- ceived as a boon, by which the subjects were called to participate in the royal counsels, rather than as a concession extracted from the weakness of the sovereign, or from his despair of his own resources. It afforded also an opportunity, peculiarly desirable in France, of forming the minds of the people to the discharge of public duty. The British nation owe much of the practical benefits of their consti- tution to the habits with which almost all men are trained to exercise some public right in head-coiu-ts, vestries, and other deliberative bodies, where their minds are habituated to the course of business, and accustomed to the manner in which it can be most regularly despatched. This advantage would have been supplied to the French by Necker's scheme. But with all the advantages which it promised, this plan of provincial assemblies miscarried, owing to the emulous opposition of the Parliament of Paris, who did not choose that any other body than their own should be considered as the guardians of what remained in France of popular rights. Another measure of Necker was of more dubious policy. This was the printing and publishing of his Report to the Sovereign of the state of the reve- nues of France. The minister probably thought this display of candour, which, however proper in itself, was hitherto unknown in the French admi- nistration, might be useful to the King, whom it represented as acquiescing in public opinion, and appearing not only ready, but solicitous, to collect the sentiments of his subjects on the business of the state. Necker might also deem the Compte Rendu a prudent measure on his own account, to secure the popular favour, and maintain himself by the public esteem against the influence of court intrigue. Or lastly, both these motives might be mingled with the natural vanity of showing the world that France enjoyed, in the person of Necker, a minister bold enough to penetrate into the laby- rinth of confusion and obscurity which had been This iniquitous part of the financial system was abolished i» 774, by Xurgot. FRENCH REVOLUTIOX. '23 thought inextricable by all his predecessors, and was at length enabled to render to the sovereign and the people a detailed and balanced account of the state of their finances. Neither did the result of the national balance- sheet appear so astounding as to require its being concealed as a state mystery. The deficit, or the balance, by which the expenses of government ex- ceeded the revenue of the country, by no means indicated a desperate state of finance, or one which must either demand immense sacrifices, or other- wise lead to national bankruptcy. It did not greatly exceed the annual defalcation of two millions, a Bum which, to a country so fertile as France, might even be termed trifling. At the same time, Necker brought forward a variety of reductions and econo- mical arrangements, by which he proposed to pro- vide for this deficiency, without either incurring debt or burdening the subject with additional taxes. But although this general exposure of the ex- penses of the state, this appeal from the govern- ment to the people, had the air of a frank and generous proceeding, and was, in fact, a step to the great constitutional point of establishing in the nation and its representatives the sole power of granting supplies, there may be doubt whether it was not rather too hastily resorted to. Those from whose eyes the cataract has been removed, are for some time deprived of light, and in the end, it is supplied to them by limited degrees ; but that glare which was at once poured on the nation of France, served to dazzle as many as it illuminated. The Compte Rendu was the general subject of conversation, not in the coffee-houses and public promenades, but in saloons and ladies' boudoirs, and amongst society better qualified to discuss the merits of the last comedy, or any other frivolity of the day. The very array of figures had something ominous and terrible in it, and the word deficit was used, like the name of Marlborough of old, to frighten children with. To most it intimated the total bankruptcy of the nation, and prepared many to act with the sel- fish and shortsighted hcense of sailors, who plun- der the cargo of their own vessel in the act of shipwreck. Others saw, in the account of expenses attached to the person and dignity of the prince, a wasteful expenditure, which, in that hour of avowed necessity, a nation might well dispense with. Men began to number the guards and household pomp of the sovereign and his court, as the daughters of Lear did the train of their father. The reduction already commenced might be carried, thought these provident persons, yet farther : — " What needs he five-and-twenty, ten, or five?" And no doubt some, even at this early period, ar- rived at the ultimate conclusion, " What needs one ?" Besides the domestic and household expenses of the sovereign, which, so far as personal, were on the most moderate scale, the public mind was much more justly revolted at the large sum yearly squan- dered among needy courtiers and their dependents, or even less justifiably lavished upon those whose rank and fortune ought to have placed them far above adding to the burdens of the subjects. The king had endeavoured to abridge this list of gra- tuities and pensions, but the system of corruption which had prevailed for two centuries, was not to be abolished in an mstant ; the throne, already tottering, could not immediately be deprived of the band of stipendiary grandees whom it had so long maintained, and who afforded it their counte- nance in return, and it was perhaps impolitic to fix the attention of the public on a disclosure so peculiarly invidious, until the opportunity of cor- recting it should arrive ; — it was like the disclosure of a wasting sore, useless and disgusting unless when shown to a surgeon, and for the pui-pose of cure. Yet, though the account rendered by the minister of the finances, while it passed from the hand of one idler to another, and occupied on sofas and toilettes the place of the latest novel, did doubt- less engage giddy heads in vain and dangerous speculation, something was to be risked in order to pave the way of regaining for the French subjects the right most essential to freemen, that of grant- ing or refusing their own supplies. The publicity of the distressed state of the finances, induced a general conviction that the oppressive system of taxation could only be removed, and that approach- ing bankruptcy, which was a still greater evil, avoided, by resorting to the nation itself, convoked in their ancient form of representation, which was called the States-General. It was true that, through length of time, the nature and powers of this body were forgotten, if indeed they hadever been very thoroughlyfixed : and it was also true, that the constitution of the States- General of 1614, which was the last date of their being assembled, was not likely to suit a period when the country was so much changed, both in character and circumstances. The doubts concern- ing the composition of the medicine, and its pro- bable effects, seldom abate the patient's confidence. All joined in desiring the convocation of this repre- sentative body, and all expected that such an assembly would be able to find some satisfactory remedy for the pressing evils of the state. The cry was general, and, as usual in such cases, few who joined in it knew exactly what it was they wanted. Looking back on the period of 1780, with the advantage of our own experience, it is possible to see a chance, though perhaps a doubtful one, of avoiding the universal shipwreck which was fated to ensue. If the royal government, determining to gratify the general wish, had taken the initiative in conceding the great national measure as a boon flowing from the prince's pure good-will and love of his subjects, and if measures had been taken rapidly and decisively to secure seats in these bodies, but particularly in the Tiers Etat, to men known for their moderation and adherence to the monarchy, it seems probable that the crown might have secu- red such an interest, in a body of its own creation, as would have silenced the attempts of any heated spirits to hurry the kingdom into absolute revolu- tion. The reverence paid to the throne for so many centuries, had yet all the influence of unas- sailed sanctity ; the king was still the master of an army, commanded under him by his nobles, and as yet animated by the spirit of loyalty, which is the natural attiibute of the military profession ; the mindsof men were not warmed at once, and wearied, by a fruitless and chicaning delay, which only showed the extreme indisposition of the court to grant what they had no means of ultimately refus- ing ; nor had public opinion yet been agitated by the bold discussions of a thousand pamphleteers. 24 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. who, under pretence of enlightening the people, prepossessed their minds with the most extreme ideas of the popular character of the representation of the Tiers Etat, and its superiority over every other power of the state. Ambitious and unscru- pulous men would then hardly have had the time or boldness to form those audacious pretensions which their ancestors dreamed not of, and which the course of six or seven years of protracted expec- tation, and successive renewals of hope, succeeded by disappointment, enabled them to mature. Such a fatal interval, however, was suffered to intervene, between the first idea of convoking the States-General, and the period when that measure became inevitable. Without this delay, the king, invested with all his royal prerogatives, and at the head of the military force, might have surrendered with a good grace such parts of his power as were inconsistent with the liberal opinions of the time, and such surrender must have been received as a grace, since it could not have been exacted as a Bacrifice. The conduct of the government, in the interim, towards the nation whose representatives it was shortly to meet, resembled that of an insane person, who should by a hundred teazing and vexa- tious insults irritate into frenzy the lion, whose cage he was about to oj)en, and to whose fury he must necessarily be exposed. Necker, whose undoubted honesty, as well as his republican candour, had rendered him highly popular, had, under the influence of the old intriguer Maurepas, been dismissed from his office as mini- ster of finance, in 1781. The witty, versatile, sel- fish, and cunning Maurepas, had the art to hold his power till the last moment of his long life, and died at the moment when the knell of death was a sum- mons to call hira from impending ruin.^ He made, according to an expressive northern proverb, the " day and way alike long ;" and died just about the period when the system of evasion and palliation, of usurious loans and lavish bounties, could scarce have served longer to save him from disgrace. Vergennes,^ who succeeded him, was, like himself, a courtier rather than a statesman ; more studious to preserve his own power, by continuing the same system of partial expedients and temporary shifts, than willing to hazard the king's favour, or the popularity of his administration, by attempting any scheme of permanent utility or general reformation. Calonne,^ the minister of finance, who had succeed- ed to that office after the brief administrations of Fleury and d'Ormesson, called on by his duty to the most difficult and embarrassing branch of government, was possessed of a more comprehen- sive genius, and more determined coui-age, than his principal Vergennes. So early as the year 1784, the deficiency betwixt the receipts of the whole re- venues of the state, and the expenditure, extended to six hundred and eighty-four millions of livres, in British money about equal to twenty-eight mil- lions four hundred thousand pounds sterling ; but then a certain large portion of this debt consisted in annuities granted by government, v/hich were 1 Maurepas was born in I70I. " At the affe of eighty, he presented to tlie world the ridiculous spectacle of caducity affeetinf; the frivolity of youtli, and enijiloyed that time in pcnnins a sonnet winch would more properly have been de- voted to correcting a despatch, or preparing an armament." He died in 17i{l.— Sec Lacretkixe, toiu. v., p. 8. 2 The Count de Vergennes was born at Dijon in 1717- He ■died in 17117, greatly regretted by Louis, who was impressed annually in the train of being extinguished by the death of the holders ; and there was ample room for saving, in the mode of collecting the various taxes. So that large as the sum of deficit appear- ed, it could not have been very formidable, con- sidering the resources of so rich a country ; but it was necessary, that the pressure of new burdens, to be imposed at this exigence, should be equally divided amongst the orders of the state. The Third Estate, or Commons, had been exhausted under the weight of taxes, which fell upon them alone, and Calonne formed the bold and laudable design of compelling the clergy and nobles, hitherto exempted from taxation, to contribute their share to the revenues of tlie state. This, however, was, in the present state of the public, too bold a scheme to be carried into execu- tion without the support of something resembling a popular representation. At this crisis, again might Louis have summoned the States-General, with some chance of uniting their suffrages with the wishes of the Crown. The King would have found himself in a natural alliance with the Com- mons, in a plan to abridge those immunities, which the Clergy and Nobles possessed, to the prejudice of The Third Estate. He wovild thus, in the out- set at least, have united the influence and interests of the Crown with those of the popular party, and established something like a balance in the repre- sentative body, in which the Throne must have had considerable weight. Apparently, Calonne and his principal Vergen- nes were afraid to take this manly and direct course, as indeed the ministers of an arbitrary monarch can rarely be supposed willing to call in the aid of a body of popular representatives. The ministers endeavoured, therefore, to supply the want of a body like the States-General, by sum- moning together an assembly of what was termed the Notables, or principal persons in the kingdom. This was in every sense an unadvised measure.* With something resembling the form of a great national council, the Notables had no right to re- present the nation, neither did it come within their province to pass any resolution whatever. Their post was merely that of an extraordinary body of counsellors, who deliberated on any subject which the King might submit to their consideration, and were to express their opinion in answer to the So- vereign's interrogatories ; but an assembly, which could only start opinions and debate upon them, without coming to any effective or potential deci- sion, was a fatal resource at a crisis when decision was peremptorily necessary, and when all vague and irrelevant discussion was, as at a moment of national fermentation, to be cautiously avoided. Above all, there was this great error in having re- course to the Assembly of the Notables, that, con- sisting entirely of the privileged orders, the comi- cil was composed of the individuals most inimical to the equality of taxes, and most tenacious of those very immunities which were struck at by the scheme of the minister of finance. by the conviction that, had his life been prolonged, the Eevo- lution would not have taken place. 3 Calonne was born at DoiKiyin 17.34. After being an exile in England, and other j)arts of Europe, he died at Paris in lb02. * They were summoned on 29th December, I7O6, and met on 22d February of the subsequent year. — S. FRENCH REVOLUTION. 25 Calonne found himself opposed at every point, and received from the Notables remonstrances in- stead of support and countenance. That Assembly censuring all his plans, and rejecting his proposals, he was in their presence like a rash necromancer, who has been indeed able to raise a demon, but is unequal to the task of guiding him when evoked. He was further weakened by the death of Vergen- nes, and finally obliged to resign his place and his country, a sacrifice at once to court intrigue and popular odium. Had this able but rash minister conToked the States-General instead of the Nota- bles, he would have been at least sure of the sup- port of the Third Estate, or Commons ; and, allied ■with them, might have carried through so popular a scheme, as that which went to establish taxation Upon a just and equal principle, affecting the rich as well as the poor, the proud prelate and wealthy noble, as well as the industrious cultivator of the soil. Calonne having retired to England from popular hatred, his perilous office devolved upon the Arch- bishop of Sens, afterwards the Cardinal de Lome- nie,' who was raised to the painful pre-eminence [May] by the interest of the unfortunate Marie An- toinette, whose excellent qualities were connected witli a spirit of state-intrigue, proper to the sex in such elevated situations, which but too frequently thwarted or bore down the more candid intentions of her husband, and tended, though on her part unwittingly, to give his public measures, sometimes adopted on his own principles, and sometimes in- fluenced by her intrigues and solicitations, an ap- pearance of vacillation, and even of duplicity, which greatly injured them both in the public opinion. The new minister finding it as difficult to deal with the Assembly of Notables as his predecessor, the King finally dissolved that body, without having received from them either the countenance or good counsel which had been expected ; thus realizing the opinion expressed by Voltaire concerning such convocations : " De tous ces Etats I'effet le plus commun. Est de voir tous nos maux, sans en soulagcr un." - After dismission of the Notables, the minister adopted or recommended a line of conduct so fluc- tuating and indecisive, so violent at one time in support of the royal prerogative, and so pusillani- mous when he encountered resistance from the newly-awakened spirit of liberty, that had he been bribed to render the crown at once odious and contemptible, or to engage his master in a line of conduct which should irritate the courageous, and encourage the timid, among his dissatisfied sub- jects, the Archbishop of Sens could hardly, after the deepest thought, have adopted measures better adapted for such a purpose. As if determined to bring matters to an issue betwixt the King and the Parliament of Paris, he laid before the latter two new edicts for taxes,^ similar in most respects to those which had been recommended by liis prede- cessor Calonne to the Notables. The Parliament refused to register these edicts, being the course which the minister ought to have expected. He ' M. Lomenie de Brienne wau born at Paris in 1/27. On being ajipoiiited Prime Minister, he was made Arclibishop of Sens, and on reiirinp from o.'iice, in 1788, he obtained a cardi- nal's hat. He died in prison in 1794. 2 Such Convocations all our ills descry. And promise much, but io true cure apply. then resolved upon a display of the royal preroga- tive in its most arbitrary and obnoxious form. A Bed of Justice,'' as it was termed, was held, [Aug. 6,] where the King, presiding in person over the Court of Parliament, commanded the edicts impos- ing certain new taxes to be registered in his own presence ; thus, by an act of authority emanating directly from the Sovereign, beating down the only species of opposition which the subjects, through any organ whatever, could offer to the increase of taxation. The Parliament yielded the semblance of a mo- mentary obedience, but protested solemnly, that the edict having been registered solely by the royal command, and against their unanimous opinion, should not have the force of a law. They remon- strated also to the Throne in terms of great free- dom and energy, distinctly intimating, that they could not and would not be the passive instruments, through the medium of whom the public was to be loaded with new impositions ; and they expressed, for the first time, in direct terms, the proposition, fraught with the fate of France, that neither the edicts of the King, nor the registration of those edicts by the Parliament, were sufficient to impose permanent burdens on the people ; but such taxa- tion was competent to the States-General only.^ In punishment of their undaunted defence of the popular cause, the Parliament was banished to Troves ; the government thus increasing the na- tional discontent by the removal of the principal court of the kingdom, and by all the evils incident to a delay of public justice. The Provincial Par- liaments supported the principles adopted by their brethren of Paris. The Chamber of Accounts, and the Court of Aids, the judicial establishments next in rank to that of the Parliament, also remonstra- ted against the taxes, and refused to enforce them. They were not enforced accordingly ; and thus, for the first time, during two centuries at least, the royal authority of France being brought into direct collision with public opinion and resistance, was, by the energy of the subject, compelled to retrograde and yield ground. This was the first direct and immediate movement of that mighty Revolution, which afterwards rushed to its crisis like a rock rolling down a mountain. This was the first torch which was actually applied to the various combus- tibles which lay scattered through France, and which we have endeavoured to analyze. The flame soon spread into the provinces. The nobles of Brittany broke out into a kind of insurrection ; the Parliament of Grenoble impugned, by a solemn de- cree, the legality of lettres de cachet. Strange and alarming fears, — wild and boundless hopes, — in- consistent rumours, — a vague expectation of im- pending events,— all contributed to agitate the public mind. The quick and mercurial tempers which chiefly distinguish the nation, were half mad- dened with suspense, while even the dull nature of the lowest and most degraded of the community felt the coming impulse of extraordinary changes, as cattle are observed to be disturbed before an approaching thunder-storm. 3 Viz., One on timber, and one on territorial possessions.^ See Thiers, vol. i., p. 14. * " Lit de Justice"— the throne upon which the King wa» seated when he went to tlio Parliament. 4 Mignct, Hist, de la Rev. Franfaise, tom i., p. 21. 26 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. The minister could not sustain his courage in such a menacing conjuncturej yet unhappil^ at- tempted a show of resistance, instead of leaving the King to the influence of his own sound sense and excellent disposition, which always induced him to choose the means of conciliation. There was indeed but one choice, and it lay betwixt civil war or concession. A despot would have adopted the former course, and, withdrawing from Paris, would have gathered around him the army still his own. A patriotic monaroh — and such was Louis XVI. when exercising his own judgment — would have chosen the road of concession ; yet his steps, even in retreating, would have been so firm, and his attitude so manly, that the people would not have ventured to ascribe to fear what flowed solely from a spirit of conciliation. But the conduct of the minister, or of those who directed his motions, was an alternation of irritating opposition to the public voice, and of ill-timed submission to its de- mands, which implied an understanding impaired by the perils of the conjuncture, and unequal alike to the task of avoiding them by concession, or re- sisting them with courage. The King, indeed, recalled the Parliament of Paris from their exile, coming, at the same time, under an express engagement to convoke the States- General, and leading the subjects, of course, to sup- pose that the new imposts were to be left to their consideration. But, as if to irritate men's minds, by showing a desire to elude the execution of what had been promised, the minister ventured, in an evil hour, to hazard another experiment upon the firmness of their nerves, and again to commit the dignity of the sovereign by bringing him personally to issue a command, which experience had shown the Parliament were previously resolved to dis- obey. By this new proceeding, the King was in- duced to hold what was called a Royal Sitting of the Parliament, which resembled in all its forms a Bed of Justice, except that it seems as if the com- mands of the monarch were esteemed less authori- tative when so issued, than when tliey were, as on the former occasion, delivered in this last obnoxious assembly. Thus, at less advantage than before, and, at all events, after the total failure of a former experi- ment, the King, arrayed in all the forms of his royalty, once more, and for the last time, convoked his Parhament in person ; and again with his own voice commanded the court to register a royal edict for a loan of four hundred and twenty millions of francs, to be raised in the course of five years. This demand gave occasion to a debate which last- ed nine hours, and was only closed by the King rising up, and issuing at length his positive and imperative orders that the loan should be regis- tered. To the astonishment of the meeting, the first prince of the blood, the Duke of Orleans, arose, as if in reply, and demanded to know if they were assembled in a Bed of Justice or a Royal Sit- ting ; and receiving for answer that the latter was the quality of the meeting, he entered a solemn protest against the proceedings. [Nov. 19.] Thus was the authority of the King once more brought in direct opposition to the assertors of the rights of the people, as if on purpose to show, in the face of ' Freteau and Sabatier. They were banished to the Hieres. In 1794, Freteau was sent to the guUlotino by Kobespicrre. the whole nation, that its terrors were only those of a phantom, whose shadowy bulk might overawe tlie timid, but could offer no real cause of fear when courageously opposed. The minister did not, however, give way with- out such an ineffectual struggle, as at once showed the weakness of the royal authority, and the wil- lingness to wield it with the despotic sway of for- mer times. Two members of the Parliament of Paris' were imprisoned in remote fortresses, and the Duke of Orleans was sent in exile to his estate, A long and animated exchange of remonstrances followed betwixt the King and the Parliament, in which the former acknowledged his weal, il fant I'avouer a I'empire de la raison."— S. — (" Confiding, it must be admitted, too much in the jiower of reason.") — Rev. Franf., tom. i., p. 171- 3 " The concessions of Neeker were the work of a man is- norant of the first principles of the Rovernment of mankind. It was he wlio overturned the mcjnarchy, and brought Louis XVI. to the scafl'old. Marat, Lanton, Robespierre himself, did less mischief to France : he brought on the Revolution, the minister might have been prepared with some system or plan of proceeding, upon which this most important convention was to conduct its delibera* tions ; but there was not even an attempt to take up the reins which were floating on the necks of those who were for the first time harnessed to the chariot of the state. All was expectation, mere vague and vmauthorised hope, that in this multi- tude of counsellors there would be found safety.* Hitherto we have described the silent and smooth, but swift and powerful, stream of innovation, as it rolled on to the edge of the sheer precipice. We are now to view the precipitate tumult and terrora of the cataract. CHAPTER IV. Meeting of the States-General — Predominant In- fluence of the Tiers Etat — Property not represented sufficiently in that Body — General character oj the Members — Disposition of the Estate of the Nobles — And of the Clergy — Plan of forming the Three Estates into two Houses — Its advantages — It fails — The Clergy unite with the Tiers Etat, which assmnes the title of the National Assembly — They assume the task of Legislation, and de- clare all former Fiscal Regulations illegal — They assert their determination to continue their Ses- sions — Royal Sitting — Terminates in the Triumph of the Assembly — Parties in that Body — Mourner — Constitutionalists — Republicans — Jacobins — Orleans. The Estates-General of France met at Versailles on the 5th May, 1789, and that was indisputably the first day of the Revolution. The Abbe' Sieyes, in a pamphlet which we have mentioned, had al- ready asked, " What was the Third Estate 1 — It was the whole nation. What had it been hitherto in a political light ? — Nothing. What was it about to become presently ? — Something." Had the last answer been Every thing, it would have been nearer the truth ; for it soon appeared that this Third Estate, which, in the year 1614, the Nobles had refused to acknowledge even as a younger brother* of their order, was now, like the rod of the prophet, to swallow up all those who aff'ected to share its power. Even amid the pageantry with which the ceremonial of the first sitting abounded, it was clearly visible that the wishes, hopes, and interest of the public, were exclusively fixed upon the re- presentatives of the Commons. The rich garments and floating plumes of the Nobiiity, and the reve- rend robes of the Clergy, had nothing to fix the public eye ; their sounding and emphatic titles had nothing to win the ear ; the recollection of the high feats of the one, and long sanctified characters of the other order, had nothing to influence the mind of the spectators. All eyes were turned on tho which they consummated."— Napoleon, as reported hj Bourrienne, tom. viii., p. 1('8. 4 A ciilemhoiirp of the period presaped a different result.— " So numerous a concourse of state-physicians assembled to consult lor the weal of the nation, argued," it was said, " the imminent danger and approaching death of the patient. "~S. 5 The Baron de Senneci, when the estates of the kingdom ■were compared to three Ijrethren. of which the Tiers Etat was Toungest, declared that the Commons of France had no title to arrogate such a relationship with the nobles, to whom thej were so far inferior in blood, and in estimation. FRENCH REVOLUTION. 29 members of the Third Estate, in a plebeian and humble costume, corresponding to their lowly bii'tli and occupation, as the only portion of the assembly from whom they looked for the lights and the coun- sels which the time demanded.' It would be absurd to assert, that the body which thus engrossed the national attention was devoid of talents to deserve it. On the contrary, the Tiers Etat contained a large proportion of the learning, the intelligence, and the eloquence of the kingdom ; but unliappily it was composed of men of theory rather tlian of practice, men more prepared to change than to preserve or repair ; and, above all, of men, who, generally speaking, were not directly concerned in tlie preservation of peace and ordei', by possessing a large property in the country. The due proportion in which talents and pro- perty are represented in the British House of Com- mons, is perhaps the best assurance for the sta- bility of the constitution. Men of talents, bold, enterprising, eager for distinction, and ambitious of power, suffer no opportunity to escape of recom- mending such measures as may improve the gene- ral system, and raise to distinction those by whom they are proposed ; while men of substance, desir- ous of preserving the property which they possess, are scrupulous in scrutinizing every new measure, and steady in rejecting such as are not accom- panied with the most certain prospect of advantage to the state. Talent, eager and active, desires the means of employment ; Property, cautious, doubt- ful, jealous of innovation, acts as a regulator rather than an impulse on the machine, by preventing its either moving too rapidly, or changing too suddenly. The over-caution of those by whom property is represented, may sometimes, indeed, delay a pro- jected improvement, but much more frequently im- pedes a rash and hazardous experiment. Looking back on the ParUamentary history of two centu- ries, it is easy to see how much practical wisdom has been derived from the influence exercised by those members called Country Gentlemen, who, unambitious of distinguishing themselves by their eloquence, and undesirous of mingling in the ordi- nary debates of the house, make their sound and unsophisticated good sense heard and understood upon every crisis of importance, in a manner alike respected by the Ministry and the opposition of the day, — by the professed statesmen of the house, •whose daily business is legislation, and whose thoughts, in some instances, are devoted to public affairs, because they have none of their own much worth looking after. In this great and most im- portant characteristic of representation, the Tiers Etat of France was necessarily deficient ; in fact, the part of the French constitution, which, without exactly corresponding to the country gentlemen of England, most nearly resembled them, was a pro- portion of the Rural Noblesse of France, who were represented amongst tlie Estate of the Nobility. An edict, detaching these rural proprietors, and perhaps the inferior clergy, from their proper or- dei-s, and including their representatives in that of the Tiers Etat, would have infused into the latter 1 Madame de Stael, and Madame de Montmorin, wife of the Minister for Foreign Affairs, beheld from a Rallery the spectacle. The former exulted in the boundless jirospect of national felicity which seemed to be opening under the aus- pices of her father. " You are wrong to rejoice," said Madame de Montmorin ; " this event forebodes much misery to France assembly a proportional regard for the rights of landholders, whether lay or clerical ; and as they must have had a voice in those anatomical experi- ments, of which their property was about to be- come the subject, it may be supposed they would have resisted the application of the scalpel, except- ing when it was unavoidably necessary. Instead of which, both the Nobles and Clergy came soon to be placed on the anatomical table at the mercy of each state-quack, who, having no interest in their sufferings, thought them excellent subjects on which to exemplify some favourite hypothesis. While owners of extensive landed property were in a great measure excluded from the representa- tion of the Third Estate, its ranks were filled from those classes which seek novelties in theory, and which are in the habit of profiting by them in practice. There were professed men of letters called thither, as they hoped and expected, to rea- lize theories, for the greater part inconsistent with the present state of things, in which, to use one of their own choicest common-places, — " Mind had not yet acquired its due rank." There were many of the inferior branches of the law ; for, unhap- pily, in this profession also the graver and more enlightened members were called by their rank to the Estate of the Noblesse. To these were united churchmen without livings, and physicians without patients ; men, whose education generally makes them important in the humble society in which they move, and who are proportionally presump- tuous and conceited of their own powers, when ad- vanced into that which is superior to their usual walk. There were many bankers also, speculators in politics, as in their natural employment of stock- jobbing ; and there were intermingled with the classes we have noticed some individual nobles, expelled from their own ranks for want of charac- ter, who, like the dissolute Mirabeau, a moral mon- ster for talents and want of principle, menaced, from the station which they had assumed, the rights of the order from which they had been ex- pelled, and, like deserters of every k'nd, were will- ing to guide the foes to whom they had fled, into the intrenchraents of the friends whom they had forsaken, or by whom they had been exiled. There were also mixed with these perilous elements many individuals, not only endowed with talents and in- tegrity, but possessing a respectable proportion of sound sense and judgment ; but who, unfortunately, aided less to counteract the revolutionary tendency, than to justify it by argument or dignify it by ex- ample. From the very beginning, the Tiers Etat evinced a determined purpose to annihilate in con- sequence, if not in rank, the other two orders of the state, and to engross the whole power into their own hands.^ It must be allowed to the Commons, that the Noblesse had possessed themselves of a paramount superiority over the middle class, totally inconsis- tent with the just degree of consideration due to their fellow-subjects, and irreconcilable with the spirit of enlightened times. They enjoyed many privileges which were humiliating to the rest of and to ourselves." Her presentiment was but ton well found- ed. She herself perished on the scaftold with one of her sons ; her husband was murdtred on September 2d; her eldest daughter died in the hospital of a prison, and her youngest died of a broken heart.— See M. de Stael, vol. i., p. 187. • I^cretelle, torn, i., p. 32; Rivarol, p. 'SJ. 30 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. the nation, and others that were gi-ossly unjust, among which must be reckoned their immunities from taxation. Assembled as an estate of the kingdom, they felt the esprit-de-corps, and, attach- ed to the privileges of their order, showed little readiness to make the sacrifices which the times demanded, though at tlie risk of having what they refused to grant, forcibly wrested from them. They were publicly and imprudently tenacious, when, both on principle and in policy, they should have been compliant and accommodating — for their own sake, as well as that of the sovereign. Yet let Us be just to that gallant and unfortunate body of toen. They possessed the courage, if not the skill or strength of their ancestors, and while we blame the violence with which they clung to useless and antiquated privileges, let us remember that these were a part of their inheritance, which no man re- nounces willingly, and no man of spirit yields up to threats. If they erred in not adoptmg from the beginning a spirit of conciliation and concession, no body of men ever suffered so cruelly for hesi- tating to obey a summons, which called them to acts of such unusual self-denial. The Clergy were no less tenacious of the privi- leges of the Church, than the Noblesse of their pe- culiar feudal immunities. It had been already plainly intimated, that the property of the clerical orders ought to be subject, as well as all other species of property, to the exigencies of the state ; and the philosophical opinions which had impugned their principles of faith, and rendered their per- sons ridiculous instead of reverend, would, it v/as to be feared, induce those by whom they were en- tertained, to extend their views to a general seizure of the whole, instead of a part, of the Church's wealth. Both the first and second estates, therefore, kept aloof, moved by the manner in which the private interests of each stood committed, and both endea- voured to avert the coming storm, by retarding the deliberations of the States-General. They were particularly desirous to secure their individual importance as distinct orders, and appealed to ancient practice and the usage of the year 1614, by which the three several estates sat and voted in three separate bodies. But the Tiers Etat, who, from the beginning, felt their own strength, were determined to choose that mode of procedure by which their force should be augmented and con- solidated. The double representation had render- ed them equal in numbers to both the other bodies, and as they were sure of some interest among the inferior Noblesse, and a very considerable party amongst the lower clergy, the assistance of these two minorities, added to their own numbers, must necessarily give them the superiority in every vote, providing the three chambers could be united into one. On the other hand, the clergy and nobles saw that a union of this nature would place all their privileges and property at the mercy of the Com- mons, whom the union of the chambers in one assembly would invest with an overwhelming majo- rity in that convocation. They had no reason to expect that this power, if once acquired, would be > It was, for cxani])le, gravely stated, that a seipneur of a certain province jiossesscil a feudal right to put two of his Tassals to death upon his return from hunting, and to rip their used with moderation, for not only had their ac- tually obnoxiou.s privileges been assailed by every battery of reason and of ridicule, but the records of former ages had been ransacked for ridiculous absurdities and detestable cruelties of the posses- sors of feudal power, all which were imputed to the present privileged classes, and mingled with many fictions of unutterable horror, devised on purpose to give a yet darker colouring to the sys- tem which it was their object to destroy.' Every motive, therefore, of self-interest and self-preser- vation, induced the two first chambers, aware of the possession which the third had obtained over the public mind, to maintain, if possible, the specific individuality of their separate classes, and use the right hitherto supposed to be vested in them, of protecting their own interests by their own separate votes, as distinct bodies. Others, with a deeper view, and on less selfish reasoning, saw much hazard in amalgamating the whole force of the state, saving that which remained in the crown, into one powerful body, subject to all the hasty impulses to which popular assemblies lie exposed, as lakes to the wind, and in placing the person and authority of the King in solitary and diametrical opposition to what must necessarily, in moments of enthusiasm, appear to be the will of the whole people. Such statesmen would have preferred retaining an intermediate check upon the popular counsels of the Tiers Etat by the other two chambers, which might, as in England, have been united into one, and would have presented an imposing front, both in point of wealth and property, and through the respect which, excepting under the influence of extraordinary emotion, the people, in spite of themselves, cannot help entertaining for birth and rank. Such a body, providing the stormy temper of the times had admitted of its foundations being laid sufficiently strong, would have served as a breakwater betwixt the throne and the stream- tide of popular opinion; and the monarch would have teen spared the painful and perilous task of oppo- smg himself personally, directly, and without screen or protection of any kind, to the democi-atical part of the constitution. Above all, by means of such an upper house, time would have been obtained •for reviewing more coolly those measures, which might have passed hastily through the assembly of popular representatives. It is observed in the history of innovation, that the indirect and unfore- seen consequences of every great change of an ex- isting system, are more numerous and extensive than those which had been foreseen and calculated upon, whether by those who advocated, or those who opposed the alteration. The advantages of a constitution, in which each measure of legislation must necessarily be twice deliberately argued by separate senates, acting under different impressions, and interposing, at the same time, a salutary delay, during which heats may subside, and erroneous views be corrected, requires no further illustration. It must be owned, nevertheless, that there existed the greatest difficulty in any attempt which might have been made to give weight to the Nobles as a separate chamber. The community at large looked to reforms deeply afi"ecting the immimities of the bellies open, and plunge his feet into their entrails to warm them.— S. FRENCH REVOLUTION. SI pnvileged classes, as the most obvious means for the regeneration of the kingdom at large, and must ha'i'e seen with jealousy an institution like an upper house, which placed the parties who were princi- pally to suffer these changes in a condition to im- pede, or altogether prevent them. It was naturally to be expected, that the Clergy and Nobles, united in an upper house, must have become somewhat partial judges in the question of retrenching and limiting their own exclusive privileges ; and, be- sides the ill-will which the Commons bore them as the possessors and assertors of rights infringing on the liberties of the people, it might be justly appre- hended that, if the scourge destined for them were placed in their own hand, they might use it with the chary moderation of the squire in the romance ef Cervantes.^ There would also have been reason to doubt that, when the nation was so much divided by factions, two houses, so diffei'ent in character and composition, could hardly have been, brought to act with firmness and liberality towards each other — that the one would have been ever sche- ming for the recovery of their full privileges, sup- posing they had been obliged to sun-ender a part of them, while the other would still look forward to the accomplishment of an entirely democratical revolution. In this way, the checks which ought to have acted merely to restrain the violence of either party, might operate as the means of over- setting the constitution which they were intended to preserve. Still, it must be observed, that while the King retained any portion of authority, he might, with the countenance of the supposed upper chamber, or senate, have balanced the progress of democracy. Difficult as the task might be, an attempt towards it ought to have been made. But, unhappily, the King's ear was successively occupied by two sets of advisers, one of whom counselled him to surrender every thing to the humour of the reformers of the state, while the other urged him to resist their most reasonable wishes ; — without considering that he had to deal with those who had the power to take by force what was refused to petition. Mounier and Malouet advocated the establishment of two chambers in the Tiers Etat, and Necker was cer- tainly favourable to some plan of the kind ; but the Noblesse thought it called upon them for too great a sacrifice of their privileges, though it promised to ensure what remained, while the democratical part of the Tiers Etat opposed it obstinately, as tending to arrest the march of the revolutionary impulse. Five or six weeks elapsed in useless debates con- cerning the form in which the estates should vote ; during which period the Tiers Etat showed, by their boldness and decision, that they knew the ad- vantage which they held, and were sensible that the other bodies, if they meant to retain the influ- ence of their situation in any shape, must unite with them, on the principle according to which smaller drops of water are attracted by the larger. This came to pass accordingly. The Tiers Etat were joined by the whole body of inferior clergy, and by some of the nobles, and on 17th June, 1789, proceeded to constitute themselves a legis- lative body, exclusively competent in itself to the entire province of legislatioia ; and, renouncing the ' Pee Don Quixote, part ii., chap, lii., Lend., HJ22.) (vol. v., p. 290. name of the Third Estate, which reminded men they were only one out of three bodies, they adopt ed' that of the National Assembly, and avowed themselves not merely the third branch of the re- presentative body, but the sole representatives of the people of France, nay, the people themselves, wielding in person the whole gigantic powers of the realm. They now claimed the character of a supreme body, no longer limited to the task of merely requu'ing a redress of gi'ievances, for which they had been originally appointed, but warranted to destroy and rebuild whatever they thought pro- per in the constitution of the state. It is not easy, on any ordinary principle, to see how a representa- tion, convoked for a certain purpose, and with cer- tain limited powers, should thus essentially alter their own character, and set themselves in such a different relation to the crown and the nation, from that to which their commissions restricted them ; but the National Assembly were well aware, that, in extending their powers far beyond the terms of these commissions, they only falfilled the wishes of their constituents, and that, in assuming to them- selves so ample an authority, they would be sup- ported by the whole nation, excepting the privileged orders. The National Assembly proceeded to exercise their power with the same audacity which they had shown in assuming it. They passed a sweeping decree, by which they declared all the existing taxes to be illegal impositions, the collection of which they sanctioned only for the present, and as an interim arrangement, until they should have time to establish the financial regulations of the state upon an equal and permanent footing.^ The King, acting under the advice of Necker, and fulfilling the promise made on his part by the Archbishop of Sens, his former minister, had, as we have seen, assembled the States-General ; but he was not prepared for the change of the Third Estate into the National Assembly, and for the pretensions which it asserted in the latter charac- ter. Terrified, and it was little wonder, at the sudden rise of tliis gigantic and all-overshadowing fabric, Louis became inclined to hsten to those who counselled him to combat this new and formidable authority, by opposing to it the weight of roj-al power ; to be exercised, however, with such atten- tion to the newly -asserted popular opinions, and with such ample surrender of the obnoxious part of the royal prerogative, as might gratify the rising spirit of freedom. For this purpose a Royal Sit- ting was appointed, at which the King in person was to meet the three estates of his kingdom, and propose a scheme which, it was hoped, might unite all parties, and tranquillize all minds. The name and form of this Stance Royale was perhaps not well chosen, as being too nearly allied to those of a Bed of Justice, in which the King was accus- tomed to exercise imperative authority over the Parliament ; and the proceeding was calculated to awaken recollection of the highly unpopular Royal Sicting of the 19th November, 1787, the displacing of Necker, and the banishment of the Duke of Orleans. But, as if this had not been sufficient, an unhappy accident, which almost resembled a fatality, de- 2 " By a niajoritj of 4S1 to fin."— Lacretelle. 3 Lacrttelle, torn, vii., p. 3J. 32 SCOTT'S mSCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. ranged this proiect, destroyed all the grace which might, on the King's part, have attended the mea- sure, and in place of it, threw upon the court the odium of having indirectly attempted the forcible dissolution of the Assembly, while it invested the members of that body with the popular character of steady patriots, wliose union, courage, and pre- sence of mind, had foiled the stroke of authority ■which had been aimed at their existence. The hall of the Commons was fixed upon for the purposes of the Royal Sitting, as the largest of the three which were occupied by the three estates, and workmen were emplojed in making the necessary arrangements and alterations. These alterations were imprudently commenced, [June 20,] before holding any communication on the subject with the National Assembly ; and it was simply notified to their president, Bailli, by tlie master of the royal ceremonies, that the King had suspended the meeting of the Assembly until the Royal Sitting should have taken place. Bailli, the president, well known afterwards by his tragical fate, refused to attend to an order so intimated, and the members of Assembly, upon resorting to their ordinary place of meeting, found it full of workmen, and guarded by soldiers. This led to one of the most extraordinary scenes of the Revo- lution. The representatives of the nation, thus expelled by armed guards from their proper place of as- semblage, found refuge in a common Tennis-court, while a thunder-storm, emblem of the moral tem- pest which raged on the earth, poured down its terrors from the heavens. It was thus that, ex- posed to the inclemency of the weather, and with the wretched accommodations which such a place afforded, the members of Assembly took, and at- tested by their respective signatures, a solemn oath, " to continue their sittings until the constitution of the kingdom, and the regeneration of the public order, should be established on a solid basis."^ The scene was of a kind to make the deepest impres- sion both on the actors and the spectators; although, looking back at the distance of so many years, we are tempted to ask, at what period the National Assembly would have been dissolved, had they adhered literally to their celebrated oath ? But the conduct of the government was, in every respect, worthy of censure. The probability of this extra- ordinary occurrence might easily have been fore- seen. If mere want of consideration gave rise to it, the King's ministei-s were most culpably careless ; if the closing of the hall, and suspending of the sittings of the Assembly, was intended by way of experiment upon its temper and patience, it was an act of madness equal to that of irritating an already exasperated lion. Be this, however, as it may, the conduct of the court had the worst pos- sible effect on the pubhc mind, and prepared them to view with dislike and suspicion all propositions emanating from the throne ; while the magnanimous firmness and unanimity of the Assembly seemed that of men determined to undergo martjTdom, rather than desert the assertion of their own rights, and those of the people. At the Royal Sitting, which took place three ' Lacrelelle, torn, vii., p. 41. 2 Tlie Kovernment nionopolj of salt, under the name of the pabelle, was maintained over about two-thirds of the kingdom. 8 Mignet, torn, i., p. 43. days after the vow of the Tennis-Court, a plan was proposed by the King, offering such security for the liberty of the subject, as would, a year before, have been received Avith grateful rapture ; but it was the unhappy fate of Louis XVI. neither to re- cede nor advance at the fortunate moment. Happy- would it have been for him, for France, and for Europe, if the science of astrology, once so much respected, had in reality afiForded the means of se- lecting lucky days. Few of his were marked with a white stone. By the scheme which he proposed, the King re- nounced the power of taxation, and the right of bor- rowing money, except to a trifling extent, without assent of the States-General ; he invited the Assem- bly to form a plan for regulating lettres de cachet^ and acknowledged the personal freedom of the sub- ject ; he provided for the liberty of the press, but not without a recommendation that some check should be placed upon its license ; and he remitted to the States, as the proper authority, the aboli- tion of the gahelle^ and other imequal or oppressive taxes. But all these boons availed nothing, and seemed, to the people and their representatives, but a tardy and ungracious mode of resigning rights which the crown had long usurped, and only now restored when they were on the point of being wrested from its gripe. In addition to this, offence was taken at the tone and terms adopted in the royal address. The members of the Assembly conceived, that the expression of the royal will was brought forward in too imperative a form. They were offended that the King should have recommended the exclusion of spectators from the sittings of the Assembly ; and much displeasure was occasioned by his declar- ing, thus late, their deliberations and decrees on the subject of taxes illegal. But the discontent was summed up and raised to the height by the concluding article of the royal address, in which, notwithstanding their late declarations, and oath not to break up their sittings until they had com- pleted a constitution for France, the King pre- sumed, by his own sole authority, to dissolve the estates.^ To conclude, Necker, upon whom alone among the ministers the popular party reposed con- fidence, had absented himself from the Royal Sit- ting, and thereby intimated his discontent with the scheme proposed.* This plan of a constitutional reformation was re- ceived with great applause by the Clergy and the Nobles, while the Third Estate listened in sullen silence. They knew little of the human mind, who supposed that the display of prerogative, which had been so often successfully resisted, could influence such a body, or induce them to descend from the station of power which they had gained, and to ren- der themselves ridiculous by resciuding the vow which they had so lately taken. The King having, by his own proper authority, dissolved the Assembly, left the hall, followed by the Nobles and part of the Clergy ; but the re- maining members, hitherto silent and sullen, im- mediately resumed their sitting. The King, sup- posing him resolute to assert the prerogative which his own voice had but just claimed, had no altei-na- ■* " The evening before, he had tendered his resignation, which was not accepted, as the measures adopted by the court were not such as he thoroughly approved." — Lacretbclb, torn, vii., p. 47. FRENCH REVOLUTION. 33 live but that of expelling them by force, and thus eupporting his order for dissolution of the Assem- bly ; but, always halting between two opinions, Louis employed no rougher means of removing them than a gentle summons to disperse, intimated by the royal master of ceremonies. To this officer, not certainly the most formidable satellite of arbi- trary power, Mirabeau replied with energetic deter- mination, — " Slave ! return to thy master, and tell him, that his bayonets alone can drive from their post the representatives of the people." The Assembly then, on the motion of Camus, proceeded to jiass a decree, that they adhered to their oath taken in the Tenuis-court ; while by an- other they declaimed, that their own persons were inviolable, and that whoever should attempt to exe- cute any restraint or violence upon a representa- tive of the people, shoidd be thereby guilty of the crime of high treason against the nation. Their firmness, joined to the inviolability with which they had invested themselves, and the com- motions which had broken out at Paris, compelled the King to give way, and renoimcc his purpose of dissolving th.e states, which continued their sittings under their new title of the National Assembly ; while at different intervals, and by different ma- noeuvres, the Chambers of the Clergy and Nobles were united with them, or, more properly, were merged and absorbed in one general body. Had that Assembly been universally as pure in its in- tentions as we verily believe to have been the case with many or most of its members, the French government, now lying dead at their feet, might, like the clay of Prometheus, have received new animation from their hand. But the National Assembly, though almost una- nimous in resisting the authority of the crown, and in opposing the claims of the privileged classes, was much divided respecting ulterior views, and car- ried in its bosom the seeds of internal dissension, and the jarrhig elements of at least four parties, which had afterwards their successive enti-ance and exit on the revolutionary stage ; or rather, one fol- lowed the other like successive billows, each obli- terating and destroying the marks its predecessor had left on the beach. The First and most practical division of these legislators, was the class headed by Mounier,' one of the wisest, as well as one of the best and worthiest men in France,- — by Malouet,''^ and others. They were patrons of a scheme at which we have already hinted, and they thought France ought to look for some of the institutions favourable to freedom, to England, whose freedom had flourished so long. To transplant the British oak, with all its contor- ted branches and extended roots, would have been a fruitless attempt, but the infant tree of liberty might have been taught to grow after the same fashion. Modern France, like England of old, might have retained such of her own ancient laws, forms, or regulations, as still were regarded by the nation with any portion of respect, intermingling them with such additioris and alterations as were required by the liberal spirit of modern times, and the whole might have been formed on the prin- ciples of British freedom. The nation might thus, in building its own bidwarks, liave profited by the plan of those which had so long resisted the tem- pest. It is true, the French legislature could not have promised themselves, bj' the adoption of this course, to form at once a perfect and entire system ; but they might have secured the personal freedom of the subject, the trial by jury, the liberty of the press, and the right of granting or withholding the supplies necessary for conducting the state, — of it- self the strongest of all guarautees for national free- dom, and that of which, when once vested in their own representatives, the people will never permit them to be deprived. They might have adopted also other cheeks, balances, and controls, essential to the permanence of a free country ; and having laid so strong a foundation, thei-e would have been time to experience their use as well as their stabi- lity, and to introduce gradually such further im- provements, additions, or alterations, as the state of France should apjjear to require, after experi- ence of those V. hich they had adopted. But besides that the national spirit might be revolted, — not unnaturally, however unwisely, — at borrowing the essential peculiarities of their new constitution from a country which they were ac- customed to consider as the natural rival of their own, there existed among the French a jealousy of the crown, and especially of the privileged classes, with whom they had been so lately engaged in po- litical hostility, which disinchned the greater part of the Assembly to trust the King with much autho- rity, or the nobles with that influence which any imitation of the English coustitution must have as- signed to them. A fear prevailed, that whatever privileges should be left to the King or nobles, would be so many means of attack furnished to tliem against the new system. Joined to this was the ambition of creating at once, and by their own united wisdom, a constitution as perfect as the armed personification of wisdom in the heathen mythology. England had worked her way, from practical reformation of abuses, into the adoption of general maxims of government. It was reserved, thought most of the National Assembly, for France, to adopt a nobler and more intellectual course, and, by laying down abstract doctrines of public right, to deduce from these their rules of practical legis- ation ; — just as it is said, that in the French naval- yards their vessels are constructed upon the princi- ples of abstract mathematics, while those in England are, or were, chiefly built upon the more technical and mechanical rules.' But it seems on this and other occasions to have escaped these acute rca- soners, that beams and planks are .subject to cer- tain uualterable natural laws, ^vhile man is, by the various passions acting in his nature, in contradic- tion often to the suggestions of his understaudmg, as well as by the various modifications of society, hable to a thousand variations, all of which call for limitations and exceptions qualifying whatever general maxims may be adopted concerning his duties and his rights. 1 Moup.ier was born at Grenoble in 1758. He quitted Fiance 3 "Abstract science will not enable a man In become a in l/WI, but returned in J8<12. He afterwards became one of shipwrif;bt. The French are iicrbaps the worst sliip-wnvhta Napoleon's counsellors of state in ISW. in all Europe, but they are confessedly amonw the tir^t and 2 Malouet was born at Riom in 1740. To escape the mas- best theorists in uaval arcbitecturc, and it is one ol those un- BPCrcs of September, 17!KI, he tied to England ; t>ut returned I accountable phenomena in the history of man. that they never to France in Ifflil, and, in Dno, was appointed one of Napo i attempted to combine the two. Happily the LnKlish have hit Icons couiibcUors of state. He died in 1«14. [ upon that expedient."— Bakiiow. VOL. II. J> 34 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. Ail such considerations were spumed by thfc numerous body of the new French legislature, who resolved, iii imitation of Medea, to fling into their renovating kettle every existing joint and mem- ber of their old constitution, in order to its perfect and entire renovation. This mode of proceeding was hable to three great objections. First, That the practical inferences deduced from the abstract prin- ciple were always liable to cliallenge by those, who, in logical language, denied the minor of the propo- sition, or asserted that the conclusion was iiTegu- larly deduced from the pi-emises. Secondly, That the legislators, thus grounding the whole basis of their intended constitution upon speculative politi- cal opinions, strongly resembled the tailors of La- puta, who, without condescending to take measure of their customers, like brethren of the trade else- where, took the girth and altitude of the person by mathematical calculation, and if the clothes did not fit, as was almost always the case, thought it ample consolation for the party concerned to be assured, that, as they worked from infalUble rules of art, the error could only be occasioned by his own faulty and irregular conformation of figure. Thirdlj/, A legislature which contents itself with such a con- stitution as is adapted to the existing state of things, may hope to attain their end, and in presenting it to the people, may be entitled to say, that, although the plan is not perfect, it partakes in that but of the nature of all earthly institutions, while it com- prehends the elements of as much good as the ac- tual state of society permits ; but from the law- makers, who begin by destroying all existing enact- ments, and assume it as their duty entirely to reno- vate the constitution of a coimtry, nothing short of absolute perfection can be accepted. They can shelter themselves under no respect to ancient pre- judices which they have contradicted, or to circum- stances of society which they have thrown out of consideration. They must follow up to the utter- most the principle they have adopted, and their institutions can never be fixed or secure from the encroachments of succeeding innovators, wliile they retain any taint of that falhbility to which all human inventions are necessarily subject. The majority of the French Assembly enter- tained, nevertheless, the ambitious view of making a constitution, corresponding in every respect to those propositions they had laid down as embracing the rights of man, which, if it should not happen to suit the condition of their country, would never- theless be such as ought to have suited it, but for the irregular play of human passions, and the arti- ficial habits acquired hi an artificial state of society. But this majority differed among themselves in tliis essential particular, that the second division of the legislatwre, holding that of Mounier for the first, was disposed to place at the head of their newly- manufactured government the reigning King, Louis XVI. This resolution in his favour might be partly out of regard to the long partiality of the nation to ' A singular instance of this overstrained and dangerous enthusiasm is given by Madame Roland. [Memoirs, parti., p. 144.] It being the purpose to rouse the fears and spirit of the i)Cople, and direct their animosity against the court party, Grangencuve agreed that he himself should be murdered, by persons chosen for the pur])ose, in such a manner that the suspicion of the crime should attach itself to the aristocrats. He went to the place appointed, but Chabot, who was to have •hared his fate, neither appeared himself, nor had made the necessary iiroparations for the assassination of his friend, for which Madame Koland, that hi^jli spirited republican, dilates the House of Bourbon, partly out of respect for the philanthropical and accommodating character of Louis. We may conceive also, that La Fayette, bred a soldier, and Bailli, educated a magistrate, had still, notwithstanding thei" political creed, a natural though imphilosophical partiality to their well-meaning and ill-fated sovereign, and a con- scientious desire to relax, so far as his particular interest was concerned, their general rule of re- versing all that had previously had a political ex- istence in France. A THIRD faction, entertaining the same articles of political creed with La Fayette, Bailli, and others, carried them much farther, and set at defiance the scruples which hmited the two first parties in their career of reformation. These last agreed with I^a Fayette on the necessity of reconstructing the whole government upon a new basis, without which entire innovation, they further agreed with him, that it must have been perpetually liable to the chance of a counter-revolution. But carrjdng their arguments farther than the Constitutional party, as the follow- ers of Fayette, these bolder theorists pleaded the inconsistency and danger of placing at the head of their new system of reforrrrcd and regenerated go- vernment, a prince accustomed to consider himself, as by inheritance, the legitimate possessor of abso- lute power. They urged that, like the snake and peasant in the fable, it was impossible that the mo- narch and his democratical counsellors could forget, the one the loss of his power, the other the constant temptation which must beset the King to attempt its recovery. With more consistency, therefore, than the Constitutionalists, this third party of poli- ticians became decided Republicans, determined upon obliterating from the new constitution every name and vestige of monarchy. The men of letters in the Assembly were, many of them, attached to this faction. They had origi- nally been kept in the backgroimd by the lawyers and mercantile part of the Assembly. Many of them possessed great talents, and were by nature men of honour and of vu-tue. But in great revolu- tions, it is impossible to resist the dizzying effect of enthusiastic feeling and excited passion. In the violence of their zeal for the liberty of France, they too frequently adopted the maxim, that so glorious an object sanctioned almost any means which could be used to attain it. Under the exaggerated influ - ence of a mistaken patriotism, they were too apt to forget that a crime remains the same in character, even when perpetrated in a public cause. ' It was among these ardent men that first arose the idea of forming a Club, or Society, to serve as a point of union for those who entertained the same political sentiments. Once vmited, they ren.iered their sittings public, combined them with affiliated societies in all parts of France, and could thus, as from one common centre, agitate the most remote frontiers with the passionate feelings which electri- fied the metropolis. This formidable weapon was, upon his poltroonery. Yet, what was this patriotic devotion, save a jilan to support a false accusation against the innocent, by an act of murder and suicide, which, if the scheme suc- ceeded, was to lead to massacre and proscription? The same false, exaggerated, and distorted views of the public good cen- tering, as it seemed to them, in the establishment of a pure republic, led Barriave and others to palliate the massacres ol September. Most of them might have .said of the Liberty which they had worshipped, that at their death they found it an empty name.— S. FRENCH REVOLUTION. 35 in process of time, wTested out of the hands ot the Federalists, as the original Reiniblicans were invi- diously called, by the faction who were generally termed Jacobins, from their influence in that so- ciety, and whose existence and peculiarities as a party, we have now to notice. As yet this fourth, and, as it afterwards proved, most formidable party, lurked in secret among the RepubHcans of a higlier order and purer senti- ments, as they, on their part, had not yet raised the mask, or ventured to declare openly against the plan of a constitutional monarchy. The Jacobins i were termed, in ridicule, Les Enrages, by the Re- publicans, who, seeing in them only men of a fiery disposition, and violence of deportment and decla- mation, vainly thought they could halloo them on, and call them off, at their pleasure. They were yet to learn, that when force is solemnly appealed to, the strongest and most ferocious, as tliey must be foremost in the battle, will not lose their share of the spoil, and are more likely to make the lion's partitions. These Jacobins affected to carry the ideas of liberty and equality to the most extrava- gant lengths, and were laughed at and ridiculed in the Assembly as a sort of fanatics, too absm-d to be dreaded. Their character, indeed, was too exag- gerated, their habits too openly profligate, their manners too abominably coarse, their schemes too extravagantly violent, to be produced in open day, while yet the decent forms of society were ob- served. But they were not the less successful in gaining the lower classes, whose cause they pre- tended peculiarly to espouse, whose passions they inflamed by an eloquence suited to such hearers, and whose tastes they flattered by affectation of brutal manners and vulgar dress. They soon, by these arts, attached to themselves a large body of followers, violently inflamed with the prejudices which had been infused into their minds, and too boldly desperate to hesitate at any measures which should be recommended by their demagogues. What might be the ultimate object of these men cannot be known. We can hardly give any of them credit for being mad enougli to have any real l^ah-iotic feeling, liowever extravagantly distorted. Most probably, each had formed some vague pro- spect of terminating the affair to his own advan- tage ; but, in the meantime, all agreed in the ne- cessity of sustaining the revolutionary impulse, of defen-ing the retm-n of quiet, and of resisting and deranging any description of orderly and peaceful government. They were sensible that the return of law, under any established and regular form whatever, must render them as contemptible as odious, and were determined to avail themselves of the disorder while it lasted, and to snatch at and enjoy such portions of the national wreck as the tempest miglit throw within their individual reach. This foul and desperate faction could not, by all the activity it used, have attained the sway which it exerted amongst the lees of the people, without possessing and exercising extensively the power of suborning inferior leaders among the populace. It has been generally asserted, that means for attain- ing this important object were supplied by the immense wealth of the nearest prince of the blood royal, tliat Duke of Orleans, whose name is so ' So called, because the first sittings of the Club were held In the anLicnt convent of tli'^ Jarobins. unhappily mixed with the history ot this period By his largesses, according to the general rejjort of historians, a number of the most violent writers of pamphlets and newspapers were pensioned, who deluged the public with false news and violent abuse. This prince, it is said, recompensed those popular and ferocious orators, who nightly ha- rangued the people in the Palais Royal, and openly stimulated them to the most violent aggressions upon the persons and property of obnoxious indi- viduals. From the same unhappy man's coffers were paid numbers of those who regularly attended on the debates of the Assembly, crowded the gal- leries to the exclusion of tlie public at large, ap- plauded, hissed, exercised an almost domineei-ing influence in the national councils, and were some- times addressed by the representatives of the people, as if they had themselves been the people of whom they were the scum and the refuse. Fouler accusations even than these charges were brought forward. Bands of strangers, men of wild, haggard, and ferocious appearance, whose per- sons the still watchful police of Paris were unac- quainted with, began to be seen in the metropolis, like those obscene and ill-omened birds which are I seldom visible except before a storm. All these i were understood to be suborned by the Duke of Orleans and his agents, to miite with the ignorant, violent, corrupted populace of the great metropolis of France, for the purpose of urging and guiding them to actions of terror and cruelty. The ulti- mate object of these manoeuvres is supposed to have been a change of dynasty, which should gra- tify the Duke of Orleans's revenge by the deposi- tion of his cousin, and his ambition by enthroning himself in his stead, or at least by nominating him Lieutenant of France, with all the royal powers. The most daring and unscrupulous amongst the Jacobins are said originally to have belonged to the faction of Orleans ; but as he manifested a want of decision, and did not avail himself of op- portunities of pushing his fortune, they abandoned their leader, (whom they continued, however, to flatter and deceive,) and, at the head of the parti- sans collected for his service, and paid from his finances, they pursued the path of then- individual fortunes. Besides the A^arious parties whicli we liave de- tailed, and which gradually developed their dis- cordant sentiments as the Revolution proceeded, the Assembly contained the usual proportion of that prudent class of politicians who are guided by events, and who, in the days of Cromwell, called themselves "Waiters upon Providence;" — men who might boast, with the miller in the tale, that though they coidd not direct the course of the wind, they could adjust their sails so as to profit by it, blow from what quarter it would. All the various parties in the Assembly, by whose division the King might, by temporizing measures, have surely profited, were united in a determined course of hostility to the crown and its pretensions, by the course which Louis XVI. was unfortunately advised to pursue. It had been resolved to assume a menacing attitude, and to place the King at the liead of a strong force. Orders were given accordin^dy. Ncckcr, though approving of many parts of the proposal made to the Assembly at the Royai Sitting, had strongly dibscntcd from otlieis, and iiad op "6 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS TROSE WORKS. posed the measure of marching troops towards Versailles and Paris to overawe the capital, and, if necessary, the National Assembly. Necker received his dismission,^ and thus a second time the King and the people seemed to be prepared for open war. The force at first glance seemed entirely on the royal side. Thirty regiments were drawn around Paris and Versailles, commanded by Marshal Broglio,^ an officer of eminence, and be- lieved to be a zealous anti-revolutionist, and a large camp formed under the walls of the metro- polis. The town was opened on all sides, and the only persons by whom defence could be offered were an unarmed mob ; but this superiority existed only in appearance. The French Guards had already united themselves, or, as the phrase then went, fraternized with the people, yielding to the various modes employed to dispose them to the popular cause ; and little attached to their officers, most of whom only saw their companies upon the days of parade or duty, an apparent accident, which probably had its origin in an experiment upon the feelings of these regiments, brought the matter to a crisis. The soldiers had been supplied secretly with means of unusual dissipation, and consequently a laxity of discipline was daily gain- ing ground among them. To coi-roct this license, eleven of the guards had been committed to prison for military offences ; the Parisian mob delivered them by violence, and took them under the pro- tection of the inhabitants, a conduct which made the natural impression on their comrades. Their numbers were three thousand six hundred of the best soldiers in Fi'ance, accustomed to military dis- cipline, occupying every strong point in the city, and supported by its immense though disorderly populace. The gaining these regiments gave the Revolu- tionists the command of Paris, from which the army assembled under Broglio might have found it hard to dislodge them ; but these last were more willing to aid than to quell any insurrection which might take place. The modes of seduction which had succeeded with the French Guards were sedu- lously addressed to other corps. The regiments which lay nearest to Paris were not forgotten. They were plied with those temptations which are most powerful with soldiei's — wine, women, and money, were supplied in abundance — and it was amidst debauchery and undiscipline that the French anny renounced theh* loyalty, which used to be even too much the god of their idolatry, and which was now destroyed like the temple of PersepolLs, amidst the vapours of wine, and at the instigation of courtezans. There remained the foreign troops, of which there were several regiments, but their disposition was doubtful ; and to use them against the citizens of Paris, might have been to confirm the soldiers of the soil in their indisposition to the royal cause, supported as it must then have been by foreigners exclusively. Meanwhile, the dark intrigues which had been long formed for accomplishing a general insuiTec- tion in Paris, were now ready to be brought into action. The populace had been encouraged by ' July 11. " The formal command to quit the kingdom was accompanied by a note from the Kina, in which he prayed him to depart in a private manner, fur fear of exciting dis- turbances. Necker received this intimation just as he was dtegsiiii! for dinner: he dined auietly, without divulging it to success in one or two skirmishes with the gens- d'armes and foreign soldiery. They had stood a skirmish with a regiment of German horse, and had been successful. The number of desperate charac- ters who were to lead the van in these violences, was now greatly increased. Deep had called to deep, and the revolutionary clubs of Paris had summoned their confederates from among the most fiery and forward of every proxince. Besides troops of galley-slaves and deserters, vagabonds of every order flocked to Paris, like ravens to the spoil. To these were joined the lowest inhabitants of a populous city, always ready for riot and ra- pine ; and they were led on and encouraged by men who were in many instances sincere enthu- siasts in the cause of liberty, and thought it could only be victorious by the destruction of the present government. The Republican and Jacobin party were open in sentiment and in action, encoiu'aging the insurrection by every means in their power. The Constitutionalists, more passive, were still rejoiced to see the storm arise, conceivmg such a crisis was necessary to compel the King to place the helm of the state in their hands. It might have been expected, that the assembled force of the crown would be employed to preserve the peace at least, and prevent the general system of robbery and plunder which seemed about to ensue. They appeared not, and the citizens themselves took arms by thousands, and tens of thousands, forming the burgher militia, which was afterwards called the National Guard. The royal arsenals were plun- dered to obtain arms, and La Fayette was adopted the commander-in-chief of this new army, a suffi- cient sign that they were to embrace what was called the Constitutional party. Another large proportion of the population was hastily armed with pikes, a weapon which was thence termed Revolu- tionary. The Baron de Besenval, at the head of the Swiss guards, two foreign regiments, and eight hundred horse, after an idle demonstration which only served to encourage the insurgents, reth-ed from Paris without firing a shot, having, he says in his Memoirs, no orders how to act, and being desirous to avoid precipitating a civil war. His retreat was the signal for a general insiu'rection, m\ which the French guard, the national guard, and the armed mob of Paris, took the Bastile, and massacred a part of the garrison, [.July 14.] We are not tracing minutely the events of the Revolution, but only attempting to describe their spirit and tendency ; and we may here notice two changes, which for the first time were observed to have taken place in the character of the Parisian populace. The Baudauds de Paris^ as they were called in derision, had been hitherto viewed as a light, laugh- ing, thoughtless race, passionately fond of news, though not very acutely distinguishing betwixt truth and falsehood, quick in adopting impressions, but incapable of formmg firm and concerted resolu- tions, still more incapable of executing them, and so easily overawed by an armed force, that about twelve hundred police soldiers had been hitherto sufficient to keep all Paris in subjection. But in the any one, and set out in the evening with Madame Necker for Brussels."— MiGNET, torn, i., p. 47. 2 The Marshal was born in 1718, and iii«i, at the age of eighty-six, in 18(>4. '' f^ockuey*. FRENCH REVOLUTIOX. 37 attack of the Bastile, they showed themselves re- solute, aud unyielding^, as well as prompt and head- loncj. These new qualities were in some degree owing to the support which they received from the j French puai-ds ; but are still more to be attributed \ to the loftier and more decided character belonging ' to the revolutionary spirit, and the mixture of men of the better classes, and of the high tone which belongs to them, among the mere rabble of the city. The garrisiin of tliis too-famous castle was indeed very weak, but its deep moats, and insunnountable bulwarks, presented tlie most imposing show of re- sistance ; and the triumph which the popular cause obtained in an exploit seemingly so desperate, in- fused a general consternation into the Kuig and the Royalists. The second remarkable particular was, that from being one of the most light-hearted and kind-tem- pered of nations, the French seemed, upon the Re- volution, to have been animated not merely with the courage, but with the rabid fury of unchained wild-beasts. Foulou and Berthier, two individuals whom they considered as enemies of the people, were put to death, with circumstances of cruelty and insult fitting only at the death-stake of a Che- rokee encampment ; and, in emulation of literal cannibals, there were men, or rather monsters, found, not only to tear asunder the limbs of their victims, but to eat their hearts, and drink their blood.' The intensity of the new doctrines of free- dom, the animosity occasioned by civil commotion, cannot aecoimt for these atrocities, even in the lowest and most ignorant of the populace. Those who led the way in such unheard-of enormities, must have been practised murderers and assassins, mixed with the insurgents, like old hounds in a young pack, to lead them on, flesh them with slaughter, and teach an example of cruelty too easily learned, but hard to be ever forgotten. The metropolis was entirely in the hands of the insur- gents, and civil war or submission was the only re- source left to the sovereign. For the former course sufficient reasons might be urged. The whole pro- ceedings in the metropolis had been entirely insur- rectionary, without the least pretence of authority from the National Assembly, which continued sit- ting at Versailles, discussing the order of the day, ■while the citizens of Paris were storming castles, and tearing to pieces their prisoners, without au- thority from the national representatives, and even ■without the consent of their own civic rulers. The provost of tlie merchants- v,as assassinated at the commencement of the disturbance, and a terrified committee of electors were the only persons who preserved the least semblance of authority, which they were obliged to exercise under the control and at the pleasure of the infuriated multitude. A large proportion of the citizens, though assimamg 1 " M. Foulon, an old man of seventy, member of the for- mer Administration, was seized near his own seat, and with his hands tied behind his back, a crown of thistles on his head, and his mouth stuffed with hay, conducted to Paris, where he was murdered with circumstances of unheard-of cruelty. His son-in-law, Berthier. compelled to kiss his father's head, which was thrust into his carriage on a pike, shortly after sliared his fate; and the heart of the latter was torn out of his palpita- ting bodv."— Lacretelle, tom. vii., p. 117. 2 M. de Flesselles. It was alleged that a letter had been found on the Governor of the Bastile, which implicated him ni treachery to the public cause. — S:ee Mro.VET, tom i., p. 62. 3 For an account of Lord George Gordon's riots in 1/81', see Annual RfQister, vol. xiiii., p. 254; aud Wkaxall's Own Time, vol. i"., p. 3i:<. arms for the protection of themselves aud their families, had no desire of employing them against the royal authority ; a much larger only united themselves with the insurgents, because, in a mo- ment of universal agitation, they were the active and predominant party. Of these the former de- sired peace and protection ; the latter, from habit and shame, must have soon deserted the side which was ostensibly conducted by ruffians and common stabbers, and drawn themselves to that which pro- tected peace and good order. We have too good an opinion of a people so enlightened as those of France, too good an opinion of human nature in any country, to believe that men will persist iu evil, if defended in their honest and legal rights. What, in this case, was the duty of Louis XVI. 1 We answer without hesitation, that which George III. of Britain proposed to himself, when, in the name of the Protestant rehgion, a violent and dis- orderly mob opened prisons, destroyed property, burned houses, and committed, though with far fewer' symptoms of atrocity, the same course of disorder which now laid waste Paris.' It is known that when his ministers hesitated to give an opinion in point of law concerning the employment of mili- tary force for protection of life and property against a disorderly banditti, the King, as chief magistrate, declared his ovra. purpose to march into the blazing city at the head of his guards, and with the strong hand of war to subdue the insurgents, and restore peace to the affrighted capital."* The same call now sounded loudly in the ear of Louis. He was still the chief magistrate of the people, whose duty it was to protect theii* lives and property — still com- mander of that army levied aud paid for protecting the law of the country, and the lives and property of the subject. The King ought to have proceeded to the National Assembly without an instant's de- lay, cleared himself before that body of the sus- picions with which calumny had loaded him, and required and commanded the assistance of the representatives of the people to quell the frightful excesses of murder and rapine which dishonoured the capital. It is almost certain that the whole moderate party, as they were called, would have united with the Nobles and the Clergy. The throne was not yet empty, nor the sword unswayed. Louis had surrendered much, aud might, in the course of the change impending, have been obliged to sur- render more ; but he was still King of France, still bound by his coronation oath to prevent murder and put down insurrection. He could not be con- sidered as crushing the cause of freedom, in answer- ing a call to discharge his kingly duty ; for what had the catise of reformation, proceeding as it was by the peaceful discussion of an unarmed convention, to do with the open war waged by the insurgents of Paris upon the King's ti'oops, or with the gra- * " If the gardes Fran9aises, in 1789, had behaved like our regular troops in 178(), the French Revolution might have been suppressed in its birth ; but, the diftereuce of character between the two sovereigns of Great Britain and of France, constituted one great cause of the different fate that attended the two monarchies. Geo-ge the Third, when attacked, pre pared to defend his throne, his family, his country, and the constitution intrusted to his care ; they were in fact saved by his decision. Louis the Sixteenth tamely abandoned all to a ferocious Jacobin populace, who sent him to the scaffold. No man of courage or of principle could have qaitted the former prince. It was impossible to save, or to rescue, the latter ill- fated, yielding, and passive mouarch." — Wraxall, vol. i, , p. 334 38 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. taiitous murders and atrocities with which the capital had been polluted ? With such members as shame and fear might have brought over from the opposite side, the King, exerting himself as a prince, would have formed a majority strong enough to show the union which subsisted betwixt the Crown and the Assembly, when the protection of the laws was the point in question. With such a support — or with- out it — for it is the duty of the prince, in a crisis of such emergency, to serve the people, and save the country, by the exercise of his royal preroga- tive, whether with or without the concurrence of the other branches of the legislature,— the King, at the head of his gardes du corps, of the regi- ments which might have been found faithful, of the nobles and gentry, whose principles of chivalry devoted them to the service of their sovereign, ought to have marched into Paris, and put down the insurrection by the armed hand of authority, or fallen in the attempt, like the representative of Henry IV. His duty called upon him, and the authority with which he was invested enabled him, to act this part ; which, in all probability, would have dismayed the factious, encouraged the timid, decided the wavering, and, by obtaining a conquest over lawless and brute violence, would have paved the way for a moderate and secure reformation in the state. But having obtained this victory, in the name of the law of the realm, the King could only be vindi- cated in having resorted to arms, by using his con- quest with such moderation, as to show that he threw his sword into the one scale, solely in order to balance the clubs and poniards of popular insur- rection with which the other was loaded. He must then have evinced that he did not mean to obstruct the quiet course of moderation and constitutional reform, in stemming that of headlong and violent innovation. Many disputes would have remained to be settled between him and his subjects ; but the process of improving the constitution, though less rapid, would have been more safe and certain, and the kingdom of France might have attained a degree of freedom equal to that which she now possesses, without passing through a brief but dreadful anarchy to long years of military despo- tism, without the loss of mines of treasure, and without the expenditure of oceans of blood. To those who object the peril of this course, and the risk to the person of the sovereign from the fury of the insurgents, we can only answer, in the words of the elder Horatius, Qu'il mourut.^ Prince or peasant have alike lived long enough, when the choice comes to be betwixt loss of life and an im- portant duty undischarged. Death, at the head of his troops, would have saved Louis more cruel hu- miliation, his subjects a deeper crime. We do not affect to deny, that in this course there was considerable risk of another kind, and that it is very possible that the King, susceptible as he was to the influence of those around him, might have lain under strong temptation to have resumed the despotic authority, of which he had in 1 " Que voulez-vous fju'il fit contre trois? Qu'il mourut, Ou qu'ua beau deaespoir alois le secourflt." CoRNKiLLE— /^e^ Horaces, Act iii., Sc. f>. 2 Wc have heard from a spectator who could be trusted, tliat duriiiR the course of the attack on the Baatile, a cry arose amoiif; tlie crowd that the rcKinient of Royales Allemandes were coming upon tliem. Tlu-ie was at that moment such a iispositioii to tiy, as plainly showed what would have been tlie a great measure divested himself, and have thus abused a victory gained over insurrection into a weapon of tyranny. But the spirit of liberty was so strong in France, the principles of leniency and moderation so natural to the King, his own late hazards so great, and the future, considering the general disposition of his subjects, so doubtful, that we are inclined to. think a victory by the sovereign at that moment would have been followed by tem- perate measures. How the people used theirs is but too well known. At any rate, we have strongly stated our opinion, that Louis would, at this crisis, have been justified in employing force to compel order, but that the crime would have been deep and inexpiable had he abused a victory to restore despotism. It may be said, indeed, that the preceding state- ment takes too much for granted, and that the vio- lence employed on the 14th July was probably only an anticipation of the forcible measures which might have been expected from the King against the Assembly. The answer to this is, that the successful party may always cast on the loser the blame of commencing the brawl, as the wolf pu- nished the lamb for troubling the course of the water, though he drank lowest down the stream. But when we find one party completely prepared and ready for action, forming plans boldly, and executing them skilfully, and observe the other un- certain and unprovided, betraying all the imbecility of surprise and indecision, we must necessarily be- lieve the attack was premeditated on the one side, and unexpected on the other. The abandonment of thirty thousand stand of arms at the Hotel des Invalides, which were sur- rendered without the slightest resistance, though three Swiss regiments lay encamped in the Champs Elysees ; the totally unprovided state of the Bas- tile, garrisoned by about one hundred Swiss and Invalids, and without provisions even for that small number ; the absolute inaction of the Baron de Besenval, who — without entangling his troops in the narrow streets, which was pleaded as his ex- cuse — might, by marching along the Boulevards, a passage so well calculated for the manoeuvres of regular troops, have relieved the siege of that for- tress ;■'' and, finally, that general's bloodless retreat from Paris, — show that the King had, under all these circumstances, not only adopted no measures of a hostile character, but must, on the contrary, have issued such orders as prevented his officers from repelling force by force. We are led, therefore, to believe, that the scheme of assembling the troops round Paris was one of those half measures, to which, with great political weakness, Louis resorted more than once — an at- tempt to intimidate by the demonstration of force, which he was previously resolved not to use. Had his purposes of aggression been serious, five thou- sand troops of loyal principles — and such might surely have been selected — would, acting suddenly and energetically, have better assured him of the city of Paris, thau six times that number brought effect had a body of troops appeared in reality. The Baron de Besenval had commanded a body of the guards, when, Bome weeks previously, they subdued an insurrection in the Fauxbourf; St. Antoine. On that occasion many of the mob were killed; and he observes in his Memoirs, that, while tho citizens of Paris termed him their preserver, he was very coldly received at court. He n)if,'ht be, tlierefore, unwilling to commit himself, by acting decidedly on tlie 1-lth July — S, FRENCH REVOLUTION. 89 to waste themselves iii debauch around its walls, and to be withdrawn without the discharge of a musket. Indeed, the courage of Louis was of a passive, not an active nature, conspicuous in endu- ring adversity, but not of that energetic and deci- sive character which turns dubious afiFairs into prosperity, and achieves by its own exertions the success which Fortune denies. The insurrection of Paris being acquiesced in by the sovereign, was recognised by the nation as a legitimate conquest, instead of a state crime ; and the tanieness of tlie King in enduring its violence, was assumed as a proof that the citizens had but anticipated his intended forcible measures against the Assembly, and prevented the military occupa- tion of the city. In the debates of the Assembly itself, the insurrection was vindicated ; the fears and suspicions alleged as its motives were justified as well-founded ; the passions of the citizens were sympatliized with, and their worst excesses pal- liated and excused. When the horrors accompany- ing the murder of Berthier and Foulon were dilated upon by Lally Tolendal in the Assembly, he was heard and answered as if he had made moimtains of mole-hills. Mirabeau said, that " it was a time to think, and not to feel." Barnave asked, with a sneer, "If the blood which had been shed was so pure?" Robespien-e, rising into animation with acts of cruelty fitted to call forth the interest of such a mind, observed, that " the people, oppressed for ages, had a right to the revenge of a day." But how long did that day last, or what was the fate of those who justified its enormities 1 From that hour the mob of Paris, or rather the suborned agitators by whom the actions of that blind multi- tude were dictated, became masters of the destiny of France. An insurrection was organized when- ever there was any purpose to be carried, and the Assembly might be said to work under the impulse of the popular current, as mechanically as the wheel of a water engine is driven by a cascade. The victory of the Bastile was extended in its consequences to the Cabinet and to the Legislative body. In the former, those ministers who had counselled the King to stand on the defensive against the Assembly, or rather to assume a threat- ening attitude, suddenly lost courage when they heard the fate of Foulon and Berthier. The Baron de Breteueil, the unpopular successor of Necker, was deprived of his office, and driven into exile ; and, to complete the triumph of the people, Necker himself was recalled by their unanimous voice. The King came, or was conducted to, the Hotel de Ville of Paris, in what, compared to the triumph of the minister, was a sort of ovation, in which he appeared rather as a captive than otherwise. He entered into the edifice under a vault of steel, formed by the crossed sabres and pikes of those who had been lately engaged in combating his sol- diers, and murdering his subjects. He adopted the cockade of the insurrection ; and in doing so, rati- fied and approved of the acts dene expressly against his command, acquiesced in the victory obtained over his own authority, and completed that conquest by laying down his arms. The conquest of the Bastile was the first, almost the only appeal to arms during the eai-lier part of the Revolution ; and the popular success, after- wards sanctioned by the monai'ch, showed that no- thing remained save the name of the ancient go- vernment. The King's younger brother, the Comte d'Artois, now reigning King of France,' had been distinguished as the leader and rallying point of the Royalists. He left the kingdom with his chil- dren, and took refuge inTurin. Otherdistinguished princes, and many of the inferior nobility, adopted the same course, and their departure seemed to announce to the public that the royal cause was mdeed desperate, since it was deserted by those most interested in its defence. This was the first act of general emigration, and although, in the cir- cumstances, it may be excused, yet it must still be termed a great political error. For thougli, on the one hand, it is to be considered, that these princes and their followers had been educated in the belief that the government of France rested in the Kmg's person, and was identified with him ; and that when the King was displaced from his permanent situa- tion of power, the whole social system of France was totally ruined, and nothing remained which could legally govern or be governed ; yet, on the other hand, it must be remembered that the in- stant the emigrants crossed the frontier, they at once lost all the natural advantages of birth and education, and separated themselves from the country which it was their duty to defend. To draw to a head, and raise an insurrection for the purpose of achieving a counter revolution, would have been the ready and natural resource. But the influence of the privileged classes was so totally destroyed, that the scheme seems to have been considered as hopeless, even if the King's consent could have been obtained. To remain in France, whether in Paris or the departments, must have exposed them, in their avowed character of aristocrats, to absolute assassination. It has been therefore urged, that emigration was their only resource. But there remained for these princes, nobles, and cavaliers, a more noble task, could they but have united themselves cordially to that portion of the Assembly, originally a strong one, which pro- fessed, without destroying the existing state of monarchy in France, to wish to infuse into it the spirit of rational liberty, and to place Louis in such a situation as should have ensured him the safe and honourable station of a limited monarch, though it deprived him of the powers of a despot. It is in politics, however, as in religion — the slighter in it- self the difference between two parties, the more tenacious is each of the propositions in which they disagi'ee. The pure Royalists were so far from being disposed to coalesce with those who blended an attachment to monarchy with a love of liberty, that they scarce accounted them fit to share the dangers and distresses to which all were aUke reduced. This first emigration proceeded not a little per- haps on the feeling of self-consequence among those by whom it was adopted. The high-born nobles of which it was chiefly composed, had been long the WORLD, as it is termed, to Paris, and to each other, and it was a natural conclusion, that their with- drawing themselves from the sphere which they adorned, must have been felt as an irremediable deprivation. They were not aware how easily, in the hour of need, perfumed lamps are, to all pur- poses of utility, replaced by ordinary candles, and » Charles the Tenlk. 40 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. that, carrying away ■with thera much of dignity, gallantry, and grace, they left behind an ample stock of wisdom and valour, and all the other essen- tial qualities by which nations are governed and defended. The situation and negotiations of the emigi-ants in the courts to which they fled, were also prejudi- cial to their own reputation, and consequently to the royal cause, to which they had sacriticed their country. Reduced " to show their misery in fo- reign lands," they were naturally desirous of ob- taining foreign aid to return to tlieir own, and laid themselves under the heavy accusation of in- stigating a civil war, while Louis was yet the re- signed, if not the contented, sovereign of the newly modified empire. To this subject we must after- wards return. The conviction that the ancient monarchy of France had fallen for ever, gave encouragement to the numerous parties which united in desiring a new constitution, although they differed on the principles on which it was to be founded. But all agreed that it was necessary, in the first place, to clear away the remains of the ancient state of things. They resolved upon the abolition of all feudal rights, and managed the matter with so much address, that it was made to appear on the part of those who held them a voluntary surrender. The debate in the National Assembly [August 4] was turned by the popular leaders upon the odious cha- racter of the feudal rights and privileges, as being the chief cause of the general depression and dis- content in which the kingdom was involved. The Nobles understood the hint which was thus given them, and answered it with the ready courage and generosity which has been at all times the attribute of their order, though sometimes these noble qua- lities have been indiscreetly exercised. " Is it from us personally that the nation expects sacri- fices 1" said the Marquis de Focault ; " be assured that you shall not appeal in vain to our generosity. We are desirous to defend to the last the rights of the monarchy, but we can be lavish of our peculiar and personal interests." The same general sentiment pervaded at once the Clergy and Nobles, who, sufficiently sensible that what they resigned could not operate essen- tially to the quiet of the state, were yet too proud to have even the appearance of placing their own selfish interests in competition with the public wel- fare. The whole privileged classes seemed at once seized with a spirit of the most lavish generosity, and hastened to despoil themselves of all their peculiar immunities and feudal rights. Clergy and laymen vied with each other in the nature and extent of their sacrifices. Privileges, whether pre- judicial or harmless, rational or ridiculous, were renounced in the mass. A sort of dehrium per- vaded the Assembly ; each member strove to dis- tinguish the sacrifice of his personal claims by something more remarkable than had yet attended any of the previous renunciations. They who had no rights of their own to resign, had the easier and mox'e pleasant task of surrendering those of their I " Ib there nothing else wc can renounce?" said thf olil Earl of Pembroke and Montgomery, in tlie time of the Com- monwealth, after he had joined iii renouncing Church and Kinn, Crown and Law. " Can no one think of any thing else ? 1 love RE.NOtjNriNG." The hasty renunciations oi" the French Qobles and churchmen were brought about in the manner constituents : the privileges of corporations, the monopolies of crafts, the rights of cities, were heaped on the national altar ; and the members of the National Assembly seemed to look about in ecstasy, to consider of what else they coidd despoil tliemselves and others, as if, like the silly old earl in the civil dissensions of England, there had been an actual pleasure in the act of renouncing.' The feudal rights were in many instances odious, in others oppressive, and in others ridiculous ; but it was ominous to see the institutions of ages over thrown at random, by a set of men talking and raving all at once, so as to verify the observation of the Englishman, Williams, one of their own members, " The fools ! they wotild be thought to deliberate, when they cannot even listen." The singular occasion on which enthusiasm, false shame, and mutual emulation, thus induced the Nobles and Clergy to despoil themselves of all their seig- neurial riglits, was called by some the day of the sacrifices, by others, more truly, the day of the dupes. During the currency of this legislative frenzy, as it might be termed, the popular party, with countenances affecting humility and shame at hav- ing nothing themselves to surrender, sat praising each new sacrifice, as the wily companions of a thoughtless and generous young man applaud the lavish expense by which they themselves profit, while their seeming admiration is an incentive to new acts of extravagance. At length, when the sacrifice seemed complete, they began to pause and look around them. Some one thought of the separate distinctions of the pro- vinces of France, as Normandy, Languedoc, and so forth. Most of these provinces possessed rights and privileges acquired by victory or treaty, which oven Richelieu had not dared to violate. As soon as mentioned, they were at once thrown into the revolutionary smelting-pot, to bo remodelled after the universal equality which was the fashion of the day. It was not urged, and would not have been listened to, that these rights had been bought with blood, and sanctioned by public faith ; that the legislature, though it had a right to extend them to others, could not take them from the possessors without compensation ; and it escaped the Assembly no less, how many honest and generous sentiments are connected with such provincial distinctions, which form, as it were, a second and inner fence around the love of a common country ; or how much harmless enjoyment the poor man derives from the consciousness that he shares the privileges of some peculiar district. Such considei-ations might have induced the legislature to pause at least, after they had removed such marks of distinction as tended to engender jealousy betwixt inhabitants of the same kingdom. But her revolutionary level was to be passed over all that tended to distinguish one district, or one individual, from another. There was one order ii_ the kingdom which, although it had joined largely and readily in the sacrifices of the day of dupes, was still considered as mdebted to the state, and was doomed to undergo Ijractiscd of yore in convivial parties, when he who gave a toast burned his wig, had a loose tooth drawn, or made some other sacrifice, which, according to the laws of compotation, was an example necessary to be imitated by all the rest of the com))any, with whatever prejudice to theii wardrobes or theil per^iOMS. — S. FRENCH REVOLUTION. 41 an act of total spoliation. The Clergy had agreed, and the Assembly had decreed, on 4th August, that the tithes should be declared redeemable, at a mo- derate price, by the proprietoi*s subject to pay them. This regulation ratified, at least, the legality of the Clergy's title. Nevertheless, in violation of the public faith thus pledged, the Assembly, three days afterwards, pretended that the surrender of tithes liad been absolute, and that, in heu of that supposed revenue, the nation was only bound to provide de- cently for the administration of divine worship. Even the Abbe Sieves on this occasion deserted the revolutionary party, and made an admirable speech against this iniquitous measure.^ " You would be free," he exclaimed, with vehemence, " and you know not how to be just !" A curate in the Assembly, recalling to mind the solemn invo- cation by which the Tiei-s Etat had called upon the Clergy to miite with them, asked, with similar energy, " Was it to rob us, that you invited us to join with you in the name of the God of Peace?" Mirabeau, on the other hand, forgot the vehemence with which he had pleaded the right of property inherent in religious bodies, and lent his sophistry to defend what his ov/n reasoning had proved in a similar case to be indefensible. The complaints of the Clergy were listened to in contemptuous silence, or replied to with bitter irony, by those who were conscious how little s\nnpathy that body were likely to meet from the nation in general, and who there- fore spoke " as having power to do wrong." We must now revert to the condition of the kingdom of France at large, while her ancient in- stitutions were crumbling to pieces of themselves, or were forcibly pulled down by state innovators. That fine country was ravaged by a civil war of ag- gravated horrors, waged betwixt the rich and poor, and marked by every species of brutal violence. The peasants, their minds filled with a thousand wild suppositions, and incensed by the general scar- city of provisions, wei-e every where in arms, and every where attacked thechateaux of their seigneurs, whom they were mcited to look upon as enemies of the Revolution, and particularly of the commons. In most instances they were successful, and burnt the dwellings of the nobility, practising all the cir- cumstances of rage and cruelty by which the minds of barbarians are influenced. Men were murdered in presence of their wives ; wives and daughters violated before the eyes of their husbands and parents ; some were put to death by lingering tortures ; others by sudden and general massacre. Against some of these unhappy gentlemen, doubt- less, the peasants might have wrongs to remember and to avenge ; many of them, however, had borne their faculties so meekly tliat they did not even suspect the ill intentions of these peasants, until their castles and country-seats kindled with the general conflagration, and made part of the de- vourmg element which raged through the whole kingdom. What were the National Assembly doing at this dreadful crisis I They were discussing the abstract doctrines of the rights of man, instead of exacting from the subject the respect due to his social duties. Yet a large party in the Convention, and who had hitherto led the way in the paths of the Revo- ' " Next day Si§ye9 ?.•!'« vent to his sj)leen to Mirabeau, rho answered, ' My dear avhi; you have unloosed the bull ; lution, now conceived that the goal was attained, and that it was time to use the curb and forbear the spur. Such was the opinion of La Fayette and his followers, who considered the victory over the Royalists as complete, and were desirous to declare the Revolution ended, and erect a substantial form of government on the itiins of monarchy, which lay prostrate at their feet. They had influence enough in the Assemldy to procure a set of resolutions, declaring the monarchy hereditary in the person of the King and present family, on which basis they proceeded to erect what might be termed a Royal Democracy, or, in plainer teiTus, a Republic, governed, in truth, by a popular assembly, but encumbered with the expense of a king, to whom they desired to leave no real power, or free will to exercise it, although his name was to remain in the front of edicts, and although he was still to be considered entitled to command their armies, as the executive authority of the state. A struggle was made to extend the royal autho- rity to an absolute negative upon the decrees of the representative body ; and though it was limited by the jealousy of the popular party to a suspensive veto only, yet even this degree of influence wa.s supposed too dangerous in the hands of a monarch who had but lately been absolute. There is indeed an evident dilemma in the formation of a demo- cracy, with a king for its ostensible head. Either the monarch will remain contented with his daily parade and daily food, and thus play the part of a mere pageant, in which case he is a burdensome expense to the state, which a popular government, in prudent economy, as well as from the severity of principle assumed by republicans, are particu larly bound to avoid ; or else he will naturally en deavour to improve the shadow and outward form of power into something like sinew and substance, and the democracy will be unexpectedly assailed with the spear which they desired should be used only as their standard pole. To these reasonings many of the deputies would perhaps have answered, had they spoken their real sentiments, that it was yet too early to propose to the French a pure republic, and that it was neces- sary to render the power of the King insignificant, before abolishing a title to which the public ear had been so long accustomed. In the meantime, they took care to divest the monarch of whatever pro- tection he might have received from an intermediate senate, or chamber, placed betwixt the King and the National Assembly. " One God," exclaimed Rabaut St. Etienne, " one Nation, one King, and one Chamber." Tliis advocate for unity at once and uniformity, would scarce have been listened to if he had added, " one nose, one tongue, one arm, and one eye ;" but his first concatenation of unities formed a phrase ; and an imposing phrase, which sounds well, and can easily be repeated, has immense force in a revolution. The proposal for a Second, or Upper Chamber, whether hereditary like that of England, or elective like that of America, wag rejected as aristocratical. Thus the King of France was placed, in respect to the populace, as Canute of old to the advancing tide — he was entitled to sit on his throne and command the waves to respect him, and take the chance of their obeying his corn- do you expect he is not to make use of hU horns?"— Dumont p. 147- 42 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. mands, or of being overwhelmed hy them. If he was designed to be an integral part of the constitu- tion, this should not have been — if he was considered as something that it was more seemly to abandon to his fate tlian to destroy by violence, the plan was not ill concerted. CHAPTER V. Plaii of the Democrats to bring the King and Assemhly to Paris — Banquet of the Garde du Corps — Hiot at Paris — A formidable Mob of Women assemble to march to Versailles — The National Guard refuse to act against the Insur- gents, and demand also to be led to Versailles — The Female Mob arrive — T'heir behaviour to the Assembly — 2'o the King — Alarming Disorders at Night — La Fayette arrives with the National Guard — Mob force the Palace — Murder the Body Guards — The Queen'' s safety endangered — Fay- ette^s arrival with his Force restores Order — Royal Family obliged to go to reside at Paris — The Pro- cession — This Step agreeable to the Views of the Constitutionalists, Republicans, and Anarchists — Duke of Orleans sent to England. We have mentioned the various restrictions upon the royal authority, which had been successively sanctioned by the National Assembly. But the various factions, all of which tended to democracy, were determined upon manoeuvres for abating the roj-al authority, more actively powerful than those which the Assembly dared yet to venture upon. For this purpose, all those who desired to carry the Revolution to extremity, became desirous to bring the sittings of the National Assembly and the resi- dence of the King within the precincts of Paris, and to place them under the influence of that popu- lar frenzy which they had so many ways of ex- citing, and which might exercise the authority of terror over the body of representatives, fill their galleries with a wild and tumultuous band of parti- sans, surround their gates with an infuriated popu- lace, and thus dictate the issue of each deliberation. What fate was reserved for the King, after inci- dents will sufficiently show. To effect an object so important, the Republican party strained every effort, and succeeded in raising the popular ferment to the highest pitch. Their first efforts were unsuccessful. A deputa- tion, formidable from their numbers and clamorous violence, was about to sally from Paris to petition, as they called it, for the removal of the royal family and National Assembly to Paris, but was dispersed by the address of La Fayette and Bailli. Neverthe- less it seemed decreed that the Repubhcans should carry their favourite measures, less through their own proper strength, great as that was, than by the advantage afforded by the blunders of the Royalists. An imprudence — it seems to deserve no harsher name — which occurred within the precincts of the royal palace at Versailles, gave the demagogues an opportunity, sooner probably than they expected, of •arrying their point by a repetition of the violences which had already occurred. The town of Versailles owed its splendour and wealth entirely to its being the royal residence, yet abounded with a population singiUarly ill-disposed towards the King and royal family. The national guard of the place, amounting to some thousands^ were animated by the same feelings. There were only about four hundred gardes du corps, or life- guards, upon whom reliance could be placed for the defence of the royal family, in case of any popular tumult either in Versailles itself, or directed thither from Paris. These troops consisted of gentlemen of trust and confidence, but their numbers were few in proportion to the extent of the palace, and their very quality rendered them obnoxious to the peo- ple as armed aristocrats. About two-thirds of their number, to avoid sus- picion and gain confidence, had been removed to Rambouillets. In these circumstances, the grena diers of the French guards, so lately in arms against the royal authoi'ity, with an inconsistency not unnatural to men of their profession, took it into their heads to become zealous for the recovery of the posts which they had formerly occupied around the King's person, and threatened openly to march to Versailles, to take possession of the routine of duty at the palace, a privilege which they considered as their due, notwithstanding that they had deserted their posts against the King's command, and were now about to resume them contrary to his consent. The regiment of Flanders was brought up to Versailles, to prevent a move ment fraught with so much danger to the royal family. The presence of this corps had been required by the municipality, and the measure had been acquiesced in by the Assembly, though not without some expressive indications of suspicion. The regiment of Flanders arrived accordingly, and the gardes du corps, according to a custom universal in the French garrisons, invited the offi- cers to an entertainment, at which the officers of the Swiss guards, and those of the national guard of Versailles, were also guests. [Oct. 1.] This ill-omened feast was given in the opera hall of the palace, almost within hearing of the sovereigns; the healths of the royal family were drunk with the enthusiasm naturally inspired by the situation. The King and Queen imprudently agreed to visit the scene of festivity, carrying with them the Dauphin. Their presence raised the spirits of the company, already excited by wine and music, to the highest pitch ; royalist tunes were played, the white cock- ade, distributed by the ladies Avho attended the Queen, was mounted with enthusiasm, and it is said that of the nation was trodden under foot.' If we consider the cause of this wild scene, it seems natural enough that the Queen, timid as a woman, anxious as a wife and a mother, might, in order to propitiate the favour of men who were summoned expressly to be the guard of the royal family, incautiously have recom-se to imitate, in a slight degi'ee, and towards one regiment, the arts of conciliation, which in a much grosser shape had been used by the popular party to shake the fidelity of the whole army. But it is impossible to conceive that the King, or ministers, could have hoped, by the transitory and drunken flash of enthusiasm eli- cited from a few hundred men during a carousal, to commence the counter-revolution, which they dared not attempt when they had at their command thirty thousand troops, under an experienced gene- ral. But as no false step among the Royalists remained 1 Mignet, torn, i., p. 89; Lacretelle, torn, fix., p. 185. FRENCH REVOLUTION. 43 unimproved by their adversaries, the military feast of Versailles was presented to the people of Paris under a light very different from that in which it must be viewed by posterity. The Jacobins were the first to sound the alarm through all their clubs and societies, and the hundreds of hundreds of po- pular orators whom they had at their command, excited the citizens by descriptions of the most dreadful plots, fraught with massacres and pro- scriptions. Every effort had already been used to heat the popular mind against the King and Queen, whom, in allusion to the obnoxious power gi'anted to them by the law, they had of late learned to cirrse and insult, under the names of Monsieur and Madame Veto. The King had recently delayed yielding his sanction to the declarations of the Rights of Man, until the constitution was complete. This had been severely censured by the Assembly, who spoke of sending a deputation to extort his consent to these declarations, before presenting him with the practical results which they intended to bottom on them. A dreadful scarcity, amounting nearly to a famine, rendered the populace even more accessible than usual to desperate counsels. The feasts, amid which the aristocrats were repre- sented as devising their plots, seemed an insult on the public misery. When the minds of the lower orders were thus prejudiced, it was no difficult matter to produce an insurrection. That of the 5th October, 1789, was of a singular description, the insurgents being chiefly of the female sex. The market-women, " Dames de la Halle," as tliey are called, half unsexed by the mascuUne nature of tlieir employments, and en- tirely so by the ferocity of their manners, had figured early in the Revolution. With these were allied and associated most of the worthless and barbarous of their o%\-n sex, such disgraeefid speci- mens of humanity as serve but to show in what a degraded state it may be found to exist. Females of this description began to assemble early in the morning, in large groups, with the cries for "bread," which so easily rouse a starving metropolis. There were amongst them many men disguised as women, and they compelled all the females they met to go along with them. They marched to the Hotel de Ville, broke boldly through several squadrons of the national guard, who were drawn up in front of that building for its defence, and were with diffi- culty dissuaded from burning the records it con- tained. They next seized a magazine of arms, with three or four pieces of cannon, and were joined by a miscellaneous rabble, armed with pikes, scythes, and similar instruments, who called them- selves the conquerors of the Bastile. The still increasing multitude re-echoed the cry of " Bread, bread ! — to Versailles ! to Versailles ! " ' The national guard were now called out in force, but speedily showed their officers tliat they too were infected with the humour of the times, and as much indisposed to subordination as the mob, to disperse which they were summoned. La Fayette put himself at then- head, not to give his own, but ' Prudhomine, torn, i., p. 23G ; Thiers, torn, i., p. l.'W. - In the beginning of the Revolution, when the mob exe- cuted their plea.'sure on tlie individuals against whom their Busnicions were directed, tlie lamp irons served for gibbets, and the lines by which the lamps, or lanterns, were disposed across the street, were ready haUers. Hence the cry of " Les Aristocratcs a la lanterne. ' The answer of the Abbe Maury is well known. " Eh ! mes amis, ct quand vous ni"auricz mis to receive their orders. They refused to act against women, who, they said, were starving, and in their turn demanded to be led to Versailles, « to de- throne,"— such was their language, — " the King, who was a driveller, and place the crown on the head of his son." La Fayette hesitated, implored, explained ; but he had as yet to learn the situation of a revolutionary general. " Is it not strange," said one of his soldiers, who seemed quite to un- derstand the military relation of officer and private on such an occasion, " is it not strange that La Fayette pretends to command the people, when it is his part to receive orders from them ?" Soon afterwards an order arrived from the Assembly of the Commune of Paris, enjoining the commandant's march, upon his own report that it was impossible to withstand the will of the people. He marched accordingly in good order, and at the head of a large force of the national guard, about four or five hours after the departure of the mob, who, while he waited in a state of indecision, were ah'eady far on their way to Versailles. It does not appear that the King, or his minis- ters, had any information of these hostile move- ments. Assuredly, there could not have been a royalist in Paris willing to hazard a horse or a groom to carry such intelligence where the knowledge of it must have been so important. The leading members of the Assembly, at Ver- sailles, were better informed. " These gentlemen," said Barbantanne, looking at the part of the hall where the Nobles and Clergy usually sat, " wish more light — they shall have lanterns,^ they may rely upon it." Mirabeau went behind the chair of Mounier, the president. " Paris is marching upon us," he said. — " I know not what you mean,"' said Mounier. — " Believe me or not, all Paris is march- ing upon us — dissolve the sitting." — " I never hurry the deliberations," said ^loimier. — " Then feign illness," said jMirabeau, — " go to the palace, tell them wliat I say, and give me for authority. Btit there is not a mimite to lose— Paris marches upon us." — " So much the better," answered Mou- nier, " we shall be a republic the sooner."' Shortly after this singular dialogue, occasioned probably by a sudden movement, in which Mira- Ijeau showed the aristocratic feeUngs from which he never could shake himself free, the female bat- talion, together with their masculine allies, conti- nued their march uninterruptedly, and entered Versailles in the afternoon, singing patriotic airs, intermingled with blasphemous obscenities, and the most furious threats against the Queen. Their first visit was to the National Assembly, where the beating of drums, shouts, shrieks, and a hun- dred confused sounds, interrupted the deliberations. A man called ]\Iailliard, brandishing a sword in his hand, and supported by a woman holding a long pole, to which was attached a tambour de basque, commenced a harangue in the name of tlie sovereign people. He announced that they wanted bread ; that they were convinced the ministers were traitors ; that the arm of the people was up- a la lanterne, est ce que vous verricz plus clair?" — Hioit. Ui.iv.—S. 3 Mounier must he supposed lo speak ironically, and in al lusinn, not to his own opinions, but to Mirabeau's revolution- ary tenets. Another account of this singular conversation states his answer to have been, " All the better. If the mob kill all of us— remark, 1 say all of us, it will be the belter .'ot the countrv."— S. — Thieiw, torn, i., p. KW. 44 SCOTTS MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. lifted, and about to strike ; — with much to the same purpose, in the exaggei-ated eloquence of the period.' The same sentiments were echoed by his followers, mingled with the bitterest threats, against the Queen in particular, that fury could contrive, expressed iu language of the most energetic bru- tality. The Amazons then crowded into the Assembly, mixed themselves with the members, occupied the Beat of the president, of the secretaries, produced or procured victuals and wine, drank, sung, swore, scolded, screamed, — abused some of the members, and loaded others with their loathsome caresses.'-^ A deputation of these mad women was at length sent to St. Priest, the minister, a determined Roy- alist, who received them sternly, and replied, to their demand of bread, " When you had but one king, you never wanted bread — you have now twelve'^hundred — go ask it of them." They were introduced to the King, however, and were so much struck with the kind interest which he took in the state of Paris, tliat their hearts relented in his favour, and the deputies returned to their con- stituents, shouting " Vive le Roi ! "^ Had the tempest depended on the mere popular breeze, it might now have been lulled to sleep ; but there was a secret ground-swell, a heaving upwards of the bottom of the abyss, which could not be conjured down by the awakened feelings or con- vinced understandings of the deputation. A cry was raised that the deputies had been bribed to represent the King favourably ; and, in this hu- mour of suspicion, the army of Amazons stripped their garters, for the purpose of strangling their own delegates. They had by this time ascertained, that neither the national guard of Versailles, nor the regiment of Flanders, whose transitory loyalty had passed away with the fumes of the wine of the banquet, would oppose them by force, and that they had only to deal with the gardes du corps, who dared not to act with vigour, lest they should pro- voke a general attack on the palace, while the most complete distraction and indecision reigned within its precincts. Bold in consequence, the female mob seized on the exterior avenues of the palace, and threatened destruction to all within. The attendants of the King saw it necessary to take measures for the safety of his person, but they were marked by indecision and confusion. A force was hastily gathered of two or three hundred gen- tlemen, who, it was proposed, should mount the horses of the royal stud, and escort the King to Rambouillet, out of this scene of confusion.* The gardes du corps, with such assistance, might cer- tainly have forced their way through a mob of the tumultuary description which suii'ounded them ; and the escape of the King from Versailles, under circumstances so critical, might have had a great effect in changing the current of popular feeling. ' Prudhorame, torn, i., p. 257. 2 " In the pallery a crowd of fishwomen were assembled under tne guidance of one virago with stentorian lungs, who called to the deputies familiarly by name, and insisted that their favourite Mirabeau should speak." — DuMONT, p. 181. 3 Mignet, torn, i., p. !I2. ■* This was proposed bv that Marquis de Favras, whose death upon the gallows, [Feb. 19, 17!«M for a Royalist plot, gave afterwards such exquisite delight to the citizens of Paris. Being the first man of quality whom they had seen hanged, (that punishment having beenliitherto reserved for plebeians,) they encored the performance, ar.d would fain have hung him up a second lime. The same unfortunate gentleman bad ore- Tiously proposed to secure the bridge at Sevres with a body of But those opinions prevailed, which recommended tliat he should abide the arrival of La Fayette with the civic force of Paris. It was now night, and the armed rabble of both sexes showed no intention of departing or breaking up. On the contrary, they bivouacked after their own manner upon the parade, where the soldiers usually mustered. There they kindled large fires, ate, drank, sang, caroused, and occasionally dis- charged their fire-arms. Scuffles arose from time to time, and one or two of the gardes du corps had been killed and wounded in the quarrel, which the rioters had endeavoured to fasten on them ; besides which, this devoted corps had sustained a volley from their late guests, the national guard of Versailles. The horse of a guard du corps, wliich fell uito the hands of these female demons, was killed, torn in pieces, and eaten half raw and half roasted.^ Every thing seemed tending to a general engagement, when late at night the drums announced the approach of La Fayette at the head of his civic army, which moved slowly but in good order. The presence of this great force seemed to restore a portion of tranquillity, though no one appeared to know with certainty how it was likely to act. La Fayette had an audience of the King, explained the means he had adopted for the security of the palace, recommended to the mhabitants to go to rest, and unhappily set the example bj- retiring himself.^ Before doing so, however, he also visited the Assembly, pledged himself for the safety of the royal family and the tranquillity of the night, and with some difficulty, prevailed on the President Mounier to adjourn the sitting, which had been voted permanent. He thus took upon himself the responsibility for the quiet of the night. We are loth to bring into question the worth, honour, and fidelity of La Fayette ; and we can therefore only lament, that weariness should have so far overcome him at an important crisis, and that he should have trusted to others the execution of those precautions, which were most grossly neglected. A baud of the rioters found means to penetrate into the palace about three in the morning, through a gate which was left unlocked and unguarded. They rushed to the Queen's apartment, and bore down the few gardes du corps who hastened to her defence. The sentinel knocked at the door of her bedchamber, called to her to escape, and then gal- lantly exposed himself to the fury of the murder- ers. His single opposition was almost instantly overcome, and he himself left for dead. Over his bleeding body they forced their way into the Queen's apartment ; but tlieir victim, reserved for farther and worse woes, had escaped by a secret passage into the chamber of the King, while the assassins, bursting in, stabbed the bed she had just left with pikes and swords.^ cavalry, which would have prevented the women from ad- vancing to Versailles. The Queen signed an order for the horses with this remarkable clause : — " To be used if the King's safety is endangered, but in no danger which aifccts me only." — S. — " The secret of this intrigue never was known ; but I have no doubt Favras was one of those men who, when employed as instruments, are led by vanity much further than their principals intend." — Dumont, p. 1/4. 5 Lacretelle, tom. vii., p. 217- 6 Rivarol, p. 3(iO; Mignet, tom. i., p. 93. 7 One of the most accredited calumnies against the unfor- tunate Marie Antoinette pretends, that she was on this occa- sion surprised in the arms of a paramour. Buona^iarte is said to have mcnlioucd this as a fact, upon the authority of Madame FRENCH REVOLUTION. 4n The gardes du corps assembled in the ante-cliam- ber calie'l the bull's eye, and endeavoured there to defend themselves ; but several, unable to gain this place of refuge, were dragged down into the court- yard, where a wretch, distinguished by a long beard, a broad bloody axe, and a sjiecies of annour \\hich he wore on his person, had taken on himself, by taste and choice, the office of executioner. The strange- ness of the villain's costume, the sanguinary re- lish with which he discharged his office, and the hoarse roar with which, from time to time, he de- manded new victims, made him resemble some demon whom hell had vomited forth, to augment the wickedness and horror of the scene.* Two of the gardes du corps were already be- headed, and the Man with the Beard was clamo- rous to do his office upon the others who had been taken, when La Fayette, roused from his repose, arrived at the head of a body of grenadiere of the old French guards, who had been lately incorpo- I'ated with the civic guard, and were probably the most efficient part of his force. He did not think of avenging the imfortunate gentlemen, who lay murdered before his eyes for the discharge of their military duty, but he entreated his soldiers to save him the dislionour of breaking his word, which he bad pledged to the King, that he would protect the gardes du corps. It is probable he attempted no more than was in his power, and so far acted wisely, if not generously. To redeem M. de la Fayette's pledge, the gre- nadiers did, what they ought to have done in the name of the King, the law, the nation, and insulted lumianity,-^they cleared, and with perfect ease, the court of the palace from these bands of miu'derous bacchantes, and their male associates. The instinct of ancient feelings, was, in some degree, awakened in the grenadiers. They exjjerienced a sudden sen- sation of compassion and kindness for the gardes du corps, whose duty on the royal person they had in former times shared. There arose a cry among them, — " Let us save the gardes du corps, who saved us at Fontenoy." They took them under their protection, exchanged their caps with them in sign of friendship and fraternity, and a tumult, which had something of the character of joy, suc- ceeded to that which had announced nothmg but blood and death. ^ The outside of the palace was still besieged by the infuriated mob, who demanded, with hideous cries, and exclamations the most barbarous aiid ob- scene, to see " the Austrian," as they called the Queen. The unfortunate princess appeared on the balcony^ with one of her children in each hand. A voice from the crowd called out, " No children," as if on purpose to deprive the mother of that appeal to humanity which might move the hardest heart. Campan. [0"1Ikara's Xiiiiohon in Kxile, vol. ii., p. 172.] We Imie now Madame Campari's own account, [Memoirs, vol. ii., p. 78,] describing the conduct of the Queen on this dreadful occasion as that of a lieroine, and totally excluding the possibility of the pretended anecdote. But let it be far- ther considered, under what circumstances the Queen was placed— at two in the morning, retired to a privacy Mable to be interrupted (as it was) not only by the irruption of the fu- rious banditti who surrounded the palace, demanding her life, hut by the entrance of the King, or of others, in whom cir- cumstances mieht have. rciul<'red the intrusion duty ; and let it then be judged, whether the dangers of the moment, and the risk of discovery, would not have prevented Messalina herself from choosing such a time for an assignation.— S. ' The miscreant's real name was Jourdan, afterwards called Cdupe-Tetc, distinguished in the mas.sacrcs of Avignon. He gained his bread by sitting as ap academy-model to painters. Marie Antoinette, with a force of miud worthy ol Maria Theresa, her mother, pushed her children back into the room, and, tm-ning her face to the tumultuous multitude, which tossed and reared beneath, brandishing their pikes and gims with the wildest attitudes of rage, the reviled, persecuted, and denounced Queen stood before them, her arms folded on her bosom, with a noble air of courageous resignation.'* The secret reason of this summons — the real cause of repelling the children — could only be to aflord a chance of some desperate hand among the crowd executing the threats which resounded on all sides. Accordingly, a gim was actually le- velled, but one of the bystanders struck it down ; for the passions of the mob had taken an opposite turn, and, astonished at Marie Antoinette's noble presence, and graceful firmness of demeanour, there arose, almost in spite of themselves, a general shout of " Vive la Reine ! " ^ But if the insurgents, or rather tliose who prompt- ed them, missed their first point, they did not also lose their second. A cry arose, " To Paris !" at first uttered by a solitary voice, but gathering strength, until the whole multitude shouted, " To Paris — to Paris ! " ^ The cry of these blood-thirsty bacchanals, such as they had that night shown them- selves, was, it seems, considered as the voice of the people, and as such. La Fayette neither remonstra- ted himself, nor permitted the King to interpose a moment's delay in yielding obedience to it ; nor was any measuie taken to put some appearance even of decency on the joiu-itey, or to disguise its real character, of a triumphant procession of the sovereign people, after a complete victory over their nommal monarch. The carriages of the royal family were placed in the middle of an immeasurable column, consisting partly of La Fayette's soldiers, partly of the revo- lutionary rabble, whose march had preceded his, amounting to several thousand men and women of the lowest and most desperate description, inter- mingling m groups amongst the bands of French guards and civic soldiers, whose discipline could not enable them to preserve even a semblance of order. Thus they rushed along, howling their songs of triumph. The harbingers of the march bore the two bloody heads of the murdered gardes du corp.s, paraded on pikes, at the head of the co- lumn, as the emblems of their prowess and success.^ The rest of this body, worn down by fatigue, most of them despoUed of their arms, and many without hats, anxious for the fate of the ro}al family, and harassed with apprehensions for themselves, were dragged like captives in the midst of the mob, while the dnmken females around them bore aloft in triumph their arms, their belts, and their hats. These wretches, stained with the blood in which and for that reason cultivated liis long beard. In the deposi- tions before the Chatelet, he is called L'JJuwme d la Uiibe— an epithet which might distinguish the ogre or goblin of soma ancient legend. — S. 2 Lacretelle, torn, vii., p. 238. 3 Thiers, torn, i., p. 182; Lacretelle, torn, vii., p. 241. ■* Rirarol, p. .312; Campan, vol. ii., p. SI. 5 Mimoires de Weber, vol. ii., p. 457.— S. 6 " The Queen, on returning from the balcony, approached mv mother, and said to her, with stifled sobs, ' They are going to furcc the King and me to Paris, with tlie heads of our body- guards carried before us, on the point of tlieir pikes." Her piedictiun was accomplished." — .M. uk Stael, vol. i., p. 344. " It has been said that they were borne immediately before the royal carriage ; but this is an exacgcration wlierc exageo- ratioii is unnecessary. These bloody trophies preceded the roya; family a great way on the march to Paris — S. 46 SCOTT'S I^nSCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. they had bathed themselves, were now singing songs, of wliieh the burden bore — " We bring you the baker, his wife, and the Uttle apprentice !"i as if the presence of the imhappy royal family, with the little power they now possessed, had been in itself a charm against scarcity. Some of these Amazons rode upon the cannon, which made a for- midable part of the procession. Many of them were mounted on the horses of the gardes du corps, some in masculine fashion, others en cmvpe. All the muskets and pikes which attended this immense cavalcade, were garnished, as if in triumph, with oak boughs, and the women caii-ied long poplar branches in their hands, which gave the column, so grotesquely composed in every respect, the appear- ance of a moving grove.''' Scarcely a circumstance was omitted which could render this enti-ance into the capital more insulting to the King's feelings — more degrading to the royal dignity. After six hours of dishonour and agony, the un- fortunate Louis was brought to the Hotel de Ville, where Bailli, then mayor, ^ complimented him upon the " beau jom-," the " splendid day," which re- stored the monarch of France to his capital ; as- sirred him that order, peace, and all the gentler virtues, were about to revive in the country under his royal eye, and tliat the King would henceforth become powerful through the people, the people happy through the King ; and, " what was truest of all," that as Henry IV. had entered Paris by means of reconquering his people, Louis XVI. had done so, because his people had reconquered their King.* His wounds salved with this hp-comfoi-t, the unhappy and degraded prince was at length permitted to retire to the palace of the Tuileries, which, long iminhabited, and almost unfurnished, yawned upon him like the tomb where alone he at length found repose.^ The events of the 14th July, 1789, when the Bastile was taken, formed the first great stride of the Revolution, actively considered. Those of the 5th and 6th of October, in the same year, which we have detailed at length, as peculiarly characteristic of the featui'es which it assumed, made the second grand phasis. The first had rendered the inha- bitants of the metropolis altogether independent of their sovereign, and indeed of any government but that which they chose to submit to ; the second de- prived the King of that small appearance of free- dom which he had hitherto exercised, and fixed his dwelling in the midst of his metropolis, independent and self-regulated as we have described it. " It is wonderful," said Louis, " that with such love of liberty on all sides, I am the only person that is deemed totally unworthy of enjoying it." Indeed, after the march from Versailles, the King could only be considered as the signet of royal authority, used for attesting public acts at the pleasure of those in whose custody he was detained, but ' " Nou3 ne manqueron? plus de pain ; nous amenons le boulanger, la boulangere, et le petit mitron!" — Pkudhomme, torn, i., p. 244. * Prudhomme, torn. i.. p. 243. 3 " The KiiiR said to the mavor, 'I come with pleasure to my good city of Paris ;' the Qvieen added, ' and with confi- dence.' The expression was happy, but the event, alas! did not justify it."— -M. dk Stakl. vol. i., p. 344. •* The Mayor of Paris, although such language must have sounded like the most bitter irony, bad no choice of words on the fith October, 1789. But if he seriously termed that " a Klorious day," what could Bailli complain of the studied in- sults and cruellies which he himself sustained, when, in Oct. 17^*2, the same banditti of Paris, who forced the King from without the exercise of any free-will on bis own part. All the various parties found their account, less or more, in this state of the royal person, excepting the pure Royalists, whose effective power was little, and their comparative numbers few. There re- mained, indeed, attached to the person and cause of Louis, a party of those members, who, being friends to freedom, were no less so to regulated monarchy, and who desired to fix the throne on a firm and determined basis. But their numbers were daily thinned, and their spirits were broken. The excel- lent Mounier, and the eloquent Lally Tolendal, emigrated after the 9th October, unable to endure the repetition of such scenes as were then exhibited. The indignant adieus of the latter to the National Assembly, were thus forcibly expres.?ed : — • " It is impossible for me, even my physical strength alone considered, to discharge my fimc- tions amid the scenes we have witnessed. Those heads borne in trophy ; that Queen half assassin- ated ; that King dragged into Paris by troops of robbers and assassins; the 'splendid day' of M. Bailli ; the jests of Barnave, when blood was float- ing around us ; Mounier escaping, as if by miracle, from a thousand assassins ; these are the causes of my oath never again to enter that den of cannibals. A man may endure a single death ; he may brave it more than once, when the loss of life can be use- ful — but no power under Heaven .shall induce me to suffer a thousand tortures every passing minute — while I am witnessing the progress of cruelty, the triumph of guilt, which I nuist witness without interrupting it. They may proscribe my person, they may confiscate my fortune ; I will labour the earth for my bread, and I will see them no more."^ The other parties into which the state was di- vided, saw the events of the 5th October with other feelings, and if they did not forward, at least foimd their account in them. The Constitutional party, or those who desired a democratical government witli a king at its head, had reason to hope that Louis, being in Paris, must remain at their absolute disposal, separated from those who might advise counter-revolutionary steps, and guarded only by national troops, embodied in the name, and througli the powers, of the Revolu- tion. Every day, indeed, rendered Louis more dependent on La Fayette and his friends, as the only force which remained to preserve order ; for he soon found it a necessary, though a cruel mea- sure, to disband his faithful gardes du corps, and that perhaps as much with a view to theii" safety as to his own. The Constitutional party seemed strong both in numbers and reputation. La Fayette was com- mandant of the national guards, and they looked up to him with that homage and veneration with which young troops, and especially of this descrip- Versailles, dragged himself to death, with every circumstance of refined cruelty and protracted insult? — S. — It was not on the (ith October, but the I7th July, three days after the cap- ture of the Bastile, that Bailli, on" presenting Louis with the keys of Paris, made use of this expression.— See Prudhomme, torn, i., p. 2(1.3. 5 " As the arrival of the royal family was unexpected, very few apartments were in a habitable state, and the Queen had been obliged to get tent-beds put up for her children in the very room where she received us: she apologized for it, and added, ' You know that 1 did not expect to come here.' Her physiognomy was beautiful, but irritated ; it was not to be for- gotten after having been seen." — M. DE i-TAF.L, vol. i., p. 340 6 Lacretelle, tom. vii... p. 265. FRENCH REVOLUTION. 47 tion, regard a leader of experience and bravery, wlto, in accepting the command, seems to share his lav.rels with the citizen-soldier, who has won none of his own. Bailli was Mayor of Paris, and, in the height of a popularity not undeserved, was so well established in the minds of the better class of citi- zens, that, in any other times than those in which he lived, he might safely have despised the suffrages of the rabble, always to be bought, either by lar- gesses or flattery. The Constitutionalists had also a strong majority in the Assembly, where the Re- publicans dared not yet throw off the mask, and the Assembly, following the person of the King, came also to establish its sittings in their strong- hold, the metropolis.! They seemed, therefore, to assume the ascendency in the fii-st instance, after the 5th and 6th of October, and to reap all the first fruits of the victory then achieved, though by their connivance rather than their active co-operation. It is wonderful, that, meaning still to assign to the regal dignity a high constitutional situation. La Fayette should not have exerted himself to preserve its dignity undegraded, and to save the honour, as he certainly saved the lives, of the royal family. Three reasons might prevent his doing what, as a gentleman and a soldier, he must other- wise at least have attempted. First, although he boasted highly of his influence with the national guard of Paris, it may be doubted whether all his popularity would have borne him through, in any endeavour to deprive the good people of that city of such a treat as the Joyous Entry of the 6 th of October, or whether the civic power woidd, even for the immediate defence of the King's person, have used actual force against the band of Amazons who directed that memorable procession. Secondly, La Fayette might fear the revival of the fallen co- lossus of despotism, more than the rising spirit of anarchy, and thus be induced to suppose that a conquest in the King's cause over a popular insur- rection, might be too active a cordial to the droop- ing spirits of the Royalists. And lastly, the revolutionary general, as a politician, might not be unwilling that the King and his consort should experience in their own persons, such a specimen of popular power, as might intimidate them from further opposition to the popular will, and incline Louis to assume unresistingly his diminished rank in the new constitution. The Republican party, with better reason than the Constitutionalists, exulted in the King's change of residence. It relieved them as well as Fayette's party from all apprehension of Louis raising his standard in the provinces, and taking the field on his own account, like Charles of England in simi- lar circumstances. Then they already foresaw, that whenever the Constitutionalists should identify themselves with the crown, whom all parties had hitherto laboured to represent as the common ene- my, they would become proportionally unpopular witli the people at large, and lose possession of the superior power as a necessary consequence. Aris- tocrats, the only class which was sincerely united to the King's person, would, they might safely ' " On being informed of the King's determination to quit Versailles for Paris, the Assembly hastily passed a resolution, that it was inseparable from the king, ana would accompany iim to the capital."— Thiers, torn, i.', p. 18a. * See Richard the Third, act v., sc. iii. ' Barnave, a^ well as Wijabe.iu, the Republican as well as predict, dread and distrust the Constitutionalists, while with the Democrats, so very nmch the more numerous party, the King's name, instead of " a tower of strength," as the poet has termed it,* must be a stumbling-block and a rock of offence. Tliey foresaw, finally, either that the King must remain the mere passive tool of the Constitutionalists, acting unresistingly under their order, — in which case the office would be soon regarded as an idle and expensive bauble, without any force or dignity of free-will, and fit only to be flung aside as an unnecessary incumbrance on the republican forms, —or, in the event of the King attempting, either by force or escape, to throw off the yoke of the Constitutionalists, he would equally furnish arms to the pure Democrats against his person and office, as the source of danger to the popular cause. Some of the Republican chiefs had probably ex- pected a more sudden termination to the reign of Louis from an insurrection so threatening ; at least these leaders had been the first to hail and to en- courage the female insurgents, on their arrival at Versailles.^ But though the issue of that insur- rection may have fallen short of their hopes, it could not but be highly acceptable to them so far as it went. Tlie party of Orleans had hitherto wTapt in its dusky folds many of those names which were afterwards destined to hold dreadful rank in the Revolutionary history. The prince whose name they adopted is supposed to have been animated partly by a strong and embittered spirit of personal hatred against the Queen, and partly, as we have already said, by an ambitious desire to supplant his kinsman. He placed, according to general report, his treasures, and all which his credit could add to them, at the disposal of men, abounding in those energetic talents which carry their owners forward in times of public confusion, but devoid alike of fortune, character, and principle ; who undertook to serve their patron by enlisting in his cause the obscure and subordinate agents, by whom mobs were levied, and assassins subsidized. It is said, tliat the days of the 5th and 6th of October were organized by the secret agents of Orleans, and for his advantage ; that had the enterprise succeeded, the King would have been deposed, and the Duke of Orleans proclaimed Lieutenant-General of the kingdom, while his revenge would probably have been satiated with the Queen's assassination. He is stated to have skulked in disguise about the outskirts of the scene when the tumult was at the highest, but never to have had courage to present himself boldly to the people, either to create a sensation by surprise, or to avail him.self of that which his "satellites had already excited in his favour.* His resolution having thus failed liim at the point where it was most neces.sary, and the tumult having ended without any thing taking place in his favour, the Duke of Orleans was made a scape-goat, and the only one, to atone for the whole insun-cction. Under the title of an em- bassy to England, he was honourably exiled from his native country. [Oct. 14.] Mirabeau spoke the Orleanist, was heard to exclaim, " Couracc, brave Pari- sians— liberty for ever— fear nothing — we are for jou!"— Sco Jl/cmiiiris fii: yerrieres, li., iv.— S. ■• Sec the procecdinES before the Chatelct.— S.— Sec aim Thiers, torn, i., p. Ib4; Lacretcllc, torn. vii. ; and M. dc SlaCl, vol. i., p. X>0. ih SCOTT'S ]\USCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. :>f him in terms of the utmost contumely, as being base-minded as a lackey, and totally unworthy the ti'ouble which had been taken on his account. His other adherents gradually and successively dropped away, in proportion as the wealth, credit, and character of this besotted prince rendered him incapable of maintaining his gratuities ; and they sailed henceforth under their own flag, in the storms he had fitted them to navigate. These were men who had resolved to use the revolu- tionary axe for cutting out their own private for- tunes, and, little interesting tliemselves about the political principles which divided the other parties of the state, they kept firm hold of all the subor- dinate machinery despised by the others in the abstraction of metaphysical speculation, but which gave them the exclusive command of the physical force of the mob of Paris — Pai'is, the metropolis of France, and the prison-house of her monarch. CHAPTER VI. La Fayette r.sohes to enforce order — A Baker is murdered by the Rahbte — One of his Murderers executed — I)ecree imposing Martial Law — Intro- duction of the Doctrines of Equality — They are in their exaggerated sense inconsistent with Human Nature and the progress of Society— The Assem- bly abolish titles of Nobility, Armorial bearings, and phrases of Courtesy — Reasoning on these In- novations — Disorder of Finance — Necker becomes unjMpular — Seizure of Church-Lands — Issue of Assignats — Necker leaves France in unpojiula- rity — Neic Religious Institution^Oath imposed on the Clergy — Resisted by the greater part of the Order— General view of the opierations of the Con- stituent Assembly — Enthusiasm of the People for their new Privileges — Limited Privileges of the Crown — King is obliged to dissemble — His Nego- tiations with Mirabeau — With Bouille — Attack on the Palace — Prevented by Fayette — Royalists expelled from the Tuileries — Escape of Louis — He is captured at Varennes — Brought back to Paris — Riot in the Champ de Mars — Louis accepts the Constitution. La Fayette followed up his victory over the Duke of Orleans by some bold and successful at- tacks upon the revolutionary right of insurrection, through which the people of late had taken on them- selves the office of judges at once and executioners. This had hitherto been thought one of the sacred privileges of the Revolution ; but, determined to set bounds to its farther progress, La Fayette re- solved to restore the dominion of the law over the will of the rabble. A large mob, in virtue of the approbation, the indulgence at least, with which similar frolics had been hitherto treated, had seized upon and hanged an unhappy baker, named Denis Francois, who fell under their resentment as a public enemy, because he sold bread dear when he could only purchase grain at an enormous price. They varied the usual detail with some additional circumstances, causing many of his l)rethren in trade to salute the bloody head, which they paraded according to their wont ; ' Thiers, torn, i., p. 1!)2; Lacretelle, torn, vii., p. a62. « " The indignant populace murmured at the severity. and finally, by pressing the dead lips to those of the widow, as she lay fainting before them. This done, and in the full confidence of impunity, they ajjproached the Hall of the Assembly, in order to regale the representatives of the people with the same edifying spectacle.' The baker being neither an aristocrat nor noble- man, the authorities ventured upon punishing the murder, without fearing the charge of incivisme. La Fayette, at the head of a detachment of the national guards, attacked and dispersed the assas- sins, and the active citizen who carried the head, was tried, condemned, and hanged, just as if there had been no revolution in the kingdom. There was much surprise at this, as there had been no such instance of severity since the day of the Bas- tile.2 This was not all : La Fayette, who may now be considered as at the head of affairs, had the influence and address to gain from the Assembly a decree, empowering the magistracy, in case of any rising, to declare martial law by displaying a red flag ; after which signal, those who refused to disperse should be dealt with as open rebels. This edict, much to the purpose of the British Riot Act, did not pass with- out opposition, as it obviously tended to give the bayonets of the national guard a decided ascend- ency over the pikes and clubs of the rabble of the suburbs. The Jacobins, meaning the followers of Marat, Robespierre, and Danton, and even the Republicans, or Brissotines, had hitherto consi- dered these occasional insurrections and murders like affairs of posts in a campaign, in which they themselves had enjoyed uniformly the advantage ; but while La Fayette ^\as followed and obeyed by the national guard, men of substance, and inter- ested in maintaining order, it was clear that he had both the power and will to stop in future these revolutionary excesses. This important advantage in some degree ba- lanced the power which the Republican and Revo- lutionary party had acquired. These predominated, as has been ali'eady said, in the Club of Jacobins, in which they reviewed the debates of the Assembly, denouncing at their pleasure those who opposed them ; but they had besides a decided majority among the daily attendants in the tribunes, who, regularly paid and supplied with food and liquors, filled the Assembly with their clamours of applause or disapprobation, according to the rules they had previously received. It is true, the hired auditoi's gave their voices and applause to those who paid' them, but nevertheless they had party feelings of their own, which often dictated unbought suffi-ages, in favour of those who used the most exaggerated tone of revolutionary fury. They shouted with sincere and voluntary zeal for such men as Marat, Robespierre, and Danton, who yelled out for the most bloody measiu-es of terror and proscription, and proclaimed war against the nobles with the same voice with which they flattered the lowest vices of the multitude. By degrees the Revolution appeared to have assumed a diff'erent object from tliat for which it was commenced. Frauce had obtained Liberty, the first, and certainly the worthiest, object which a nation can desire. Each individual was declared 'What!' they exclaimed, 'is this our liberty? Wc can no loiifjer hang whom we please '.'" — Toixonceon, tOMi. i., p. lOX FRENCH REVOLUTION. 49 as free as it was possible for him to be, retaining the least respect to the social compact. It is true, the Frenchman was not practically allowed the benefit of this freedom ; for though the Rights of Man permitted the citizen to go where he would, j'et, in practice, he was apt to find his way to the next prison unless furnished with a municipal pass- port, or to be murdered by the way, if accused of aristocracy. In like manner, his house was secure as a castle, his property sacred as the ornaments of a temple ; — excepting against the Committee of Research, who might, by their arbitrary order, break into the one and dilapidate the other at pleasure. Still, however, the general principle of Liberty was established in the fullest metaphysical extent, and it remained to place on as broad a foot- ing the sister principle of Equality. To this the attention of the Assembly was now chiefly directed. In the proper sense, equality of rights and equality of laws, a constitution which extends like protection to the lowest and the highest, are essential to the existence and to the enjojTuent of freedom. But, to erect a levelling system designed to place the whole mass of the people on the same footing as to habits, manners, tastes, and sentiments, is a gross and ridiculous contradiction of the necessary progress of society. It is a fruitless attempt to wage war with tlie laws of Nature. She has varied the face of the world with mountain and valley, lake and torrent, foi-est and champaign, and she has formed the human body in all the different shapes and complexions we behold, with all the various degrees of physical force and weakness. She has avoided equality in all her productions, as she was formerly said to have abhorred a vacuum ; even in those of her works which present the greatest apparent simi- larity, exact equality does not exist ; no one leaf of a tree is precisely similar to another, and among the countless host of stars, each differs from the other in glory. But, what are these physical varie- ties to the endless change exhibited in the human character, with all its various passions, powers, and prejudices, so artfully compounded in different proportions, that it is probable there has not ex- isted, since Adam's time to ours, an exact resem- blance between any two individuals ? As if tiiis were not enough, there came to aid the diversity, the effects of climate, of government, of education, and habits of life, all of which lead to endless mo- difications of the individual. The inequalities aris- ing from the natural differences of talent and dis- position are multiplied beyond calculation, as society increases in civilisation. The savage may, indeed, boast a rude species of equality in some patriarchal tribes, but the wOiest and strongest, the best hunter, and the bi-avest warrior, soon lords it over the rest, and becomes a king or a chief. One portion of the nation, from happy talents or happy circumstances, rises to the top, another sinlis, hke dregs, to the bottom ; a third portion occupies a mid place between them. As society advances, the difference of ranks ad- vances with it. And can it be proposed seriously, that any other equality, than that of rights, can exist between those who think and those who la- bour ; those " whose talk is of bullocks," and those whose time permits them to study the paths of wi». dom ? Happy, indeed, is the country and constitu- tion, where those distmctions, which must neces- sarily exist in every society, are not separated by insurmountable baiTiers, but where the most dis- tinguished rank is open to receive that precioua supply of wisdom and talent, which so frequently elevates individuals from the lowest to the highest classes ; and, so far as general equality can be at- tained, by each mdividual having a fair right to raise himself to the situation which he is qualified to occupy, by liis talents, his merits, or his wealth, the gates cannot be thrown open too widely. But the attempt of the French legislators was precisely the reverse, and went to establish the proposed equality of ranks, by depressing the upper classes mto the same order with those who occupy the middle of society, while they essayed the yet more absurd attempt to crush down these last, by the weight of legislative authority, into a level with the lowest orders, — men whose education, if it has not corrupted their hearts, must necessarily have blunted their feelings, and who, in a great city hke Paris, exchange the simplicity which makes them respectable under more favourable circumstances, for the habitual indulgence of the coarsest and grossest pleasures. Upon the whole, it must be afhnitted, that in every state far advanced in the progress of civilisation, the inequality of ranks is a natural and necessary attribute. Philosophy may comfort those who regi-et this necessity, by the as- surance tliat the portions of individual happiness and misery are divided amongst high and low with a very equal hand ; and religion assures us, that there is a future state, in which, with amended na- tures and improved faculties, the vain distinctions of this world will no longer subsist. But any pi-ac- tical attempt to remedy the inequaUty of rank in civilized society by forcible measures, may indeed degrade the upper classes, but cannot improve those beneath them. Laws may deprive the gentleman of his title, the man of education of his books, or, to use the French illustration, the muticadin of his clothes ; but this cannot make the clown a man of breeding, or give learning to ignorance, or decent attire to the Sans Culottes. Much will be lost to the grace, the information, and the decency of so- ciety in general, but nothing can possibly be gained by any individual. Nevertheless, it was in this ab- solutely impracticable manner, that the exaggerated feelings of the French legislators, at this period of total change, undertook to equaUze the nation which they were regenerating. With a view to this great experiment upon human society, the Assembly abolished all titles of honour,' all armorial bearings, and even the insig- nificant titles of Monsieur and Madame ; which, meaning nothing but phrases of common courtesy, yet, with other expressions of the same kind, serve to soften the orthnary intercourse of human life, and preserve that gentleness of manners which the French, by a happy name, were wont to call " La petite morale." The first of these abrogations af- fected the nobles in particular. In return for their liberal and unlimited surrender of their essentia] powers and privileges, they were now despoiled of their distinction and rank in society ; — as if those ' " A simple decree, proposed, June 20th, by Lameth, that ralier, should be suppressed, wag carried bjr an overwhelmlns the titles of duke, count, niaiquis, viscount, baron, and che- majoritv.'— Miu.net, torn, i., p. 114. TOL. II. » L- 50 SCOTTS MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. who had made prisoner and plundered a cavalier, should, last of all, have snatched away in derision the plume from his hat. The aristocracy of France, Bo long distinguished as the flower of European chivalry, were now, so far as depended on the legislature, entirely abolished. The voice of the nation had pronounced against them a general sen- tence of degradation, which, according to the feel- ings of the order, could only be the punishment of some foul and disgraceful crime ; and the condition of the ex-nobles might justly have been described as Bolingbroke paints his own, " Eatins the bitter bread of banishment, AVhilst YOU liave fed upon mv signories, Disjiaili'd mv parks, and fell'd my forest woods. From my own windows torn my bounehold coat. Razed out mv impress. Ic.ivinn me no Hvj^n, Save men's opinions and my living blood. To sh(!W the v.orld I was a gentleman." ' It was a fatal error, that, in search of that equa- lity which it is impossible to attain, the Assembly should have torn down the ancient institutions of chivalry. Viewing them philosophically, they are indeed of little value; but where are the advan- tages beyond the means, first, of mere sub.sistence, secondly of information, which ought not to be indifferent to tnie philosophers ? And yet, where exists the true philosopher, who has been able effectually to detach himself from the common mode of thinking on such subjects? The estima- tion set upon birth or rank, supposing its foundation illusory, has still the advantage of counterbalancing that Avjiich is attracted by wealth only ; the preju- dice has something generous and nolile in it, is connected with historical recollections and patriotic feelings, and if it sometimes gives rise to extrava- gances, they are such as society can restrain and punish by the mere effect of ridicule.^ It is curious, even in the midst of the Revolution, and amongst those who were its greatest favourers, what diffi- culties were found to emancipate themselves from those ancient prejudices which affected the differ- ence of ranks.^ As for the proscription of the phraseology of civilized society, it had an absurd appearance of affectation in the eyes of most people of under- standing ; but, on some enthusiastic minds, it pro- duced a worse effect than that of mere disgust. Let a man ])lace himself in the attitude of fear or of rage, and he will in some mea.sure feel the pas- sion arise in his mind which corresponds with the gesture he has assumed. In like manner, those who affected the biiital manners, coarse language, and sloveidy dress of the lower orders, familiarized their imaginations with the violent and savage thoughts and actions proper to the class whose costume they had thus adopted. Above all, when this sacrifice was made to the very taste and phra- seology of that class, (the last points in which one would think them deserving of imitation,) it ap- ' Richard the Second, act iii., sc. i. * " One of the most singular propositions of this day was, that of renouncing the names of estates, which many families had borne for ages, and obliging them to resume their patro- nymic ap))ellat'.ons. In tliis way the Montniorencies would have been called Bouchard; La' Fayette, Mottie; Mirabeau, Riquetti. This would have been stripping France of her his- tory; and no man, how democratic soever, either would or ought to renounce in this manner the memorv of his ances- tors."— M. DE Stael, vol. i., p. 364. 3 The Comte de Mirabeau was furious at being called Ri- qnedi I'nin^, and said, with great bitterness, when Ids speeches were promulgated under that name. " ^-lirc rolrc Vifineili, Kntt ai-fT ./.■■ro.-.VnV V E-ircn- li.i/)- Iruis juuis." Mirabeau peared to intimate the progressive strength oi the revolutionary tide, which, sweepmg before it all distinctions, trivial as well as important, seemed soon destined to overthrow the tlirone, now isola- lated and wellnigh undefended. The next step was necessarily to fix the executive government in the same body which enjoyed the powers of legislation, — the surest of all roads to tyranny. But although the doctrine of equality, thus understood, is absurd in theory and impossible in practice, yet it will always find willing listeners when preached to the lower cla.sses, whose practical view of it results into an agrarian law, or a general division of pro- perty. There was one order yei remaining, however, which was to be levelled, — the destruction of the Church was still to be accomplished ; and the Re- publican party proceeded in the work of demolition with infinite address, by including the great object in a plan for restoring finance, and providing for the expenses of the state, without imposing further burdens on the people. It must be remembered, that the States-General had been summoned to restore the finances of the country. This was the cause of their convocation. But although they had exercised almost every species of power — had thrown down and rebuilt every constituted authority in the kingdom, still the finances were as much embarrassed as ever, or much more so ; since most men in France judged the privilege of refusing to pay taxes, the most unequivocal, and not the least pleasing part, of their newly-acquired freedom. Necker, so often received among the populace as a saviour of tlie country, was here totally at a loss. The whole relative associations which bind men together in the social contract, seemed to be rent asmider; and where public credit is destroyed, a financier, however able, resembles Prospero, after his wand is bi'oken, and his book sunk in the deep sea. Accordingly, Necker in vain importuned the Assembly, by representing the pressure of the finances. They became wearied with his remon- strances, and received them with nianifest symp- toms of coldness and disrespect. What service, indeed, could the regulated advice, and deep-calcu- lated and combined schemes of a financiei-, have rendered to men, who had already their resources in their eye, and were determined that no idle scruple should prevent their pouncing upon them t Necker's expostulations, addressed to their ears were like a lecture upon thrift and industry to Robin Hood and his merry-men, when they were setting forth to rob the rich in the name of the pool". The Assembly had determined, that, all preju- dices apart, the property of the Church should come under confiscation for the benefit of the nation.'' It was in vain that the Clergy exclaimed was at heart an aristocrat. But what shall we say of Cito- yenne Koland, who piques herself on the plebeian sound of her name. iManon Philipo}), yet inconsequentially upbraids Cito- yen Pache with his father's having been a porter! — S. — 'Dlemoirs, part i., p. 140. * This proposition was made by Talleyrand, then Bishop of Autun. In support of it he argued, that "the clergy were not proprietors, but depositories of their estates; that no in- dividual could maintain any right of property, or inheritance in them; that they were bestowed originally by the muniti- cence of kings or nobles, and might now be resumed by the nation, which had succeeded to thrir rights." To this Maury and Sieyes replied, " that it was an unfounded assertion th.-it the proj>erty of the Church was at the disposal of the state* FRENCH REVOLUTION. ol against these acts of i-apine and extortion — in vain that they stated themselves as an existing part of the nation, and that as sucli they had coalesced with the Assembly, under the implied ratiiication of their own rights — in vain that tiiey resounded in the hall the declaration solemnly adopted, that pro- perty was inviolable, save upon full compensation. It was to as little purpose that Mirabeau was re- minded of his language, addressed to the Empei-or Joseph upon a similar occasion. — " Despise the monies," he had said, " as much as you will, but do not rob them. Robbery is equally a crime, whe- ther perpetrated on the most profligate atheist, or the most bigoted capuchin." The Clergy were told, with insulting gravity, that the property be- longing to a community was upon a different foot- ing from that belonging to individuals, because the state might dissolve the community or body-cor- porate, and resume the property attached to it; and, under this sophism, they assumed for the benefit of the public the whole right of property belonging to the Church of France.' As it was impossible to bring these immense subjects at once to sale, the Assembly adopted a system of paper-money, called Assignats, which were secured or hypothecated upon the church- lands. The fluctuation of this paper, which was adopted against Necker's earnest cautions, created a spirit of stock-jobbing and gambling, nearly re- sembhng that which distinguished the famous scheme of the Mississippi. Spelman would have argued, that the taint of sacrilege attached to funds raised upon the spoils of the Church ;^ yet it must be admitted that these supplies enabled the National Assembly not only to avoid the gulf of general bankruptcy, but to dispense with many ter- ritorial exactions which pressed hard on the lower orders, and to give relief and breath to that most useful portion of the community. These desirable results, however, flowed from that divine alchymy which calls good out of evil, without affording a justification to the perpetrators of the latter. Shortly after the adoption of this plan, embraced against his opinion and his remonstrances, Necker saw his services were no longer acceptable to the Assembly, and that he could not be useful to the King. He tendered his resignation, [Sept. 4,] which was received with cold indifference by the Assembly ; and even his safety was endangered on his return to his native country, by the very people who had twice hailed him as their deliverer. This accomplished statesman discovered too late, that public opinion requires to be guided and di- rected towards the ends of public good, which it will not reach by its own unassisted and misdirected efforts ; and that his own popularity had only been the stalking-horse, through means of which, men less honest, and more subtle than himself, had taken aim at their own oDJccts.^ But the majority of the National Assembly had yet another and even a more violent experiment to try upon the Galilean Church establishment. It that it flowed from the munificence or piety of individuals in former ages, and was destined to a peculiar purpose, totally different from secular concerns; that, if the purposes oriii;!- rally intended could not be carried into efl'ect, it should re- vert to the heirs of the donor* but certainly not accrue to the legislature."— Thiers, tom. i., p. V.I3. ' M. de Chateaubriand says, " The funds thus acquired ■were enormous : the church-lands were nearly one-halt of the whole landed properly of the kingdom " was one which touched the consciences of the French clergy in the same degree as the former affected their fortunes, and was so much the less justifiable, that it is difficult to suggest any motive except the sweeping desire to introduce novelty in every department of the state, and to have a con- stitutional clergy as they had a constitutional king, which should have instigated them to such a mea- sure. When the Assembly had decreed the assumption of the church-lands, it remained to ))e settled on what foundation religion was to be placed within the kingdom. A motion was made for decreeing, that the Holy Apostolical religion was that of France, and that its worsliip alone should be permitted. A Carthusian monk, named Dom Gerle, made this proposal, alarmed too late lest the popular party, to which he had so long adhered, should now be about to innovate in the matters of the Church, as they had already in those of the state. The de- bate was conducted with decency for one day, but on the second the hall of the Assembly was sur- rounded by a large and furious ntultitude, who in- sulted, beat, and maltreated all who were known to favour the measure under consideration. It was represented within the house, that the passing the decree proposed would be the signal for a religious war ; and Dom Gerle withdrew his motion in ter- ror and despair. The success of this opposition showed, that al- most any experiment on the Church might be tried w ith effect, since the religion which it taught seemed no longer to interest the national legislators. A scheme was brought forward, in which the public worship {cidte piihlique) as it was affectedly termed, without any addition of reverence, (as if to give it the aid of a mere code of format enactments,) was provided for on the narrowest and most economical plan. But this was not all. A civil constitution was, by the same code, framed for the clergy, de- claring them totally independent of the See of Rome, and vesting the choice of bishops in the depart- mental authorities. To this constitution each priest and prelate was required to adhere by a solemn oath. A subsequent decree of the Assembly de- clared forfeiture of his benefice against whomsoever should hesitate ; but the clergy of France show ed in that trying moment, that they knew how to choose betwixt sinning against their conscience, and suffering wrong at the hands of man. Their dependence on the See of Rome was a part of their creed, an article of their faith, which they would not compromise. The noble attitude of firmness and self-denial adopted by prelates and richly-benc- ficed clergymen, who had hitherto been thought more governed by levities of every kind than by regard to their profession, commanded for a time the respect of the Assembly, silenced the blasphe- mies of the hired assistants in the tribunes, and gave many to fear that, in depriving the Church of its earthly power, the Assembly might but give them means to extend their spiritual dominion more 2 See Sir Henry Spelman's treatise on the " History of Sacrilege." 3 See M. de Stael, vol. 1., p. .Tn4. " Tlic retreat nf Necker produced a total change in tlie ministry. iH those who now came into office two were destined to perish on the scaffold, and a third by the sword nf the rcvoluliuiiary assa»5iu3."— Laciietbli.e, torn, viii., p. 112. 52 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. widely, and awake an interest in their fate which Blumbered during tlieir prosperity. " Beware wliat you do," said Rlontlosier. « You may expel the bishop from his episcopal residence, but it will be only to open to him the cabins of the poor. If you take from his hands the cross of gold, he will dis- play a cross of wood ; and it was by a cross of wood that the world was saved." ^ Summoned, one by one, to take the oath, or re- fuse it under the consequences menaced, the As- sembly, fearful of the effect of their firmness, would scarce liear these sufferers speak a syllable, save Yes or No. Their tumult on the occasion resem- bled the beating of drums to di-own the last words of a martyr. Few, indeed, were the priests who accepted the constitutional oath. There were in the number only three bishops. One had been a person of note — it was that Archbishop of Sens — that very cardinal, whose maladministration of fifteen months had led to this mighty change. Another of the three Constitutional prelates vcas destined to be much more remarkable — it was the celebrated Talley- rand, whose talents as a statesman have been so distinguished. The National Assembly failed totally in their attempts to found a national Church. The priests who took tlie oaths received neither reverence nor affection, and were only treated with decency by such as considered religion in the light of a useful political institution. They were alike despised by the sincere Catholic, and the declared infidel. All of real religious feeling or devotion that was left in France tm'ned towards their ancient pastors, and though the impulse was not strong enough to coun- teract the revolutionary movement, it served, on many occasions, to retard and embaiTass it.^ The experiment which had thus signally miscarried, was indeed as impolitic as it was unnecessary. It can only be imputed, on the one hand, to the fana- ticism of the modern philosophers,^ who expected, by this indirect course, to have degraded the Christian religion ; and, on the other, to the pre- concerted determination of the Revolutionists, that no consideration should interfere witli the plan of new-modelling the nation through all its institu- tions, as well of Church as of State. Victorious at once over altar and throne, mitre and coronet, King, Nobles, and Clergy, the Na- tional Assembly seemed, in fact, to possess, and to exert, that omnipotence, which has been imputed to the British Parliament. Never had any legis- lature made such extensive and sweeping changes, and never were such changes so easily accomplish- ed. The nation was altered in all its relations ; its flag and its emblems were changed — every thing of a public character was destroyed and replaced, dowu to the very title of the sovereign, who, no longer termed King of France and Navarre, was no^y called King of the French. The names and divisions of the provinces, which had existed for many years, were at once obhterated, and were supplied by a geographical partition of the ten-i- tory into eighty-three departments, subdivided into six hundred districts, and these again portioned out into forty-eight thousand communities or munici- ' Lacretelle, torn, viii., p. 38. 2 Mignet, torn, i., pp. 107, 121 ; Thiers, torn, i., pp. 240. 3 ilifinet eays, " The Constitutional Church establishment jialities. By thus recasting, as it were, the whole geographical relations of the separate territories of which France consisted, the Abbe' Sieyes designed to obliterate former recollections and distinctions, and to bring every thing down to the general level of liberty and equality. But it had an effect be- yond what was proposed. While the provinces existed they had their separate capitals, their se- parate privileges ; and those capitals, though in a subordinate rank, being yet the seats of provincial parliaments, had a separate consequence, inferior to, but yet distinct from, that of Paris. But when France became one single province, the importance of its sole capital, Paris, was increased to a most formidable degree ; and during the whole Revolu- tion, and through all its changes, whatever party held the metropolis was sure speedily to acquire the supreme power through the whole departments ; and woe to those who made the fruitless attempt to set the sense or feelings of the nation in opposition to those of the capital ! Republican or royalist was equally sure to perish in the rash attempt. Tlie Parliaments of France, long the strongholds of liberty, now perished unnoticed, as men pull down old houses to clear the ground for modern edifices. The sale of offices of justice was formally abolished ; the power of nominating the judges was taken from the crown ; the trial by jury, with in- quests of accusation and conviction, corresponding to the grand and petty juries of England, were sanctioned and established. In thus clearing the channels of public justice, dreadfully clogged as they had become during the decay of the monarchy, the National Assembly rendered the greatest pos- sible services to France, the good eflects of which will long be felt. Other alterations were of a more doubtful character. Tliere might be immediate policy, but there was certainly much harshness, in wresting from the crown the power of granting par- dons. If this was for fear lest grace should be ex- tended to those condemned for the new crime of leeze-nation, or treason against the Constitution, the legislators might have remembered how seldom the King dares to exercise this right of mercy in favour of an unpopular criminal. It requires no small courage to come betwixt the dragon and his wrath, the people and their victim. Charles 1. dared not save Strafford. The National Assembly also recognised the free- dom of the press ; and, in doing so, conferred on the nation a gift fraught with much good and some e%dl, capable of stimidating the worst passions, and circulating the most atrocious calumnies, and oc- casioning frequently the most enormous deeds of cruelty and mjustice ; but ever bearing along with it the means of curing the very evils caused by its abuses, and of transmitting to futurity the senti- ments of the good and the wise, so invaluable when the passions are silenced, and the calm slow voice of reason and reflection comes to obtain a hearing. The press stimulated massacres and proscriptions during the frightful period which we are approach- ing ; but the press has also held up to horror the memory of tlie perpetrators, and exposed the arti- fices by which the actors were instigated. It is a was not the work of the modem philosojihers. but wa.s devi.sed by the Jansenists, or rigid party." No doubt, the Janstnists, dupes of the philosophers, fancied themsclvts guides instead of blind instruments. FRENX'H EEVOLUTION. rock on which a vessel may be indeed, and is often wrecked ; but that same rock affords the foundation of t]ie brightest and noblest beacon. We might add to the weight of benefits which France unquestionably owes to The Constituent As- sembly, that they restored liberty of conscience by establishing universal toleration. But against this benefit must be set the ^"iolent imposition of the constitutional oath upon the Catholic clergy, which led afterwards to such horrible massacres of inno- cent and reverend victims, murdered in defiance of those rules of toleration, which, rather in scorn of religion of any kind than regard to men's con- sciences, the Assembly had previously adopted. Faithful to their plan of forming not a popular monarchy, but a species of royal republic, and sti- mulated by the real Republicans, whose party was daily gaining gi'ound among their ranks, as well as by the howls and threats of those violent and out- rageous demagogues, who, from the seats they had adopted ir. the Assembly, were now known by the name of the " Mountain," ' the framers of the Con- stitution had rendered it democratical in every point, and abridged the royal authority, till its powers became so dim and obsciu-e as to merit Burke's happy illustration, when he exclaimed, speaking of the new-modelled French govern- ment, — " What seem'd its head. The likeiiMS of a kingly cto^th had on." The crown was deprived of all appointments to civil offices, which were filled up by popular elec- tions, the Constitutionalists being, in this respect, faithful to their own principles, which made the will of the people the source of all power. Never was such an immense patronage vested in the body of any nation at large, and the arrangement was politic in the immediate sense, as well as in confor- mity with the principles of those w ho adopted it ; for it attached to the new Constitution the mass of the people, who felt themselves elevated from vil- lanage into the exercise of sovereign power. Each member of the elective assembly of a municipaUty, through whose collective votes bishops, administra- tors, judges, and other official persons received their appointments, felt for the moment, the importance ■which his privilege bestowed, and recognised in his own person, with corresponding self-complacency, a fi-action, however small, of the immense commu- nity, now governed by those whom they themselves elected into oftice. The chai-m of power is great at all times, but exquisite to intoxication to those to whom it is a novelty. Called to the execution of these high duties, which hitherto they had never di-eamed of, the people at large became enamoured of their o\N'n privileges, carried them into every department of society, and were legislators and debaters, in sea- son and out of season. The exercise even of the extensive privilege committed to them, seemed too limited to these active citizens. The Revolution appeared to have turned the heads of the whole lower classes, and those who liad hitherto thought least of political rights, were now seized with the fury of deliberating, debatuig, and legislating, in all possible times and places. The soldiers on guard debated at the Oratoire — the jom-neymen tailors ' It was their cuftom to sit on the tiighest rowB of benches in the halL held a popular assembly at the Colonnade — the peruke-makers met at the Champs-Elysdes. In spite of the opposition of the national guard, three thousand shoemakers dehberated on the price of shoes in the Place Louis Quinze ; every house of call was converted into the canvassing hall of a political body ; and France for a time presented the singular picture of a country, where every one was so much involved in public business, tliat hp had little leisure to attend to his own. There was, besides, a general disposition to as- sume and practise the military profession ; for the right of insurrection having been declared sacred, each citizen was to be prepared to discharge effec- tually so holy a duty. The citizens procured mus- kets to defend their property — the rabble obtained pikes to invade that of others — the people of every class every where possessed themselves of arms, and the most peaceful burgesses were desirous of the honours of the epaulet. The children, with mimicry proper to their age, formed battalions on the streets, and the spu'it Ln which they were formed was intimated by the heads of cats borne upon pikes in front of the juvenile revolutionists.'^ In the departments, the fever of legislation was the same. Each district had its permanent com- mittee, its committee of police, its military commit- tee, civil committee, and committee of subsistence. Each committee had its president, its vice-president, and its secretaries. Each district was desirous of exercising legislative authority, each committee of usurping the executive power.^ Amid these sub- ordinate conclaves, every theme of eulogy and en- thusiasm referred to the Revolution which had made way for the power they enjoyed, every sub- ject of epidemic alarm to the most distant return towards the ancient system which had left the people in insignificance. Rumour found a ready audience for every one of her thousand tongues ; Discord a prompt hand, in which she might place each of her thousand snakes. The Affiliation, as it was called, or close corres- pondence of the Jacobin Clubs in all their ramifi- cations, tended to influence this political fever, and to direct its fury against the last remains of royalt}-. Exaggerated and vmfounded reports of counter- revolutionary plots and aristocratical conspiracies, not a little increased by the rash conversation and impotent efforts of the nobility in some districts, were circulated with the utmost care ; and the falsehood, which had been confuted at Paris, re- ceived new cuiTency in the departments ; as that which was of departmental growth was again cir- culated with eagerness in the metropohs. Thus, the minds of the people were perpetually keplf in a state of excitation, which is not without its plea- sures. They are of a nature peculiarly incompati- ble with souiidness in judgment and moderation in action, but favourable, in the same degree, to auda- city- of thought, and determination in execution. The royal prerogative of the King, so closely watched, was in appearance formidable enough to be the object of jealousy and suspicion, but in reaUty a mere pageant which possessed no means either of attack or resistance. The King was said to be the organ of the executive power, yet he had named but a small proportion of the officers in the army and - Mt'inoins du Mnivjuis des Fciriercs, 1. 3 Memoixes de liailii. IG AoOt 54 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WOKKS. navy, and those who received their appointments from a source so obnoxious, possessed little credit amongst those whom they commanded. He was the no;ninai head of six ministers, who were per- petually liable to be questioned by the Assembly, in which they might be called to defend themselves as criminals, but had no seat or vote to enable them to mingle in its debates. This was, perhaps, one of the greatest errors of the constitution ; for the relation which the ministers bore to the legislative body, was of such a limited and dependent nature, as excluded all ideas of confidence and cordiality. The King's person was said to be inviolable, but the ft'owning brows of a large proportion of his subjects, their public exclamations, and the pamph- lets circulated against him, intimated very different doctrine. He might propose to the Assembly the question of peace or war, but it remained with them to decide upon it. Lastly, the King had the much- grudged privilege of putting a veto on any decree of the legislative body, which was to have the eff'eet of suspending the passing of the law until the pro- position had been renewed in two successive As- semblies ; after which the royal sanction was held as granted. This mode of aiTCSting the progress of any favourite law was likely to be as dangerous to the sovereign in its exercise, as the attempt to stop a carriage by catching hold of the wheel. In fact, whenever the King attempted to use this sole relic of monarchical power, he risked his life, and it was by doing so that he at length forfeited it. Among these mutilated features of sovereignty, it is scarcely worth while to mention, that the King's effigy was still struck upon the public coin, and his name prefixed to public edicts. Small as was the share of public power which the new Constitution of France afforded to the crown, Louis, in outward semblance at least, ap- peared satisfied. He made it a rule to adopt the advice of the Assembly on all occasions, and to sanction every decree which was presented to him. He accepted even that which totally changed the constitution of the Galilean Church. He considered himself, doubtless, as under forcible restraint, ever since he had been dragged in triumph from Ver- sailles to Paris, and therefore complied with what was proposed to him, under the tacit protest that his acquiescence was dictated by force and fear. His palace was guarded by eight hundred men, with two pieces of cannon ; and although this dis- play of force was doubtless intended by La Fayette to assure Louis's personal safety, yet it was no less certain that it was designed also to prevent his escape from the metropolis. The King had, there- fore,' good cause to conceive himself possessed of the melancholy privilege of a prisoner, who cannot incur any legal obligation by acts which do not flow from free-will, and therefore finds a resource against oppression in the incapacities which attend it. It was, however, carrying this privilege to the verge of dissimulation, nay, beyond it, when the King went, [Feb. 4,] apparently freely and volun- ' Prudhomme, torn. ii.. p, Sil^. 2 See Migiiet, torn, i., p. 12G: Lacretel'c-, torn, viii., p 128. _ " 1 have had in my hands a letter of Mirabcau, written for the purpose of bcin^ shomi to the King. He there made offer of all his means to restore to France an tfticient and re- spected, but a limited monarchy ; he made use, among others. of thi» remarkable expression •' ' I should lament to have la tai'ily, down to the National Assembly, and, in a dignified and touching speech, (could it have beeu thought a sincere one,) accepted the Constitution, made common cause with the regenerated nation, and declared himself the head of the Revolution.' Constrained as he w-as by circumstances, anxious for his own safety, and that of his family, the con- duct of Louis must not be too severely criticized ; but this step was unkingly as well as impolitic, and the unfortunate monarch gained nothing by abasing himself to the deceit which he practised at the m-gency of his ministers, excepting the degradation attending a deception by which none are deceived. No one, when the heat of the first enthusiasm was over, gave the King credit for sincerity in his acceptance of the Constitution : the Royalists were revolted, and the Revolutionists could only regard the speech and accession as the acts of royal hypo- crisy. Louis was openly Hjinken of as a prisoner ^ and the public voice, in a thousand different forms, announced that his life would be the penalty of any attempt to his deliverance. Meanwhile, the King endeavoured to work out his escape from Paris and the Revolution at once, by the means of two sepai'ate agents in whom alone he confided. The first was no other than Mirabeau — that very Mirabeau who iiad contributed so much to the Re- volution, but who, an aristocrat at heart, and won over to the royal party by high promises of wealth and advancement, at length laboured seriously to undo his own work."'^ His plan was, to use the Assembly itself, in which his talents, eloquence, and audacity, gave him so much influence, as the means of re-establishmg the royal authority. He proposed, as the final measure, that the King should retire from Pai"is to Compicgne, then under the government of the Marquis de Bouille, and he con- ceived his owTi influence in the Assembly to bo such, that he could have drawn thither, upon some reasonable terms of accommodation, a great majo- rity of the members. It is certain he had the high- est ascendency which any individual orator exer- cised over that body, and was the only one who dared to retort threats and defiance to the formid- able Jacobins. " I have resisted military and ministerial despotism," said he, when opposing a proposed law against the emigrants ; " can it be supposed I will yield to that of a club V — " By what right V exclaimed Goupil, " does Mirabeau act as a dictator in the Assembly ! " — " Goupil," replied Mirabeau, "is as much mistaken when he calls me a dictator, as formerly when he termed me a Cata- hne." — The indignant roar of the Jacobins bellow- ing from their boasted mountain, in vain endea- votired to inten-upt him. — " Silence these thirty voices," said jNlirabeau, at the full pitch of his thundering voice ; and the volcano was silent at li's bidding.^ Yet, possessed as he was of this mighty pow er, Mirabeau did not, perhaps, reflect how much less it would have availed him on the royal side, than when he sailed with all the wind and tide boured at nothing but a vast destruction."" — -M. dk Stakl, vol. i., p. 401. " He (iMirabcaui received for a short time a pension o1 20,n('l' francs, or .Hfi'd a-uionth, first frou. tiit Comte DArlois. and aftervrards the King ; but he considcrei! iiiniself an .iKcnt intrusted with their utfairs. and he accepted those pensioiit not to be governed bv, but to govern, thuae who granted them." — J^I-MO.VT. p. 2.31). " Lacretelle, tom. viii., p. IQH. FRENCH REVOLUTION. 55 which the spirit of a great and general revohition could lend him. He was a man, too, as remarkaljle for his piofligaey as his wonderful talents, and the chance « liich the King must have risked in em- barking with him, was like tliat of the prince in the tale, who escaped from a desert island by em- barking on board a skiff drifting among dangerous eddies, and rowed by a figure half human and half tiger.' The experiment was prevented by the Budden and violent illness and death of Miral)ean, who fell a victim to his debaucheries. ^ Ilis death [April '2, 1791] was gi-eatly lamented, though it is probable that, had the Apostle of the Revolu- tion lived much longer, he would either have averted its progress, or his dissevered limbs would have ornamented the pikes of those multitudes, who, as it was, followed him to the grave with wea- pons trailed, and howling and lamentation.-' The King's other confidant was the Marquis de Bouille, a person entirely different from Mirabeau. He was a French soldier of the old stamp, a Roy- alist by birth and disposition ; had gained consider- able fame during the American war, and at the time of the Revolution was governor of Metz and Alsace. Bouille' was endowed with a rare force of character, and proved able, without having recourse to disguise of any kind, to keep the garrison of Metz in tolerable discipline during the general dissolution of the army. The state of military in- subordination was so great, that La Fayette, and his party in the Assembly, not only hesitated to dismiss a general who was feared and obeyed by the regiments under his command, but. Royalist as he was, they found themselves obliged to employ the Marquis de Bouille and Ins troops in subduing the formidable revolt of three regiments quartered at Nancy, which he accomplished with complete success, and such slaughter among the insurgents, as was likely to recommend subordination in future. The Republican party of course gave this act of authority the name of a massacre of the people, and even the Assembly at large, though BouiUe' acted in consequence of their authority, saw with anxiety the increased importance of an avowed Royalist. La Fayette, who was Bouille's relation, spared no pains to gain him to the Constitutional side, while Bouille' avowed publicly that he only retained his command in obedience to the King, and in the hope of serving him.* With this general, who had as yet preserved an authority that was possessed by no other Royalist hi France, the King entered into a close though secret correspondence in cipher, which turned chiefly on the best mode of facilitating the escape of the royal family from Paris, where late inci- dents had rendered his abode doubly odious, and doubly dangerous. La Fayette's strength consisted in his popularity Vihh the middle classes of the Parisians, who, in the character of national guards, looked up to him as • Mirabean bore much of his cliaractrr imprinted on his person and features. He was sliort, buU-neeKed, and very Btron;;!)' made. A (jiiantity of tliick matted hair hung round features of a coarse and exajjserated character, strongly scarred and seamed. " Figure to your mind," he said, de- BcribinE his own countenance to a lady wlio knew liim not, '• a tiger wlio lias liad the 9mall-]iox." When he talked of confrontinf; his opjionents in tlie Assembly, his favourite phrase was, " I will show them La Hure," that is, tlic boar's nead, meaning his own tusked and shagt.'y countenance. — S. * " Mirabeau knew that his end was aiiproachinc. ' After my death,' said he, ' the factions will share among thcmselvoi their commandant, and in general obeyed his orders in dispersing those tumultuous assemblies of the lower orders, which threatened danger to persons and property. But La Fayette, though fixed in his principle to preserve monarchy as a part of the constitution, seems to have been always on cold and distrustful terms with the monarch personally. He was perpetually trying his own feelings, and those wliom he influenced, by the thermometer, and became alarmed if his own loyalty or theirs aros<» above the most tepid degree. Two marked incidents served to show that the civic guard were even less warm than their com- mandant in zeal for the royal person. The national guard, headed by La Fayette, to- gether with the edict respecting martial law, had, as we have observed, greatly contributed to the restoration of order in Paris, by checking, and dis- persing, upon various occasions, those disorderly assemblies of rioters, whose violence and ci-uelty had dishonoured the commencement of the Revo- lution. But the spirit which raised these commo- tions was unabated, and was carefully nourished by the Jacobins and all their subordinate agents, whose popularity lay among the rabble, as that of the Constitutionalists did with the citizens. Among the current falsehoods of the day, arose a report that the old castle of Vincennes, situated about three miles from Paris, was to be used as a state prison in place of the Bastile. A large mob marched from the suburb called Saint .\ntoine, the residence of a great number of labourers of the lowest order, already distinguished by its zeal for the revolu- tionary doctrines. [Feb. 20.] They were about to commence the destruction of the ancient castle, when the vigilant commandant of Paris arrived, and dispersed them, not without bloodshed. In the meantime, the few Royalists whom Paris still contained, became alai'med lest this tumult, though begimiing in another quarter, might be turned against the person of the King. For his protection about three hundi-ed gentlemen re])aired to the Tuileries, armed with sword canes, short swords, pistols, and such other weapons as could be best concealed about their persons, as they went through the streets. Their services and zeal were gra- ciously acknowledged by the unfortunate Louis, little accustomed of late to such marks of devotion. But when La Fayette returned to the palace, at the head of his grenadiers of the national guard, he seems not to have been ill pleased that the in- trusion of these gentlemen gave him an opportunity of showing, that if he had dispersed the revolu- tionary mob of the Fauxbourgs, it was without any undue degree of affection to the royal cause. He felt, or affected, extreme jealousy of the armed aristocrats whom he found in the Tuileries, and treated them as men who liad indecently thrust themselves into the palace, to usurp the duty of defending the King's person, by law consigned to the shreds of the monarchy.' He suffered cruelly in the last days of his life ; and, when no longer able to si)eak, wrote to his physician for a dose of opium, in these words of Hamlet, ' to die— to sleep.' He received no cunsolatiun from religion." — M. DK Stakl, vol. i., p. 40^. His funeral obsequies were celebrated with extraordl liv to pates iroMi all til nuies were celebrated with extraordi- narv jioMip bv torch liu'it ; -Jd.oiHi national uu.irds, and dele- Uoiis of I'aris, accompanied the corpse to the I'anthcon, where it was placed by the remains of I)e« Cartes."— Lacbetkli.k, toni. viii., p. lyj. * 'i'oulongcon, torn, i., p. 242; Minuet, torn, i., p. 132. 56 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE "\^ OT?KS. ttie national f^uartl. To appease the jealousy of the civic soldiers, the King issued his commands upon the Royalists to lay down their arms. He was no sooner obeyed by those, to whom alone out of so many millions he could still issue his com- mands, than a most scandalous scene ensued. The soldiers, falling upon the unfortunate gentlemen, expelled them from the palace with blows and in- sult, applying to them the same of " Knights of the Poniard," afterwards often repeated in revolution- ary objurgation. The vexation and sorrow of the captive prince had a severe effect on his health, and was followed by indisposition. The second incident we have alluded to inti- mated even more directly the personal restraint in which he was now held. Early in spring [April 18,] Louis had expressed his purpose of going to Saint Cloud, under the pretext of seeking a change of air, but in reality, it may be supposed, for the purpose of ascertaining what degree of liberty he would be permitted to exercise. The royal car- riages were drawn out, and the Kuig and Queen had already mounted theirs, when the cries of the spectators, echoed by those of the national guards who were upon duty, declared that the King should not be permitted to leave the Tuileries. La Fay- ette aiTived — commanded, implored, threatened the refractory guards, but was answered by their una- nimous refusal to obey his orders. After the scene of tumult had lasted more than an hour, and it had been clearly proved that La Fayette's au- thority was unable to accomplish his purpose, the royal persons returned to the palace, now their ab- solute and avowed prison.' La Fayette was so much moved by this affront, that he laid down his commission as commandant of the national guard ; and although he resumed it, upon the general remonstrances and excuses of the corps, it was not without severely reproaching them for their want of discipline, and intimating justly, that the respect they showed ought to be ior his rank and office, not for his person. Meantime, the natural inferences from these cruel lessons, drove the King and Queen nearly despe- rate. The events of the 28th of February had shown that they were not to be permitted to intro- duce their friends or defenders within the fatal walls which inclosed them ; those of the 18th April proved, that they were not allowed to leave their precincts. To fly from Paris, to gather around him such faithful subjects as might remain, seemed, though a desperate resource, the only one which remained to the unhappy monarch, and the prepa- rations were already made for the fatal experi- ment. The Marquis de Bouill^ had, under various pre- tences, formed a camp at Montmedy, and had drawn thither some of the troops he could best depend upon ; but such was the universal indisposition, both of the soldiery and the people of every descrip- tion, that the general seems to have entertained almost no hope of any favourable result for the royal cause.^ The King's life might have been raaved by his escaping into foreign parts, but there v/as hardly any prospect of restoring the monarchy. ' Lacretelle, torn, viii., p. 220. 2 Misnet, torn, i., p. 132; Thiers, torn, i., p. 287. 3 See Annual Register, vol. xxxiii.. p. 131. * " To deceive any one that iniRbt follow, we drove about •evcral streets: at last we returned to the Little Carousel. Tlie history of the miliappy Journey to Varen nes is well known. On the night between the '20th and 21st of June, Louis and his Queen, with tlieir two children, attended by the Princess Elizabeth and Madame de Tourzel, and escorted by three gentlemen of the gardes du corps, set out in dis- guise from Paris. The King left behind him a long manifesto, inculpating the Assembly for various political errors, and solemnly protesting agauist the acts of government to which he had been compelled, as he stated, to give his assent, during what he termed his captivity, which he seemed to have dated from his compulsory residence in the Tuileries.^ The very first person whom the Queen encoun- tered in the streets was La Fayette liimself, as he crossed the Place du Carousel.'' A hundred other dangers attended the route of the unfortunate fugi- tives, and the hair-breadth escapes by which they profited, seemed to intimate the favour of fortune, while they only proved her mutability. An escort placed for them at the Pont de Sommeville, had been withdrawn, after their remaining at that place for a time had excited popular suspicion. At Saint Menehould they met a small detachment of dra- goons, stationed there by Bouille, also for their escort. But while they halted to change horses, the King, whose features were remarkable, was recognised by Drouet, a son of the postmaster The young man was a keen revolutionist, and re- solving to prevent the escape of the sovereign, he momited a horse, and pushed forwards to Varennes to prepare the municipality for the arrival of the King. Two remarkable chances seemed to show that the good angel of Louis still strove in his favour. Drouet was pursued by a resolute Royalist, a quar- termaster of dragoons, vho suspected his purpose, and followed him with the design of preventing it, at all hazards. But Drouet, better acquainted ^\itli the road, escaped a pursuit which might have been fatal to him. The other incident was, that Drouet for a time pursued the road to Verdun, instead of that to Varennes, concluding the King had taken the former direction, and was only undeceived by an accident. He reached Varennes, and found a ready dispo- sition to stop the flight of the luihappy prince. The King was stopped at Varennes and arrested ; the national guards were called out — the dragoons re- fused to fight in the King's defence — an escort of hussars, who might have cut a passage, arrived too late, acted with reluctance, and finally deserted the town. Still there remained one last throw for their freedom. If the time could have been protracted but for an hour and a half, Bouills? would have been before Varennes at the head of such a body of faithful and disciplined troops as might easily have dispersed the national militia. He had even opened a correspondence with the royal prisoners through a faithful emissary who ventured into Varennes, and obtained speech of the King ; but could obtain no answer more decided than that, being a prisoner, Louis declined giving any orders. Finally, almost all the troops of the Mai-quis de Bouille declared against the King and in favour of the nation, tend- My brother was fast asleep at the bottom of the carriage. We saw M. de la Fayette go by, who hod been at my father's coucher. There we remained, waiting a full hour, ignorant of what was going on. Never did time appear so tedious."— Di'CHESs OF Angouleme'b Narrative, p. 9. FRENCH REVOLUTION. 57 ing to show the httle chance which existed of a favourable issue to the King's attempt to create a llojalist force. The Marquis himself made his escape with ditliculty into the Austrian territories.' Tlie Parisians in general, but especially the Legislative Assembly, had been at first astounded, as if by an earthquake. The King's escape seemed \o menace his instant return at the head of aristo- cratical levies, supported by foreign troops. Re- flection made most men see, as a more probable termination, that the dynasty of the Bourbons could no longer hold the crown ; and that the government, already so democratical in principle, must become a republic in all its forms.^ The Constitutionalists grieved that their constitution required a monarchi- cal head ; tlie Republicans rejoiced, for it had long been their object to abolish the kingly office. Nor did the anarchists of the Jacobin Club less exult ; for the events which had taken place, and their probable consequences, were such as to animate the revolutionary spirit, exasperate the public mind, prevent the return of order, and stimulate the evil passions of lawless ambition, and love of blood and rapine. But La Faj'ette was determined not to relinquish tlie constitution he had formed, and, in spite of the unpopularity of the royal dignity, rendered more so by this frustrated attempt to escape, he was re- solved to uphold it ; and was joined in this purpose by Barnave and others, who did not always share his sentiments, but who thought it shame, appa- rently, to show to the world, that a constitution, framed for immortality upon the best political principles of the most accomplished statesmen in France, was so slightly built, as to part and go asunder at the first shock. The purpose of the commandant of Paris, however, was not to be accomplished without a victory over the united strength of the Republican and Jacobinical parties, who on their part might be expected to put in motion on the occasion their many-handed revolu- tionai'}' engine, an insurrection of the people. Such was the state of political opinions, when the unfortunate Louis was brought back to Paris.^ He was, with his wife and children, covered with dust, dejected with sorrow, and exhausted with fatigue. The faithful gardes du corps who had accompanied their flight, sate bound like felons on the driving seat of the carriage. His progress was at first silent and unhonoured. The guard did not present arms — the people remained covered — no ' Bouillt's Memoirs, ]>]). 275-290; Lacretelle, torn. viiL, p. 258. - The following anecdote will serve to show by what means this conclusion was insinuated into the public mind. A group in the Palais Rojal were discussing in great alarm the conse- quences of the King's flight, when a man, dressed in a thread- bare great-coat, leaped upon a chair and addressed them thus: — " Citizens, listen to a tale, which shall not be a long one. A certain well-meaning Neapolitan was once on a time startled in his evening walk, by the astounding intelligence that the i'ope was dead. He had not recovered his astonishment, when behold he is informed of a new disaster, — the King of Naples was also no more. ' Surely,' said the worthy Neapo- litan, ' the sun must vanish from heaven at such a combination of fatalities." But they did not cease here, The Archbishop of Palermo, he is informed, has also died suddenly. Over- come by this last shock he retired to bed, but not to sleep. In the moniing he was disturbed in liis melancholy reverie by a. rumbling noise, which he recognised at once to be the mo- tion of the wooden instrument which makes macaroni. ' Aha !' eays the good man, starting up, ' can I trust my ears? — The Pope is dead— the King of Na])les is dead— the Bishop of Pa- lermo is dead— yet my neighbour the baker makes macaroni ! Come! The lives of these great folk are not then so iiidis- man said God bless him. At another part of the route, a number of the rabble precipitated them- selves on the carriage, and it was with the utmost diSiculty that the national guards and some depu- ties, could assure it a safe passage.^ Under such auspices were the royal family committed once moi-e to their old prison of the Tuileries. Meantime the crisis of the King's fate seemed to be approaching. It was not long ere the political parties had an opportunity of trying their respec- tive force. A meeting was held, upon the motion of the Republican and Jacobinical leaders, in the Champ de Mars, [July 17,] to subscribe a petition* for the dethronement of the King, couched in the boldest and broadest terms. There was in this plain a wooden edifice raised on scaffolding, called the Altar of the Country, which had been erected for the ceremony of the Federation of 14 th July, 1790, when the assembled representatives of the various departments of France took their oath to observe the constitution. On this altar the peti- tion was displayed for signature ; but each revolu- tionary act required a preliminary libation of blood, and the victims on this occasion were two wretched invalids, whom the rabble found at breakfast under the scaffolding which supported the revolutionary altar, and accused of a design to blow up the pa- triots. To accuse was to condemn. They were murdered without mercy, and their heads paraded on pikes, became as usual the standards of the iu- svirgent citizens.^ The municipal officers attempted to disperse the assemblage, but to no purpose. Bailli, mayor of Paris, together with La Fayette, resolved to repel force by force ; martial law was proclaimed, and its signal, the red flag, was displayed from the Hotel de Ville. La Fayette, with a body of grenadiers, arrived in the Champ de ALars. He was received with abuse, and execrations of " Down with La Fayette! Down with martial law!" followed by a volley of stones. The commandant gave orders to fire, and was on this occasion most promptly obeyed ; for the grenadiers pouring their shot directly into the crowd, more than a hundred men lay dead at the first volley. The Champ de Mars was empty in an instant, and the constituted autho- rity, for the first time since the Revolution com- menced, remained master of a contested field. La Fayette ought to have followed up this triumph of the legal force, by giving a triumph to the law it- self, in the trial and conviction of some of his pri- pcnsable to the world after all.' " The man in the great-coat iumped down and disappeared. " I have caught his mean- ing," said a woman amongst the listeners. " He has told us a tale, and it begins like all tuies— T/iere teas oxen a King and a Queen."— H. , „, ,, l , 3 Three commissioners, Petion, La Tour Maubourg, and Barnave, were sent to reconduct the fugitives to Paris. Thej met them at Epernay, and travcUeil with them to the Tui- leries. During the jourrev, Barnave, though a stern Repu- blican, was so melted by the graceful dignity of the Queen, and impressed with the good sense and benevolence ot the King, that he became inclined to the royal cause, and ever after supported their fortunes. His attentions to the Queen were so delicate, and his conduct so gentle, that she assured Madan)e tampan, that she forgave him all the injuries he had inflicted on her family.— Thikks, torn, i., p. iV.i. * " Count de DampieiTC, a nobleman inhabiting a chateau near the road, approaching to kiss the hand of the King, was instantly pierced by several balls from the escort ; his blood sprinkled the roval carriage, and his remains were torn to pieces by the savaf^cs."— Lacrbtelj.e, torn viii., p. 271 ; M. DK Campan, torn. 11., p. 154. 5 Drawn up by Brissot, author of the Patriot Fraiifaise. c Lacretelle, torn, viii., p. .'til. 58 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. soners, selecting particularly the agitators employed by the Club of Jacobins ; but he thought he had done enough in frightening tliese harpies back to their dens. Some of their leaders sought and found refuge among the Republicans, which was not, in that hour of danger, very willingly granted.' Marat, and many others who had been hitherto the un- daunted and unwearied instigators of the rabble, were compelled to skulk in obscurity for some time after this victory of the Champ de Mars, which the Jacobins felt severely at the time, and forgot not afterwards to avenge most cruelly.^ This victory led to the triumph of the Constitu- tionalists in the Assembly. The united exertions of those who argued against the deposition of Louis, founding their reasoning upon that constitutional law, which declares the King inviolable in his per- son, overpowered the party who loudly called on the Assembly to proclaim his forfeiture, or appoint his trial. The Assembly clogged, however, the future inviolability of the King with new penalties. If tlie King, having accepted the constitution, should retract, they decreed he should be considered as abdicated. If he should order his army, or any part of it, to act against the nation, this should, in like manner, be deemed an act of abdication ; and an abdicated monarch, it was farther decreed, should become an ordinary citizen, answerable to the laws for every act he had done since the act of abdication. The constitution, with the i-oyal immunity thus curtailed and maimed, was now again presented to the King, who again accejited it purely and simply, in terms which, while they excited acclamation from the Assembly, were but feebly echoed from the gallery, [September 14.] The legislators were glad to make a virtue of necessity, and complete their constitutional code, though in a precarious manner ; but tlie hearts of the people were now decidedly alienated from the King, and, by a strange concurrence of misfortune, mixed with some errors, Louis, whose genuine and disinterested good inten- tions ought to have made him the darling of his subjects, had now become the object of their jea- lousy and detestation. Upon reviewing tlie measures which had been adopted on the King's return to Paris, historians will probably be of opinion, that it was impolitic in the Assembly to offer the constitutional crown to Louis, and imprudent in that unhappy prince to accept it under the conditions annexed. On the former point it must be remembered, that these mnovators, who had changed every thing else in the state, could, upon principle, have had no hesi- tation to alter the person or the dynasty of theif sovereign. According to the sentiments which they liad avowed, the King, as well as the Nobles and Clergy, was in their liands, as clay in that of the potter, to be used or thrown away at pleasure. The present King, in the manifesto left behind him on his flight, liad p-rotested to all Europe against the system of which he was made the head, and it was scarcely possible that his sentiments could be ' Memoircs de Mad. Roland, art. " RalH'i-t,"—S.—[imvt i - 1 luera, torn, i., p. .312. 2 " Mr. Fox told me in England, in 17!)3, that at the time of the Kin.«s departure to Varunncs, he should have wished that he liad been allo^¥cd to (piii the kintidoni in peace."— H. DB Staei,, vol. i., p. 408. Napoleon baid at St. Helena —'■ The National Assenibiv altered in its favour, by the circumstances attending his unwilling return from Varennes. The Assentbly, therefore, acting upon their own principles, sho\iid have at once proceeded on the idea that his flight was a virtual abdication of the crown — tliey should have made honourable provision for a prince placed in so uncommon a situation, and suffered him to enjoy in Spain or Italy an honourable independence, so soon as the storm \\as ended which threatened them from abroad. In the meanwhile, the person of the King would have been a pledge in their hands, which might have given them some advan- tage in treating with the foreign princes of his family, and the potentates of Europe in general. The general policy of this appears so obvious, tliat it was probably rather the difficulty of arranging in what hands the executive authority should be lodged, than any preference of Louis XVI., which induced the Assembly again to deposit it in his hands, shorn, in a great measure, even of the limited consequence and privileges constitutionally annexed to it.'' La Fayette and his party perhaps reckoned on the King's spirit having given way, from observing how unanimously the people of France vvere disposed in favour of the new state of things, and may have trusted to his accommo- dating himself, therefore, witiiout further resist- ance, to act the part of the unsubstantial pageant which the constitution assigned him. If it was impolitic in the Constitutionalists to replace the crown upon the head of Louis, it was certainly unworthy of that monarch to accept it, unless invested with such a degree of power as might give him some actual weight and jjrepon- derance in the system. Till his flight to Varennes, the King's dislike to the constitution was a secret in his own bosom, which might indeed be sus- pected from circumstances, but which could not be proved ; and which, placed as he was, the King was entitled to conceal, since his real sentiments could not be avowed consistently with his personal safety. But now this veil was torn aside, and he had told all Europe in a public declaration, that he had been acting under constraint, since the time he was brought in triumph from Versailles to Paris. It would certainly have been most dignified in Louis to have stood or fallen in conformity with this declaration, made on the only occasion which he had enjoyed for such a length of time, of speaking his own free sentiments. He should not, when brought back to his prison, have resumed the sub- mission of a prisoner, or affected to accept as a de- sirable boon, the restoration, as it might be called, and that in a mutilated state, of a sovereignty, which he had voluntarily abandoned, at such ex- treme personal risk. His resolutioiis were too flexi- ble, and too much at the mercy of circumstances, to be royal or noble. Charles I., even in the Isle of Wight, treated with his subjects, as a prisoner indeed, but still as a King, refusing to accede to i-iich articles as, in his own mind, he was deter- mined not to abide by. Louis, we conceive, should have returned the same answer to the Assembly never committed so great an error as in brinpint; back the King from Varennes. A i'up;itive and powerless, lie was has- teninR to the frontier, and in a few hours would have been out of the French territory. What should they have done in these circumstances? Clearly facilitated his escape, and de- clared the throne vacant by his desertion. They would thus have avoided the infamy of a regicide government, and at tallied their great object of republican inetitutioiis." FRENCH REVOLUTION. 69 which he did to the roj'alist officer at Varennes, " that a prisoner could give no orders, and make no concessions." He should not, like a bird which has escaped and been retaken, forget the notes which he uttered when at freedom, and return to his set and pi-escribed prison-song the instant that the cage again enclosed him. No man, above all, no king, should place the language of his feelings and sentiments so much at the disposal of fortune. An adherence to the sentiments expressed in his voluntary declaration, might, it is possible, have afforded him the means of making some more favourable composition ; whereas, the afi'ectation of willing submission to the same force which his own voice had so lately proclaimed illegal, could but make the unhappy King suspected of attempting a deceit, by which no one could be deceived. But tlie difficulties of his situation were great, and Louis might well remember the proverb, which places the grave of deposed sovereigns close to their prison- gates. He might be persuaded to temporize with the party which still offered to preserve a show of royalty in the constitution, until time or circum- stances permitted him to enlarge its basis. In the meantime, if we can believe Bertrand de Moleville, Louis avo\\ed to him the determination to act un- der the constitution with all sincerity and good faith. ; but it must be owned, that it would have required the virtues of a saint to have enabled him to make good this pledge, had the success of the Austrians, or any strong counter-revolutionary movement, tempted him to renounce it. At all events, the King was placed in a doubtful and sus- picious position towards the people of France, who must necessarily have viewed with additional jea- lousy the head of a government, who, avowedly discontented with the share of power allotted to him, had nevertheless accepted it, — like the im- poverished gamester, who will rather play for small stakes than be cut out of the game. The work of the constitution being thus accom- plished, the National, or, as it is usually called, the Constituent Assembly, dissolved itself, [Sept. 29,] agreeably to the vow they had pronounced in the Tennis-court at Versailles. The constitution, that structure which they raised for immortality, soon afterwards became i-uinous ; but in few assemblies of statesmen have greater and more varied talents been assembled. Their debates were often fierce and stormy, their mode of arguing wild and vehe- ment, their resolutions sudden and ill-considered. These were the faidts partly of the French charac- ter, which is peculiarly open to sudden impulses, partly to the great changes perpetually crowding upon them, and to the exciting progress of a revo- lution which hurried all men into extravagance. On the other hand, they respected freedom of de- bate ; and the proscription of members of their body, for maintaining and declaring their senti- ments, in opposition to that of the majority, is not to be found in their records, though so fearfully frequent in those of their successors. Their main and master error was the attempt to do too much, and to do it all at once. The parties kejit no terms with each other, would wait for no conviction, and make no concession. It was a war for life and death betwixt men, who, had they seen more cahnly for their country and for themselves, would rather have sacrificed some part of the theoretical exact- nc:;S of principle on which they insisted, to the opportunity of averting practical evil, or attaraing practical good. The errors of the Assembly were accordingly those of extremes. They had felt the weight of the feudal chains, and they destroyed the whole nol)ility. Tiie monarch had been too power- ful for the liberties of the subject — they now bound him as a slave at the feet ircs de Earburoux, p. 47 ; Alignct, turn, i., p. 220. This was not the case when the eventful scene first commenced. We believe that the first display of light, reason, and rational liberty in France, was hailed as a day-spring through all Britain, and that there were few if any in that country, who did not feel tlieir hearts animated and enlarged by .seeing such a great and noble nation throwing aside the fetters, which at once restrained and dishonoured them, and assuming the attitude, language, and spirit of a free people. All men's thoughts and eyes were bent on struggles, which seemed to pro- mise the regeneration of a mighty country, and the British generally felt as if days of old hate and mu- tual rivalry would thereafter be foi-gotten, and that in futtn-e the similarity of liberal institutions, and the possession of a just portion of rational liberty on either side, would throw kindness and cordiality into the intercourse between the two countries, since France would no longer have ground to con- temn England as a country of seditious and sullen clowns, or Britain to despise France as a nation of willing slaves. This universal s^Tnpathy was not removed by the forcible capture of the Bastile, and the violences of the people on that occasion. The name of that fortress was so unpopular, as to palliate and apolo- gize for the excesses which took place on its fall, and it was not to be expected that a people so long oppressed, when exerting their power for the first time, should be limited by the strict bounds of mo- deration. But in England there always have been, and must exist, two parties of politicians, who will not long continue to regard events of such an in- teresting nature with similar sensations. The Revolutionists of France were naturally de- sirous to obtain the applause of the elder-born of freedom, and the societies in Britain, which assumed the character of the peculiar admirers and protec- tors of liberty, conceived themselves obliged to ex- tend their countenance to the changes in the neigh- bouring nation. Hence there arose a great inter- course between the clubs and self-constituted bodies in Britain, which assumed the extension of popular freedom as the basis of their association, and the Revolutionists in France, who were realizing the systems of philosophical theorists upon the same ground. Warm tributes of applause were trans- mitted from several of these associations ; the am- bassadors sent to convey them were received with great distinction by the National Assembly ; and the urbane intercourse which took place on these occasions led to exaggerated admiration of the French system on the part of those who had thus unexpectedly become the medium of intercourse between a great nation and a few private societies.^ The latter were gradually induced to form un- favourable comparisons betwixt the Temple of French freedom, built, as it seemed to them, upon the most perfect principles of symmetry and uni- formity, and that in which the goddess had been long worshipped in England, and which, on the contrast, appeared to them like an ancient edifice constructed in barbaric times, and incongruously encumbered with Gothic ornaments and emblems, which modern political architects had discarded. But these political sages overlooked the important circumstance, that the buttresses, which seemed in some respects encumbrances to the English edifice, 2 See Annual Rcghtcr, vol. .\.\.\iv., pp 70-72, 73 FRENCH REVOLUTIUX. G,3 might, on examination, be found to aild to its sta- bility ; and that in fact they furnished evidence to show, that the venerable pile was built witli cement, fitted to endure the test of ages, while that of France, constructed of lath daubed with untem- pered mortar, like the pageants she exhibited on the revolutionary festi\als, was only calculated to be the wonder of a day. The earnest admiration of either party of the state is sure in England to be balanced by the censure of the other, and leads to an inmiediate trial of strength betwixt them. The popular side is always the more loud, the more active, the more imposing of the two contending parties. It is for- midable, from the body of talents which it exhibits, (for those ambitious of distinction are usually friends to innovation,) and from the imanimity and vigour with which it can wield them. There may be, and indeed always are, gi-eat differences in the point to which each leader is desirous to carry re- formation ; but they are unanimous in desiring its commencement. The Opposition, also, as it is usually termed, has always included several of the high aristocracy of the country, whose names en- noble their rank, and whose large fortunes are a pledge that they will, for their own sakes, be a check upon eager and violent experimentalists. The Whigs, moreover, have the means of influen- cing assemblies of the lower orders, to whom the name of liberty is, and ought to be dear, since it is the pri\ilege whicli must console them for narrow circumstances and inferiority of condition ; and these means the party, so called, often use success- fully, always with industry and assiduity. The counterbalance to this active and powerful body is to be found, speaking generally, in the higher classes at large — the great mass of nobility and gen- try— •■'he clergy of the Established Church — the supeMor branches of the law — the wealthier of the commercial classes — and the bulk of those who have property to lose, and are afraid of endangering it. This body is Uke the Ban of the Germanic empire, a formidable force, but slow and diffident in its ope- rations, and requiring the stimulus of sudden alarm to call it into efi'ective exercise. To one or other of these great national parties, every Englishman, of education enough to form an opinion, professes to belong ; with a perfect understanding on the part of all men of sense and probity, that the general purpose is to ballast the vessel of the state, not to overset it, and that it becomes a state-treason in any one to follow his party when they carry 4heir doctrines to extremity. From the natui'e of this grand national division, it follows, that the side which is most popular should be prompt in adopting theories, and eager in re- commending measures of alteration and impi'ove- ment. It is bj such measures that men of talents rise into impor'dnce, and by such that the popular part of the constitution is maintained in its integrity. The other party is no less useful, by opposing to each successive attempt at innovation the delays of • This work made its appearance in November, 1790 ; about 30,(100 cojiies were sold ; and a French translation, by M. Du- pont, quickly spread its reputation throughout Europe. " The Eublication of Kurke towards the close of tlie year 17!I0," says acrctelle, " was one of the most remarkable events of tlie eighteenth century. It is a history, by anticipation, of the first fifti en years of the French Revolution." — Tom. viii., p. 182. " iioweverthe arguments of Burke may seem to have been justified by posterior events, it yet remaiai to be shown. form, the doubts ot experience, the prejudices ol rank and condition, legal objections, and the weight of ancient and established practice. Thus, mea- sures of a doubtful tendency are severely scruti- nized in Parliament, and if at length adopted, it is only when public opinion has long declared in their favour, and when, men's minds having become ha- bituated to the discussion, their introduction into our system cannot produce the violent effect of absolute novelty, if there were no Whigs, our constitution would fall to pieces for want of I'epair ; if there were no Tories, it would be broken in the course of a succession of rash and venturous ex- pei-iments. It followed, as a matter of course, that the Whigs of Britain looked with complacetice, the Tories with jealousy, upon the progress of the new principles in Fi'ance ; but the latter had a powerful and un- expected auxiliary in the pei-son of Edmund Burke, whose celebrated Rejiectiuns on the Revolution in France^ had the most striking effect on the public mind, of any work in our time. There was some- thing exaggerated at all times in the character as well as the eloquence of that great man ; and upon reading at this distance of time his celebrated com- position, it must be confessed that the colours he has used in painting the exti-avagances of the Revolution, ought to have been softened, by consi- dering the peculiar state of a country, which, long labouring under despotism, is suddenly restored to the possession of unembarrassed license. On the other hand, no political prophet ever viewed futu- rity with a surer ken. He knew how to detect the secret purpose of the various successive tribes of revolutionists, and saw in the constitution the fu- ture republic ; in the republic the reign of anarchy ; from anarchy he predicted military despotism ; and from miUtary despotism, last to be fulfilled, and hardest to be believed, he pi'ophesied the late but secure resurrection of the legitimate monarchy. Above all, when the cupidity of the French rulers aspired no farther than the forcible possession of Avignon and the Venaissin territories, he foretold their purpose of extending the empire of France by means of her new political theories, and, under pretext of propagating the principles of freedom, her project of assailing with her arms the s.ates, whose subjects had been already seduced by her doctrines. The work of Burke raised a thousand enemies to the French Revolution, who had before looked upon it with favour, or at least with indifference, A very large portion of the talents and aristocracy of the Opposition party followed Burke into the ranks of the Ministry, who saw with pleasure a member, noted for his zeal in the cause of the Ame- ricans, become an avowed enemy of the French Revolution, and with equal satisfaction heard him use arguments, which might, in their own mouths, have assumed an obnoxious and suspicious cha- racter. But the sweeping terms in which the author re- probated all attenn)ts at state-reformation, in which that the war cry then raised against France did not greatly contribute to the violence which characterised that ))erioa. It is possible that had he merely roused the attention of the governments and wealthy classes to the dangers of this new ])olitical creed, he might have )iroved the saviour of Europe ; but he made such exaggerated statements, and used argu- ments so alarmiuK to freedom, that on many points he wa» not only plausiblv, but victoriously refuted."— Dumo.nt, a. la?. 04 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PEOSE WORKS. he had himseif been at one time so powerful an agent, subjected him to the charge of inconsistency among his late friends, many of whom, and Fox in particular, declared themselves favourable to the progress of the Revolution in France, though they did not pretend to excuse its excesses. Out of Parliament it met more unlimited applause ; for England, as well as France, had talent impatient of obscurity, ardour which demanded employment, ambition which sought distinction, and men of head- long passions, who expected, in a new order of things, more unlimited means of indulging them. The middling classes were open in England as else- where, though not perhaps so much so, to the tempt- ing offer of increased power and importance ; and the populace of London and other large towns loved license as well as the sans culottes of France. Hence the division of the country into Aristocrats and Democrats, the introduction of political hatred into the bosom of families, and the dissolution of many a band of friendship which had stood the strain of a liftetime. One part of the kingdom looked upon the other with the stern and relentless glance of keepers who are restraining madmen, while the others bent on them the furious glare of madmen conspiring re^'enge on their keepers. From this period the progress of the French Revolution seemed in England like a play pre- sented upon the stage, where two contending fac- tions divide the audience, and hiss or applaud as much from party spirit as from real critical judg- ment, while every instant increases the probability that they will try the question by actual force. Still, though the nation was thus divided on ac- count of French politics, England and France observed the usual rules of amity, and it seemed that the English were more likely to wage hosti- lity with each other than to declare war against France. There was, in other kingdoms and states upon the Continent, the same diversity of feelings re- specting the Revolution which divijled England. The favour of the lower and unprivileged classes, in Germany especially, was the more fixed upon the progress of the French Revolution, because they lingered under the same incapacities from which the changes in France had delivered the Commons, or Third Estate, of that country. Tims far their partiality was not only natural and inno- cent, but praiseworthy. It is as reasonable for a man to desire the natural liberty from which he is unjustly excluded, as it is for those who are in an apartment where the air is polluted, to wish for the wholesome atmosphere. Unhappily, these justifiable desires were con- nected with others of a description less harmless and beneficial. The French Revolution had pro- claimed war on castles, as well as peace to cottages. ^ Its doctrine and practice held out the privileged tlasses in every country as the natural tyrants and oppressors of the poor, whom it encouraged by the thousand tongues of its declaimers to pull down their thrones, overthrow their altars, renounce the empire of God above, and of kings below, and arise, like regenerated France, alike from thraldom and from superstition. And such opinions, calUng upon ' " Guerre aux chateaux, paix aux hamaux." 2 Clootz was born at Cleves in 1755. Being suspected by Robespierre, he was, in May, 1794, sent to the guillotine. 8 Ueiiou was born at Boussay de Loches in 17.''iO. After the other nations of Europe to folltnv them in their democi'atic career, were not only trumpeted forth in all affiliated clubs of the Jacobins, whose influence in the National Assembly was formidable, but were formally recognised by that body itself upon an occasion, which, but for the momentous omen it presented, might have been considered as the most ridiculous scene ever gravely acted before the le- gislators of a great nation. There was in Paris a native of Prussia, an exile from his country, whose brain, none of the soundest by nature, seems to have been affected by the pro- gress of the Revolution, as that of ordinary madmen is said to be influenced by the increase of the moon. This personage having become disgusted with his baptismal name, had adopted that of the Scythian philosopher, and uniting it with his own Teutonic family appellation, entitled himself — " Anacharsia Clootz, Orator of the Human Race."^ It could hardly be expected, that the assumption of such a title should remain undistinguished by some supreme act of folly. Accordingly, the self- dubbed Anacharsis set on foot a procession, which was intended to exhibit the representatives of de- legates from all nations upon earth, to assist at the Feast of the Federation of the 14th July, 1790, by which the French nation proposed to celebrate the Revolution. In recruiting his troops, the orator easily picked up a few vagabonds of different coun- tries in Paris ; but as Chaldeans, Illinois, and Sibe- rians, are not so common, the delegates of those more distant tribes were chosen among the rabble of the city, and subsidized at the rate of about twelve francs each. We are sorry we cannot tell whether the personage, whose dignity was much insisted upon as " a JVliltonic Englishman," was genuine, or of Parisian manufacture. If the last, he must have been worth seeing. Anacharsis Clootz, having got his ragged regi- ment equipped in costume at the expense of the re- fuse of some theatrical wardrobe, conducted them in S'olemn procession to the bar of the National Assembly, presented them as the representatives of all the nations on earth, awakened to a sense of their debased situation by the choral voices of twenty-five millions of freemen, and demanding that the sovereignty of the people should be acknow- ledged, and their oppressors destroyed, through all the univei'se, as well as in France. So far this absurd scene was the extravagance of a mere madman, and if the Assembly had sent Anacharsis to bedlam, and his train to the Bicetre, it would have ended as such a farce ought to have done. But the President, in the name of the As- sembly, M. de Menou, (the same, we believe, who afterwards turned Turk when in Egypt,) ^ ap- plauded the zeal of the orator, and received the homage of his grotesque attendants as if they had been what they pretended, the deputies of the four quarters of the globe. To raise the jest to the highest, Alexander Lameth proposed, — as the feelings of these august pilgrims must neces- sarily be hurt to see, in the land of freedom, those kneeling figures representing conquered nations, which surround the statue of Louis XV., — that, from respect to this body of charlatans, these figures Buonaparte's flight from Egypt, he turned Mahometan, sub- mitted to the peculiar rites of Islamism, and called himself Abdallah James Menou. He died at Venic^e in 1810; of which place he had been appointed (iovernor by Napoleon. FRI-:XCH REVOLUTION. Go should be forthwith demolished. This was done accordingly, and the destruction of these symbols was regarded as a testimony of the assistance which France was ready to render such states as should require her assistance, for following in the revolu- tionary course. The scene, laughable in itself, be- came serious when its import was considered, and went far to persuade the governments of the neigh- bouring countries, that the purpose of France was to revolutionize Europe, and spread the i-eign of liberty and equality over all the civilized nations of the globe. Hopes so flattering as these, which should assign to the commons not merely freedom from unjust restraints and disqualifications, (and that granted with reserve, and only in proportion as they became qualified to use it with advantage,) but their hour of command and sovereignty, with the privilege of retaliation on those who had so long kept them in bondage, were sure to find a general good reception among all to whom they were addressed, in whatever country ; while, on the contrary, the fears of existing governments for the propagation of doctrines so seductive in them- selves, and which France seemed apparently pre- pared to support with arras, were excited in an equal proportion. It is true that the National Assembly had for- mally declared, that France renounced the unplii- losophical practices of extending her limits by con- quest, but although this disavowal spoke to the ear, it was contradicted by the annexation of those de- sirable possessions, the ancient city of Avignon, and the district called the Comtat Venaissin, to the kingdom of France ; while the principle on which the annexation was determined on, seemed equally applicable in all similar cases. A dispute had broken out betwixt the aristocrats and democrats in the town and province in question [Oct. 30] ; blood had flowed ; a part of the popu- lation had demanded to become citizens of regene- rated France.' Would it be worthy of the Pro- tectress of Liberty, said the advocates for the an- nexation, to repel from her bosom supplicants, who panted to share the freedom they had achieved I And so Avignon and the Comtat Venaissin were declared lawful prize, and reunited to France, (so went the phrase,) as Napoleon afterwards reunited the broken fragments of the empire of Charlemagne. The prescient eye of Burke easily detected, in these petty and surreptitious acquisitions, the gigantic plan by which France afterwards encircled herself by dependent states, which, while termed allies and auxiliaries, were, in fact, her most devoted subjects, and the governments of which changed their cha- racter from monarchical to popular, like the Great Nation.2 The princes at the head of despotic governments were, of course, most interested in putting an end, 'f it were possible, to the present Revolution of France, and extinguishing a flame which appeared 60 threatening to its neighbours. Yet there was a long hesitation ere any thing to this purpose was attempted. Austria, whom the matter concerned as so near an ally of France, was slow ere she made any decisive step towards hostility. The Emperor Joseph was too much embroiled by the dissensions which he had provoked in the Nether- '01.. II. ' Lacretelle, torn, ix., p. 52. » See Burke's Works, vol. viii.. p. 272. lands, to involve himself in war with France. His successor, Leopold, had been always reckoned to belong to the philosophical party. He put down, without much trouble, the insurrection which had nearly cost his brother the dominion of Flanders, and as he used the victory with moderation, it seemed unlikely that the tranquillity of his govern- ment should be again disturbed. Still, it would have been hazardous to expose the allegiance of the subjects, so newly restored to order, to the temptations which must have opened to the Flem- ings by engaging in a war with France, and Leo- pold, far fi-om seeking for a ground of quarrel with the favourers of the Revolution, entered into friendly relations with the government which they established ; and, with anxiety, doubtless, for the safety of his brother-in-law, and an earnest desire to see the government of France placed on some- thing like a steady footing, the Emperor continued in amicable terms with the existing rulers of that country down till his death. Francis, his succes- sor, for some time seemed to adopt the same pacihc policy. Prussia, justly proud of her noble army, her veteran commanders, and the bequest of military fame left her by the Great Frederick, was more eager than Austria to adopt what began to be called the cause of Kings and Nobles, though the so- vereign of the latter kingdom was so nearly con- nected with the unfortunate Louis. Frederick William had been taught to despise revolutionary movements by his cheap victory over the Dutch democracy, while the resistance of the Low Coun- tries had induced the Austrians to dread such ex- plosions. Russia declared herself hostile to the French Revolution, but hazarded no efi'ective step against them. The King of Sweden, animated by the ad- venturous character which made Gustavus, and after him Charles, sally forth from their frozen realms to influence the fates of Europe, showed the strongest disposition to play the same part, though the limited state of liis resources rendered his va- lour almost nugatory. Thus, while so many increasing discontents and suspicions showed that a decision by arms became every day more inevitable, Europe seemed still reluctant to commence the fatal encounter, as if the world had anticipated the long duration of the dreadful struggle, and the millions of lives which it must cost to bring it to a termination. There can be no doubt that the emigration of the French princes, followed by a great part of the nobles of France, a step ill-judged in itself, as removing beyond the frontiers of the country all those most devotedly interested in the preserva- tion of the monarchy, had the utmost eff'ect in pre- cipitating the impending hostilities. The presence of so many noble exiles,^ the respect and sympathy which their misfortunes excited in those of the same rank, the exaggerated accounts which they gave of their own consequence ; above all, the fear that the revolutionary spii-it should extend beyond the limits of France, and work the same effects in other nations, produced through the whole aristo- cracy of Germany a general desire to restore them to their country and to their rights by the force 3 Their number was at this time, with their families, nearly a hundred thousand.— Sec Burke, vol. vjii., p "a, and Lacr» telle, torn, viii., p. 117- C6 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. of arms, and to extin^ish by main force a spirit which seemed destined to wage war against all established governments, and to abolish the privi- leges which they recognised in their higher classes. The state of the expatriated French clergy, driven from their home, and deprived of their means of subsistence, because they refused an oath imposed contrary to their ecclesiastical vows, and to their conscience, added religious zeal to the general interest excited by the spectacle, yet new to Europe, of thousands of nobility and clergy com- pelled to forsake their country, and take refuge among aliens. Several petty princes of the empire made a show of levying forces, and complained of a breach of public faith, from the forfeiture of rights which individual princes of the Germanic body possessed in Alsace and Lorraine, and which, though sanc- tioned by the treaty of Westphalia, the National Assembly had not deemed worthy of exception from their sweeping abolition of feudal tenures. The emigrants formed themselves into armed corps at Treves and elsewhere, in which the noblest youths in France carried arms as privates, and which, if their number and resources had been in any proportion to their zeal and courage, were qualified to bear a distinguished part in deciding the destinies of the nation. Thus united, they gave way but too much to the natural feelings of their rank and country, menaced the land from which they had emigrated, and boasted aloud that it needed but one thrust (bolte) of an Austrian general, to parry and pay home all the decrees of the National Assembly.' This ill-timed anticipa- tion of success was founded in a great measure on the disorganization of the French army, which had r»een begun by the decay of discipline during the progress of the Revolution, and was supposed to be rendered complete by the emigration of such numbers of officers as had joined the princes and their standards. It was yet to be learned how Boon such situations can be filled up, from the zeal and talent always found among the lower classes, when critical circumstances oti'er a reward to am- bition. Yet, while confident of success, the position of the emigrants was far from being flattering. Not- withstanding their most zealous exertions, the princes found their interest with foreign courts unable to bring either kings or ministers willuigly or hastily to the point which they desired. The nearest approach was by the declaration of Pilnitz, [August 27,] in which, with much diplomatical caution, the Emperor and King of Prussia an- nounced the interest which they took in the actual condition of the King of Fi'ance ; and intimated, that, supposing the other nations appealed to, should entertain feelings of the same kind, they would, conjoined with those other powers, use the most efficacious means to place Louis in a situation to establish in his dominions, on the basis of the most perfect liberty, a monarchical government, I See Lacrctelle, torn, viii., p. I17. 8 Jomini, torn, i., p. 265; Lacrctelle, torn, viii., pp. 334, 439; De BouilU, p. 422. 3 See two articles on the pretended treaties of Pavia and Pilnitz, siRned Detector, in tlie Anti-jacobin Newspaper, July 2, 1798. They were, we believe, written by the late Mr. Pitt. [Since this work was published it seems to liave become cer- tain that the letters there referred to were tlie productions of lord Grenviile, at that time Secretary of State for Forftisn suitable to the rights of the sovereign, and the welfare of the people.^ This implied threat, which was to be condition- ally carried into effect in case other powers not named should entertain the same sentiments with the two sovereigns by whom it was issued, was well calculated to irritate, but far too vague to intimi- date, such a nation as France. It showed the de- sire to wound, but showed it accompanied by the fear to strike, and instead of inspiring respect, only awakened indignation, mingled with contempt. The emigrants were generally represented among the people of France as men Avho, to recover their own vain privileges, were willing to lead a host of foreigners into the bosom of their country ; and lest some sympathy with their situation, as men suffer- ing for the cause to which they had devoted them- selves, and stimulated by anxiety for the fate of their imprisoned King, should have moderated the severity of this judgment, forgery was employed to render their communication with the foreign mo- narchs still more odious and unpopular. The secret articles of a pretended treaty were referred to, by which it was alleged that Monsieur and the Comte d'Artois had agreed to a dismem- berment of France ; Lorraine and Alsace being to be restored to Austria, in consequence of her en- tering into the counter-revolutionary league. The date of this supposed treaty was first placed at Pavia, and afterwards transferred to Pilnitz ; but although it was at one time assumed as a real document in the British House of Commons, it is now generally allowed to have had no existence,* In the meanwhile, as a calumny well adapted to the prejudices of the time, the belief in such a secret compact became generally current, and excited the utmost indignation against the selfish invaders, and against the exiles who were supposed willing to dismember their native country, rather than sub- mit to a change in its constitution adverse to their own selfish interests. A great deal of this new load of unpopularity was transferred to the account of the unfortunate Louis, who was supposed to instigate and support in private the attempts of his brothers for engaging foreign courts in his favour, while the Queen, from her relationship to the Emperor of Austria, was uni- A'ersally represented as a fury, urging him to revenge Iter loss of power on the rebellious people of France. An Austrian committee was talked of as managing the correspondence between these royal persons on the one part, and the foreign courts and emigrant princes on the other. This was totally groundless ; but it is probable and natural that some intercourse was maintained between Louis and his brothers, as, though their warhke schemes suited the King's temper too little, he might wish to derive advan- tage from the dread which it was vainly supposed their preparations would inspire. The royal pair were indeed in a situation so disastrous, that they might have been excused for soliciting rescue by almost any means. But, in fact, Louis and Leo- Affairs. T — " As far as we have been able to trace," said Mr. Pitt, in l80n, "the declaration signed at Pilnitz icfcrred to the imprisonment of Louis: its immediate view was to effect his deliverance, if a concert sufhciently extensive could be formed for that purpose. I left the internal state of France to be decided by the King restored to his liberty, with the free consent of the states of the kingdom, and it did not roi^ tain one word relative to the dismemberment of the countij. —Parlianwitary Uistunj, vol. xxiiv., p. 1316.— S. FRENCH REVOLUTION. 67 pold seem to have agreed in the same system of temporizinn; politics. Their correspondence, as far as can be judged from the letters of De Lcssart, Louis' trusted minister for foreign aftairs, seems always to point to a middle course ; that of suffer- ing the Constitution of Franco to remain such as it had been chosen by the people, and sanctioned by the National Assembly, while the ministei-s at- tempted, by the influence of fear of dangers from abroad, to prevent any future assaults upon the power of the Crown, and especially against the King's person. On condition that such further aggression should be abstained from, the Emperor seems to have been willing to prohibit the muster- ing of the emigrant forces in his dominions. But Leopold demanded that, on their part, the French nation should release themselves from the clubs of Jacobins and Cordeliers, (another assembly of the same nature,) which, pretending to be no more than private associations, without public character or re- sponsibility, nevertheless dictated to the National Assembly, the King, and all France, in virtue of the power of exciting the insurrectional movements, by which their denunciations and proposed revolu- tions had been as regulai'ly seconded, as the flash is followed by the thunderbolt. On the death of Leopold, [March 1, 1792,] and the succession of the Emperor Francis to the im- perial throne, the disposition of Austria became much more turned towards war. It became the object of Francis to overcome the revolutionists, and prevent, if possible, the impending fate of the royal family. In adopting these warlike counsels, the mind of the new Emperor was much influenced by the desire of Pnissia to take the field. Indeed, the condition of the royal family, which became every day more precai'ious, seemed to both powers to indicate and authorise hostile measures, and they were at no pains to conceal their sentiments. It is not probable that peace would have remained long unbroken, unless some change, of an unex- pected and unhoped-for character, in favour of royalty, had taken place in France ; but, after all the menaces which had been made by the foreign powers, it was France herself, who, to the sm-prise of Europe, first resorted to arms. The ostensible reason was, that, in declaring war, she only antici- pated, as became a brave and generous nation, the commencement of hostilities which Austria had menaced. But each party in the state had its own private views for concurring in a measure, which, at the time, seemed of a very audacious character. La Fayette now felt his influence in the national guard of Paris was greatly on the wane, ^^'ith the democrats he was regarded as a denounced and devoted man, for having employed the armed force to disperse the people in the Champ de Mars, upon the 17th of July, 1791. Those who countenanced liim on that occasion were Parisian citizens of sub- stance and property, but timorous, even from the very consciousness of their wealth, and unwilling, either for the sake of La Fayette, or the Constitu- tion which he patronised, to expose themselves to be denounced by furious demagogues, or pillaged by the hordes of robbers and assassins whom they had at their disposal. This is the natural progress in revolutions. While order continues, property has always the superior influence over those who may be desirous of infringing the public peace ; but when Law and order are in a great measure destroyed, the wealthy are too much disposed to seek, in submission, or change of party, the means of securing themselves and their fortunes. The property which, in ordinary times, renders its own- ers bold, becomes, in those of imminent danger, the cause of their selfish cowardice. La Fayette tried, however, one decisive experiment, to ascer- tain what share remained of his once predominant influence over the Parisians. He stood an election for the mayoralty of Paris against Pe'tion, [Nov. 17,] a person attached to the Brissotin, or Republican faction, and the latter was preferred. Unsuccess- ful in this attempt. La Fayette became desirous of foreign war. A soldier, and an approved one, he hoped his -fortune would not desert him, and that, at the head of armies, which he tinisted to render victorious over the public enemy, he might have a better chance of being listened to by those factions who began to hold in disrespect the red flag, and the decaying efforts of the national guard of Paris ; and thus gaining the power of once more enforcing submission to the constitution, which ne had so large a share in creating. Unquestionably, also. La Fayette remembered the ardour of the French for national glory, and welcomed the thoughts of shifting the scene to combat against a public and avowed enemy, from his obscure and unsatisfactory struggle with the clubs of Paris. La Fayette, therefore, desired war, and was followed in his opinion by most of the Constitutional party. The Gii-ondists were not less eager for a decla- ration of hostilities. Either the King must, in tliat case, place his veto upon the measure, or he must denounce hostilities against his brother-in-law and his brothers, subjecting himself to all the suspicions of bad faith which such a measure iufei-red. If the arms of the nation were victorious, the risk of a re- volution in favour of royalty by insurrections within, or invasions from without the kingdom, was ended at once and for ever. And if the foreigners ob- tained advantages, it would be easy to turn the impopularity of the defeat upon the monarch, and upon the Constitutionalists, who had insisted, and did still insist, on retaining him as the ostensible head of the executive government. The Jacobins, those whose uniform object it was to keep the impulse of forcible and revolutionary measures in constant action, seemed to be divided among themselves on the great question of war or peace. Robespierre himself struggled, in the club, against the declaration of hostihties, probably because he wished the Brissotins to take all the responsibility of that hazardous measure, secure beforehand to share the advantage which it might afford those RepubUcans against the King and Con- stitutionalists. He took care that Louis should profit nothing by the maimer in which he pleaded the cause of justice and humanity. He affected to prophesy disasters to the ill-provided and ill-disci- plined armies of France, and cast the blame before- hand on the known treachery of the King and the Royalists, the arbitrary designs of La Fayette and the Constitutionalists, and tlie doubtful patriotism of Brissot and Condorcet. His arguments retarded, though they could not stop, the declaration of war, which probably they were not intended seriously to prevent ; and the most violent and sanguinary of men obtained a temporary character for love of humanity, by adding hypocrisy to his other vices. The Jacobins in general, notwithstanding Robe- 68 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. Bpierre's remonstrances, moved by the same motives which operated with the Brissotius, declared ulti- mately in favour of hostilities.' The resolution for war, therefore, predominated in the Assembly, and two preparatory measures served, as it were, to sound the intentions of the King on the subject, and to ascertain how far he was disposed to adhere to the constitutional govern- ment which he had accepted, against those who, in his name, seemed prepared by force of arms to re- store the old system of monarchy. Two decrees were passed against the emigrants in the Assembly, [Nov. 9.] The first was directed against the King's brotlier, and summoned Xavier Stanislaus, Prince of France, to return into France in two months, upon pain of forfeiting his right to the regency. The King consented to this decree : he could not, indeed, dis- sent from it with consistency, being, as he had con- sented to be, the holder of the crown under a con- stitution, against which his exiled brother had publiclv declared war. The second decree de- nounced death against all emigrants who should be found assembled in arms on the 1st of January next.''' The right of a nation to punish with extreme pains those of its native subjects who bear arms against her, has never been disputed. But although, on great changes of the state, the vanquished party, when essaying a second struggle, stand in the rela- tion of rebels against the existing government, yet there is generally wisdom as well as humanity, in delaying to assert this right in its rigour, until such a period shall have elapsed, as shall at once have established the new government in a confirmed state of possession, and given those attached to the old one time to forget their habits and predilections in its favour. Under this defence, Louis ventured to use the sole constitutional weapon with which he was in- trusted. He refused his consent to the decree. Sensible of the unpopularity attending this rejec- tion, the King endeavoured to qualify it, by issuing a severe proclamation against the emigrants, coun- termanding their proceedings ; — which was only considered as an act of dissimulation and hypo- crisy. The decree last proposed, jarred necessarily on the heart and sensibility of Louis ; the next affected his religious scruples. The National Assembly had produced a schism in the Church, by imposing on the clergy a constitutional oath, inconsistent with their religious vows. The philosophers in the present legislative body, with all the intole- i-ance which they were in the habit of objecting against the Catholic Church, resolved to render the breach irrepai'able. They had, they thought, the opportunity of strik- ing a death's blow at the religion of the state, and they remembered, that the watch-word applied by the Encyclopedists to Christianity, had been Ecra- scz I'Infanie. The proposed decree bore, that such priests as refused the constitutional oath should forfeit the pension allowed them for subsistence, when the government seized upon the estates of the clergy ; that they should be put into a state of surveillance, in the several departments where they ' LacrctoUa, torn, ix., p. 61 ; Thiers, torn, ii., p. 48. 2 Liicretelle, torn, ix., p. 48. 3 ■' The adoption of this oppressive decree was signalized bv th" first open expression of ntheixticnl sentiments in the AhStmbly. ' .My God is the Law; I acknowledge no other," resided, and banished from France the instant the^ excited any religious dissensions.^ A prince, with the genuine principles of philo- sophy, would have rejected this law as unjust and intolerant ; but Louis had stronger motives to inter- pose his constitutional reto, as a Catholic Christian, whose conscience would not permit him to assent to the persecution of the faithful servants of the Church. He refused his assent to this decree also. In attempting to shelter the emigrants and the recusant churchmen, the King only rendered him- self the more immediate object of the popular re- resentment. His compassion for the former was probably mingled with a secret wish, that the suc- cess of their arms might relieve him from his pre- sent restraint ; at any rate, it was a motive easily imputed, and difficult to be disproved. He was, therefore, represented to his people as in close union with the bands of exiled Frenchmen, who menaced the frontiers of the kingdom, and were about to accompany the foreign armies on their march to the metropolis. The royal rejection of the decree against the orthodox clergy was imputed to Louis's superstition, and his desire of rebuilding an ancient Gothic hierarchy unworthy of an en- lightened age. In short, that \\as now made mani- fest, which few wise men had ever doubted, namely, that so soon as the King should avail himself of his constitutional right, in resistance to the popular will, he was sure to incur the risk of losing both his crown and life.'' Meantime this danger was accelerated by the consequences of a dissension in the royal cabinet. It will scarcely be believed, that situations in the ministry of France, so precarious in its tenure, so dangerous in its possession, so enfeebled in its authority, should have been, even at this time, the object of ambition ; and that to possess such mo- mentary and doubtful eminence, men, and wise men too, emploj'ed all the usual arts of intrigue and circumvention, by which rival statesmen, under settled governments and in peaceful times, endea- vour to undermine and supplant each other. We have heard of criminals in the Scottish Highlands, who asserted with obstinacy the dignity of their clans, when the only test of pre-eminence was the priority of execution. We have read, too, of the fatal raft, where shipwrecked men in the midst of the Atlantic, contended together with mortal strife for equally useless preferences. But neither case is equal in extravagance to the conduct of those rivals, who struggled for power in the cabinet of Louis XVI. in 1792, when, take what party they would, the jealousy of the Assembly, and the far more fatal proscription of the Jacobins, was sure to be the reward of their labours. So, however, it was, and the fact serves to show, that a day of power is more valuable in the eyes of ambition, than a lifetime of ease and safety. De Lessart, the Minister of Foreign Affairs already mentioned, had wished to avoid war, and had fed Leopold and his ministers with hopes, that the King would be able to establish a constitutional power, superior to that of the dreadful Jacobins. The Comte de Narbonne, on the other side, being was the expression of Isnard. The remonstrance of the con- stitutional bisliops had no effect. The decree was carried amidst t-mult and acclamation."— Lacbetelle, torn, ix., p. Ai). * Lacrctelle, torn, ix., p. 46. FRENCH REVOLUTIOX. 69 Minister of War, was desirous to forward the views of La Fayette, who, as we have said, longed to be at the head of the army. To obtain his rival's dis- gi'ace, Narbonne combined with La Fayette and other generals to make public the opposition which De Lessart and a majority of the cabinet ministers had opposed to the declaration of hostilities. Louis, justly incensed at an appeal to the public from the interior of his own cabinet, displaced Narbonne.^ The legislative body immediately fell on De Les- Bart. He was called to stand on his defence, and imprudently laid before the Assembly his coiTcs- pondence with Kaunitz, the Austrian minister. In tl'.eir communications De Lessart and Kaunitz had spoken with respect of the constitution, and with moderation even of tiieir most obnoxious measures; but they had reprobated the violence of the Jaco- bins and Cordeliers, and stigmatized the usurpa- tions of those clubs over the constitutional authori- ties of the state, whom they openly insulted and controjled. These moderate sentiments formed the real soui-ce of De Lessart's fall. He was attacked on all sides — by the party of Narbonne and his friends from rivalry — by Brissot and his followers from policy, and in order to remove a minister too much of a royalist for their purpose — by the Jaco- bins, from hatred and revenge. Yet, when Brissot condescended upon the following evidence of his guilt, argument and testimony against liim must have indeed been scarce. De Lessart, with the view of representing the present affairs of France under the most softened point of view to the Em- peror, had assm-ed him that the constitution of 1791 was firmly adhered to by a majority of the nation.'^ " Hear the atrocious calumniator !" said the accuser. " The inference is plain. He dares to insinuate the existence of a minority, which is not attached to the Constitution." ^ Another accusa- tion, which in like manner was adopted as valid by the acclamation of the Assembly, was formed thus. A most hori-ible massacre* had taken place during the tumults which attended the union of Avignon with the kingdom of France. Vergniaud, the friend and colleague of Brissot, alleged, that if the decree of union had been early enough sent to Avignon, the dissensions would not have taken place ; and he charged upon the unhappy De Lessart that he had not instantly transmitted the official intelli- gence. Now the decree of reunion was, as the orator knew, delayed on accoiuit of the King's scru- ples to accede to what seemed an invasion of the tei-ritory of the Church ; and, at any rate, it could no more have prevented the massacre of Avignon, which was conducted by that same Jourdan, called Coupe-tete, the Bearded Man of the inarch to Ver- i Mi;;nct. torn, i., p. 164; Lacretclle, torn, ii., p. 74. "The war drpartment was intrusted, in December, 1791, to M. de Narbiinne. He employed liimsell with unfeisned zeal in all tlie preparations necessary for tlie defence of the kingdom. Possessing rank and talents, the manners of a court, and the Ti(.«8 of a philosopher, that which was predominant in his Boul was military honour and French valour. To oppose the interference of foreigners under whatever circnmstances, al- ways seemed to him the duly of a citizen and a gentleraan. Hia colleapues combined against him, and succeeded in ob- taining his removal. He lost his life at the siege of Xorgau, in 1813."— Jl. BE Stakl, vol. ii., p. 39. 2 Lacretelle, torn, ix., p. 77. 3 This strange argument reminds us of an Essay read be- fore a literary society in dis])raise of the east wind, which the author supported by quotations from every poem or popular work, in which Eurus is the subject of invective. The learned auditors sustained the first part of this intlirtion with be- coming fortitude, but declined submitt'ui; to the second, un- sailles, than the subsequent massacre of Paris, per petrated by similar agents. The orator well knew this ; yet, with eloquence as false as his logic, he summoned the ghosts of the murdered from the glaciere, in which their mangled remains had been piled, to bear witness against the minister, to whose culpable neglect they owed their untimely fate. All the while he was imploring for justice on the head of a man, who was undeniably ignorant and inno- cent of the crime, Vergniaud and his friends secretly meditated extending the mantle of safety over the actual perpetrators of the massacre, by a decree of amnesty ; so that the whole charge against De Les- sart can only be termed a mi.xture of hypocrisy and cruelty. In the course of the same discussion, Gauchon, an orator of the suburb of Saint Antoine, in which lay the strength of the Jacobin interest, had already pronounced sentence in the cause, at the very bar of the Assembly which was engaged in trying it. " Royalty may be struck otit of the Constitution," said the demagogue, " but the unity of the legislative body defies the touch of time. Courtiers, ministers, kings, and their civil lists, may pass away, but the sovereignty of the people, and the pikes which enforce it, are perpetual." This was touching the root of the matter. De Lessart was a royalist, though a timid and cautious one, and he was to be punished as an example to such ministers as should dare to attach themselves to their sovereign and his personal intei-est. A decree of accusation was passed against him, and he was sent to Orleans to be tried before the High Court there. Other Royalists of distinction were committed to the same prison, and, in the fatal month of September, 179'2, were involved in the same dreadful fate.* Pe'tion, the Mayor of Paris, appeared next day, at the bar, at the head of the municipality, to con- gratulate the Assembly on a great act of justice, which he declared resembled one of those thunder- storms by which nature purifies the atmosphere from noxious vapours. The ministry was dissolved by this severe blow on one of the wisest, at least one of the most moderate, of its members. Nar- bonite, and the Constitutional party who had espoused his cause, were soon made sensible, that he or they were to gain nothing by the impeach- ment, to which their intrigues led the way. Theu* claims to share the spoils of the displaced ministry were passed over with contempt, and the King was compelled, in order to have the least chance of ob- taining a hearing from the Assembly, to select his ministers from tlie Brissotin, or Girondist faction, who, though averse to the existence of a monarchy, and desiring a republic instead, had still somewhat derstanding that the accomplished author had there fortified himself by the numerous testimonies of almost all poets in favour of the west, and which, with loiiic similar to that of M. Brissot in the text, he regarded as indirect testiuion; against the east wind.— S. ■* " On Sunday, the .TOth October, 1701, the pates were closed, the walls guarded so as to render escape impos.sihle, and a band of nssrissin.s, commanded by the barbarous Jour- dan, sought out in their own houses the individuals destined for death. Sixty unhappy wretches were sneedily thrust into prison, where, during the obscurit) of night, the murderers wreaked their vengeance with impunity. One young man put fourteen to death witli his own hand, and only desisted from excess of fatigue. Twelve women perisned, after having un- dergone tortures which my jien cannot describe. When ven- geance had done its worst, the remains of the victims were torn and mutilated, and heaped up in a ditch, or throwa into the Rhone."-- Lacretelle. torn, jx., p. &4. ' L;ii.'r«t«lle, torn, ix., p. 7-^. ro SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE AYOEKS. more of principle and morals than the mere Revo- lutionists and JaeobinSj who were altogether desti- tute of both. With the fall of De Lessart, all chance of peace Vanished ; as indeed it had been gradually disap- pearing before that event. The demands of the Austrian court \\ent now, when fully explained, so far back upon the Revolution, that a peace nego- tiated upon such terms, must have laid France and all its various parties, (with the exception perliaps of a few of the first Assembly,) at the foot of the sovereign, and, what might be more dangerous, at the mercy of the restored emigrants. The Empe- ror demanded the establishment of monarchy in France, on the basis of the royal declaration of 23d June, 1789, which had been generally rejected by the Tiei-s Etat when offered to them by the King. He farther demanded the restoration of the effects of the Church, and that the German princes having rights in Alsace and Lorraine should be re- placed in those rights, agreeably to the treaty of Westphalia. The Legislative Assembly received these extra- vagant terms as an insult on the national dignity; and the King, whatever might be his isentiments as an individual, could not, on this occasion, dispense with the duty his office as Constitutional Monarch imposed upon him. Louis, therefore, had the me- lancholy task [April 20] of proposing to an As- sembly, filled with the enemies of his throne and person, a declaration of war against his brother-in- law the Emperor, in his capacity of King of Hun- gary and Bohemia,' involving, as matter of course, a civil war with his own two brothers, who had taken the field at the head of that part of his sub- jects from birth and principle the most enthusiasti- cally devoted to their sovereign's person, and who, if they had faults towards France, had committed them in love to him.^ Tlie proposal was speedily agreed to by the As- sembly ; for the Constitutionalists saw their best remaining chance for power was by obtaining vic- tory on the frontiers, — the Girondists had need of war, as what must necessarily lead the way to an alteration in the constitution, and the laying aside the regal government, — and the Jacobins, whose chief, Robespieri-e, had just objected enough to give him the character and credit of a prophet if any reverses were sustained, resisted the war no longer, but remained armed and watchful, to secure Uie advantage of events as they might occur. CHAPTER VIII. Defeats of the French on the Frontier — Decay of Constitutionalists — They form the Club ofFeuillans, and are dispersed by the Jacobins — The Ministry 1 " After a long exposition by Dumouriez, the Kin.?, with B tremulous voice, pronnuncecl these words :— ' You have heard, gentlemen, tlic result of my negotiations with the Court of Vienna : they are conformable to the sentiments more than once expressed to me by the National Assembly, and con- firmed by the great majority of the kingdom. All prefer a ■war to the continuance of outrages to the national honour, or menaces to the national safety. I have exhausted all the ineans of pacification in my power; I now come, in terms of the ConstitHtion, to propose to the Assembly, that we should declare war against the King of Hungary and Bohemia.' "— MiG.NET, torn. 1., p. 16l(; Annual H'olsla; vol. xxxiv., p 201 ; 0<;moi}riez, vol. ii., p. 272. — Dumouriez — Breach of confidence hftirlxt the King and his Ministers — Dissolution oftheKln. i-Ji 5 " Hf w.-is burnt in eftiyy by tlie .lacobins, in ll>e ganlen o the Pal.iii Roval." — Pkldh'o.mjie, torn iii., p. 131 FRENCH REVOLUTION. 77 m that precarious situation from which he was now so generously anxious to free him. It was no less La Fayette's own act, by means of his personal aid-de-camp, to bring back the person of the King to Paris from Varennes ; whereas he was now re- commending, and offering to further his escape, by precisely such measures as his interference had then thwarted. Notwithstanding the low state of the royal party, one constituted authority, amongst so many, had the courage to act offensively on the weaker and the injured side. The Directory of the Depart- ment (or province) of Paris, declared against the mayor, imputed to him the blame of the scandalous excesses of the '20th of June, and suspended him and Manuel, the Procureur of the Community of Paris, from their offices, [July 6.] This judgment was affirmed by the King. But, under the protec- tion of the Girondists and Jacobins, Pe'tion appealed to the Assembly, where the demon of discord seemed now let loose, as the advantage was con- tended for by at least three parties, avowedly dis- tinct from each other, together with innumerable subdivisions of opiuion. And yet, in the midst of such complicated and divided interests, such various and furious passions, two individuals, a lady and a bishop undertook to restore general concord, and, singular to tell, they had a momentary success. Olympia de Gouges was an ardent lover of Uberty, but she united with this passion an intense feeling of devotion, and a turn like that entertained by our friends the Quakers, and other sects who affect a transcendental love of the human kind, and inter- pret the doctrines of Christian morality in the most strict and literal sense. This person had sent abroad several publications recommending to all citizens of Fi'ance, and the deputies especially of the As- sembly, to throw aside personal views, and form a brotherly and general union with heart and hand, in the service of the public. The same healing overture, as it would have been called in the civil dissensions of England, was brought before the Assembly, [July 9,] and re- commended by the constitutional Bishop of Lyons, the Abbd L'Amourette. This good-natured orator affected to see, in the divisions which rent the As- sembly to pieces, only the result of an unfortunate error — a mutual misunderstanding of each other's meaning. " You," he said to the Republican members, " are afraid of an undue attachment to aristocracy ; you dread the introduction of the Eng- lish system of two Chambers into the Constitution. You of the right hand, on the contrary, miscon- strue your peaceful and ill-understood brethren, so far as to suppose them capable of renouncing mo- narchy, as established by the Constitution. What then remains to extinguish these fatal divisions, but for each party to disown the designs falsely imputed to them, and for the Assembly united to Bwear anew their devotion to the Constitution, a,s 1 I;acreU-llc, turn, ix., p. ICl. After tlie dissolution of tlic Legislative Assembly, L'Amourette returned to Lyons, and continued there during the siefie. He was afterwards con- ducted to Paris, condemned to death, and decapitated in January, 1794. The ahh^ was the author of several works, amonf; others, " Les Delices de ia Religion, ou Lc Pouvoir lie I'Evangile de nous rendre heureux." 2 " The expression of the Queen's, countenance on this day will never be effaced from mT remembrance; her eyes were iwollcn with tears; the splendour of her dress, the dic^ity of her diportincnt, formed a contrast with the train that bur- it has been bequeathed to us by the Constituent Assembly !" This speech, wonderful as it may seem, had the effect of magic. The deputies of every faction, Royalist, Constitutionalist, Girondist, Jacobin, and Orlcanist, rushed into each other's arms, and mixed tears with the solemn oaths by which they re- nounced the innovations supposed to be imputed to them. The King was sent for to enjoy this spec- tacle of concord, so strangely and so unexpectedly renewed. But the feeling, though strong, — and it might be with many overpowering for the moment, — was but like oil spilt on the raging sea, or ratlier like a shot fired across the waves of a torrent, which, tliough it counteracts them by its momentary impulse, cannot for a second alter their course. The factions, like Le Sage's demons, detested each other the more for having been compelled to embrace, and from the name and country of the benevolent bishop, the scene was long called, in ridicule, " Le Baiser d'' Amourette," and "La reconciliation Normande." ' The next public ceremony showed how little party spirit had been abated by this singular scene. The King's acceptance of the Constitution was repeated in the Champ de ALtrs before the Fede- rates, or deputies sent up to represent the various departments of France ; and the figure made by the King during that pageant, formed a striking and melancholy parallel with his actual condition in the state. With hair powdered and dressed, with clothes embroidered in the ancient court-fashion, surrounded and crowded unceremoniously by men of the lowest rank, and in the most wretched garbs, he seemed something belonging to a former age, but which in the present has lost its fashion and value. He was conducted to the Champ de Mars under a strong guard, and by a circuitous route, to avoid the insults of the multitude, who dedicated their applauses to the Girondist Mayor of Paris, exclaiming " Pe'tion or death ! " When he ascended the altar to go through the ceremonial of the day, all were struck with the resemblance to a victim led to sacrifice, and the Queen so much so, that she exclaimed, and nearly fainted. A few children alone called, "Vive le Roi !" This was the last time Louis was seen in public until he mounted the scaffold.'-^ The departure of La Fayette renewed the cou- rage of the Girondists, and they proposed a decree of" impeachment against him in the Assembly [Aug. 8] ; but the spirit which the general's pre- sence had awakened was not yet extinguished, and his friends in the Assembly undertook his defence with a degree of unexpected courage, which alarmed their antagonists.^ Nor could their fears be termed groundless. The constitutional general might march his army upon Paris, or he might make some accommodation with the foreign invaders, and receive assistance from them to accomplish rounded her. It required the character of Louis XVL, that character of martyr which he ever upheld, to support, as he did, such a situation. When he mounted the steps of the aitar, he seemed a sacred victim, oflering himself as a volun- tary sacrifice. He descended; and, crossing anew the disor- dered ranks, returned to take his place biside the Queen and his children."— M. dk St.\el, vol. ii., p. S.'J. 3 "To the astonishment of both paitics, the ai;cus:.li.>n nqainst La Fayette was throwji out by a majority ol iHt to ;.4,"— Lacretklle, \v\n. ix , p. i'M. SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. Buch a pui-pose. It seemed to the Girondists, that no time was to be lost. Tliey determined not to trust to tlie Jacobins, to whose want of resolution they seem to have ascribed the failure of the insur- rection on the 20th of June. They resolved upon occasion of the next effort, to employ some part of tliat departmental force, which was now approach- ing Paris in straggling bodies, imder the name of Federates. The affiliated clubs had faithfully obeyed the mandates of the parent society of the Jaco- bins, by procuring that the most stanch and exalt- ed Revolutionists should be sent on this service. These men, or the greater part of them, chose to visit Paris, rather tlian to pass straight to their rendezvous at Soissons. As they believed them- selves the armed representatives of the country, they behaved with all the insolence which the con- sciousness of bearing arms gives to those who are unaccustomed to discipline. They walked in large bodies in the garden of the Tuileries, and when any persons of the royal family appeared, they in- sulted the ladies with obscene language and inde- cent songs, the men with the most hideous threats. The Girondists resolved to frame a force, which might be called their own, out of such formidable materials. Barbaroux, one of the most enthusiastic admirers of the Revohition, a youth, like the Se'ide of Vol- taire's tragedy,' filled with the most devoted en- thusiasm for a cause of which he never suspected the truth, offered to bring up a battalion of Fede- rates from his native city of Marseilles, men, as he describes them, who knew how to die, and who, as it proved, understood at least as well how to kill. In raking up the disgusting history of mean and bloody-minded demagogues it is impossible not to dwell on the conti-ast afforded by the generous and self- devoted character of Barbaroux, who, young, handsome,^ generous, noble-minded, and disinte- I'ested, sacrificed his family happiness, his fortune, and finally his life, to an enthusiastic though mis- taken zeal for the liberty of his country. He had become from the commencement of the Revolution one of its greatest champions at Marseilles, where it had been forwarded and opposed by all the fer- vour of faction, influenced by the southei'n sun. He had admired the extravagant writings of Marat and Robespierre ; but when he came to know them personally, he was disgusted with their low senti- ments and savage dispositions, and went to worship Freedom amongst the Girondists, where her shrine was served by tlie fair and accomplished Citoyenne Roland. The Marseillois, besides the advantage of this enthusiastic leader, marched to the air of the finest liymn to which liberty or the Revolution had yet given birth. They appeared in Paris, where it had been agreed between the Jacobins and the Giron- dists, that the strangers should be welcomed by the fraternity of the suburbs, and whatever other force the factions could command. Thus united, they were to march to secure the municipality, oc- cupy the bridges and principal posts of the city •with detached parties, while the main body should 1 Le Fanatismc. 2 Madame Uolaiid describes Iiira as one " whose features no jiaiiitcr would disdain to copy for the head of an Antiuous." •—.Moiioirf, part i., p. MH. •'I " 1 never," says I^hulamc de la Rochejaquelein, "hoard any thmg more impressive *ud tprhble than their songs." proceed to form an encampment m the garacn oi the Tuileries, where tlie conspirators had no doulit they should find themselves sufficiently powerful to exact the King's resignation, or declare his for- feiture. This plan failed through the cowardice of San- tcrre, the chief leader of the insurgents of the suburbs, who had engaged to meet the Marseillois with forty thousand men. Very few of the pro- mised auxiliaries appeared ; but the undismayed Marseillois, though only about five hundi-ed in number, marched through the city to the terror of the inhabitants, their keen black eyes seeming to seek out aristocratic victims, and their songs par- taking of the wild Moorish character that lingers in the south of France, denouncing vengeance on kings, priests, and nobles.^ In the Tuileries, the Federates fixed a quarrel on some grenadiers of the national guard, who were attached to the Constitution, and giving instant way to their habitual impetuosity, attacked, defeat- ed, and dispersed them. In the riot, Esprcmenil, who had headed the opposition to the will of the King in Parliament, which led the way to the Con- vocation of Estates, and who had been once the idol of the people, but now had become the object of their hate, was cut down and about to be mas- sacred. " Assist me," he called out to Petion, who had come to the scene of confusion, — " I am Espre- menil — once as you are now, the minion of the people's love." Pe'tion, not unmoved, it is to be supposed, at the terms of the appeal, hastened to rescue him. Not long afterwards both suffered by the guillotine,* which was the bloody conclusion of so many popular favourites. The riot was com- plained of by the Constitutional party, out as usual it was explained by a declaration on the part of ready witnesses, that the forty civic soldiers had insulted and attacked the five hundred Marseillois, and therefore brought the disaster upon them- selves. Meanwhile, though their hands were strength- ened by this band of unscrupulous and devoted implements of their purpose, the Girondists failed totally in their attempt against La Fayette in the Assembly, the decree of accusation against him being rejected by a victorious majority. They were therefore induced to resort to measures of direct violence, which unquestionably they would willingly have abstained from, since they could not attempt them without giving a perilous superiority to the Jacobin faction. The Manifesto of the Duke of Brunswick, and his arrival on the French frontier at the head of a powerful Prussian army, acted upon the other motives for insurrection, as a high pressm'e upon a steam-engine, producing ex- plosion. It was the misfortune of Louis, as we have often noticed, to be as frequently injured by the errone- ous measures of his friends as by the machinations of his enemies ; and this proclamation, issued [Jidy 25J by a monarch who had taken arms in the King's cause, was couched in language intolerable to the feelings even of such Freuclinieu as miirht 4 Esprcmenil suffered by the cuillotine in June, 1703; but P("tion, becoming at that time an object of suspicion to Robe spierre, took refuee in the department of the Calvados, whei\ he is supposed to have jierislied with hunger' Ilia body buing found in a tield half devoured by wolves. FRENCH REVOLUTION. 70 still retain towards their King some sentiments of loyalty. All towns or villages which should offer the slightest resistance to the allies, were in this ill-timed manifesto menaced with fire and sword. Paris was declared responsible for the safety of Louis, and the most violent threats of the total sub- version of that great metropolis were denomiccd as the penalty.* Tlie Duke of Brunswick was undoubtedly in- duced to assume this tone, by the ease which he had experienced in putting down the revolution in Holland ; but the cases were by no means parallel. Holland was a country much divided in political opinions, and there was existing among the con- stituted authorities a strong party in favour of the Stadtholder. France, on the contrary, excepting only the emigrants who were in the Duke's own array, was united, like the Jews of old, against foi'eign invasion, though divided into many bitter factions within itself. Above all, the comparative Btrength of France and Holland was so different, that a force which might overthrow the one coun- try without almost a struggle, would scarce prove sufficient to wrest from such a nation as France even the most petty of her frontier fortresses. It cannot be doubted, that this haughty and insolent language on the part of the invaders, irritated the personal feelings of every true Frenchman, and determined them to the most obstinate resistance against invaders, who were confident enough to treat them as a conquered people, even before a skirmish had been fought. The imprudence of the allied general recoiled on the unfortunate Louis, on whose account he used this menacing language. Men began to consider his cause as identified with that of the invaders, of course as standing in dia- metrical opposition to that of the country ; and these opinions spread generally among the citizens of Paris. To animate the citizens to their defence, the Assembly declared, that the country was in danger ; and in order that the annunciation might be more impressive, cannon were hourly discharged from the hospital of the Invalids — bands of military music traversed the streets — bodies of men were drawn together liastily, as if the enemy were at the gates — and all the hurried and hasty movements of the constituted authorities seemed to announce, that the invaders were within a day's march of Pains.^ These distracting and alarming movements, with the sentiments of fear and au.\iety which they were qualified to inspire, aggravated the unpopularity of Louis, in whose cause his brothers and his allies were now threatening the metropolis of France. From these concurring circumstances the public voice was indeed so strongly against the cause of monarchy, tliat the Girondists ventured by their organ, Vergniaud, to accuse the King in the As- sembly of holding intelligence with the enemy, or at least of omitting sufficient defensive prepara- tions, and proposed in express terms that they Ehould proceed to declare his forfeiture. The oi-a- tor, however, did not press this motion, willing, ' See Annual Register, vol. xsxiv., p. 229. 2 Thiers, torn, ii., yi. 1J5. 3 Lacretellc, torn, ix., p. 172. * " The question of abdication was discussed with a dcRree of frenzy. Such of the deputies as otiposed the motion were abused, ill-treated, and surrounded uy assassins. Tlicy had a battle to fi';ht at every step tliey took ; and at length they did uot dare to sleep in their houses." — JIontjoie doubtless, that the power of carrying through and enforcing such -a decree should be completelv ascer- tained, which could only be after a mortal struggle with the last defenders of the Crown ;^ but when a motion like this could be made and seconded, it showed plainly how little respect was preserved for the King in the Assembly at large. For this struggle all parties were arranging their forces, and it became every hour more evident, that the capital was speedily to be the scene of some dread ful event. CHAPTER IX. The Day of the Tenth of August— Tocsin sounded early hi the Morning — Sxciss Guards, and relics of the Royal Party, repair to tJie Tuileries — 3fan- dat assassinated — Dejection of Louis, and energy of the Queen — King's Ministers appear at the Bar of the ylssembly, stating the peril of the Royal Family, and requesting a Deputation might he sent to the Palace — Assembly pass to the Order of the Day — Loiiis and his Family repair to the Assembly — Conflict at the Tuileries — ISiciss or- dered to repair to the King's Person — and are many of them shot and dispersed on their way to the Assembly — At the close of the Day almost all of them are massacred — Royal Family spend the Night in the Convent of the Feuillans. The King had, since the insurrection of the 20th of June, which displayed how much he was at the mercy of his enemies, renounced almost all thoughts of safety or escape. Henry IV. would have called for his arms — Louis XVI. demanded his confessor. " I have no longer any thing to do with earth," he said ; " I must turn all my thoughts on Heaven." Some vain efforts were made to bribe the leaders of the Jacobins, who took the money, and pursued, as might have been expected, their own course with equal rigour. The motion for the declaration of the King's forfeiture* still lingered in the Convention, its fate dependhig upon the coming crisis. At length the fatal Tenth of August approached, being the day which, after repeated adjournments, had been fixed by the Girondists and their rivals for the final rising. The King was apprised of their intention, and had hastily recalled from their barracks at Courbe- Voie about a thousand Swiss guards, upon whose fidelity he could depend. The formidable disci- pline and steady demeanour of these gallant moun- taineers, might have recalled tlie description given by historians, of the entrance of their predecessors into Paris under similar circumstances, the day before the affair of the Barricades, in the reign of Henry II.* But the present moment was too anxious to admit of reflections upon past history. Early on the morning of the 10th of August, the tocsin rung out its alarm-peal over the terrified city of Paris, and announced that the long-menaced insurrection was at length on foot. In many * Thus imitated by the dramatist Lee, from the historian Davila : — " Have you not heard— the King, preventing day, lUccived the guards williin the city gates ; 1 lie jolly Swisses marching to their ih)hs. The crowd stood gaping heedless anil amazed. Shrunk to their shojis, and lelt the passage tree."' — S 80 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. parishes the Constitutional party resisted those who came to sound this awful signal ; but the well- prepared Jacobins were found every where victo- rious, and the prolonged mournful sound was soon tolled out from every steeple in the metropolis.' To this melancholy music the contending parties arranged their forces for attack and defence, upon a day which was doomed to be decisive. The Swiss guards got under arms, and repaired to their posts in and around the palace. About four hundred grenadiers of the loyal section of Filles Saint Thomas, joined by several from that of Les Petits Peres, in whom all confidence could justly be reposed, were posted in the interior of the palace, and associated with the Swiss for its defence. The relics of the Royalist party, undis- mayed at the events of the SSth of February in the year preceding,^ had repaired to the palace on the "first signal given by the tocsin. Joined to the domestic attendants of the royal family, they might amount to about four hundred persons. Is^othing can more strongly mark the unprepared state of the court, than that there were neither muskets nor bayonets for suitably arming these volunteers, nor any supply of ammunition, save what the Swiss and national grenadiers had in their pouches. The appearance also of this little troop tended to in- spire dismay rather than confidence. The chival- rous cry of " Entrance for the Noblesse of France," was the signal for their filing into the presence of the royal family. Alas ! instead of the thousand nobles whose swords used to gleam around their monarch at such a crisis, there entered but veteran officers of rank, whose strength, though not their spirit, was consumed by years, mixed with boys scarce beyond the age of children, and with men of civil professions, several of whom, Lamoignon Malesherbes for example, had now for the first time worn a sword. Their arms were as miscel- laneous as their appearance. Rapiers, hangers, and pistols, were the weapons with which they were to encoimter bands well provided with mus- ketry and artillery .3 Their courage, however, was unabated. It was in vain that the Queen conjured, almost with tears, men aged fourscore and up- wards, to retire from a contest where their strength could avail so little. The veterans felt that the fatal hour was come, and, unable to fight, claimed the privilege of dying in the discharge of their duty.* The behaviour of Marie Antoinette was magna- nimous in the highest degree. " Her majestic air," says Peltier, " her Austrian lip, and aquiline nose, gave her an air of dignity, which can only be con- ceived by those who beheld her in that trying hour." 5 Could she have inspired the King with some portion of her active spirit, he might even at ' M. de Stael, torn, ii., p. 5!). 2 When they were, in similar circurn stances, maltreated by the national guard.— See ante, p. 56.— S. 3 " M. de St. Souplet, one of tlie King's equerries, and a page, instead of muskets, carried upon their shoulders the tones bclonsinp; to the Kind's ante-chamber, which they had broken and divided between them." — Mad. Campan, vol. ii., p. 246. * L.acretelle, torn, ix., p. 201. * Dernier Tableau de I'aris, torn, i., p. 176. « " The KinR ought then to have put himself at the head of his troops, and opposed his enemies. The Queen was of this op'nion, and the courageous counsel she gave on this occasion does honour to her memory. "-M. de Stael, toni. ii., p. 6(». " This invasion of the Ifith nf August, was another of those striking occasions on which the King, by suddenly changing his character, and u&sumhig firmness, migiit have lecovered that extreme hour have wrested the victory from the Revolutionists ; but the misfortunes which he could endin'e like a saint, he could not face and combat like a hero ; and his scruples about shed- ding human blood wellnigh unmanned him.'' The distant shouts of the enemy were already heard, while the gardens of the Tuileries were filled by the successive legions of the national guard, with their cannon. Of this civic force, some, and especially the artillerymen, were as ill-disposed towards the King as was possible ; others were well inclined to him ; and the gi-eater part remained doubtful. Mandat, their commander, was entirely in the royal interests. He had disposed the force he commanded to the best advantage for discou- raging the mutinous, and giving confidence to the well-disposed, when he received an order to repair to the municipality for orders. He went thither accordingly, expecting the support of such Consti- tutionalists as remained in that magistracy, but he found it entirely in possession of the Jacobin party. Mandat was arrested, and ordered a prisoner to the Abbaye, which he never reached, being pis- toled by an assassin at the gate of the Hotel de Ville. His death was an infinite loss to the King's party.7 A signal advantage had, at the same time, been suffered to escape. Pe'tion, the Brissotin Mayor of Paris, was now observed among the national guards. The Royalists possessed themselves of his person, and brought him to the palace, where it was proposed to detain this popular magistrate as an hostage. Upon this, his friends in the As- sembly moved that he should be brought to the bar, to render an account of the state of the capital. A message was despatched accordingly requiring his attendance, and Louis had the weakness to permit him to depart. The motions of the assailants were far from being so prompt and lively as upon former occasions, when no great resistance was anticipated. Santerre, an eminent brewer, who, from his great capital, and his aff'ectation of popular zeal, had raised him- self to the command of the suburb forces, was equally inactive in mind and body, and by no means fitted for the desperate part which he was called on to play.* Westerman, a zealous republican, and a soldier of skill and courage, came to press San- terre's march, informing him, that the Marseillois and Breton Federates were in arms in the Place du Carousel, and expected the advance of the pikemen fi-om the suburbs of Saint Antoine and St. Marfeau. On Santerre's hesitating, Wester- man placed his sword-point at his throat, and the citizen commandant, yielding to the nearer terror, put his bands at length in motion. Their numbers were immense. But the real strength of the as- his throne. Tlie mass of the French people were weary of the excesses of the Jacobins, and the outrage of the 2l)th of June roused the general indignation. Had he ordered the clubs of the Jacobins and Cordeliers, to be shut up, dissolved the As- sembly, and seized upon the factions, that day had restored his authority : but this weak prince, unmindful that the safety of his kingdom depended upon the preservation of his own au- thority, cliose rather to expose himself to certain death, than give orders for his defence." — Dumont, p, ,162. 7 Mignet, torn, i., p. 1!)0; Lacretelle. tom. ix., p. 208. 8 " The muscular exjiansion of his tall jierson, the sonoroiis hoarseness of his voice, his rough manners, and his easy and vulgar eloquence, made him, of course, a hero among the rabble. In truth, he had gained a despotic empire over the dregs of the Fauxbourgs. He could excite them at will ; but that was the extent of his skill and capacity."— Mont.'O'B, Uiil. dc Mai-ic AntoinciU; p. yjo. FRENCH REVOLUTION. 81 sault was to lie on the Federates of Marseilles and Bretagne, and other provinces, who had been care- fully provided with arms and aninuniition. They were also secure of the gcns-d'arnics, or soldiers of police, although these were called out and ari'anged on the King's side. Tiie Marseillois and Bretons were placed at the head of the long columns of the suburb pikemen, as the edge of an axe is armed with steel, while the back is of coarser metal to give weiglit to the blow. The charge of the attack was committed to Westcrman. In the meantime, the defenders of the palace advised Louis to undertake a review of the troops assembled for his defence. Ilis appearance and mien were deeply dejected, and he wore, instead of a uniform, a suit of violet, which is the mourning colour of sovereigns. His words were broken and interrupted, like the accents of a man in despair, and void of the energy suitable to the occasion. " I know not," he said, " what they would have from me — I am willing to die with my faithful ser- vants — Yes, gentlemen, we will at length do our best to resist."' It was in vain that the Queen laboured to inspire her husband with a tone more resolved — in vain that she even snatched a pistol from the belt of the Comte d'Affray, and thrust it into the King's hand, saying, " Now is the moment to show yourself as you are." ^ Indeed, Barbaroux, whose testimony can scarce be doubted, declares his firm opinion, that had the King at this time mounted his horse, and placed himself at the head of the national guards, they would have followed him, and succeeded in putting down the Revolution.' History has its strong parallels, and one would think we are writing of Margaret of Anjou, endea- vouring in vain to inspire determination into her virtuous but feeble-minded husband. Within the palace, the disposition of the troops seemed excellent, and there, as well as in the courts of the Tuileries, the King's address was answered with shouts of " Vive le Roi !" But when he sallied out into the garden, his reception from the legions of the national guard was at least equivocal, and that of the artillerymen, and of a battalion from Saint Marijeau, was decidedly unfavourable. Some cried, " Vive la nation !"* Some, " Down with the tyrant!" The King did nothing to encourage his own adherents, or to crush his enemies, but retired to hold counsel in the palace, around which the storm was fast gathering. It might have been expected that the Assembly, in which the Constitutionalists possessed so strong a majority as to throw out the accusation against La Fayette by a triumphant vote, might now, in the liour of dread necessity, have made some effort to save the crown which that constitution recog- nised, and the innocent life of the prince by whom it was occupied. But fear had laid strong posses- sion upon these unworthy and ungenerous repi-e- Bentatives. The ministers of the King appeared at the bar, and represented the state of the city and of the palace, conjuring the Assembly to send a 1 " I was at a window looking on tlie Karcien. I saw some of the gunners quit their posts, f;o up to the Kinp, and tlirust their fists in his fare, insulting him bv the most brutal lan- guage. He was as pale as a corpse. VVhen the royal family came in again, the Queen told me that all was lost; that the King had shown no energy, and that this sort of review had done more harm than good." — Mad. Campan, vol. ii., p. 245. 2 Laeretelle, torn, ix., p. 'J14. 8 Mtmolres de Barbaroux, p. O!). * "And I," exo'aimcd the King "I, too, say ' I'ivc la VOL. II. deputation to prevent bloodshed. This was coura- geous on the part of those faithful servants ; for to intimate the least interest in the King's fate, was like the bold swimmer who approaches the whirl- pool caused by the sinking of a gallant vessel. The measure they proposed had been resorted to on the 20th June preceding, and was then successful, even though the deputation consisted of members tlio most unfriendly to the King. But now, the As- sembly passed to the order of the day, and thereby left the fate of the King and capital to chance, or tlie result of battle.^ In the meantime, the palace was completely in- vested. The bridge adjacent to the Tuileries, called the Pont Royale, was occupied by the insurgents, and the quai on the opposite side of the river was mounted with cannon, of which the assailants had about fifty pieces, served by the most determined Jacobins ; for the artillerymen had, from the be- ginning, embraced the popular cause with unusual energy. At this decisive moment Roederer, the procu- reur-general syndic, the depositary and organ of the law, who had already commanded the Swiss and armed Royalists not to make any offensive movement, but to defend themselves when attacked, began to think, apparently, that his own safety was compromised, by this implied grant of permission to use arms, even in defence of the King's person. He became urgent with the King to retire from the palace, and put himself tinder the protection of the National Assembly. The Queen felt at once all the imbecility and dishonour of throwing them- selves as suppliants on the pi-otection of a body, which had not shown even a shadow of interest in their safety, surrounded as they knew the royal family to be with the most inveterate enemies. Ere she consented to such infamy, she said, she would willingly be nailed to the walls of the palace.^ But the counsel which promised to avert the necessity of bloodshed on either part, suited well with the ti- morous conscience and irresolution of Louis. Other, measures were hastily proposed by those who had devoted themselves to secure his safety. There was, however, no real alternative but to fight at the head of his guards, or to submit himself to the Ijleasure of the Assembly, and Louis preferred the latter.7 His wife, his sister, and his children, accompa- nied him on this occasion ; and the utmost efforts of an escort of three hundred Swiss and national grenadiers were scarce able to protect them, and a small retinue, consisting of the ministers and a few men of rank, the gleanings of the most brilliant court of Christendom, who accompanied their mas- ter in this last act of humiliation, which was, indeed, equal to a voluntary descent from his throne. They were, at every moment of their progress, inter- rupted by the deadliest threats and imprecations, and the weapons of more than one ruttian were levelled against them. The Queen was robbed even of her watch and purse — so near might tho A'«//()H .'■— its ha))piness has ever been the dearest object of my heart."— Lacuetei.lb, torn, ix., i>. 214. * Prudhomme, torn, iii., p. 198; Mad. Campan, vol. ii., p. 247. 8 " ' Oui,' disait-ellc a MM. de Briges et de Saint Priest, ' j'aimerais mieux me fairo clouer aux murs du chateau que de choisir cet indigne refuge.'" — LACiiiiTELLB, torn, ix., p. 2Hi. " LacrctcIIe, torn. ix.. p 219; Mad. Campan, vol. ii., p. 247 a 82 SCOTTS MISCELLANEOUS PROSE -V^^ORKS. R'orst cnminals approach the persons of the royal fugitives.' Louis showed the greatest composure amidst all these imminent dangers. He was feeble •when called upon to kill, but strong in i-esolution when the question was only to die.^ The King's entrance into the Assembly was not ■without dignity. " My family and I are come among you," he said, " to prevent the commission of a great crime." Vergniaud, who was president at the time, answered with propriety, though am- bigously. He assured the King, that the Assembly knew its duties, and was ready to perish in support of them. A member of the Mountain ^ observed, with bitter irony, that it was impossible for the Assembly to deliberate freely in presence of the monarch, and proposed he should retreat into one of the most remote committee rooms— a place where assassination must have been comparatively easy. The Assembly rejected this proposal, alike insulting and insidious, and assigned a box, or small apartment, called the Logographe, used for the re- porters of the debates, for the place of refuge of this unhappy family. This arrangement was scarce made, ere a heavy discharge of musketry and can- non announced that the King's retreat had not prevented the bloodshed he so greatly feared.* It must be supposed to have been Louis's inten- *ion, that his guards and defenders should draw off from the palace, as soon as he himself had aban- doned it ; for to what purpose was it now to be defended, when the royal family were no longer concerned ; and at what risk, when the garrison was diminished by three hundred of the best of the troops, selected as the royal escort ? But no such order of retreat, or of non-resistance, had, in fact, been issued to the Swiss guards, and the military discipline of this fine corps prevented their retiring from an assigned post without command. Captain Durler is said to have asked the Marechal jVIailly for orders, and to have received for answer, " Do not suffer your posts to be forced." — " You may rely on it," replied the intrepid Swiss.^ Meantime, to give no unnecessary provocation, as well as on account of their diminished numbers, the court in front of the palace was abandoned, and the guards were withdrawn into the building itself; their outermost sentinels being placed at the bottom of the splendid staircase, to defend a sort of barri- cade which had been erected there, ever since the 20th June, to prevent such intrusions as distin- guished that day. The insurgents, with the Marseillois and Breton Federates at their heads, poured into the com-t- yard without opposition, planted their cannon where some small buildings gave them advantage, and advanced without hesitation to the outposts of the Swiss. They had already tasted blood that day, having massacred a patrol of Eoyalists, who, miable to get into the Tuileries, had attempted to assist tiie defence, by interrupting, or at least watching ar d discovering, the measures adopted by the in- 1 Mad. Campan, vol. ii., p. 249; Lacretelle, torn, ix., p. 220. 2 " The Queen told me, that the Kin:; had just refused to put on the under-waistcoat of mail which she had prepared ftiri2 circ'iiii]stani_-cs? She told me that tlicv could do nolhing. but tliat tlie lady of tlie English ambassador had just given lier a proof of the pri- vate interest she took in her welfare by sending her linen for her son." — Mad. Cami'An, vol. ii., p. 2o!>. " At this frightful period. Lady Sutherland," [the present Duchess and Countess of Sutherland,] "then English ambas- sadress at Paris, showed the most devoted attentions to the royal family." — Mad. de Stael, tom. ii., p. (JJ. 84 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS TROSE AVORKS. sm leases at will, subject to be revoked 60 soon as an artful, envious, or grasping demagogue should be able to turn against the lawful owners the rea- dily-excited suspicions of a giddy multitude, whom habit and impunity had rendered ferocious. The system established on these principles, and termed liberty, was in fact an absolute despotism, far worse than that of Algiers; because the tyrannic dey only executes'his oppression and cruelties within a certain sphere, affecting a limited number of his subjects who approach near to his throne ; while, of the many thousand leaders of the Jacobins of France, every one had his peculiar circle in which he claimed right, as full as that of Robespierre or Marat, to avenge former slights or injuries, and to gratify his own individual appetite for plunder and blood. All the departments of France, without exception, paid the most unreserved submission to the decrees of the Assembly, or rather to those which the Com- munity of Paris, and the insurgents, had dictated to that legislative body ; so that the hour seemed ai-rived when the magistracy of Paris, supported by a democratic force, should, in the name and through the influence of the Assembly, impose its own laws upon France. La Fayette, whose headquarters was at this juncture at Sedan, in vain endeavoured to animate his soldiers against this new species of despotism. The Jacobins had their friends and representatives in the very trustiest of his battalions. He made an effort, however, and a bold one. He seized on the persons of three deputies, sent to him as commis- sioners by the Assembly, to compel submission to their decrees, and proposed to reserve them as hostages for the King's safety. Several of his own general officers, the intrepid Desaix amongst others, seemed willing to support him. Dumouriez, how- ever, the personal enemy of La Fayette, and ambi- tious of being his successor in the supreme com- mand, recognised the decrees of the Assembly in the separate army which he commanded. His ex- ample drew over Luckner, who also commanded an independent corps d'arm^e, and who at first seemed disposed to join with La Fayette.' That unfortunate general was at length left un- supported by any considerable part even of his own' army; so tliat with three friends, whose names were well known in the Revolution,''' ho was f;\in to attempt an escape from France, and, in crossing a part of the enemy's frontier, they were made pri- soners by a party of Prussians. Fugitives from their own camp for the sake of roj-alty, they might have expected refuge in that of the allied kings, who were in arms for the same object ; but, with a littleness of spirit which augured no good for their cause, the allies determined that these unfortunate gentlemen should be consigned as state prisoners to different fortresses. This con- duct on the part of the monarchs, however irritated they might be by the recollection of some part of I-a Fayette's conduct in the outset of the Revolu- tion, was neither to be vindicated by morality, the law of nations, nor the rules of sound policy. \\^e are no approvers of the democratic species of mo- narchy which La Fayette endeavoured to establish. • Lacretelle, torn, ix., p. 205; Mijnet, torn, i., p. 107. 2 Bursau dc Pucy, Latour Maubourg, and Alexander La- ineth. Their intcntiou was to proceed to the United States ef America. and cannot but be of opinion, that if he had acted upon his victory in the Champ de Mars, he might have shut up the Jacobin Club, and saved his own power and popularity from being juggled out of his handsby those sanguinary charlatans. But errors of judgment must be pardoned tomen placedamidstun- heard-of difficulties; and La Fayette's conduct on his visit to Paris, bore testimony to his real willingness to save the King and preserve the monarchy. But even if he had been amenable for a crime against his o\\'n country, we know not what right Austria or Prussia had to take cognizance of it. To them he was a mere prisoner of war, and nothing farther Lastly, it is very seldom that a petty and vindictive line of policy can consist with the real interest, either of great princes or of private individuals. In the present case, the arrest of La Fayette was peculiarly the contrary. It afforded a plain proof to France and to all Europe, that the allied mo- narchs were determined to regard as enemies all who had, in any manner, or to any extent, favoured the Revolution, being indeed the whole people of France, excepting the emigrants now in arms. The effect must necessarily have been, to compel every Frenchman, who was desirous of enjoying more liberty than the ancient despotism permitted, into submission to the existing government, what- ever it was, so long as invading armies of foreigners, whose schemes were apparently as inconsistent with the welfare as with the independence of the country, were hanging on the frontiers of France. For a short space, like hounds over the carcass of the prey they have jointly run down, the GiroU' dists and Jacobins suspended their dissensions ; but when the Constitutional party had ceased to show all signs of existence, their brawl soon recommenced, and the Girondists early discovered, that in the allies whom they had called on to assist them in the subjugation of royalty, thej' had already to strive with men, who, though inferior to them in speculative knowledge, and in the eloquence which was to sway the Assembly, possessed in a much higher degree the practical energies by which re- volutions are accomplished, were in complete pos- session of the community (or magistracy) of Paris, and maintained despotic authority over all the bands of the meti'opolis. Three men of terror, whose names will long remain, we trust, unmatched in history by those of any similar miscreants, had now the unrivalled leading of the Jacobins, and were called the Triumvirate. Danton deserves to be named first, as unequalled by his colleagues in talent and audacity. He was a man of gigantic size, and possessed a voice of thunder. His countenance was that of an Ogre on the shoulders of a Hercules.^ He was as fond of the pleasures of vice as of the practice of cruelty | and it was said there were times when he became humanized amidst his debauchery, laughed at the terror which his furious declamations excited, and might be approached with safety, like the Mael- strom at the turn of tide. His profusion was in- dulged to an extent hazardous to his popularity, for the populace are jealous of a lavish expenditure, as raising their favourites too much above their own degree ; and the charge of peculation finds s " I never saw any countenance that so strongly expressed the violence nf brutal passions, and the most asuinishinR au- dacity, half-dissuised by a jovial air, an affectation of frank- ness, and a sort of simplicity." — Mad. Roland, part i., p. i!ii FRENCH REVOLUTION. 85 always rcatly credit with them, wlien brought against public men.' Robespierre possessed this advantage over Dan- ton, that he did not seem to seek for wealth, either for hoarding or expending, but lived in strict and economical retirement, to justify the name of the Incorruptible, with which he was honoured by his partisans. He appears to have possessed little talent, saving a deep fund of hypocrisy, consider- able powers of sophistry, and a cold exaggerated strain of oratory, as foreign to good taste, as the measures he recommended were to ordinary huma- iiity. It seemed wonderful, that even the seething and boiling of the revolutionary cauldron should have sent up from the bottom, and long supported on the surface, a thing so miserably void of claims to public distinction ; but Robespierre had to im- pose on the minds of the vulgar, and he knew how to beguile them, by accommodating his flattery to their passions and scale of imderstanding, and by acts of cunning and hypocrisy, which weigh more with the multitude than the words of eloquence, or the arguments of wisdom. The people listened as to their Cicero, when he twanged out his apostrophes of " Pauvre Peuple ! Peuple vertueux 1" and has- tened to execute whatever came recommended by such honied phrases, though devised by the worst of men for the worst and most inhuman of purposes.^ Vanity was Robespierre's ruling passion, and though his countenance was the image of Ins mind, he was vain even of his personal appearance, and never adopted the external habits of a Sans Culotte. Amongst his fellow Jacobins, he was distinguislied by the nicety with which his hair was arranged and powdered ; and the neatness of his dress was care- fully attended to, so as to counterbalance, if pos- sible, the vulgarity of his person. His apartments, though small, were elegant, and vanity had filled them with repi'esentations of the occupant. Robes- pierre's picture at length hung in one place, his miniature in another, his bust occupied a niche, and on the table were disposed a few medallions, exhibiting his head in profile.^ The vanity which all this indicated was of the coldest and most selfish character, being such as considers neglect as insult, and receives homage merely as a tribute ; so that, while praise is received without gratitude, it is withheld at the risk of mortal hate. Self-love of this dangerous character is closely allied with envy, and Robespierre v.as one of the most envious and vindictive men that ever lived. He never was known to pardon any opposition, affront, or even rivalry ; and to be marked in his tablets on such an account was a sure, though perhaps not an im- mediate, sentence of death. Dan ton was a hero, compared with this cold, calculating, ci'eeping mis- creant ; for his passions, though exaggerated, had at least some touch of humanity, and his brutal ferocity was supported by brutal courage. Robes- pierre was a coward, who signed death-wai'rants with a hand that shook, though his heart was relent- ' " In 17''ii). he was a miserable lawyer, more burdened with debts tliaii causes. He went to Helf;ium to augment his re- gourees, and now had the hardihood to avow a fortune of ],4. 208. 2 Minuet, torn, i., ],. 2(»4; Thiers, torn, ii., ii. (jl ; I-acretellc torn. IX., D. 2y.l. steeled officials exerted themselves to save those under their charge. A revolutionary tribunal was formed from among the armed ruffians themselves, who examined the registers of the prisons, and summoned the captives individually to undergo the form of a trial. If the judges, as was almost always the ease, declared for death, their doom, to prevent the efforts of men in despair, was expressed in tlie words, " Give the prisoners freedom." ^ The vic- tim was then thrust out into the sti'eet, or yard ; lie was despatched by men and women, who, with sleeves tucked up, arms dyed elbow-deep in blood, hands holding axes, pilies, and sabres, were execu- tioners of tlie sentence ; and, by tlie manner in which they did their office on the living, and mangled the bodies of the dead, showed that they occupied their post as much from pleasure as from love of hire. They often exchanged places; the judges going out to take the executioners' duty, the exe- cutioners, with their reeking hands, sitting as judges in their turn. Maillard, a ruffian alleged to have distinguished himself at the siege of the Bastile, but better known by his exploits upon the march to Versailles,^ presided during these brief and san- guinary investigations. His companions on the bench were persons of the same stamp. Yet there were occasions when they showed some transient gleams of humanity, and it is not unimportant to remai'k, that boldness had more influence on them than any appeal to mercy or compassion. An avowed Royalist was occasionally dismissed unin- jured, while the Constitutionalists were sure to be massacred. Another trait of a singular nature is, that two of the ruffians who were appointed to guard one of these intended victims home in safety, as a man acquitted, insisted upon seeing his meet- ing with his family, seemed to share in the trans- ports of the moment, and on taking leave, shook the hand of their late prisoner, while their own were clotted with tlie gore of his friends, and had been just raised to shed his own. Few, indeed, and brief, were these symptoms of relenting. In gene- ral, the doom of the prisoner was death, and that doom was instantly accomplished. In the meanwhile, tlie captives were penned up in their dungeons like cattle in a shambles, and in many instances might, from windows which looked outwards, mark the fate of their comrades, hear their cries, and behold their struggles, and learn from the horrible scene, how they might best meet their own approaching fate. They observed, ac- cording to Saint Meard, who, in his well-named " Agony of Thirty- Six Hours," has given the ac- count of this fearful scene, that those who inter- cepted the blows of the executioners, by holding up their hands, suffered protracted torment, while those who offered no show of struggle were more easily despatched ; and they encouraged each other to submit to their fate, in the manner least likely to prolong their sufferings.^ Many ladies, especially those belonging to the court, were thus murdered. The Princess de Lam- balle, whose only crime seems to have been her friendship for Marie Antoinette, was literally hewn to pieces, and her head, and that of others, paraded on pikes tln-ough the metropolis. It was carried to the Temple on that accursed weapon, the featurca 3 Lacretcllc, torn, ix., p. 314. ■• .See auir, p. J.'J. 5 .Mon Ajjoiiie de Trente-six Hcures, p 30. FRENXII REVOLUTION. S9 yet beautiful in death, ami the loiiEf fair curls of the hair floating around the spear. The murderers insisted that the King and Queen should be com- pelled to come to the window to view this dreadful trophy. The municipal otticers who were upon duty over the royal prisoners, had difficulty, not merely in saving them from this hon'ible inhuma- nity, but also in preventing the prison from being forced. Three-coloured ribbons were extended across the street, and this frail barrier was found sufficient to intimate that the Temple was under the safeguard of the nation. We do not read that the efficiency of the three-coloured ribbons was tried for the protection of any of the other prisons. No doubt the executioners had their instructions where and when they should be respected.^ The Clergy, who had declined the Constitutional oath from pious scruples, were, during the massacre, the peculiar objects of insult and cruelty, and their conduct was such as corresponded with their reli- gious and conscientious professions. They were seen confessing themselves to each other, or re- ceiving the confessions of their lay companions in misfortune, and encouraging them to undergo the e\'il hour, with as much calmness as if they them- selves had not been to share its bitterness. As Protestants, we cannot abstractedly approve of the doctrines which render the established clergy of one country dependent upon a sovereign pontiff, the prince of an alien state : but these priests did not make the laws for which they suffered ; they only obeyed them ; and as men and Christians we must regard them as martyrs, who preferred death to what they considered as apostasy .^ In tlie brief intervals of this dreadful butchery, which lasted for four days, the judges and execu- tioners ate, drank, and slept ; and awoke from slum- ber, or rose from their meal, with fresh appetite for mm-der. There were places arranged for the male, and for the female murderers, for the work had been incomplete without the intervention of the latter. Prison after prison was invested, en- tered, and under the same form of proceeding, made the scene of the same inhuman butchery. The Jacobins had reckoned on making the mas- sacre universal over France. But the example was not generally followed. It required, as in the case of Saint Bartholomew, the only massacre which can be compared to this in atrocity, the excitation of a large capital, in a violent crisis, to render such horrors possible. The Commune of Paris were not in fault for this. They did all they could to extend the sphere of murder. Their waiTant brought from Orleans near sixty persons, including the Duke de Cosse'-Brissac, De Lessart the late minister, and other Royalists of distinction, who were to have been tried before the high court of that department. A band of as- sassins met them, by appointment of the Commune, at Versailles, who, uniting with their escort, miu-- dered almost the whole of these unhappy men.^ From the ■2d to the 6th of September, these in- fernal crimes proceeded uninterrupted, protracted by the actors for the sake of the daily pay of a ' Thiers, torn, iii., p. 8; Lacrctelle, torn, ix., p. 325. 2 Thiers, torn, iii., p. 64. 3 Thiers, torn, iii., p. 127; Laeretelle, torn, ix., p. 3-18. * The bookR of the Hotel de Ville preserve evidence of this fact. Billaud-Varennes appeared puhHcIy amonp the as- sassins, and distributed the price of blood. — S. — " I am au- thorised," he said, " to offer to eacli of you twcntj-four francs. louis to each, openly distributed amongst them, by order of the Commune.'' It was either from a de- sire to continue as long as possible a labour so well requited, or because these beings had acquired an insatiable lust of murder, that, when the jails were emptied of state criminals, the assassins attacked the Bicetre, a prison where ordinary dehnquents were confined. These unhappy wretches offered a degree of resistance which cost the assailant.^ dearer than any they had experienced from their proper victims. They were obliged to fire on them with cannon, and many hundreds of the miserable creatures were in this way exterminated, by wretches worse than themselves. No exact account was ever made of the number of persons murdered during this dreadful period ; but not above two or three hundred of the prisoners ari'ested for state offences were known to escape, or be discharged, and the most moderate compu- tation raises the number of those who fell to two or three thousand, though some carry it to twice the extent. Truchod announced to the Legislative Assembly, that four thousand had perished. Some exertion was made to save the lives of persons im- prisoned for debt, whose numbers, with those of common felons, may make up the balance betwixt the number slain, and eight thousand who were prisoners when the massacre began. The bodies were interred in heaps, in immense trenches, pre- pared beforehand by order of the Commune of Paris ; but their bones have since been transferred to the subterranean Catacombs, wliich form the general charnel-house of the city. In those me- lancholy regions, while other relics of mortality lie exposed all around, the remains of those who perished in the mas.'^acres of September are alone I secluded from the eye. The vault in which they repo.se is closed with a screen of freestone, as if relating to crimes unfit to be thought of even in I the proper abode of death, and which France would I willingly hide in oblivion. I In the meanwhile, the reader may be desirous to know what efiforts were made by the Assembly to I save the lives of so many Frenchmen, or to put a : stop to a massacre carried on in contempt of all legal interference, and by no more formidable force ' tlian that of two or three hundred atrocious felons, often, indeed, diminished to only fifty or sixty.-'' He might reasonably expect that the national re- presentatives would have thundered forth some of those decrees which they formerly directed against the crown, and the noblesse ; that they should have repaired by deputations to the various sections, called out the national guards, and appealed to all, not only that were susceptible of honour or hu- manity, but to all who had the breatli and being of man, to support them in interrupting a series of horrors disgraceful to mankind. Such an appeal to the feelings of their fellow-citizens made them at last successful in the overthrow of Robespierre. But the Reign of Terror was now but in its com- mencement, and men had not yet learned that there lay a refuge in the efforts of despair. Instead of such energy as might have been ex- ■nliich shall be instantly jiaid. Respectable citizens, continuo your sood work, and acquire new titles to the honiage of your countrv! Let every thin-; on this great day be fitting the so- vereignty of the people, who have committed their vengeance to your hands."— SrcAHD, p. 135; Thikrs, torn. iii.. p. 7-1- 5 Louvet's Memoirs, p. 73 ; Barbaroux, p. 57 ; Thiers, torn. iii., p. 77. 90 SCOTTS AnSCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. pected from the principles of which they boasted, nothings could be more timid thaa the conduct of the Girondists, being the only party in the Assem- bly who had the power, and might be supposed to have the inclination, to control the course of crime. We looked carefully through the 3Tonitt;urs which contain the official account of the sittings of the Assembly on these di'eadful days. We find regular enti-ies of many patriotic gifts, of such importance as the following: — A fusee fi-om an Englishman — a pair of hackney-coach horses from the coachman — a map of the country around Paris from a lady. While engaged in receiving and re- gistering these ci^ic donations, their journal bears few and doubtful references to the massacres then in progress. The Assembly issued no decree against the slaughter — demanded no support from the public force, and restricted themselves to send- ing to the murderers a pitiful deputation of twelve of their number, whose commission seems to have been limited to petition for the safety of one of their colleagues, belonging to the Constitutional faction. With difficulty they saved him, and the celebrated Abbe Sicard, the philanthropic instruc- tor of the deaf and dumb, imprisoned as a non-jur- ing priest, for whom the ^vails and tears of his hapless pupils had procured a reprieve even from the assassins.' Dussault, one of that deputation, distinguished himself by the efforts which he used to persuade the murderers to desist. " Return to your place," said one of the ruffians, his arms crim- soned with blood. " You have made us lose too much time. Return to your own business, and leave us to ours." Dussault went back, to recount to those who had sent him what he had witnessed, and how he had been received ; and concluded with the exclama- tion, " Woe's me, that I should have lived to see such horrors, without the power of stopping them !" The Assembly heard the detail, and remained timid and silent as before.* Where, in that hour, were the men who formed their judgment upon the models presented by Plutarch, their feelings on the wild eloquence of Rousseau ? Where were the Gu'ondists, cele- brated by one of their admirers,^ as distmguished by good morals, by severe probity, by a profound respect for the dignity of man, by a deep sense of his rights and his duties, by a sound, constant, and immutable love of order, of justice, and of liberty ? Were the eyes of such men blind, that they could not see the blood which flooded for four days the streets of the metropolis ? were their ears dead- ened, that they could not hear the shouts of the murderers, and the screams of the victims ? or were their voices mute, that they called not upon God and man — upon the very stones of Paris, to assist them in internipting such a crime ? Political rea- sons have, by royalist writers, been supposed to furnish a motive for their acquiescence ; for there is, according to civilians, a certain degree of care- less or timid imbecility, which can only be explained as having its origin in fraud. They allege that the Girondists saw, rather with pleasure than hon-or, the atrocities which were committed, while their enemies the Jacobins, exterminatmg their equally ' ' T)ie abb6 would have been instantly murdered, had not a courageous watchmaker, of the name (if Jlonnot, rushed between them, and staid the lance already raised to be plunged in his bosom." — Thieks, torn, iii., p. 71. hated enemies the Constitutionalists and Royalists, took on themselves the whole odium of a glut of blood, which must soon, they might naturally ex- pect, disgust the sense and feelings of a country so civiUzed as France. We remain, nevertheless, convinced, that Vergniaud, Brissot, Roland, and, to a certainty, his high-minded wife, would have stopped the massacres of September, had their courage and practical skill in public affairs borne any proportion to the conceit which led them to suppose, that their vocation lay for governing such a nation as France. But whatever was the moiive of their apathy, the Legislative Assembly was nearly silent on the subject of the massacres, not only while they were in progress, but for several days afterwards. On the 16th of September, when news from the army on the frontiers was beginning to announce suc- cesses, and when the panic of the metropolis began to subside, Vergniaud adroitly charged the Jaco- bins with turning on unhappy prisoners of state the popular resentment, which should have animated them with bravery to march out against the com- mon enemy. He upbraided also the Commune of Paris with the assumption of unconstitutional powers, and the inhuman tyranny with which they had abused them ; but his speech made little im- pression, so much are deeds of cnaelty apt to be- come familiar to men's feelings, when of frequent recurrence. When the first accounts were read in the Constituent Assembly, of the massacres per- petrated at Avignon, the president fainted away, and the whole body manifested a horror, as well of the senses as of the mind ; and now, that a far more cruel, more enduring, more extensive train of murders was perpetrated under their own eye, the Legislative Assembly looked on in apathy. The utmost which the eloquence of Vergniaud could extract from them was a decree, that in fu- ture the Commune should be answerable with their own lives for the security of the prisoners under their charge. After passing this decree, the Le- gislative Assembly, being the second representative body of the French nation, dissolved itself accord- ing to the resolutions of the 10th of August, to give place to the National Convention.* The Legislative Assembly was, in its composi- tion and its character, of a caste greatly inferior to that which it succeeded. The flower of the talents of France bad naturally centred in the National Assembly, and, by an absurd regulation, its mem- bers were incapacitated from being re-elected ; wliich necessarily occasioned their situation being in many instances supplied by persons of inferior attainments. Theia the destuiies of the first As- sembly had been fulfilled in a more lofty manner. They were often wrong, often absurd, often arro- gant and presumptuous, but never mean or servile. They respected the liberty of debate, and even amidst the bitterest political discussions, defended the persons of their colleagues, however much op- posed to them in sentiment, and maintained their constitutional inviolability. They had also the great advantage of being, as it were, free born. They were indeed placed in captivity by their re- moval to Paris, but their courage was not abated \ 2 Lacretelle, tom. ix., p. 317. 3 il^moires de Buzot, p. (6. * Lacretelle, tom. is., p. 359. FRENCH REVOLUTION. 91 nor did they make any concessions of a personal kind to the ruffians, by whom they were at times personally ill-used. But the second, or Legislative Assembly, had, on the contrary, been captive from the moment of their first convocation. They had never met but in Paris, and were inured to the habit of patient submission to the tribunes and the refuse of the city, who repeatedly broke into their hall, and is- sued their mandates in the form of petitions. On two memorable occasions, they showed too dis- tinctly, that considerations of personal safety eould overpower their sense of public duty. Two-thirds of the repi'esentatives joined in acquitting La Fay- ette, and declared, by doing so, that they abhorred the insurrection of the 20th of June ; yet, when that of the 10 th of August had completed what was before attempted in vain upon the occasion pi-eced- ing, the Assembly unanimously voted the deposi- tion of the monarch, and committed him to prison. Secondly, they remained silent and inactive during all the horrors of September, and suffered the exe- cutive power to be wrenched out of their hands by the Commune of Paris, and used before their eyes for the destruction of many thousands of French- men whom they represented. It must be, however, remembered, that the Le- gislative As-sembly were oppressed by difficulties and dangers the most dreadful that can threaten a government ; — the bloody discord of contending factions, the arms of foreigners menacing the fron- tier, and civil war breaking out in the provinces. In addition to these sources of peril and dismay, there were three divided parties within the Assem- bly itself ; while a rival power, equally formidaljle from its audacity and its crimes, had erected itself in predominating authority, like that of the maires du palais over the feeble mouarchs of the Jlero- vingian dynasty. CHAPTER XI. Election of Representatives for the National Con- rention — Jacobins are reri/ active— Right hand Party — Left hand side — Neutral Members — The Girondists are in i^ossession of the ostensible Power — They denounce the Jacobin Chiefs, hut in an irregular and feeble manner — Marat, Robesinerre, and Danton, supported by the Commune and Po- pulace of Paris — France declared a Republic — Duke of Brunstcick's Campaign — Neglects the French Emigrants — Is tardy in his Op>erations — Occupies the poorest part of Champagne — His Army becomes sickly — Prospects of a Battle — Dumouriez's Army recruited with Carmagnoles — The Duke resolves to Retreat — Thoughts on the consequences of that measure — The Retreat disas- trous — l^he Emigrants disbanded in a great mea- sure — Reflections on their Fate — The Prince of Condi'' s Army. It was, of course, the object of each party to obtain the greatest possible majority in the National Convention now to be assembled, for arranging upon 8ome new footing the government of France, and ' Among others of the same party thus elected were David, thg painter, Camllle Desmoulins, Collot d'Herbois, and the for replacing that Constitution to which faith had been so repeatedly s\\'orii. The Jacobins made the most energetic exertions, They not only wrote missives through their two thousand affiliated societies, but sent three hundred commissaries, or delegates, to superintend the elec- tions in the different towns and departments ; to exhort their comrades not only to be firm, but to be enterprising ; and to seize with strong hand the same power over the public force, which the mother society possessed in Paris. The advice was poured into willing ears ; for it implied the sacred right of insurrection, with the concomitant privi- leges of pillage and slaughter. The power of the Jacobins was irresistible in Paris, where Robespierre, Danton, and Marat, who shared the high places in their synagogue, were elected by an immense majority ;' and of the twenty deputies who represented Paris, there were not above five or six unconnected with the massacres. Nor were they any where unsuccessful, where there existed enough of their adherents to overawe by threats, clamour, and violence, the impartial voice of the public. But in every state there is a great number of men who love order for itself, and for the protec- tion it affords to property. There were also a great many persons at heart Royalists, either pure or constitutional, and all these united in sending to the National Convention deputies, who, if no oppor- tunity occurred of restoring the monarchy, might at least co-operate with the Girondists and more moderate Republicans in saving the life of the un- fortunate Louis, and in protecting men's lives, and property in general, from the infuriate violence of the Jacobins. These supporters of order — we know no better name to assign to them — were chiefly re- presentatives of the departments, where electors had more time to discriminate and reflect, than when under the influence of the revolutionary societies and clubs of the towns. Yet Nantes, Bourdeaux, Marseilles, Lyons, and other towns, chiefly in the west and soutli, were disposed to support the Giron- dists, and sent deputies favourable to their senti- ments. Thus the Convention, when assembled, still presented the appearance of two strong parties ; and the feebleness of that, which, being moderate in its views, only sought to act defensively, consisted not in want of numbers, but in want of energy. It was no good omen, that, on taking their places in the Assembly, these last assumed the Right Side; a position which seemed doomed to defeat, since it had been successively occupied by the suppressed parties of moderate Royalists and Constitutionalists. There was defeat in the very sound of the parti droit, whereas the left-hand position had always been that of victory. Men's minds are moved by small incidents in dubious times. Even this choice of seats made an impression upon spectators and auditors unfavourable to the Girondists, as all na- turally shrink from a union with bad fortune. There was a considerable party of neutral mem- bers, who, without joining themselves to the Gi- rondists, affected to judge impartially betwixt the contending parties. They were chiefly men of con- sciences too timid to go all the lengths of the Jaco- bins, but also of too timid nerves to oppose them Duke of Orleans, who had abdicated his titles and was r'. called Philip Egalit^.— See Thiers, torn, iii., p. 133 9-? SCOTTS MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. openly and boldly. Tliese were sure to succumb on all occasions, \\hen the Jacobins judged it necessary to use their favourite argument of popular terror. The Girondists took possession, however, of all ostensible marks of power. Danton was dismissed from his place as minister of justice ; and they were, as far as mere official name and title could bestow it on them, in possession of the authority of government. But the ill-fated regulation which excluded ministers from seats in the Assembly, and consequently from any right save that of defence, proved as fatal to those of the new system, as it had done to the executive government of Louis. Our remarks upon the policy of the great change from Monarchy to a Republic, will be more in place elsewhere.i Indeed, violent as the change sounded in words, there was not such an important altera- tion in effect as to produce much sensation. The Constitution of 1791 was a democracy to all intents and purposes, leaving little power with the King, and that little subject to be so much cramped and straitened in its operation, that the royal authority was even smaller in practice than it had been li- mited in theory. When to this is added, that Louis was a prisoner amongst his subjects, acting under the most severe restraint, and endangering his life every time he attempted to execute his constitu- tional power, he must long have been held rather an incumbrance on the motions and councils of the state, than as one of its efficient constituted autho- rities. The nominal change of the system of govern- ment scarcely made a greater alteration in the in- ternal condition of France, than the change of a sign makes upon a house of entertainment, where the business of the tavern is carried on in the usual way, although the place is no longer distinguished as the King's Head. While France was thus alanned and agitated within, by change, by crime, by the most bitter political factions, the dawn of that coui"se of victory had already risen on the frontiers, which, in its noonday splendour, was to blaze fiercely over all Europe. It is not our purpose to detail military events at present ; we shall have but too many of them to discuss hereafter. We shall barely state, that the Duke of Brunswick's campaign, considered as relative to his proclamation, forms too good an illustration of the holy text, " Pride goeth before destruction, and a haughty spirit before a fall." The duke was at the head of a splendid army, which had been joined by fifteen thousand emigrants in the finest state of equipment, bmniing with zeal to rescue the King, and avenge themselves on those by whom they had been driven from their country. From what fatality it is hard to conceive, but the Duke of Brunswick seems to have looked with a certain degree of coldness and suspicion on those troops, whose chivalrous valour and high birth called them to the van, instead of the rear, in which the generalissimo was pleased to detain them. The chance of success that might justly have been expected from the fiery energy which was the very soul of French chivalry, from the fear which such an army might have inspired, or perhaps from the friends whom they might have found, was altogether lost. There was something in this extraordinary I " Tlic first measure of the Convention was to abolish Mo- narchy and proclaim a Republic. The calendar was changed ; it was no longer the fourth year of Liliertv, but the first of the French Kcpublic."— Migxet, torn, i., p. ■2\-2. conduct, which almost vindicated the suspicion, that Prussia was warring on her own account, and was not disposed to owe too much of the expected suc- cess to the valour of the emigrants. And it escaped not the remark, both of the emigrants and the French at large, that Longwy and Verdun were ostentatiously taken possession of by the allies, not under the name of the King of France, or the Comte d'Artois, but in that of the Emperor ; which appeared to give colour to the invidious report, that the allies were to be indemnified for the cost of their assistance, at the expense of the French line of frontier towns. Neither did the duke use his fine army of Prussians, or direct the motions of the Austrians under Clairfait, to any greater ad- vantage. He had, indeed, the troops of the Great Frederick ; but under the command of an irreso- lute and incapable leader, it was the sword of Scan- derbeg in the hands of a boj% This tardiness of the Duke of Brunswick's move- ments intimated a latent doubt of his own capacity to conduct the campaign. The superiority of his veteran and finely disciplined forces over the dis- organized army of Dumouriez, reinforced as it was by crowds of Federates, who were perfect strangers to war, would have been best displayed by bold and rapid movements, evincing at once activity and combination, and alarmmg raw troops by a sense of danger, not in front alone, but on every point. Each day which these new soldiers spent unfought, was one step towards military discipline, and w hat is more, towards military confidence. The general who had threatened so hard, seemed to suspend Ills blow in indecision ; and he remaLned trifling on the frontiers, " when Frederick, had he been in our front," said the French general, " would long since have driven us back upon Chalons." ^ The result of so many false steps began soon to appear. Brunswick, whose army was deficient in battering guns, though entering France on a fron- tier of fortifications, was arrested by the obstinate defence of Thionville. Having at length decided to advance, he spent nine days in marching thirty leagues, but omitted to possess himself of the defiles of Argonnes, by which alone the army of Luckner cotild co-operate with that of Dumouriez. The allied general now found himself in the most ele- vated part of the province of Champagne, branded for its poverity and sterility with the unseemly name " La Champagne Pouilleuse," where he found difficulty to subsist his army. Meantime, if corn and forage were scarce, grapes and melons were, unfortunately, plenty. These last fruits are so proverbially unwholesome, that the magistrates of Liege, and some other towns, forbid the peasants to bring them to market under pain of confiscation. It was the first time such delicacies had been pre- sented to the hyperborean appetites of the Prus- sians ; and they could not resist the temptation, though the same penalty was annexed to the ban- quet, as to that which produced the first transgres- sion. They ate and died. A fatal dysentery broke out in the camp, which swept the soldiers away by hundreds in a day, sunk the spirits of the survivors, and seems to have totally broken the courage of their commander.^ 2 Dumouriez, vol. ii., p. 387- 3 Jomini, torn, ii., p. 1^. FRE^^C11 REVOLUTION. 93 Two courses remained to the embarrassed ge- neral. One was, to make his way by giving battle to the French, by attacking them in the strong position which they had been permitted to occupy, notwithstanding the ease with which they might have been anticipated. It is true, Dumouriez had been very strongly reinforced. France, from all her departments, had readily poured forth many thousands of her fiery j'outh, from city and town, village and grange and farm, to protect the fron- tiers, at once, from the invasion of foi-eigners, and the occupation of thousands of vengeful emigrants. They were undisciplined, indeed, but full of zeal and courage, heated and excited by the scenes of the republic, and inflamed by the florid eloquence, the songs, dances, and signal-words with which it had been celebrated. Above all, they were of a country, which, of all others in Eurojie, has been most familiar with war, and the youth of which are most easily rendered amenable to militaiy disciplme. But to these new levies the Duke of Brunswick might have safely opposed the ardent valour of the emigi'ants, men descended of families whose deeds of chivalry fill the registers of Europe ; men by whom the road to Paris was regarded as that which was to conduct them to victory, to honour, to the rescue of their King, to reunion with their families, to the recovery of their patrimony ; men accus- tomed to consider disgrace as more dreadful by far than death, and who claimed as their birth-right, military renown and the use of arms. In one skir- mish, fifteen hundred of the emigrant cavalry had defeated, with great slaughter, a column of the Carmagnoles, as the republican levies were called. They were routed with great slaughter, and their opponents had the pleasure to count among the slain a considerable number of the assassins of September. But the French general had more confidence in the Carmagnole levies, from which his military genius derived a valuable support, than Brunswick thought proper to repose in the chivalrous gallantry of the French noblesse. He could only be brought to engage in one action, of artillery, near Valmy, which was attended with no marked consequence, and then issued his order for a retreat. It was in vain that the Comte d'Artois, with a spirit worthy of the line from which he was descended, and the throne to which he has now succeeded, entreated, almost implored, a recall of this fatal order ; in vain that he offered in person to head the emigrant forces, and to assume with them the most desperate post in the battle, if the generalissimo would per- mit it to be fought. But the duke, obstinate in his desponding in proportion to his former pre- sumption, was not of that high mind which adopts hazardous counsels in desperate cases. He saw his army mouldering away around him, beheld the 1 rench forming in his rear, knew that the resources of Prussia were unequal to a prolonged war, and, after one or two feeble attempts to negotiate for the safety of the captive Louis, he was at length contented to accept an implied permission to re- treat without molestation. He raised his camp on the 29th of September,' and left behind him abmi- * Dumouriez, vol. iii., p. 03; Joniini, torn, ii., p. 131!. * "All the villages were filled with dead and tlie dving; dant marks of the di'eadful state to vhieh his army was reduced.''' When we look back on these events, and are aware of Dumouriez's real opinions, and the inte- rest which he took in the fate of the King, we have little reason to doubt, that the Dake of Brunswick might, by active and prompt exertions, have eluded that general's defensive measures ; nay, that judi- cious negotiation might have induced liim, on cer- tain points being conceded, to have united a pare at least of his forces with those of the emigrants in a march to Paris, for the King's rescue, and the punishment of the Jacobins. But had the restoration of Louis XVI. taken place by the armed hand of the emigrants and the allies, the final event of the war must still have been distant. Almost the whole body of the kingdom was diametrically opposed to the restoration of the absolute monarchy, with all its evils ; and yet it must have been the object of the emigrants, in case of success, again to establish, not only royalty in its utmost prerogative, but all the oppressive privi- leges and feudal subjections which the Revolution had swept away. !Much was to have been dreaded too, from the avidity of the strangers, whose arms had assisted the imprisoned Louis, and much more from what has since been aptly termed the Re- action, which must have taken place upon a counter- revolution. It was greatly to be apprehended, that the emigrants, always deeming too lightly of the ranks beneath them, incensed by the murder of their friends, and stung by their own private wrongs and insults, would, if successful, have treated the Revolution not as an exertion of the pubhc will of France to free the country from public grievances, but as a Jacquerie, (which in some of its scenes it too much resembled,) a domestic treason of the vassals against their liege lords. It was the will of Providence, that the experience of twenty years and upwards should make manifest, that in the hour of victory itself, concessions to the defeated, as far as justice demands them, is the only mode of deriv- ing permanent and secure peace. Tlie retreat of the Prussians was executed in the best possible order, and in the most leisurely man- ner. But if to them it was a measure of disgrace, it was to the unfortunate emigrants who had joined their standard, the signal of utter despair and ruin. These corps were composed of gentlemen, who, called suddenly and unprovided from their families and homes, had only brought with them such mode- rate sums of money as could be raised in an emer- gency, which they had fondly conceived would be of very brief duration. They had expended most of their funds in providing themselves with horses, arms, and equipments — some part must have been laid out in their necessary subsistence, for they served chiefly at their own expense — and perhaps, as might have been expected among high-spirited and high-born youths, their slender funds had not been managed with an economical view of the pos- sibility of the reverses which had taken place. In the confusion and disorder of the retreat, their baggage was plundered by their auxiliaries, that is to say, by the disorderly Prussian soldiers, who liad shaken loose all discipline ; and they were iu most without any considerable fighting, the allies had lost, by dy- sentery and fevers, more than a fourth of thti/ iiuniberb." — 'i'oui-o.NGEo.v, torn, ii., p. 307- 94 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. cases reduced for instant maintenance to sell their horses at such paltry prices as they could obtain. To end the history of such of this devoted army as had been enga2;ed in the Duke of Brunswick's campaign, they were disbanded at Juhers, in No- vember 1792. The blindness of the sovereigns, who, still con- tinuing a war on France, suffered such fine troops to be dissolved for want of the means of support, was inexcusable ; their cold and hard-liearted con- duct towards a body of gentlemen, who, if politi- cally wrong, were at least devoted to the cause for which Austria asserted that she continued in arms, was equally unwise and ungenerous. Tliese gallant gentlemen might have upbraided the Kings who had encouraged, and especially the general who led, this ill-fated expedition, in the words of Shakspeare, if he had been known to them, — " Hast thou not spoke like thunder on our side, Been sworn our soldier — bidding us depend Upon thy stars, thy fortune, and thy strength ? " 1 But the reproaches of those who have no remedy but the exposition of their wrongs, seldom reach the ears of the powerful by whom these wrongs have been committed. It is not difficult to conceive the agony with which these banished gentlemen abandoned all hopes of saving the life of their King, and the recovery of their rank and fortune. All their proud vaunts of expected success were lost, or converted into serpents to sting them. They had no hope before them, and, what is worst to men of high spi- rit, they had fallen with scarce a blow struck for honour, far less for victory. They were now doomed, such as could, to exercise for mere subsistence the prosecution of sciences and arts, which they had cultivated to adorn prosperity — to wander in foreign lands, and live upon the precarious charity of foreign powers, embittered every where by the reflections of some, who pitied the folly that could forfeit rank and property for a mere point of honour ; and of others, who saw in them the enemies of ra- tional liberty, and upbraided them with the charge, that their misfortunes were the necessary conse- quence of their arbitrary principles. It might have in some degree mitigated their calamity, could some gifted sage have shown them, at such distance as the Legislator of Israel beheld the Promised Land from Mount Pisgah, the final restoration of the royal house, in whose cause they had suffered shijjwreck of their all. But liow many perished in the wilderness of misfortune which intervened — how few survived the twenty years wandering which conducted to this promised point ! and of those few, who, war-worn and wearied by misfortunes, survived the restoration of royalty, how very few were rewarded by more than the disinterested triumph which they felt on that joyful occasion ! and how many might use the simile of a royalist of Britain on a similar occasion, — " The fleece of Gideon remained dry, while the hoped-for restoration shed showers of blessing on all France beside !" The emigrant regiments under the command of the Prince of Conde' had anotlier and nobler fate. They retained their arms, and signalized themselves by their exertions ; were consumed by the sword, and in toils of service, and died at least the death 1 King John, act iii., sc. i. of soldiers, mourned, and not unrevenged. But they were wasting their devoted courage in the service of foreigners ; and if their gallantry was gratified by the defeat of those whom they regarded as the murderers of their king and as usurpers of their rights, they might indeed feel that their revenge was satiated, but scarce in any sense could they re- gard their victories as serviceable to the cause to which they had sacrificed their country, their pos- sessions, their hopes, their lives. Their fate, though on a much more extensive scale, much resembles that of the officers of the Scottish army in 1690, who, following the fortunes of James II. to France, were at length compelled to form themselves into a battalion of privates, and, after doing many feats of gallantry in the service of the country where they found refuge, at length melted away under the sword of the enemy, and the privations of mili- tary service. History, while she is called upon to censure or commend the actions of mankind ac- cording to the rules of immutable justice, is no less bound to lament the brave and generous, who, pre- ferring the dictates of honourable feeling to those of prudence, are hurried into courses which may be doubtful in policy, and perhaps in patriotism, but to which they are urged by the disinterested wish of discharging what they account a conscien- tious duty. Tlie emigrants were impolitic, perhaps, in leaving Franco, though that conduct had many apologies ; and their entrance into their country in ai'ms to bring back the despotic system, which Louis XVI. and the whole nation, save themselves, had renounced, was an enterprise unwisely and un- justly undertaken. But the cause they embraced was one dear to all the prejudices of the rank and sentiments in which they had been brought up ; their loyal purpose in its defence is indisputable ; and it would be hard to condemn them for follow- ing one extreme, when the most violent and tyran- nical proceedings were, in the sight of all Europe, urging another, so bloody, black, and fatal as that of the faction which now domineered in Paris, and constrained men, whose prejudices of birth or edu- cation were in favour of freedom, to loathe the very name of France, and of the Revolution, The tame and dishonourable retreat of the Duke of Brunswick and his Prussians, naturally elated the courage of a proud and martial people. Recruits flowed into the Republican ranks from every de- partment ; and the generals, Custine on the Rhine, and Montesquiou on the side of Savoy, with Du- mouriez in the Netherlands, knew how to avail themselves of these reinforcements, which enabled them to assume the offensive on all parts of the extensive south-eastern frontier of France. The attack of Savoy, whose sovereign, the King of Sardinia, was brother-in-law of the Comte d'Ar tois, and had naturally been active in the cause of the Bourbons, was successfully commenced, and carried on by General Montesquiou already men- tioned, a French noble, and an aristocrat of course by birth, and as it was believed by principle, but to whom, nevertheless, the want of experienced leaders had compelled the ruling party at Paris to conmiit the command of an army. He served them well, possessed himself of Nice and Chamberi, and threatened even Italy.^ On the centre of the same Ime of frontier, Cus« 2 Botta, torn, i., p. 88 ; Joniini, torn, ii., p. li)i FRENCH REVOLUTION. 95 tine, an excellent soldier and a fierce republican, took Spires, Oppenheini, Worms, finally the strong city of Mentz, and spread dismay through that portion of the Germanic empire. Adopting the re- publican language of the day, he thundered forth personal vengeance, denounced in the most broad and insulting terms, against such princes of the Germanic body as had distinguished themselves by zeal against the Revolution ; and, what was equally formidable, he preached to their subjects the flat- tering and exciting doctrines of the Republicans, and invited them to join in the sacred league of the oppressed people against princes and magis- trates, who had so long held over them a usurped power.' But the successes of Dumouriez were of a more decided and more grateful character to the ruling men in the Convention. He had a heavier task than either Custine or Montesquiou ; but his lively and fertile imagination had already devised modes of conquest with the imperfect means he possessed. The difference between commanders is the same as between mechanics. A workman of comrhonplace talents, however expert custom and habit may have made him in the use of his ordinary tools, is at a loss when deprived of those which he is accus- toined to work with. The man of invention and genius finds out resources, and contrives to make such implements as the moment supplies answer his purpose, as well, and perhaps better, than a re- gular chest of working utensils. The ideas of the ordinary man are like a deep-rutted road, through which his imagination moves slowly, and without departing from the track ; those of the man of genius are like an avenue, clear, open, and smooth, on which he may traverse as occasion requires. Dumouriez was a man of genius, resource, and invention ; Clairfait, who was opposed to him, a brave and excellent soldier, but who had no idea of strategic or tactics, save those current during the Seven Years' War. The former knew so well how to employ the fire and eagerness of his Car- magnoles, of whose blood he was by no means chary, and how to prevent the consequences of their want of discipline, by reserves of his most steady and experienced troops, that he gave Clairfait a signal defeat at Jemappes, on the 6tli November, 1792.2 It was then that both Austria and Europe had reason to regret the absurd policy of Joseph II., both in indisposing the inhabitants towards his go- vernment, and, in the fine provinces of the Austrian Netherlands, dismantling the iron girdle of fortified towns, with which the wisdom of Europe had in- vested that frontier. Clairfait, who, though de- feated, was too good a disciplinarian to be routed, had to retreat on a country unfriendly to the Aus- trians, from recollection of their own recent insur- rection, and divested of all garrison towns ; which must have been severe checks, particulai'ly at this period, to the incursion of a revolutionary army, more fitted to win battles by its imj>etuosity, than to overcome obstacles which could only be removed by long and patient sieges. As matters stood, the battle of Jemappes was Tvon, and the Austrian Netherlands were fully con- quered without further combat by the French general. We shall leave him in his triumph, and return to the fatal scenes acting in Paris. ' Thiers, torn iii.^ p. 182; Jomini, torn, ii., p. 151. CHAPTER XII. Jacobins determine t(pon the Execution of Louis — Progress and Reasons of the King^s Unpopularitif — Girondists taken by surprise, by a proposal for the Abolition of lloyalty made by the Jacobins — Proposal carried — Thoughts on the New System of Goternment — Compared tcith that of Pome, Greece, America, and other Republican States — Entlmsiasm throughout France at the Change — Follies it gave birth to — And Crimes — Monuments of Art destroyed — Madame Roland interi^oscs to sate the Life of the King — Barrh'e — Girondists more for a Departmental Legion— Carried — Re- voked — and Girondists defeifted—The Authority of the Community of Paris paramount even over the Convention — Documents of the Iron-Chest — Parallel beticixt Charles I. and Louis XVI. — Motion by Petion, that the King should be Tried before the Convention. It is generally to be remarked, that Crime, as well as Rehgion, has her sacramental associations, fitted for the purposes to which she desires to pledge her votaries. When Cataline imposed an oath on his fellow-conspirators, a slave was murdered, and his blood mingled with the beverage in which they pledged each other to their treason against the republic. The most desperate mutineers and pirates too have believed, that by engaging their associates in some crime of a deep and atrocious nature, so contrary to the ordinary feelings of humanity as to strike with horror all who should hear of it, they made their allegiance more completely their own ; and, as remorse is useless where retreat is impos- sible, that they thus rendered them in future the desperate and unsciiipulous tools, necessary for the designs of their leaders. In like manner, the Jacobins — who had now full possession of the passions and confidence of the lower orders in France, as well as of all those spi- rits among the higher classes, who, whether desi- rous of promotion by exertions in the revolutionary path, or whether enthusiasts whose imagination had laecome heated with the extravagant doctrines that had been current during these feverish times, — the Jacobins resolved to engage their adherents, and all whom they influenced, in proceeding to the death of the unfortunate Louis. They had no reason to doubt that they might excite the populace to desire and demand that final sacrifice, and to consider the moment of its being off"ered as a time of jubilee. Nor were the better classes likely to take a warm or decisive interest in the fate of their unhappy prince, so long the object of unpopularity. From the beginning of the Revolution, down to the total overthrow of the throne, first the power of the King, and afterwards his person and the measures to which he resorted, were the constant subject of attack by the parties who successively forced themselves into his administration. Each faction accused the other, during the time of their bi'ief sway, of attempts to extend the power and 2 Dumouriez, vol. iii., p. 169; Toalongeon, torn, iii., p. 47j Jomini, torn, ii., p. 217. 9G SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PEOSE WORKS. the privileges of the crown ; which was thus under a perpetual siege, tliough carried on by distinct and opposite factions, one of wliom regularly occu- pied the lines of attack, to dislodge the others, as fast as they obtained successively possession of the ministry. Thus the Third Estate overcame the two privileged classes, in behalf of the people and against the crown ; La Fayette and the Con- stitutionalists triumphed over the Moderates, who desired to afford the King the shelter and bulwark of an intermediate senate ; and then, after creating a constitution as democratical as it could be, leaving a name and semblance of royalty, they sunk imder the Girondists, who were disposed altogether to dis- pense with that symbol. In this way it appeared to the people, that the King was their natural enemy, and that the royal interest was directly opposed to a revolution which had brought them sundry advantages, besides giving them the feelings and consequence of freemen. In this manner, one of the mildest and best disposed monarchs that ever swayed a sceptre, became exposed to general sus- picion and misconstruction in his measures, and (as is sure speedily to follow) to personal contempt, and even hatred. Whatever the King did in compli- ance with the cuiTent tide of revolution was ac- counted as fraudful complaisance, designed to blind the nation. Whatever opposition he made to that powerful impulse, was accounted an act of open treason against the sovereignty of the people. His position, with regard to t'le invading powers, was enough of itself to load him with obloquy and suspicion. It is true, that he was called, and pro- fessed himself, the willing king of a popular, or democratic monarchy ; but in the proclamations of his allies, he was described as a monarch impri- soned, degraded, and almost dethroned. To achieve his liberty (as they affirmed,) and to re-establish his rights, the Emperor, his brother-in-law, the King of Prussia, his ally, and above all, his brothers, the princes of the blood of France, were in arms, and had sent numerous armies to the frontiers.' It was scarcely possible, in the utmost extent of candour, that the French people should give Louis credit for desiring the success of the revolutionary cause, by which not only his power had been circum- scribed, but his pei'son had been placed under vir- tual restraint, against forces ai'med avowedly for his safety and liberty, as well as the restoration of his power. We can allow as much to the disinte- restedness of Louis, as to any whose feelings and rights were immediately concerned with the point at issue ; and we admit that all concessions which he made to the popular cause, before the National Assembly had asserted a paramount authority over his, were willingly and freely granted. But, after the march from Versailles, he must have been an enthusiast for public liberty of a very uncommon character, if we could suppose him seriously wish- ing the defeat of his brothers and allies, and the victory of those who had deprived him first of autho- rity, and then of freedom. A single glance at his situation must have con- vinced the people of France, that Louis could scarcely be sincere in desiring the continuance of the system to which he had given his adliesion as sovereign ; and the consciousness that they could not expect confidence where they themselves had 1 Annual Register, vol. xxxiv., pp. 230, 23C made ungenerous use of their power, added force to their suspicions, and acrimony to the deep re- sentments which arose out of them. The people had identified themselves and their dearest interests (right or wrong, it signifies little to the result) with the Revolution, and with the increasing free- dom which it bestowed, or rather promised to bestow, in every succeeding change. The King, who had been the regular opponent of every one of these innovations, was in consequence regarded as the natural enemy of the country, who, if he con- tinued to remain at the helm of the executive go- vernment, did so with the sole view of running the vessel upon the rocks. If there had been any men in Fi-ance generous enough to give the King credit for complete good faith with the Constitutionalists, his flight from Paris, and the manifestoes which he left behind him, protesting against the measures in which he had acquiesced, as extorted from him by constraint, gave open proof of Louis's real feelings. It is true, the King denied any purpose of leaving the kingdom, or throwing himself into the hands of tl>e foreign powei-s ; but it could escape no one, that such a step, however little it was calculated upon in the commencement of his flight, might very easily have become inevitable before its completion. It does not appear from the behaviour of the escorts of dragoons and hussars, that tlicre was any attach- ment among the troops to the King's person; and had the mutiny of Bouille's forces against that general's authority taken place after the King reached the camp, the only safety of Louis must have been in a retreat into the Austrian territory. This chance was so evident, that Bouille' himself had provided for it, by requesting that the Austrian forces might be so disposed as to afford the King protection should the emergency occur.'-* What- ever, therefore, might be the King's first experi- ment, the point to which he directed his flight bore out those, who supposed and asserted that it must have ultimately terminated in his re-union with his brothers ; and that such a conclusion must have repeatedly occurred to the King's thoughts. But if the King was doubted and suspected before he gave this decisive proof of his disinclina- tion to the constitution, there had surely happened nothing in the course of his being seized at Varen- nes, or the circumstances of his reception at Paris, tending to reconcile him to the constitutional crown, which was a second time proffered him, and which he again, with all its duties and acts of self-denial, solemnly accepted. We liave before hinted, that the King's assum- ing of new the frail and barren sceptre, proffered to him under the most humiliating circumstances, was a piece of indifferent policy. There occui'red almost no course of conduct by which, subjected as he was to general suspicion, he could show himself once more to his people in a clear and impartial point of view — each of his measures was sure to be the theme of the most malignant commentary. If his conduct assumed a popular aspect, it was ac- counted an act of princely hypocrisy ; if it was like his opposition to the departmental army, it would have been held as intended to weaken the defence of the country ; if it resembled .his rejection of the decrees against the emigrants and refractory priests. 2 Bouille's Memoirs, p 250. FRENCH KEVOLUTION. 'J 7 men it might be urged as infen-ing a direct inten- cicin of briuging back tlic old despotic system. [n sliort, all confidence was lost between the sove- reign and the people, from a concurrence of unhappy circumstances, in which it would certainly be unjust to cast the blame exclusively on either party, since there existed so many groxmds for distrust and mis- understanding on both sides. The noble and gene- rous confidence which Frenchmen had been wont to repose in the personal character of their mo- narch—a confidence, which the probity of no man could deserve more than that of Louis — was withered, root and branch ; or those in whose breasts it still flourished were banished men, and had canned the Oriflamme, and the ancient spirit of French chivalry, into a camp not her own. The rest of the nation, a scattered and intimidated rem- nant of Royalists excepted, were Constitutionalists, who, friends rather to the crown tlian to the King as an individual, wished to preserve the form of government, but without either zeal or attachment to Louis ; or Girondists, who detested his office as Republicans ; or Jacobins, who hated his person. Every one, therefore, assailed Louis ; and it was held enrolling himself amongst aristocrats, the most avowed and hated enemies of the new order of things, if any one lifted a voice in liis defence, or even apology. To this tlie influence of the revolutionary clubs, amounting to so many thousands, and of the daily press, almost the only kind of literature which Fi-ance had left, added the full tribute of calumny and inculpation. The Jacobins attacked the person of the King from the very commencement of the Revolution ; for they desired that Louis should be destroyed, even when some amongst them were leagued for placing Orleans in his room. The Girondists, on the contrary, would have been well contented to spare the person of Louis ; but they a>'ged argument after argument, in the journal which they directed, against the royal oftice. But upon the whole, the King, whether in his royal or personal character, had been so long and uniformly calumniated and misinterpreted, that through most parts of France he was esteemed the enemy whom the people had most to dread, and whom they were most interested to get rid of. In eA"idence of which it may be added, that during all successive changes of parties, for the next year or two, the charge of a disposition towards royalty was always made an aggravation of the accusations which the parties brought against each other, and was considered as so necessary an ingredient, that it was not omitted even when circumstances rendered it impossible. Both parties in the Convention were thus pre- pared to acquire popularity, by gratifying the almost universal prejudices against monarchy, and against the King. The Girondists, constant to the Repub- lican principles they entertained, had resolved to abolish the throne ; but their audacious rivals were prepared to go a step beyond them, by gratifying the popular spirit of vengeance which their own calunmies liad increased to such a pitch, by taking the life of the dethroned monarch. This was the > Manuel was bom at Montargis in 1751- On the trial of the Kinp; he voted for imprisonment and banibliment in the event of peace. When the Queen's trial came on, he was summoned as a witness ag.iinst her; but only expressed ad- miration of her fortitude, and regret for her misfortunes. In November, 1793, he was condemned to death by the Revolu- tionary Tribunal, and executed. Among other w'orks, Alanuel VOL. II. great national crime which was to serve France for a republican baptism, and which, once committed, was to be regarded as an act of definitive and deadly adhesion to the cause of the Revolution. But not contented with taking measures for the death of the monarch, this desperate but active faction re- solved to anticipate their rivals in the proposal for the abolition of royalty. The Girondists, who counted much on the popu- larity which they were to attain by this favourite measure, were so far from fearing the anticipation of the Jacobins, that, under the idea of Orleans having some interest remaining with Danton and others, they rather expected some opposition on their part. But what was their stirprise and mor- tification when, on the 21st September, Manuel' arose, and demanded that one of the first proposals submitted to the Convention should he the abolition of royalty ! Ere the Girondists could recover from their surprise, CoUot d'Herbois, a sorry comedian, who had been hissed from the stage, desired the motion to be instantly put to the vote. The Girond- ists, anticipated in their scheme, had no resource left but to be clamorous in applauding the motion, lest their hesitation should bring their republican zeal uito question. Thus all they could do was but to save their credit with the popular party, at a time when they had expected to increase it to such a height. Their antagonists had been so alert as to steal the game out of their hands.- The violence with which the various orators ex- pressed themselves against monarchy of every com- plexion, and kings in general, was such as to show, either that they were in no state of mind composed enough to decide on a great national measiu-e, or tliat the horrors of the massacres, scarce ten days remote, impressed on them the danger of being lukewarm in the cause of the sovereign people, who were not only judges without resort, but the pi'ompt executioners of their own decrees. The Abbe Gregou-e declared, that the dynasties of kings were a race of devom'ing animals, who fed on the blood of the people ; and that kings were in the moral order of things what monsters are in the physical — that courts were the arsenals of crimes, and the centre of corruption — and tliat the history of princes was the martyrology of the l^eople. Finally, that all the members of the Con- vention being fully sensible of these self-evident truths, it was needless to delay, even for a moment, the vote of abolition, reserving it to more leisure to put their declaration into better form. Ducos' exclaimed, that the crimes of Louis alone formed a sufficient reason for the abolition of monarchy. The motion was received and passed unanimously ; and each side of the hall, anxious to manifest their share in this great measure, echoed back to the other the new war-cry of " Vive la Republique !'"* Thus fell, at tlie voice of a wretched player and cut-throat, backed by that of a renegade priest, the most ancient and most distinguished monarchy of Europe. A few remarks may be permitted upon the new government, the adoption of which had been welcomed with so much gratulation. published " Coup d'oeil I'hilosophique sur le Kegrie rie St. Louis," "Voyages de I'Opinion dans le» Quatres Parties du Monde," and " Lettres sur la Revolution." - I.-icreteUe, torn, x., p. 12; Mignet, torn, iii., p. l.'iti. 3 Born at IJourdeaux in 17. He voted for the death ol the King— and was guillotined, Oct., I'J'J'X * Lacretclle, torn, x., p. 16. OS SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. It has been said, that the government which is best administered is best. This maxim is time for the time, but for the time only ; as good adminis- tration depends often on tlie life of individuals, or other circumstances in themselves mutable. One would rather inehne to say, that the government is best calculated to produce the happiness of a nation, which is best adapted to the existing state of the country whicli it governs, and possesses, at the same time, siich internal means of regeneration as may enable it to keep pace with the changes of circum- stances, and accommodate itself to the unavoidable alterations which must occur in a progressive state of society. In this point of view, and even in the patriarchal circle, the most natural forms of govern- ment, in the early periods of society, are Monarchy, ov a Republic. The father is head of his own fa- mily ; the assembled council of the fathers governs the Republic ; or the patrla potestas of the whole state is bestowed upon some successful waiTior or eminent legislator, who becomes king of the tribe. But a republic, in the literal acceptation, which supposes all the individuals subject to its govern- ment to be consulted in council upon all affairs of the public, cannot survive the most early period of existence. It is only to be found around the coun- cil-fire of a North American tribe of Indians ; and even there, the old men forming a sort of senate, have already established a species of aristocracy. As society advances, and the httle state extends itself, ordinary matters of government are confided to delegates, or exclusively grasped by some of the higher orders of the community. Rome, when she dismissed the Tarquins, the period to which the Gii'ondists were fond of assimilating that of the French Revolution, had ah-eady a privileged body of patricians, the senate, from which were exclu- sively chosen the consuls ; imtil at a later period, and at the expense of many feuds with the patri- cians, the plebeians succeeded in obtaining for theii- order many advantages. But the state of Rome was not more republican, in the proper sense, than before these concessions. The corporate citizens of Rome were indeed admitted into some of the pri- vileges of the nobles ; but the quantity of territory and of population over which these citizens extended their dominion, was so great, that the rural and unrepresented part of the inhabitants quite out- numbered that of the citizens who voted in the Comitia, and constituted the source of authority. There was the whole body of slaves, who neither were nor could be represented, being considered by the law as no farther capable of political or legal rights, than a herd of so many cattle ; and there were the numerous and extensive dominions, over which, under the name of auxiliaries, Rome exer- cised a right of absolute sovereignty. In fact, the so called democracy was rather an oligarchy, dis- persed more widely than usual, and vesting the government of an immense empire in a certain limited number of the inhabitants of Rome called citizens, bearing a very small proportion in bulk to the gross number of the inhabitants. These privi- leged persons in some degree lived upon their votes ; — the ambitious caressed them, fed them, caught their eyes with magnificent exhibitions, and their ears with extravagant eloquence, and by cor- rupting their principles, at last united the small class of privileged citizens themselves, under the very bondage in which they had long kept their extensive empire. There is no one period of the Roman republic, in which it can be said, consider- ing the number of the persons governed relatively to those who had as citizens a share of that go- vernment by vote, or capacity of bearing ofiBce, that the people, as a whole, were fairly and fully represented. All other repubUcs of which we have any distinct account, including the celebrated states of Greece, were of so small a size, that it was by no means dif- ficult to consult the citizens to a considerable extent in the affairs of the state. Still this right of being consulted was retained among the free citizens of Greece. Slaves, who amounted to a very large pro- portion of the inhabitants, were never permitted any interference there, more than in Rome. Now, as it was by slaves that the coarser, more debasing, and more sordid parts of the labour of the com- munity were performed, there were thus excluded from the privilege of citizens almost all those, who, by constant toil, and by the sordid character of the employments to which their fate condemned them, might be supposed incapable of exercising political rights with due feelings of reflection and of inde- pendence. It is not too much to say, in conclusion, that, excepting in the earliest stage of human so- ciety, there never existed a community in which was to be found that liberty and equality, which the French claimed for each individual in the whole extent of their empire. Not only the difficulty or impossibility of assign- ing to every person in France an equal portion of political power, was one against which antiquity had never attempted to struggle, but the wealth and size of the late French empire were circumstances which experience induced wise statesmen to con- clude against the favourable issue of the experiment. Those memorable republics, which Montesquieu eu- logizes ' as being formed upon xirUie, as the leading principle, inhabited the modest and sequestered habitations where virtue is most often found. In mountainous countries like those of the Swiss, where the inhabitants are nearly of the same rank, and not very much disproportioned in substance, and where they inhabit a small district or territory, a republic seems the most natural form of govern- ment. Nature has, to a certain extent, established an equality among the fathers of such a society, and there is no reason why policy should supplant it. In their public meetings, they come together upon the same general footing, and possess nearly the same opportunity of forming a judgment ; and the affairs of such a state are too little complicated to require frequent or prolonged discussions. The same applies to small states, like Genoa, and some of the Dutch provinces, where the inequality of wealth, if it exists in some instances, is qualified by the consideration, that it is gained in the same honourable pursuit of mercantile traffic, where all fortimes are founded on the same commercial sys- tem, and where the chance that has made one man rich yesterday, may to-morrow depress him and raise another. Under such favourable circum- stances, republics may exist long and happy, pro- viding they can prevent luxury from working the secret dissolution of their moral principles, or the exterior force of more powerful neighbours from ' Esprit des Lois, liv. iii., c. 9. FRENCH REVOLUTION. 99 swallowing up their little community in the rage of conquest. America must certainly be accounted a success- ful attempt to establish a republic on a much larger scale than those we have mentioned. But that great and flourishing empire consists, it must be remem- bered, of a federative union of many states, which, though extensive in territory, are comparatively thin in occupants. There do not exist in America, in the same degi-ee, those circumstances of a dense and degi-aded population, which occasion in the old nations of Europe such an infinite difference of knowledge and ignorance, of wealth the most exu- berant, and indigence the most horrible. No man in America need be poor, if he has a hatchet and arms to use it. The wilderness is to him the same retreat which the world afforded to our first parents. His family, if he has one, is wealth ; if he is unen- cumbered with wife or children, he is the more easily provided for. A man who wishes to make a large fortune, may be disappointed in America ; but he who seeks, with a riioderate degree of in- dustry, only the wants which nature demands, is certain to find them. An immense proportion of the population of the United States consists of agri- culturists, who Uve upon their own property, which is generally of moderate extent, and cultivate it by their own labour. Such a situation is peculiarly fa- vourable to republican habits. The man who feels himself really independent, — and so must each American who can use a spade or an axe, — will please himself with the mere exertion of his free- will, and form a strong contrast to the hollowing, bawling, blustering rabble of a city, where a dram of hquor, or the money to buy a meal, is sure to purchase the acclamation of thousands, whose si- tuation in the scale of society is too low to permit their thinking of their political right as a thing more valuable than to be bartered against the de- gree of advantage they may procure, or of a license which they may exercise, by placing it at the dis- posal of one candidate or another. Above all, before considering the case of America as parallel with that of France, the statesmen of the latter country should have observed one grand and radical difference. In America, after the great change in their system had been effected by shaking off the sovereignty of the mother country, the states arranged their new government so as to make the least possible alteration in the habits of their people. They left to a future and more convenient oppor- tunity, what farther innovation tliis great change might render necessary ; being more desirous to fix the general outlines of a firm and orderly go- vernment, although containing some anomahes, than to cast all existing authorities loose, in order that they might produce a constitution more re- gular in theory, but far less likely to be put into effectual execution, than those old forms under which the people had grown up, and to which they were accustomed to render regular obedience. They abolished no nobihty, for they had none in the colonies to abolish ; but in fixing the basis of their constitution, they balanced the force and im- pulse of the representative body of the states by a Senate, designed to serve the purposes answered by the House of Lords in the British Constitution. The governors of the different states also, in whose power the executive administration of each was reposed, continued to exercise the same duties as before, without much otner change, than that they were named by their fellow-citizens, instead of being appointed by the sovereign of the mother country. The Congress exercised the rights which success had given them over the loyalists, with as much temperance as could be expected after the rage of a civil war. Above all, the mass of the American population was in a sound healthy state, and well fitted to bear their share in the exercise of political rights. They were independent, as we have noticed, and had comparatively few instances amongst them of great wealth, contrasted with the most degrading indigence. They were deeply im- bued with a sense of religion, and the morality which is its fruit. They had been brought up under a free government, and in the exercise of the rights of freemen ; and their fancies were not liable to be excited, or their understandings made giddy, with a sudden elevation to privileges, the nature of which was unknown to them. The republic of America, moreover, did not consist of one huge and populous country, with an overgrown capital, where the legis- lative body, cooped up in its precincts like prisoners, were liable to be acted upon by the applauses or threats of a desperate rabble. Each state of Ame- rica carries on its own immediate government, and enjoys unmolested the privilege of adopting such plans as are best suited to their own peculiar situ- ation, without embarrassing themselves with that ideal uniformity, that universal equality of rights, which it was the vain object of the French Consti- tuent Assembly to establish. The Americans know- that the advantage of a constitution, like that of a garment, consists, neither in the peculiarity of the fashion, nor in the fineness of the texture, but in its being well adapted to the person who receives protection from it. In short, the sagacity of Wash- ington was not more apparent in his military ex- ploits, than in the manly and wise pause which he made in the march of revolution, so soon as peace gave an opportimity to interrupt its impulse. To replace law and social order upon an established basis was as much the object of this great general, as it seems to have been that of the statesmen of Paris, civilians as they were, to protract a period of insurrection, murder, and revolutionary tyTanny. To such peculiarities and advantages as those we have above stated, France opposed a direct con- trast. Not only was the exorbitant influence of such a capital as Paris a bar to the existence of that republican virtue which is the essence of a popular form of government, but there was nothing like fixed or settled principles in the minds of the people of France at large. Every thing had, within the last few years, been studiously and industriously altered, from the most solemn rites of the Churcli of Rome, to the most trifling article of dress ; from the sacrament of the mass to the fashion of a shoe- tie. Religion was entirely out of the question, arid the very slightest vestiges of an established church were about to be demolished. Republican virtue (with the exception of that of the soldiers, whose valour did honour to the name) consisted in wear- ing a coarse dress and foul linen, swearing the most vulgar oaths, obeying without scruple the most vil- lanous mandates of the Jacobin Club, and assum- ing the title, manner, and sentiments of a real sans- culotte. The country was besides divided into an infinite variety of factions, and threatened with the plague of civil war. The streets of the mctropolL'" 100 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE "WORKS. hart been lately the scene of a desperate conflict, and yet more recently of a horrible massacre. On the frontiers, the country was pressed by armies of invaders. It was a crisis in which the Romans, ^^■lth all their love of freedom, would have called in the assistance of a dictator ; yet it was then, when, without regarding either the real wants of the coun- try, or the temper of its inhabitants, France was erected into a republic, a species of government the most inconsistent with energetic, secret, and suc- cessful councils. These considerations could not have escaped the Gu-ondists. Neither could they be blind to the fact, that each republic, whatever its pretensions to freedom, has committed to some high officer of the state, under the name of doge, stadtholder, pre- sident, or other title, the custody of the executive power ; from the obvious and undeniable principle, that, with safety to freedom, it cannot be lodged in the hands of the legislative body. But, know- ing this to be the case, they dared not even hint that such a separation of powers was indispensable, aware that their fierce enemies, the Jacobins, while they would have seized on the office without scruple, would, with the other hand, sign an accusation of leze-nation against them for proposing it. Thus crude, raw, and ill considered, did one of the most impoi'tant changes that could be WTouglit upon a country, pass as hastily through this legislative body as the change of a decoration in the theatre. The alteration was, notwithstanding, hailed by the community at large, as the consummation of the high fortunes to w hicli France was called. True, half Europe was in arms at her gates — but the nation who opposed their swords to them were become Republicans. True, the most frightful disorder had stalked abroad, in the shape of armed slaughter — it was but the effervescence and deli- rium of a republican consciousness of freedom. Peculation had crept into the finance, and theft had fingered the diamonds of the state' — but the name of a republic was of itself sufficient to restore to the blackest Jacobin of the gang, the moral virtues of a Cincinnatus. The mere word Rtjyubllc was now the universal medicine for all evils which France could complain of, and its regenerating operations were looked for with as much faith and confidence, as if the salutary effects of the convocation of the estates of the kingdom, once worshipped as a pana- cea with similar expectations, had not deceived the hopes of the country. JNIeantime, the actors in the new drama began to play the part of Romans with the most ludicrous solemnity. The name of citizen was now the universal salutation to all classes; even when a deputy spoke to a shoe-black, that fond symbol of equality was regularly exchanged betwixt them ; and, in the ordinary intercourse of society, there was the most ludicrous affectation of republican brevity and simplicity. « When thou conquerest Brussels," said Collot d'Herbois, the actor, to General Dumouriez, « my wife, who is in that city, has my permission to reward thee with a kiss." Three w eeks afterwards the general took Brussels, but he was ungallant enough not to profit by this 1 One night the jewel-office, in the Tuilerics, was pillased and all tlic spleiuli.i ornaments of the crown disappeared, llic seals affixed on the locks were removed, but no marks of violence apptared on thorn, which showed that the abstrac- flattermg permission.* His quick wit caught the ridicule of such an ejac jlation as that w^hich Camus addressed to him : " Citizen-general," said the deputy, " thou dost meditate the part of Caesar ; but remember I will be Brutus, and plunge a poniard in thy bosom." — " My dear Camus," said the lively soldier, who had been in worse dangers than were involved in this classical threat, " I am no more like Caesar than you are like Brutus ; and an assurance that I should live till you kill me, would be equal to a brevet of immortality." With a similar assumption of republican dignity, men gi-aced their children, baptized or unbaptized, with the foi'midable names of Roman heroes, and the folly of Anapharsis Clootz seemed to become general throughout the nation. Republican vii'tues were of course adopted or affected. The duty of mothers nursing their own children, so eloquently insisted on by Rousseau,' and nevertheless so difficult to practise under the forms of modern life, was generally adopted in Paris ; and as the ladies had no idea that this pro- cess of parental attention was to interfere with the usual round of entertainment, mothers, with their infants dressed in the most approved Roman cos- tume, were to be seen at the theatre, with the little disastrous victims of republican affectation, whose wailings, as well as other embarrassments occa- sioned by their presence, formed sometimes dis- agreeable interruptions to the amusements of the evening, and placed the inexperienced matrons in an awkward situation. These were follies to be laughed at. But when men read Livy, for the sake of discovering what degree of private crime might be committed under the mask of public virtue, the affair became more serious. The deed of the younger Brutus served any man as an apology to betray to ruin and to death a finend, or a patron, whose patriotism might not be of the pitch which suited the time. Under the example of the elder Brutus, the nearest ties of blood were repeatedly made to give way before the ferocity of party zeal — a zeal too often assumed for the most infamous and selfish purposes. As some fanatics of yore studied the Old Testament for the purpose of finding examples of bad actions to vindicate those which themselves were tempted to commit, so the Republicans of France, we mean the desperate and outrageous bigots of the Revo- lution, read history, to justify, by classical instances, their public and private crmies. Informers, those scourges of a state, were encouraged to a degree scarce known in ancient Rome in the time of the emperors, though Tacitus has hurled his thunders against them, as the poison and pest of his time. The duty of lodging such informations was un- blushingly urged as indispensable. The safety of the republic being the supreme charge of every citizen, he was on no account to hesitate in dencunc- imj, as it was termed, any one whomever, or how- ever connected with him, — the friend of his counsels, or the wife of his bosom, — providing he had reason to suspect the devoted individual of the crime of incinsm, — a crime the more mysteriously dreadful, that no one knew exactly its nature. tion was by order of the authorities, and not by popular vio- lence." — Thiers, torn, iii., p. W.i. -' Dumouriez, vol. iii., p. i&l; Journal des Jacobi.ii, 14th Oct., 1702. "* iiniile, liv. i. F I; 1-: sen R !•: ^'OLUTI o x. 101 The virtue, even o' comparatively jrnod men, gave way under the temptations held out by these fearful innovations on the state of morals. The Girondists themselves did not scruple to avail themselves of the villany of others, when what they called the cause of the country, in reality that of tlieir own faction, could be essentially served by it ; but it was reserved for the Jacobins to carry to tlie most hideous extremity the principle which made an exclusive idol of patriotism, and demanded that every other virtue, as well as the most tender and honourable dictates of feeling and conscience, should be offered up at the shrine of the republic, as chil- dren were of old made to pass through the fire to Moloch. Another eruption of republican zeal was directed against the antiquities, and fine arts of France. The name of king being pronounced detestable, all the remembrances of royalty were, on the mo- tion of Barrere, ordered to be destroyed. This task was committed to the rabble ; and although a work dishonourable to their employers, and highly detri- mental both to history and the fine arts, it was nevertheless infinitely more harmless than those in which the same agents had been lately employed. The royal sepulchres at Saint Denis, near Paris, the ancient cemetery of the Bourbons, the Valois, and all the long line of French monarchs, were not only defaced on the outside, but utterly broken down, the bodies exposed, the bones dispersed, and the poor remains, even of Henry IV. of Navarre, so long the idol of the French nation, exposed to the rude gaze, and irreverent grasp, of the ban- ditti who committed the sacrilege.^ Le Noire, an artist, had the courage to interpose for preventing the total dispersion of the materials of those monuments, so valuable to history and to literature. He procured, with difficulty, permission to preserve and collect them in a house and garden in the Jlue des Petits Augiistins, where their muti- lated remains continued in safety till after the re- storation of the Bourbons. The enterprise was accomplished at mucii personal risk ; for if the people he had to deal with had suspected that the zeal which he testified for the preservation of the monuments, was rather that of a royalist than of an antiquary, his idolatry would have been punished by instant death. But the demolition of those ancient and sacred monuments, was comparatively a trivial mode of showing hatred to royalty. Tlie vengeance of the Republicans was directed against the emigrants, who, armed or unaiTned, or from whatever cause they were absent fixim France, were now to be at once confounded in a general set of decrees. 1. All emigrants taken in arms were to suffer death within twenty-four hours. 2. Foreigners who had quitted the service of France since the 14th July, 1 789, were, contrary to the law of nations, sub- jected to the same penalty. 3. All Frenchmen .who had sought refuge in foreign parts, were ' " The tirst vault ojiened was that of Turenne. The body was found dry like a mummy, the features perfectly rcsera- ijlins the portrait of this distinguished sjciieral. Relics were sought after with eagerness, and Camille Desmoullins cut off one of the little fingers. The body, at the intercession of M. Dcsfontaines, was removed to the Jardin des Planter. The features of Henry the Fourth were also perfect. A soldier cut off a lock of the beard with )iis sabre, and putting it upon his ujiper lip, exclaimed, ' Et moi aussi, je suis soldat Fran- cis! desormaisje n'aurai pas d'autre moustache!" Hie body "*a9 placed upright upon a stone for the rabWle to divert tliem- banished for ever from their nr.live country, with- out any distinction, or inquiry into the cause of their absence. The effects of these unfortunate exiles were already under sequestration, and by the assignats which were issued on the strength of this spoliation, Cambon, who managed the finances, carried on the war, and supplied the expenses of government. The emigrants who had fled abroad, were not more severely treated than those supposed to share their sentiments who had remained at home. Per- sons suspected, from whatever cause, or deiiounced by private malice as disinclined to the new system, were piled anew into the prisons, which had been emptied on the ■2d and 3d of September, and where the blood of their predecessors in misfortune was yet visible on the walls. The refractory priests were particularly the objects of this species of op- pression, and at length a summary decree was made for transporting them in the mass from the land of France to the unhealthy colony of Guiana, in South America. Many of these unfortunate men came to a more speedy fate. But the most august victims destined to be sacri- ficed at the altar of republican virtue, were the royal family in the Temple, whose continuing in existence seemed, doubtless, to the leaders, a daily reproach to their procrastination, and an object to which, when the present spirit should abate, the affections of the bewildered people might return with a sort of reaction. The Jacobins resolved that Louis should die, were it only that the world might see they were not ashamed to attest, with a bloody seal, the truth of the accusations they had brought against him. On the other hand, there was every reason to hope that the Girondists would exert, in protection of the unhappy prince, whatever vigour they de- rived from their predominating influence in the Convention. They were, most of them, men, whose philosophy, though it had driven them on wild po- litical speculations, had not destroyed the sense of moral right and wrong, especially now that the struggle was ended betwixt monarchy and demo- cracy, and the only question remaining concerned the use to be made of their victory. Although they had aided the attack on the Tuileries, on the 10th of August, which they considered as a combat, their hands were unstained with the massacres of September, which, as we shall presently see, they urged as an atrocious crime against their rivals, the Jacobins. Besides, they had gained the prize, and were in possession of the government ; and, like the Constitutionalists before them, the Girondists now desired that here, at length, the revolutionary career should terminate, and tliat the ordinary forms of law and justice should resume their usual channels through France ; yielding to the people protection for life, personal liberty, and private property, and affording themselves, who held the reins of government, the means of guiding selves with it; and a woman, reproaching the dead Henry with the crime of having been a king, knocked down the corpse, by giving it a blow in the face. Two lar°e jiits had beeu dug in front of the north entrance of the cwiurch, and quick lime laid in them ; into those pits the bodies were thrown promiscuously; the leaden coffins were then carried to a fur- nace, which had been erected in the cemetery, and cast into balls, destined to punish the enemies of the republic."— See Promenade aux Sepultures Royales de Saint Denis, par M. P. St. A. G., and Lacretk/.lk, torn, xi., p. 2G4. 102 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. these honoui'ably, safely, and with advantage to the community. The philosophical statesmen, upon whom these considerations were not lost, felt nevertheless great embarrassment in the mode of interposing their protection in the Iving's favour. Their republi- canism was the feature on which they most prided themselves. They delighted to claim the share in the downfall of Louis, which was due to their colleague Barbaroux, and the Federates of Mar- seilles and Brest. It was upon their accession to tliis deed that tlie Girondists rested their claims to popularity ; and with what front could they now step forward the defenders, at the least the apolo- gists, of the King whom they had aided to de- throne ; or what advantages would not the Jacobins obtain over them, wlien they represented them to the people as lukewarm in their zeal, and as falling off from the popular cause, in order to preserve the life of the dethroned tyrant ? The Girondist minis- ters felt these embarrassments, and suffered them- selves to be intimidated by them from making any open, manly, and direct interference in the King's cause. A woman, and, although a woman, not the least distinguished among the Girondist party, had the courage to urge a decisive and vigorous defence of the unhappy prince, without having recourse to the veil of a selfish and insidious policy. This was the wife of Roland, one of the most remark- able women of her time. A worthless, at least a careless father, and the doating folly of her mother, had left her when young to pick out such an educa- tion as she could, among the indecencies and im- ])ieties of French philosophy. Yet, though her Memoirs afford revolting specimens of indelicacy, and exaggerated sentiments in politics, it cannot be denied that the tenor of her life was iimocent and virtuous in practice, and her sentiments mi- perverted, when left to their natural course. ' She saw the gi-eat question in its true and real position ; she saw, that it was only by interposing themselves betwixt the legislative body of France and the com- mission of a great crime, that the Girondists could either remain firm in the government, attract the confidence of honest men of any description, or have the least chance of putting a period to the anarchy which was devouring their country. " Save the life of Louis," she said;^ " save him by an open and avowed defence. It is the only measure that can assure your safety — the only course which can fix the stamp of public virtue on your government." Those whom she addressed listened with admira- tion ; but, like one who has rashly climbed to a height where his brain grows giddy, they felt their own situation too tottering to permit their reaching a willing hand to support another, who was in still more imminent perU. Their condition was indeed precarious. A large ' " To a very beautiful person, Madame Roland united great powers of intellect ; her reputation stood very high, and her friends never spoke of her but with the most i>rofound re- ?P«ct. In character she was a Cornelia; and had she been blessed with sons, would have educated them like the Gracchi. Ihe simplicity of her dress did not detract from her natural grace and elegance, and though her pursuits were more .tdapted to the other sex, she adorned them with all the charms of her own. Her personal memoirs are admirable. 1 hey are an imitation of Rousseau's Confessions, and often not unworthv of the original "— Dumont, p. 32ti. * At the bar of the National Convention, Dec. 7, 1792. party in the Convention avowedly supported" them ; and in " the Plain,''' as it was called, a position held by deputies affecting independence, both of the Girondists and the Jacobins, and therefore occupy- ing the neutral grovmd betwixt them, sate a large number, who, from the timidity of temper which makes sheep and other weak animals herd together in numbers, had formed themselves into a faction, which could at any time cast decision into either scale which they favoured. But they exercised this power of inclining the balance, less with a view to carrying any poUtical point, tlian with that of securing theu" own safety. In ordinary debates, they usually gave their votes to the ministers, botl- because they were ministei's, and also because the milder sentiments of the Girondists were more congenial to the feeUngs of men, who would gladly have seen peace and order restored. But then these timid members of the Plain also assiduously courted the Jacobins, avoided joining in any mea- sure which should give them mortal offence, and purchased a sort of immunity from their revenge, by showing plainly that they deserved only con- tempt. In this neutral party the gleanings of the defeated factions of Moderates and of Constitu- tionalists were chiefly to be found ; resigning them- selves to the circumstances of the moment, consult- ing their own safety, as they gave their votes, and waiting, perhaps, till less disorderly days might re- store to them the privilege of expressing their actual sentiments. The chief of these trucklers to fortune was Barrere, a man of wit and eloquence, prompt invention, supple opinions, and convenient con- science.^ His terror of the Jacobins was great, and his mode of disarming their resentment, so far as he and the neutral party were concerned, was often very ingenious. When by argument or by eloquence the Girondists had obtained some triumph in the Assembly, which seemed to reduce their adversaries to despair, it was then Barrere, and the members of the Plain, threw themselves between the victors and vanquished, and, by some proposal of an insidious and neutralizing nature, prevented the completion of the conquest, and afforded a safe retreat to the defeated. The majorities, therefore, which the Girondists obtained in the Assembly, being partly eked out by this heartless and fluctuating band of auxiharies, could never be supposed to arm them with solid or effective authority. It was absolutely necessary that they should exhibit such a power of protecting themselves and those who should join them, as might plainly show that the force was on their side. This point once established, they might reckon Barrere and his party as faitliful adlierents. But while the Jacobins retained the power of surround- mg the Convention at their pleasure with an insur- rection of the suburbs, without the deputies possess- ing other means of defence than arose ou£ of theii' 3 " I used to meet Barrere at a table d'hote. I considered him of a mild and amiable temper. He was very well-bred, and seemed to love the Revolution from a sentiment of bene- volence. His association with Robespierre, and the court which he paid to the ditferent parties he successively joined and afterwards deserted, were less the effect of an evil dispo- sition, than of a timid and versatile character, and a conceit, which made it incumbent upon him to appear as a public man. His talents as an orator were by no means of the first order. He was afterwards surnamed the Anacreon of the guillotine; but when I knew him he was only the Anacreon of the Revo- lution, upon which, in liis ' Point du Jour,' he wrote some very amorous strains." — Dumont, p. VJi). FRENCH REVOLUTION. 103 mviolability, the adherence of those whose chief object in voting was to secure their personal safety, was neither to be hoped nor expected. The Giron- dists, therefore, looked anxiously round, to secure, if it were possible, the possession of such a force, to protect themselves and their timorous allies. It has been thought, that a more active, more artful body of ministers, and who were better ac- quainted with the mode of carrying on revolution- ary movements, might at this period have secured an important auxiliary, by detacliing the formidable Danton from the ranks of the enemy, and receiving him into their own. It must be observed, that the camp of the Jacobins contained three separate par- ties, led each by one of the trimuvLrs whom we have already described, and acting in concert, for the common purpose of propelling the Revolution by the same violent means which had begun it — of unsheathing the sword of terror, and making it pass for that of justice — and, in the name of liberty, of letting murder and spoil, under the protection of armed ruffians of the basest condition, continue to waste and ravage the departments of France. But, although agreed in this main object, the triumvirs were extremely suspicious of each other, and jea- lous of the rights each might claim in the spoil wliich they contemplated. Danton despised Robespierre for his cowardice, Robespierre feared the ferocious audacity of Danton ; and with him to fear was to hate — and to hate was — when the hour arrived — to destroy. They differed in their ideas also of the mode of exercising their terrible system of go- vernment. Danton had often in his mouth the sentence of Machiavel, that when it becomes neces- sary to shed blood, a single great massacre has a more dreadful effect than a series of successive executions. Robespierre, on the contrarj-, preferred the latter process as the best way of sustaining the Reign of Terror. The appetite of Marat could not be satiated, but by combining both modes of mur- der. Both Danton and RobespieiTe kept aloof from the sanguinary Marat. This position of the chiefs of the Jacobins towards each other seemed to indicate, that one of the three at least might be detached from the rest, and might bring his ruffians in opposition to those of his late comrades, in case of any attempt on the Assembly ; and policy re- commended Danton, not averse, it is said, to the alliance, as the most useful auxiliary. Among the three monsters mentioned, Danton had that energy which the Girondists wanted, and was well acquainted with the secret movements of those insurrections to which they possessed no key. His vices of wrath, luxury, love of spoil, dreadful as they were, are attributes of mortal men ; — the envy of Robespierre, and the instinctive blood- thirstiness of Marat, were the properties of fiends. Danton, like the huge serpent called the boa, might be approached with a degree of safety when gorged with prey — but the appetite of Marat for blood was hke the horse-leech, which says, " Not enough" — and the slaughterous envy of Robes- pierre was like the gnawing worm that dieth not, and yields no interval of repose. In glutting Dan- ton with spoil, and furnishing the means of indulg- ing his luxury, the Girondists might have pur- chased his support ; but nothing under the supreme rule in France would have gratified Robespierre ; ' Lacretelle, torn, x., p. 41. and an unlimited torrent of the blood of that im- happy coimtry could alone have satiated Marat. If a colleague was to be chosen out of that detestable triumvirate, imquestionably Danton was to be con- sidered as the most eligible. On the other hand, men like Brissot, Verguiaud, and others, whose attachment to republicanism was mixed with a spirit of virtue and honour, might be well adverse to the idea of contaminating their party with such an auxiliary, intensely stained as Danton was by his share in the massacres of Sep- tember. They might well doubt, whether any physical force which his revolutionary skill, and the arms it could put in motion, might bring to their standard, would compensate for the moral horror with which the presence of such a grisly proselyte must strike all who had any sense of honour or justice. They, therefore, discouraged the advances of Danton, and resolved to comprise him with Marat and Robespierre in the impeaclmient against the Jacobin chiefs, which they designed to bring forward in the Assembly. The most obvious means by which the Girondists could ascertain their safety and the freedom of de- bate, was by levying a force from the several departments, each contributing its quota, to be called a Departmental Legion, which was to be armed and paid to act as a guard upon the Na- tional Convention. The subject was introduced by Roland, [Sept. 24,] in a report to the Assembly, and renewed on the next day by Kersaint, a spirited Girondist, who candidly declared the purpose of his motion : " It was time," he said, " that assassins and their prompters should see that the law had scaffolds." The Girondists obtained, that a committee of six members should be named, to report on the state of the capital, on the encouragement afforded to massacre, and on the mode of forming a depart- mental force for the defence of the metropolis. The decree was carried for a moment ; but, on the next day, the Jacobins demanded that it should be revoked, denying that there was any occasion for such a defence to the Convention, and accusmg the ministers of an intention to surround them- selves with a force of armed satellites, in order to overawe the good city of Paris, and carry into effect their sacrilegious plan of dismembering France.' Rebecqui and Barbaroux replied to this charge by impeaching Robespierre, on their own testimony, of aspiring to the post of dictator. The debate became more tempestuous the more that the tri- bunes or galleries of the hall were filled with the violent followers of the Jacobin party, who shouted, cursed, and yelled, to back the exclamations and threats of their leaders in the Assembly. While the Girondists were exhausting themselves to find out terms of reproach for Marat, that prodigy stepped forth, and raised the disorder to the high- est, by avowing himself the author and advocate for a dictatorship. The anger of the Convention seemed thoroughly awakened, and Vergniaud read to the deputies an extract from Marat's journal, in which, after demanding two hundred and si.\ty thousand heads, which was hie usual stint, he abused the Convention in the grossest terms, and exhorted the people to act^ — words, of which the import was by this time perfectly uudei-stood. 2 " O ! peuple babillard, si tu savais agir i " 104 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WOUKS. This passage excited general liorror, and tlie victory for a moment seemed in tlie hands of tlie Girondists ; but they did not pursue it witli suffi- cient vigom-. Tlie meeting passed to the order of the day ; and ]\larat, in ostentatious triumph, pro- duced a pistol, with which he said he would have blown out his brains, had a deci-ee of accusation been passed against him. The Girondists not only lost the advantage of discomfiting their enemies by tlie prosecution of one of their most noted leaders, but wei-e compelled for the present to abandon their plan of a departmental guard, and resign themselves to the guardianship of the faithful citi- zens of Paris.' This city of Paris was at the time under the power of "the intrusive community, or Common Council, many of whom had forced themselves into office on the 1 0th of August. It was the first act of their administi'ation to procure the assassination of Mandat, the commandant of the national guard ; and their accompts, still extant, bear testimony, that it was by their instrumentality that the murderers of September were levied and paid. Trained Ja- cobins and pitiless ruffians themselves, this civic body had raised to be their agents and assistants an unusual number of municipal officers, who were at once their guards, their informers, their spies, their jailors, and their executioners. They had, besides, obtained a majority of the inhabitants in most of the sections, whose votes placed them and their agents in command of the national guard ; and the pikenien of the suburbs were always ready to second their excellent community, even against the Convention itself, which, in point of freedom of action, or effective power, made a figure scarcely more respectable than that of the King after his return from Varennes. Roland almost every day carried to the Conven- tion his vain complaints, that the course of the law for which he Avas responsible, was daily crossed, thwarted, and impeded, by the proceedings of this usurping body. The considerable funds of the city itself, with those of its hospitals and other public establishments of every kind, were dilapidated by these revolutionary intruders, and applied to their own purposes. The minister at length, in a foi-mal report to the Convention, inculpated the Commune in these and such like offences. In another part of the report, he intimated a plot of tlie Jacobins to assassinate the Girondists, possess themselves of the governnif!nt by arms, and choose Robespierre dictator. Louvet denounced Robespien-e as a traitor, and Bai'baroux proposed a series of de- crees ; the first declaring the Convention free to leave any city, where they should be exposed to constraint and violence ; the second resolving to form a conventional guard ; the third declaring, that the Convention should form itself into a court of justice, for trial of state crimes ; the fourth an- nouncing, that in respect the sections of Paris had declared their sittings permanent, that resolution Bhoiild be abrogated. Instead of adopting the energetic measures pro- posed by Barbaroux, the Convention allowed Robes- pieiTe eight days for his defence against Louvet's accusation, and ordered to the bar, [Nov. 5,] ten members of the Community, from whom they were ' Thiers, toni. iii., p. 170; Lacretelle, torn, x., p. ^3. « Mipnet, torn, i., p. 224; Thiers, torn, iii., p. 213; Lacre- telle, torn. X., )). 54. , contented to accept such slight apologies, and e\'a- sive excuses, for their unauthorised interference with the power of the Convention, as these insolent demagogues condescended to ofTcr. The accusation of Robespierre though boldly urged by Louvet and Barbaroux, was also eluded, by passing to the order of the day ; and thus the Convention showed plainly, that however coura- geous they had been against their monarch, they dared not protect the liberty which they boasted of, against the encroachment of fiercer demagogues than themselves.* Barbarous endeavoured to embolden tlie As- sembly, by bringing once more from his native city a body of those fiery Marseillois, who had formed the vanguard of the mob on the 10th of August. He succeeded so far in his scheme, that a few scores of those Federates again appeared in Paris, where their altered demeanour excited surprise. Tlieir songs were again chanted, their wild Moresco dances and gestures again surprised the Parisians ; and the more, as in their choruses they imprecated vengeance on the Jacobins, called out for mercy to the " poor tyra,nt," so they termed the King, and shouted in the cause of peace, order, and the Convention.^ The citizens of Paris, who could not reconcile the songs and exclamations of the Marseillois with their appearance and character, concluded tliat a snare was laid for them, and abstained from uniting themselves with men, whose sincerity was so suspi- cious. The Marseillois themselves, discouraged with their cold reception, or not liking their new trade of maintaining order so well as their old one of oversetting it, melted away by degrees, and were soon no more seen nor heard of. Some of the Breton Federates, kept in the interest of the Gi- rondists, by their countrymen the deputies Ker- saint and Kervclagan, remained still attached to the Convention, though their numbers were too few to afford tliem protection in any general danger. If the Memoirs of Dumouriez are to be relied on, that active and intriguing general presented to the Girondists another resource, not free certainly from hazard or difficulty to the republican government, which was the idol of these theoretical statesmen, but affording, if his means had proved adequate to the execution of his plans, a certain bulwark against the encroachments of the hideous anarchy threat- ened by the Jacobin ascendency. General Dumouriez was sufficiently hated by the Jacobins, notwithstanding the successes which he had gained on the part of France over foreign enemies, to induce him to feel the utmost desire of putting down their usurped power ; but he was under the necessity of acting with great caution. The bad success of La Fayette, deserted by his army as soon as he attempted to lead them against Paris, was in itself discouraging ; but Dumouriez was besides conscious that the Jacobin clubs, to- gether with the commissioners of the Convention, with Danton at their head, had been actively en- gaged in disorganizing his army, and diminishing his influence over them. Thus circumstanced, he naturally resolved to avoid hazarding any violent measure without the support of the Convention, in case of being deserted by his army. But he affirms 3 " Point de proffes au roi! epargiions le pauvrc t<\raii ' "- Lacretelle, torn, x., p. 47 FRENCH REVOLUTION. 1 0.-. that he repeatedly informed the Girondists, then predominant in tlie Assembly, that if they could obtain a decree, but of four lines, authorising such a measure, he was ready to march to Paris at the head of a chosen body of troops, who would have been willing to obey such a summons ; and that he would by this means have placed the Convention in a situation, when they might have set the Ja- cobins and their insurrectionary forces at abswlutc defiance.* • Perhaps the Girondists entertained the fear, first, that Dumouriez's influence with his troops might prove as inefficient as that of La Fayette, and leave them to atone with their heads for such a measure attempted and unexecuted. Or, secondly, that if the manoeuvre proved successful, they would be freed from fear of the Jacobins, only to be placed under the restraint of a military chief, whose mind was well understood to be in favour of monarchy of one kind or other. So that, conceiving they saw equal risk in the alternative, they preferred the hazard of seeing their fair and favourite vision of a republic overthrown by the pikes of the Jacobins, rather than by the bayonets of Dumouriez's army. They turned, therefore, a cold ear to the proposal, which afterwards they would gladly have accepted, when the general had no longer the power to carry it into execution. Thus the factions, so intimately united for the destruction of royalty, could not, when that step was gained, combine for any other puii^ose save the great crime of murdering their deposed sovereign. Nay, while the .Jacobins and Girondists seemed moving hand in hand to the ultimate completion of that joint undertaking, the union was only in outward appearance ; for the Gu'ondists, though apparently acting in concert with their stern rivals, were in fact dragged after them by compulsion, and played the part less of actors than subdued captives in this final triumph of democracy. They were fully per- suaded of the King's innocence as a man, of his inviolability and exemption from criminal process as a constitutional authority. They were aware that the deed meditated would render France odious to all the other nations of Europe; and that the Jacobins, to whom war and confusion were natural elements, were desirous for that very reason to bring Louis to the scaffold. All this was plain to them, and yet their pride as philosophers made them ashamed to be thought capable of interesting themselves in tlie fate of a tyrant ; and their desire of getting the P^rench nation under their own ex- clusive government, induced them to consent to any thing rather than protect the obnoxious though innocent sovereign, at the hazard of losing their popularity, and forfeiting their dearly won charac- ter of being true Republicans. A committee of twenty-four persons had been appointed early in the session of the Convention, to inquire into, and report upon, the grounds for accusing Louis. Their report was brought up on the 1st of Noveml^er, 1792, and a more loathsome tissue of confusion and falsehood never was laid upon the table of such an assembly. All acts that liad been done by the Ministers in every depart- ment, which could be twisted into such a shape as ' T)umnuric'Z, vol. iii., p. 273. i Mit;iiet, torn, i., p. 22H. * M. da Septueii, in x)arlicnlar, quote'l a* heing tlic aRcr.t the times called criminal, were charged as deeds, for which the sovereign was himself responsible ; and the burden of the whole was to accuse the King, when he had scarcely a single regiment of guards even at his nominal disposal, of nourishing the intention of massacring the Convention, de- fended by thirty thousand national guards, besides the federates, and the militia of the suburbs.''^ The Convention were rather ashamed of this re- port, and would scarce permit it to be printed. So soon as it appeared, two or three persons, who were therein mentioned as accomplices of particular acts charged against the King, contradicted the report upon their oath.^ An additional charge was brought under the following mysterious circumstances : — Gamin, a locksmith of Versailles, communicated to Roland, about the latter end of December, that, in the beginning of May, 1792, he had been employed by the King to secrete an iron chest, or cabinet, in the wall of a certain apartment in the Tuileries, which he disclosed to the ministers of justice. He added a circumstance which throws discredit on his whole story, namely, that the King gave him with his own hand a glass of wine, after taking which he was seized with a cholic, followed by a kind of paralysis, which deprived him for fourteen months of the use of his limbs, and the power of working for his bread. The inference of the wretch was, that the King had attempted to poison him ; ^\ Inch those may believe who can number fourteen months betwixt the beginning of May and the end of December in the same year. . This gross false- hood utterly destroys Gamin's evidence ; and as the King always denied his knowledge of the exist- ence of such a chest with such papers, we are reduced to suppose, either that Gamin had been employed by one of the royal ministers, and had brought the King personally into the tale for the greater grace of his story, or that the papers found in some other place of safety had been selected, and put into the chest by the Jacobin commissioners, then employed in surveying and searching the palace, with the purpose of trumping up evidence against the King. Roland acted very imprudently in examining the contents of the chest alone, and without witness, instead of calling in the commissioners aforesaid, who were in the palace at the time. This was per- haps done with the object of putting aside such papers as might, in that hour of fear and uncer- tiiinty, have brought into danger some of his own party or friends. One of importance, however, was found, which the Jacobins turned into an implement against the Girondists. It was on overture from that party addressed to Louis XVI., shortly before the 10th of Avigust, engaging to oppose the motion for his forfeiture, providing Louis would recall to his councils the three discarded ministers of their faction. The contents of the chest were of a very miscel- laneous nature. The documents consisted of letters, memorials, and plans, from diflerent persons, and at different dates, offering advice, or tendering sup- port to the King, and proposing plans for the free- dom of his person. The Royalist project of Mira- beauj in his latter days, was found amongst the by whom Louis XVI. was said to have transmitted money to his hrothcrs when in exile, positively denied the fact, iioj made attidavit accordingly. — S. lor. SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. rest ; in consequence of which his body was dragged out of the Pantheon, formerly the Church of Saint Genevieve, now destined to receive the bodies of the great men of the Revolution, but whose lodgings shifted as often as if they had been taken by the month. The documents, as we have said, consisted chiefly of projects for the King's service, which he certainly never acted on, probably never approved of, and perhaps never saw. The utmost to which he could be liable, was such penalty as may be due to one who retains possession of plans submitted to his consideration, but which have in no shape obtained his assent. It was suiBciently hard to account Louis responsible for such advice of his ministers as he reallj adopted ; but it was a dreadful extension of his responsibility to make him answerable for such as he had virtually rejected. Besides which, the story of Gamin was so self-contradictory in one circumstance, and so doubtful in others, as to carry no available proof that the papers had been in the King's possession ; so that this new charge was as groundless as those brought up by the first com- mittee ; and, arguing upon the known law of any civilized country, the accusations against him ought to have been dismissed, as founded on the most notorious injustice.^ There was one circumstance which probably urged those into whose hands Louis had fallen, to proceed against his person to the uttermost. They knew that, in English history, a king had been con- demned to death by his subjects, and were resolved that France should not remain behind England in the exhibition of a spectacle so interesting and edi- fying to a people newly regenerated. This parallel case would not perhaps have been thought a worthy precedent in other countries ; but in France there is a spirit of wild enthusiasm, a desire of following out an example even to the most exaggerated point, and of outdoing, if possible, what other nations have done before them. This had doubtless its influence in causing Louis to be brought to the bar in 1792, like Charles of England in 1648. The French statesmen did not pause to reflect, tliat the violent death of Charles only paved the way for a series of years spent in servitude under military despotism, and then to restoration of the legitimate sovereign. Had they regarded the pre- cedent on this side, they would have obtained a glimpse into futurity, and might have presaged what were to be the consequences of the death of Louis. Neither did the French consider, that by a great part of the English nation the execution of Charles Stuart is regarded as a national crime, and the anniversary still observed as a day of fasting and penitence ; that others who condemn the King's conduct in and preceding the Civil War, do, ' Mignet, torn, i., p. 229; Montgaillard, torn, iii., p. 265; Thiers, torn, iii., p. 259; Lacretellei torn, x., p. 164; Madame Campan, vol. ii., p. 222. 2 " Unhappy Stuart ! harshly though that name Grates on my ear, I should have died with shame. To see my King before his subjects stand, And at their bar hold up his royal hand ; At their command to hear the rnonarch plead. By their decrees to see that monarch bleed. What though thy faults were many, and were preat — What though they shook the fabric of the state ? In royalty secure thy person stood, And sacred was the'fountain of thy blood. Vile ministers, who dared abuse their trust. Who dared seduce a king to be unjust. like the Whig Churchill, still consider his death as an unconstitutional action ; ^ that the number is small indeed who think it justifiable even on the precarious grounds of state necessity ; and that it is barely possible a small portion of enthusiasts may still e.xist, who glory in the deed as an act of popular vengeance. But even among this last description of persons, the French regicides would find themselves entirely at a loss to vindicate the execution of Louis by the similar fate of Charles ; and it would be by cour- tesy only, if at all, that they could be admitted to the honours of a sitting at a Calves-Head Club.-^ The comparison between these unhappy mo- narchs fails in almost every point, excepting in the closing scene ; and no parallel can, with justice to either, be drawn betwixt them. The most zealous CavaUer will, in these enlightened days, admit, that the early government of Charles was marked by many efforts to extend the prerogative beyond its legal bounds ; that there were instances of oppres- sive fines, cruel punishment by mutilation, long and severe imprisonments in distant forts and cas- tles ; exertions of authority which no one seeks to justify, and which those who are the King's apolo- gists can only endeavour to mitigate, by alleging the precedents of arbitrary times, or the interpre- tation of the laws by courtly ministers, and time- serving lawyers. The conduct of Louis XV L, from the hour he assumed the throne, was, on the contrary, an example of virtue and moderation.^ Instead of levying ship-money and benevolences, Louis lightened the feudal services of the vassals, and the corvCe among the peasantry. Where Charles endeavoured to enforce conformity to the Church of England by pillory and ear-slitting, Louis allowed the Protestants the free use of their religion, and discharged the use of tortiu'e in all cases whatever. Where Charles visited his Par- liament to violate their freedom by arresting five of their members, Louis may be said to have sur- rendered himself an miresisting prisoner to the re- presentatives of the people, whom he had volun- tarily summoned aroimd him. But above all, Charles, in person, or by his generals, waged a long and bloody war with his subjects, fought bat- tles in every county of England, and was only over- come and made prisoner, after a lengthened and deadly contest, in which many thousands fell on both sides. The conduct .of Louis was in every respect different. He never offered one blow in actual resistance, even when he had the means in his power. He ordered up, indeed, the forces un- der Mare'chal Broglio ; but he gave them command to retire, so soon as it was evident that they must either do so, or act offensively against the people. In the most perilous situations of his life, he showed Vengeance, with justice leagued, with power made strong. Had nobly crush d — The King can do no wrong." Gvtham.S. 3 This club used to meet on the 30th January, at a tavern near Charing Cross, to celebrate the anniversary of the death of Charles 1. Their toasts were, "The glorious year, 1648." " D n to the race of the Stuarts." " The pious memory of Oliver Cromwell," &c.— See Gert.'s Mag., vol. v., p. 105; and " History of the Calies-Hcad Club." * " No one act of tyranny can be laid to Louis's charge: and, far from restraining the liberty of the press, it was the Archbishop of Sens, the King's prime minister, who, in the name of his Majesty, invited all writers to make known their opinions upon tlie form and manner of assembling the Stated- General De Staei., vol. ii., p. 94. FRENCH REVOLUTION. 107 the utmost reluctance to shed the blood of his sub- jects, lie would not trust his attendants with pis- tols, dtu'ing the flight to Vareunes ; he would not give the officer of hussars orders to clear the pas- sage, when his carriage was stopped upon the bridge. When he saw that the martial array of the Guards did not check the audacity of the as- sailants on the lOtli of August, he suirendered himself to the Legislative Assembly, a prisoner at discretion, rather than mount his horse and place himself at the head of his faithful troops and sub- jects. The blood that was shed that day was with- out command of liis. He could have no reason for encouraging such a strife, which, far from defend- ing his person, then in the custody of the Assem- bly, was likely to place it in the most imminent danger. And in the very last stage, when he re- ceived private notice that there were individuals determined to save his life at peril of their own, he forbade the enterprise, 'f Let not a drop of blood be shed on my account," he said ; " I would not consent to it for the safety of my crown : I never will purchase mere life at such a rate." These were sentiments perhaps fitter for the pious secta- lies of the community of Friends, than for the King of a great nation ; but such as they were, Louis felt and conscientiously acted on them. And yet his subjects could compare his character, and his pretended guilt, with the bold and haughty Stuart, who, in the course of the Civil War, bore arms in person, and charged at the head of his own regiment of guards ! Viewed in his kingly duty, the conduct of Louis is equally void of blame ; unless it be that blame which attaches to a prince, too yielding and mild to defend the just rights of his crown. He yielded, ■with feeble struggling, to every demand in succes- sion wliich was made upon him, and gave way to every inroad on the existing state of France. In- stead of placing himself as a barrier between his people and his nobility, and bringing both to some fair terms of composition, he suffered the latter to be driven from his side, and by the ravaging their estates, and the burning of their houses, to be hur- ried into emigration. He adopted one popular im- pi'ovement after another, each innovating on the royal authority, or derogatory to the royal dignity. Far from having deserved the charge of opposing the nation's claim of freedom, it would have been well for themselves and him, had he known how to hmit his grant to that quantity of freedom which they were qualified to make a legitimate use of ; leaving it for future princes to slacken the reins of government, in proportion as the public mind in France should become formed to the habitual ex- ercise of political rights. The King's perfect innocence was therefore no- torious to the whole world, but especially to those who now usurped the title of arraigning him ; and men could hardly persuade themselves, that his life was seriously in danger. An ingenious con- trivance of the Jacobins seems to have been in- tended to drive the wavering Girondists into the snare of voting for the King's trial. Saint Just, one of their number, made a furious speech against any formality being observed, save a decree of death, on the urgency of the occasion. " What availed," said the supporters of this brief and sure Lacretelle, torn, x., p. 14.' measure, " the ceremonies of grand and potty juryl The cannon which made a breach hi the Tuileries, the unanimous shout of the people on the lOth of August, had come in place of all other solemnities. The Convention had no farther power to inquire ; its sole duty was to pronounce, or rather confirm and execute, the doom of the sove- reign people." This summary proposal was highly applauded, not only by the furious crowds by whom the gal- leries were always occupied, but by all the exagge- rations of the more violent democrats. They ex- claimed that every citizen had the same right over the life of Louis w-liich Brutus possessed over that of Csesar. Others cried out, that the very fact of having reigned, was in itself a crime notorious enough to dispense with further investigation, and authorise instant punishment.^ Stunned by these clamours, the Girondists and neutral party, like all feeble-minded men, chose a middle course, and instead of maintaining the King's innocence, adopted measures, calculated to save him indeed from immediate slaughter, but which ended by consigning him to a tribunal too timid to hear his cause justly. They resolved to urge the right of the National Convention to judge in the case of Louis. There were none in the Convention who dared to avow facts to which their conscience bore wit- ness, but the consequences of admitting which, were ingeniously urged by the sophist Robespierre, as a condemnation of their own conduct. " One party," said the wily logician, " must be clearly guilty ; either the King, or the Convention, who have ratified the actions of the insurgent people. If you have dethroned an innocent and legal mo- narch, what are you but traitors ? and why sit you here — why not hasten to the Temple, set Louis at liberty, install him again in the Tuileries, and beg on your knees for a pardon you have not merited I But if you have, in the great popular act which you have ratified, only approved of the deposition of a tjTant, summon hini to the bar, and demand a reckoning for his crimes." This dilemma pressed on the mind of many members, who could not but see their own condemnation the necessary conse- quence of the King's acquittal. And while some felt the force of this argument, ah were aware of the obvious danger to be encountered from the wrath of the Jacobins and their satellites, should they dare to dissent from the vote which these de- magogues demanded from the Assembly. When Robespierre had ended, Pe'tion arose and moved that the King should be tried before the Convention. It is said, the Mayor of Paris took the lead in this cruel persecution, because Louis had spoken to hira sharply about the tumultuary inroad of the Jacobin rabble into the Tuileries on the •20th of June ; and when Pe'tion attempted to reply, had pointed to the broken grating through which the entrance had been forced, and sternly commanded him to be silent. If this was true, it was a bitter revenge for so slight an offence, and the subsequent fate of Pdtion is the less deserving of pity. The motion was carried [Dec. 3] without oppo- sition,^ and the next chapter affords us the melan- choly results. • Tliiers, tuni. iii., p. ■?')7. :o rarmafmole was the name applied in the earlv period of the Itevolution to a certain dance, and the sonj;' connected with it. It was afterwards given to.the French soldiers who difficult enterprises, and in foreign countries, where such a force exists as a community only by their military relations to each other ; where the common soldiers knew no other home than their tents, and no other direction than the voice of their officrrs ; and the officers no other laws than the pleasure of the general. Such armies, holding themselves in- dependent of the civil authorities of their country, came at length, through the habit of long wars and distant conquests, to exist in the French empire, and upon such rested the foundation-stone of the imperial throne ; but as yet, the troops of the Re- public consisted either of the regiments revolution- ized, when the great change had offered commis- sions to privates, and batons to subalterns, — or of new levies, who had their very existence through the Revolution, and whose common nickname of Carmagnoles,-' expressed their Repubhcan origin and opinions. Such troops might obey the voice of the general on the actual field of battle, but were not very amenable even to the ordinary course of discipline elsewhere, and were not likely to ex- change their rooted political principles, with all the ideas of license connected with them, at Dumou- riez'sword of command, as they would have changed their front, or have adopted any routine military movement. Still less were they likely implicitly to obey this commander, when the prestige of his fortune seemed in the act of abandoning him, and least of all, when they found him disposed to make a compromise with the very foe who had defeated him,, and perceived that he negotiated, by aban- doning his conquests to the Austrians, to purchase the opportunity or permission of executing the counter-revolution which he proposed. Nevertheless, Dumouriez, either pushed on by an active and sanguine temper, or being too far advanced to retreat, endeavoured, by intrigues m his own army, and an understanding with the Prince of Saxe-Coboiu'g, to render himself strong enough to overset the reigning party in the Con- vention, and restore, with some modifications, the Constitution of 1791. He expressed this purpose with imprudent openness. Several generals of division declared against his scheme. He failed in obtaining possession of the fortresses of Lisle, Va- lenciennes, and Conde. Another act of imprudence aggravated the unpopularity into which he began to fall with his army. Four commissioners of the Convention'' remonstrated publicly on the course he was pursuing. Dumouriez, not contented with aiTesting them, had the imprudence to send them to the camp of the Austrians prisoners, thus deli- vering up to the public enemy the representatives of the government imder which he was appointed, and for which he had hitherto acted, and proclaim- ing his alliance with the invaders whom he was commissioned to oppose. All this rash conduct disunited the tie between Dumouriez and his army. The resistance to his authority became generaF, and finally, it was with gi'eat difficulty and danger that he made his escape to the Austrian camp, with his young friend tlie Duke de Chartres.* first engaged in the cause of Republicanism, and who wore a dress of a peculiar cut. 4 Camus, Quinette, Bancal, and Lamarque. 6 Thiers, torn, iv., p. 118; Toulongeon, torn, iii., p. 316; Mignet. torn, i., p. i58. Shortly after the flight of Dumouriez, the French army was placed by the Convention under tho command of General Dampierre. FRENCH REVOLUTION. 119 All that this able and ambitious man ?aved in his retreat was merely his life, of which he spent some veal's afterwards in Germany, concluding it in England, a few years ago, without again making any figure in the political hoi-izon.' Thus, the at- tempt of Dumouriez, to use military force to stem the progress of the Revolution, failed, like that of I-a Fayette, some months before. To use a medi- cal simile, the imposthume, was not yet far enough advanced, and sufficiently come to a head, to be benefited by the use of the lancet. Meanwhile, the Convention, though triumphant over the schemes of the revolted general, was di- ■vided by the two parties to whom its ^yalls served for an arena, in which to aim against each other the most deadly blows. It was now manifest that the strife must end tragically for one of the parties, and all circumstances pointed out the Girondists as the victims. They had indeed still the command of majorities in the Convention, especially when the votes were taken by scrutiny or ballot ; on which occasions the feebler deputies of the Plain could give their voice according to their consciences, without its being known that they had done so. But in open debate, and when the members voted rivd voce, amongst the intimidating cries and threats of tribunes filled by an infuriated audience, the spirit of truth and justice seemed too nearly allied to that of martjTdom, to be prevalent generally amongst men who made their own safety the rule of their own political conduct. The party, however, continued for several months to exercise the duties of administration, and to make such a struggle in the Convention as could be achieved by oratory and reasoning, against underhand intrigue, supported by violent declamation, and which was, upon the least signal, sure of the aid of actual brutal violence. The Girondists, we have seen, had aimed decrees of the Assembly at the triumvirate, and a plot was now laid among the Jacobins, to repay that intended distinction by the actual strokes of the axe, or, failing that, of the dagger. When the news of Dumouriez's defection arrived, the Jacobins, always alert in prepossessing the public mind, held out the Girondists as the asso- ciates of the revolted general. It was on them that they directed the pubUc animosity, great and fui'ious in proportion to the nature of the crisis. That ma- jority of the Convention, which the traitor Dumou- riez affirmed was sound, and with which he acted in concert, intimated, according to the Jacobins, the Girondists the allies of his treasons. They called out in the Convention, on the 8th of March, for a tribunal of judgment fit to decide on such crimes, without the delays arising from ordinary forms of pleading and evidence, and without even the inter- vention of a jury. The Girondists opposed this measure, and the debate w^as violent. In the course of the subsequent days, an msurrection of the people was prepared by the Jacobins, as upon the 20th June and 10th of August. It ought to have broken out upon the 10th of March, which was the day destined to put an end to the ministerial party by a general massacre. But the Girondists received early intelligence of what was intended, and absented ' Dumouriez was a man of pleasing manners and lively con- Tcrsation. He lived in retirement latterly at Turville Vnric, near Henley upon lliames, aiul died, March 14, 1823, in £as eiglitj-fifth year. — b. themselves from the Convention on the day of peril. A body of Federates from Brest, about four hundred strong, were also detached in their favour by Kevelegan, one of the deputies from the ancient province of Bretagne, and who was a zeal- ous Girondist. The precaution, however slight, was sufficient for the time. The men who were prepared to murder, were unwilling to fight, how- ever strong the odds on their side ; and the mus- tering of the Jacobin bravoes proved, on tliis occa- sion, an empty menace. Duly improv-ed, a discovered conspiracy is gene- rally of advantage to the party against w^hich it was framed. But Vergniaud, when in a subsequent sitting he denounced to the Convention the exist ■ ence of a conspiracy to put to death a number of the deputies, was contented to impute it to the influence of the aristocracy, of the nobles, the priests, and the emissaries of Pitt and Coburg ; thus sufferuig the Jacobins to escape every impu- tation of that blame, which all the world knew attached to them, and to them only. He was loudly applauded. Mai'at, who rose after him, was applauded as loudly, and the Revolutionary Tri- bunal was established.'-' Louvet, who exclaims against Vergniaud for his pusillanimity, says, that the orator alleged in his excuse, " the danger of incensing \-iolent men, already capable of all excesses." They had come to the boar chase, they had roused him and pro- voked his anger, and now they felt, too late, that they lacked weapons with which to attack the irri- tated monster. The plot of the 10th JNIarch had been compared to that of the Catholics on the 5th November, in England. It had been described in the Moniteur as a horrible conspiracy, by which a company of ruffians, assuming the title of de la Glaciere, in remembrance of the massacre of Avig- non, surrounded the hall for two days, with the purpose of dissolving the National Convention by force, and putting to death a great proportion of the deputies. Yet the Convention passed over, without effective prosecution of any kind, a crime of so enormous a dye ; and in doing so, showed themselves more afraid of immediate personal con- sequences, than desirous of seizing an opportunity to rid France of the horrible faction by whom they were scourged and menaced. In the midst of next month the Jacobins became the assailants, proud, it may be supposed, of the impunity under which they had been sheltered. Robespierre impeached by name the leaders of the Girondists, as accomplices of Dumouriez. But it was not in the Convention where Robespierre's force lay. Gaudet, with great eloquence, repelled the charge, and in his turn denounced Robespierre and the Jacobins. He proclaimed to the Conven- tion, that they sat and debated under raised sabres and poniards, which a moment's signal could let loose on them; and he read from the journal con- ducted by Marat,' an appeal, calling on the people to rise in insurrection. Fear and shame gave the Convention momentary courage. They passed a de- cree of accusation against Marat, who was obliged to conceal himself for a few dajs.* 2 Thiers, torn, iv., p. 66 ; Mignet, torn, i., p. 248; Lacretelle, torn. X., p. 311. 3 L'Ami du Peiple. < Mianet, torn, i., p. Z.W; Thiers, torn, iv., p. 14.5; Mont- faillaril, tonr. iv , p. 9; Lacretelle, tom. x., p. XM. 120 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. liuzot, it may be remarked, censures this decree against Marat as impolitic, seeing it was tlie first innovation affecting the inviolability of the persons of the deputies. In point of principle, he is cer- tainly right ; but as to any practical effects result- ing from this breach of privilege, by reprisals on the other side, we are quite sceptical. Whatever violence was done to the Girondists, at the end of the conflict^ was sure to have befallen them, whether Marat had been arrested or not. Precedents were as useless to such men, as a vizard to one of their ruffians. Both could do their business barefaced. The Convention went farther than the decree of accusation against Marat ; and for the first time showed their intention to make a stand against the Jacobins. On the motion of Barrere, they nomi- nated a commission of twelve members, some Girondists, some neutrals to watch over and repress the movements of such citizens as should seem disposed to favour anarchy.' The Convention were not long of learning the character of the opposition which they had now defied. Pache, Mayor of Paris, and one of the worst men of the Revolution, appeared at the bar of the Convention with two thousand petitioners, as they were called. They demanded, in the name of the sections, the arrest of twenty-two of the most distinguished of the Girondist leaders. The Convention got rid of the petition by passing to the order of the day. But the courage of the anarchists was greatly mcreased ; and they saw that they had only to bear down with repeated attacks an enemy who had no fortification save the frail defences of the law, which it was the pride of the Jacobins to surmount and to defy. Their demand of proscrip- tion against these unfortunate deputies was a mea- sure from which they never departed ; and their audacity in urging it placed that part)' on the de- fensive, who ouglit, in all reason to have been active in the attack. The Girondists, however, felt the extremity to which they were reduced, and sensible of the great advantage to be attained by being the assailants in such a struggle, they endeavoured to regain the offensive. The Revolutionary Tribunal to which Marat had been sent by tlie decree of accusation, knew their business too well to convict any one, much less such a distinguished patriot, who was only accused of stimulating the people to exercise the sacred right of insurrection. He was honourably acquitted, after scarcely the semblance of a trial, and brought back to liis place in the Convention, crowned with a civic coronet, and accompanied by a band of such determined ruffians as wei-e worthy to form his body-guard. They insisted on filing through the hall, while a huge pioneer, their spokesman, assured the Convention that the people loved Marat, and that the cause of Marat and the people would alwaj's be the same.^ Meanwhile, the committee of twelve proceeded against the Terrorists with some vigour. One of the most furious provokers of insurrection and murder was Hebert, a devoted Jacobin, substitute of the Procureur Syndic of the Community.^ Speak- ing to this body, who now exercised the whole powers of magistracy in Paris, this man had not 1 Migi:ct, torn i., p. 261 ; Lacretelle, torn, x., p. 346. ', Thiers, tcm. iv p 151 ; Lacretelle, torn, x., p. 343. blushed to demand the heads of three hundred de- puties. He was arrested and committed to prison. This decisive action ought in policy to have been followed by other steps equally firm. The Giron- dists, by displaying confidence, might surely have united to themselves a large number of the neutral party ; and might have established an interest in the sections of Paris, consisting of men who, though timid without leaders, held in deep horror the re- volutionary faction, and trembled for their families and their property, if put under the guardianship, as it had been delicately expressed, of the rabble of the Fauxbourgs. The very show of four hundred Bretons had disconcerted the whole conspiracy of the 10th of March ; and therefore, with a moderate support of determined men, statesmen of a more resolute and practised character than these theore- tical philosophers, might have bid defiance to the mere mob of Paris, aided by a few hundreds of hired ruffians. At the worst they would have perished in attempting to save their country from the most vile and horrible tyranny. The Girondists', however, sat in the Convention, like wild-fowl when the hawk is abroad, afraid either to remain where they were, or to attempt a flight. Yet, as they could make no armed interest in Paris, there was much to induce them to quit the metropolis, and seek a place of free deliberation elsewhere. France, indeed, was in such a state, that had these unfortunate experimentalists pos- sessed any influence in almost any department, they could hardly have failed to bring friends around them, if they had effected a retreat to it. Versailles seems to have been thought of as the scene of their adjournment, by those who nourished such an idea ; and it was believed that the inhabit- ants of that town, repentant of the part they had played in driving from them the royal family and the legislative body, would have stood in their de- fence. But neither from the public journals and histories of the time, nor from the private memoirs of Buzot, Barbaroux, or Louvet, does it appear that these infatuated philosophers thought either of flight or defence. They appear to have resembled the wretched animal, whose chance of escape from its enemies rests only in the pitiful cries which it utters when seized. Their whole system was a castle in the air, and when it vanished they could only sit down and lament over it. On the other hana, it must be allowed to the Girondists, that the inefficiency and imbecility of their conduct was not to be attributed to personal cowardice. En- thusiasts in their political opinions, they saw their ruin approaching, waited for it, and dared it ; but like that of the monarch they had been so eager to dethrone, and by dethroning whom they had made way for their own ruin, their resolution was of a passive, not an active character ; patient and steady to endure wrong, but inefficient where the object was to do right towards themselves and France. For many nights, these unhappy and devoted deputies, still possessed of the ministerial power- were so far from being able to ensure their own safety, or that of the country under their nominal government, that they had shifted about from one place of rendezvous to another, not daring to occupy their own lodgings, and usually remaining, three 3 Hubert was also editor of an obscene and revolting revo lutionary journal, entitled the " Pire Duchesne." which hiu> obtained an immense circulation. FRENCH REVOLUTION. 121 or four together, armed for defence of their lives, in such places of secrecy and safety as they could devise. It was on the night preceding the .30th of May, that Louvet, with five of the most distinguished of the Girondist party, had absconded into such a retreat, more like robbers afraid of the police than legislators, when the tocsin was rung at dead of night. Rabaud de Saint Etienne, a Protestant clergjTnan, and one of the most distinguished of the party for humanity and resolution, received it as a death-knell, and continued to repeat, Ilia suprema dies. The alarm was designed to raise the suburbs ; but in this task the Jacobins do not seem to have had the usual facilities — at least, they began by putting their bloodhounds on a scent, upon which they thought them likely to run more readily than the mere murder or arrest of twenty or thirty deputies of the Convention. They devised one which suited admirably, both to alarm the wealthier citizens, and teach them to be contented with look- ing to their own safety, and to animate the rabble with the hope of plunder. The rumour was spread, that the section of La Butte-des-Moulins, compre- hending the Palais Royal, and the most wealthy shops in Paris, had become counter-revolutionary — had displayed the white cockade, and were declaring for the Bourbons. Of this not a word was true. The citizens of the Palais Royal were disposed perhaps to royalty — certainly for a quiet and established government — but loved their own shops much better than the House of Bourbon, and had no intention of placing them in jeopardy either for king or kaisar. They heard ynth alarm the accusation again-st them, mustered in defence of their property, shut the gates of the Palais Royal, which admits of being strongly defended, turned cannon with lighted matches upon the mob as they approached their precincts, and showed, in a way sufiicient to intimi- date the rabble of Saint Antoine, that though the wealthy burgesses of Paris might abandon to the mob the care of killing kings and changing minis- ters, they had no intention whatever to yield up to them the charge of their counters and tills. Five sections were under arms and ready to act. Not one of the Girondist party seems to have even attempted to point out to them, that by an exertion to preserve the independence of the Convention, they might rid themselves for ever of the domina- tion under which all who had property, feeling, of education, were rendered slaves by these recurring insurrections. This is the more extraordinary, as Rafife, the commandant of the section of La Butte- des-Moulins, had actually marched to the assistance of the Convention on the 10th of March, then, as now, besieged by an armed force. Left to themselves, the sections who were in arms to protect order, thought it enough to provide against the main danger of the moment. The sight of their array, and of their determined appearance, far more than their three-coloured cockades, and cries of " Vive la Republique," were sufficient to make the insurgents recognise tliose as good citi- zens, who could not be convicted of inciTism with- out a bloody combat. They were, however, at length made to compre- hend by their leaders, that the business to be done lav in the Hall of the Convention, and that tlie exertions of each active citi:«en were to entitle hnn to forty sous for the day's work. In the whole affair there was so much of cold trick, and so little popular enthusiasm, that it is difficult to believe that the plotters might not have been countermined and blown to the moon with their own petard, had there been active spirit or pi'actical courage on the side of those who were the assailed party. But we see no symptoms of either. The Convention were surrounded by the rabble, and menaced in the grossest terms. Under the general terror in- spired by their situation, they finally recalled the Commission of Twelve, and set He'bert at liberty ; — concessions which, though short of those which the Jacobins had determined to insist upon, were such as showed that the power of the Girondists was entirely destroyed, and that the Convention itself might be overawed at the pleasure of \vho- ever should command the mob of Paris.' The Jacobins were now determined to follow up their blow, by destroying the enemy whom they had disarmed. The 2d of June was fixed for this purpose. Louvet, and some others of the Giron- dist party, did not choose to await the issue, but fled from" Paris. To secure the rest of the devoted party, the barriers of the city were shut. On this decisive occasion, the Jacobins had not trusted entirely to the efficiency of their suburb forces. They had also under their orders about two thousand Federates, who were encamped in the Champs-Elys^es, and had been long tutored in the part they had to act. They harnessed guns and howitzers, prepared gi-apc-shot and shells, and actually heated shot red-hot, as if their purpose had been to attack some strong fortress, instead of a hall filled with the unarmed representatives of the people. Henriot, commander-general of the armed force of Paris, a fierce, ignorant man, entirely devoted to the Jacobin interest, took care, in posting the armed force which arrived from all hands around the Convention, to station those nearest to the legislative body, whose dispositions with regard to them were most notoriously violent. They were thus entirely surrounded as if in a net, and the Jacobins had little more to do than to select their victims. The universal cry of the armed men who sur- rounded the Convention, was for a decree of death or outlawry against twenty-two members of the Girondist party, who had been pointed out, by the petition of Pache, and by subsequent petitions of the most inflammatory nature, as accomplices of Dumouriez, enemies of the good city of Paris, and traitors who meditated a federative instead of an indivisible republic. This list of proscription in- cluded the ministers. The Convention were in a dreadful situation ; it was manifest that tlie arm of strong force wa.s upon them. Those who were supposed to belong to the Girondist party, were struck and abused as they entered the hall, hooted and threatened as they arose to deliver their opinion. The members were no longer free to speak or vote. There could be no deliberation within the Assembly, while such a scene of tumult and fury continued and increased without. • Iniors, torn, iv., p. 251 ; Touloiigeon, torn, iii., p. 4!4 I.acretcUe, torn, x., p. 356. 122 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. Barriro, leader, as we have said, of the Plain, or neutral party, who thought with the Girondists in conscience, and acted with the Jacobins in fear, proposed one of those seemingly moderate mea- sures, whrch involve as sure destruction to those who adopt them, as if their character were more decisively hostile. With compliments to their good intentions, with lamentations for the emergency, he entreated the proscribed Girondists to sacrifice tliemselves as the unhappy subjects of disunion in tlie Republic, and to resign their character of de- puties. The Convention, he said, " would then declare them under the protection of the law," — as if they were not invested with that protection, while j they were convicted of no crime, and clothed at the i same time with the inviolability, of which he advised I them to divest themselves. It was as if a man were requested to lay aside his armour, on the promise that the ordinary garments which he wore under it should be rendered impenetrable. But a Frenchman is easily induced to do that to which he is provoked, as involving a point of honour. This treacherous advice was adopted by Isnard, Dussaux, and others of the proscribed de- puties, who were thus persuaded to abandon what defences remained to them, in hopes to soften the ferocity of an enemy, too inveterate to entertain feelings of generosity. Lanjuinais maintained a more honourable strug- gle. " Expect not from me," he said to the Con- vention, " to hear either of submission or resigna- tion of my official character. Am 1 free to offer such a resignation, or are you free to receive it ? " As he would have turned his eloquence against Robespierre and the Jacobins, an attempt was made by Legendre and Chabot to drag him from the tribune. While he resisted he received seve- ral blows. " Cruel men !" he exclaimed — " The Heathens adorned and caressed the victims whom they led to the slaughter — you load them with blows and insult." Shame procured him a moment's hearing, during which he harangued the Assembly with much effect on the baseness, treachery, cruelty, and impo- licy, of thus surrendering their brethren to the call of a bloodthirsty multitude from without, stimu- lated by a vengeful minority of their own members. The Convention made an effort to free themselves from the toils in which they were entangled. They resolved to go out in a body, and ascertain what respect would be paid to their persons by the armed force assembled arovmd them. They sallied forth accordingly, in procession, into the gardens of the Tuileries, the Jacobins alone remaining in the hall ; but their progress was presently arrested by Henriot, at the head of a strong military staff, and a large body of troops. Every passage leading from the gardens was se- cured by soldiers. The president read the decree of the Assembly, and commanded Henriot's obedi- ence. The commandant of Paris only replied by reining back his horse, and commanding the troops to stand to their arms. " Return to your posts," he said to the terrified legislators ; " the people demand the traitors who are in the bosom of your assembly, and will not depart till their will is ac- complished." Marat came up presently afterwards lit the head of a select band of a hundred ruffians. He called on the multitude to stand firm to their purpose, and commanded the Convention, in tlie name of the people, to return to their place ol meeting, to deliberate, and, above all, to obey.' The Convention re-entered their hall in the last degree of consternation, prepared to submit to the infamy which now seemed inevitable, yet loathing themselves for their cowardice, even while obeying the dictates of self-preservation. The Jacobins meanwhile enhanced their demand, like her who sold the books of the Sibyls. Instead of twenty- two deputies, the accusation of thu-ty was now de- manded. Amid terror mingled with acclamations, the decree was declared to be carried. This doom of proscription passed on the motion of Couthou ; a decrepid being whose lower extremities^ were paralysed, — whose benevolence of feeling seemed to pour itself out in the most gentle expressions, uttered in the most melodious tones, — whose sen- sibility led him constantly to foster a favourite spaniel in his bosom, that he might have something on which to bestow kindness and caresses, — but who was at heart as fierce as Danton, and as piti- less as Robespierre. Great part of the Convention did not join in this vote, protesting loudly against the force imposed on them. Several of the proscribed deputies were arrested, others escaped from the hall by the con- nivance of their brethren, and of the official persons attached to the Convention, some, foreseeing their fate, had absented themselves from the meeting, and were already fled from Paris. Thus fell, without a blow struck, or sword drawn in their defence, the party in the Convention which claimed the praise of acting upon pure Republican principles — who had overthrown the throne, and led the way to anarchy, merely to perfect an ideal theory. They fell, as the wisest of them admitted, 1 dupes to their own system, and to the vain and j impracticable idea of ruling a large and cori'upt j empire, by the motives which may sway a small and virtuous community. They might, as they too I late discovered, have as well attempted to found 1 the Capitol on a bottomless and quaking marsh, as their pretended Republic in a country like France. j The violent Revolutionary expedients, the means j by which they acted, were turned against them by ] men, whose ends were worse than their own. The j Girondists had gloried in their share of the tri- umphs of the 1 0th of August ; yet what was that ^ celebrated day, save an insurrection of the populace agamst the constituted authority of the time, as those of the 31st of May, and 2d of June, 1793, finder which the Girondists succumbed, were di- rected against them as successors in the govern- ment ? In the one case, a king was dethroned ; in the other, a government, or band of ministers dismissed. And if the people had a right, as the Girondists claimed in their behalf, to act as the executionei's of their own will in the one instance, it is difficult to see upon what principle their power should be trammelled in the other. In the important process against the King, the Girondists had shown themselves pusillanimous ; — desirous to save the life of a guiltless man, they dared not boldly vouch his innocence, but sheltered themselves under evasions which sacrificed his cha- racter, while they could not protect his life. After committing this great error, they lost every chance ' Thiers, torn, iv., p. 270; Lacretellc, torn, x, p. 375; llignet, torn, i., p. -jHi. FRENCH REVOLUTION. 123 of rallying with efficacy under their standard what might remain of well-intentioned individuals in Paris and in France, who, if they had seen the Gi- rondists, when in power, conduct themselves with firmness, would probably rather have ranked them- selves in the train of men who were friends to social order, however republican their tenets, than have given way to the anarchy which was doomed to ensue.^ Upon all their own faults, whether of act or of omission, the unfortunate Girondists had now ample time to meditate. Twenty-two of their leading members, arrested on the fatal 2d of June, already waited their doom in prison, while the others wan- dered on, in distress and misery, through the differ- ent departments of France. The fate of those who were prisoners was not very long suspended. In October they were brought to trial, and convicted of royalism ! Such was the temper of France at the time, and so gross the impositions which might be put upon the people, that the men in the empire, who, upon abstract principle, were most averse to monarchy, and who had sacrificed even their consciences to join with the Jacobins in pulUng down the throne, were now accused and convicted of being Royalists ; and that at a time when what remained of the royal family was at so low an ebb, that the imprisoned Queen could not obtain the most ordinary book for the use of her son, without a direct and formal application to the Community of Paris.^ When the Girondists were brought before the tribunal, the people seem to have shown more in- terest in men, whose distinguished talents had so often swayed the legislative body, than was altoge- ther acceptable to the Jacobins, who were induced to fear some difficulty in carrying through their conviction. They obtained a decree from the Con- vention, declaring that the president of the Revo- lutionary Tribunal should be at liberty to close the procedure so soon as the jui-}' should have made up their minds, and without hearing the accused in their defence.^ This frightful expedient of cutting short the debate, (coupcr la jiorole was the phrase,) was often resorted to on those revolutionary trials. Unquestionably, they dreaded the reasoning of Brissot, and the eloquence of Vergniaud, of which they had so long and so often experienced the thunders. One crime, — and it was a fatal offence, considering before what judicature they stood, — seems to have been made out by Brissot's own letters. It was that by which the late members attempted to effect a combination among the de- partments, for the purpose of counterpoising, if possible, the tremendous influence which the capi- tal and the revolutionary part of its magistracy exercised over the Convention, whom Paris de- tained prisoners within her walls. This delinquency alone was well calculated to remo'we all scruples from the minds of a jury, selected from that very class of Parisians, whose dreadful importance would ' " The Girondists felt without doubt, at the bottom of their hearts, a keen remorse for the means which they liad em- ployed to overturn the throne; and when those very means were directed against themselves, when tliey recoRniscd their own weapons in the wounds which they received, they must have reflected without doubt on that rapid justice of revolu- tions, which concentrates on a few rnstauts the events of se- Teral ages." — De Stael, vol. ii., p. Ii2. 2 Witness the followin;; entry in the minutes of the Com- mxinc, on a day, he it remarked, betwixt the 29lji May and have been altogether annihilated by the success of such a scheme. The accused were found guilty, as conspirators against the unity and indivisibility of the Republic, and the liberty and safety of the French people. When the sentence of aeath was pronounced, one of their number, Valaze, plunged a dagger in his bosom.'* The rest suffered in terms of the sen- tence, and were conveyed to the place of execution in the same tumbril with the bloody corpse of their suicide colleague. Brissot seemed downcast and unhappy. Fauchet, a renegade priest, showed signs of remorse. The rest affected a Roman resolution, and went to execution singing a pai'ody on the hymn of the Marseillois, in which that famous composition was turned against the Jaco- bins.* They had long rejected the aids of reli- gion, which, early received and cherished, would have guided their steps in prosperity, and sustained them in adversity. Their remaining stay was only that of the same vain and speculative philosophy, which had so deplorably influenced their political conduct. Those members of the Girondist party, who, escaping from Paris to the departments, avoided their fate somewhat longer, saw little reason to pride themselves on the political part they had chosen to act. They found the eastern and southern departments in a ferment against Paris and the Jacobins, and ready to rise in arras ; but they became aware, at the same time, that no one was thinking of or regretting their system of a pure republic, the motives by which the malecontents were agitated being of a very different, and far more practical character. Great part of the nation, all at least of better feelings, had been deeply affected by the undeserved fate of the King, and the cruelty with which his family had been, and were still treated. The rich feared to be pillaged and miu-dered by the Jacobins ; the poor suffered no less under scarcity of grain, under the deprecia- tion of assignats, and a compulsory levy of no less than three hundred thousand men over France, to supply the enormous losses of the French army. But every where the insurrections took a Royalist, and not a Republican character ; and although the Girondists were received at Caen and elsewhere with compassion and respect, the votes they had given in the King's trial, and their fanatic zeal for a kind of government for which France was totally unfitted, and which those from whom they obtained refuge were far from desiring, prevented their playing any distinguished part in the distm-bed districts of the West. Buzot seems to see this in the true sense. " It is certain," he says, " that if we could have rested our pretensions upon having wished to establish in France a moderate government of that charac- ter, which, according to many well-instructed per- sons, best suited the people of France," (indicating a lunited monarchy,) " we might have entertained the 2d June: "Antoinette fait demandcr pour son tils le roman de Gil Bias de Santillanc — Aceordt!'."— S. 3 Toulongeon, torn, iv., ii. 114; Thiers, tom. iv., p. 3«9. ■* " The court immediately ordered that his dead body should be borne on a car to the ]>lace of execution, and beheaded with the other prisoners."— Lacrktklle, torn, xi., p. 2U). 6 " Allons, enfaiis de la patrie, Le jour de gloiro est .irriv^; Contrc nous, de la tyrannic Le couteau sanglant est lev<5." Lackktelle, tom. »., p. 270. 124 SCOTTS MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. hopes of forming a formidable coalition in the uepartment of Calvados, and rallying around us all whom ancient prejudices attached to royalty." ' As it was, they were only regarded as a few enthu- siasts, whom the example of America had indiiced to attempt the establishment of a republic, in a country where all hopes and wishes, save those of the Jacobins, and the vile rabble whom they courted and governed, were turned towards a moderate monarchy. Buzot also observed, that the many violences and atrocities, forced levies, and other acts of oppression practised in the name of the Republic, had disgusted men with a form of government, where cruelty seemed to rule over misery by the sole aid of terror. With more can- dour than some of his companions, he avows his error, and admits that he would, at this closing scene, have willingly united with the moderate monarchists, to establish royalty under the safe- guard of constitutional restraints. Several of the deputies, Louvet, Riouffe, Bar- baroux, Pe'tion, and others, united themselves with a body of Royalists of Bretagne, to whom General Wimpfen had given something of the name of an army, but which never attained the solidity of one. It was defeated at Vernon, and never afterwards could be again assembled. The proscribed deputies, at first with a few armed associates, afterwards entirely deserted, wandered through the country, incurring some romantic ad- ventures, which have been recorded by the pen of their historian, Louvet. At length, six of the party succeeded in obtaining the means of transportation to Bourdeaux, the capital of that Gironde from which their party derived its name, and which those who were natives of it, remembering only the limited society in which they had first acquired their fame, had described as possessing and che- rishing the purest principles of philosophical free- dom. Guadet had protested to his companions in misfortune a thousand times, that if liberal, honour- able, and generous sentiments were chased from every other corner of France, they were neverthe- less sure to find refuge in La Gironde. The pro- scribed wanderers had wcllnigh kissed the land of refuge, when they disembarked, as in a country of assured protection. But Bourdeaux was by this time no more than a wealthy trading town, where the rich, trembling before the poor, were not will- ing to increase their own imminent danger, by in- termeddling with the misfortunes of others. All doors, or nearly so, of La Gironde itself, were shut against the Girondists, and they wandered outcasts in the country, suffering every extremity of toil and hunger, and bringing, in some cases, death upon the friends who ventured to afford them refuge. Louvet alone escaped, of the six Girondists who took refuge in their own peculiar province. Guadet, Sailes, and the enthusiastic Barbai-oux, were seized and executed at Bourdeaux, but not till the last had twice attempted suicide with his pistols. Buzot and Potion killed themselves in extremity, and were found dead in a field of corn. This was the same Potion who had been so long the idol of the Pari- ' Mi^moires de Buzot, p. 9(1. - " He liad stabbed himself with a knife, concealed in bis Bialking stick. In his pocket was found a paper, containing these words: ' Whoever you are, oh passenger! who discover my body, respect the remains of the unfortunate. Ihty arc sians, and who, when the forfeiture of the Kmg was resolved on, had been heard to say with simple vanity, " If they should force me to become regent now, I cannot see any means by which I can avoid it." Others of this unhappy party shared the same melancholy fate. Condorcet, who had pronounced his vote for the King's life, but in perpetual fetters, was aiTCsted, and poisoned himself. Rabaud de Saint Etienne was betrayed by a friend in whom he trusted, and was executed. Roland was found dead on the high-road, between Paris and Rouen,'-' accom- plishing a prophecy of his wife, whom the Jacobins had condemned to death, and who had declared her conviction that her husband would not long survive her. That remarkable woman, happy if her high talents had, in youth, fallen under the direction of those who could better have cultivated them, made before the revolutionary tribunal a defence more manly than the most eloquent of the Girondists. The bystanders, who had become ama teurs in cruelty, were as much delighted with her deportment, as the hunter with the pulling down a noble stag. " What sense," they said ; " what wit, what courage ! What a magnificent spectacle it will be to behold such a woman upon the scaffold ! " She met her death with great firmness, and, as she passed the Statue of Liberty, on her road to exe- cution, she exclaimed, " Ah, Liberty ! what crimes are committed in thy name ! "^ About forty-two of the Girondist deputies perished by the guillotine, by suicide, or by the fatigue of their wanderings. About twenty-four escaped these perils, and were, after many and various sufferings, recalled to the Convention, when the Jacobin influ- ence was destroyed. They owed their fall to the fantastic philosophy and visionary theories which they had adopted, not less than to their presump- tuous confidence, that popular assemblies, when actuated by the most violent personal feelings, must yield to the weight of argument, as inanimate bodies obey the impulse of external force ; and that they who possess the highest powers of oratory, can, by mere elocution, take the weight from clubs, the edge from sabres, and the angry and brutal passions from those who wield them. They made no further figure as a party in any of the state changes in France ; and, in relation to their expe- rimental Republic, may remind the reader of the presumptuous champion of antiquity, who was caught in the cleft of oak, which he in vain at- tempted to rend asunder. History has no more to say on the subject of La Gironde, considered as a party name. CHAPTER XV. Views of Parties in Britain relative to the Revolu- tion — Affiliated Societies — Counterpoised by Aris- tocratic Associations — Aristocratic Party eager for War with France — The French proclaim the Navigation of the Scheldt — British Ambassador recalled from Paris, and French Envoy no longer accredited in London — France declares War against England — British Army sent to Holland, those of a man who devoted his whole life to the service of his country. Not fear, but indignation, made me quit my retreat when 1 heard of the murder of my wife. I loathed a world stained with so many crimes.'" — Roland, tom. i., p. 4G. 3 Lacretelle, torn, xi., p. 277- FRENCH REVOLUTION. 125 under the Duke of York — State of the Army — View of the Militarij Positions of France — in Flanders — on the Rhine — in Piedmont — Saroy — on the Pyrenees — IState of the War in La Vendee — Description of the Country — Le Pocage — Le Louroux — Close Union betwixt the Nobles and Peasantry — Both strongly attached to Royalty, and abhorrent of the Revolution — The Priests — The Reliyion of the Vendeans outraged by the Convention — A general Insurrection takes place in 1793 — Military Organization and Habits of the Vendeans — Division in the British Cabinet on the Mode of conducting the War — Pitt — Windham — Reasoning upon the Subject — Ven- deans defeated — They defeat, iti their turn, the French Troops at Laval — But are ultimately destroyed and dispersed — Unfortunate E.rpedi- tion to Quiberon — La Charette defeated and exe- cuted, and the War of La Vendee finally termi- nated—Unsuccessful Resistance of Bourdeaux, Marseilles, and Lyms, to the Convention — Siege of Lyons — Its surrender and dreadful Punish- ment — Siege of Toulon. The Jacobins, by their successive victories on the 31st May and 2d June, 1793, had vanquished and driven from the field their adversaries ; and we have already seen with what fury they had pursued their scattered enemies, and dealt among them ven- geance and death. But the situation of the country, both in regard to external and internal relations, was so precarious, that it required the exertion of men as bold and unhesitating as those who now assumed the guidance of the power of France, to exert the energies necessary to repel foreign force, and at the same time to subdue internal dissen- sion. We have seen that England had become, in a great measure, divided into two large parties, one of which continued to applaud the French Revolu- tion, although the wise and good among them reprobated its excesses ; while the other, with eyes fixed in detestation upou the cruelties, confiscations, and horrors of every description which it had given rise to, looked on the very name of this great change, — though, no doubt, comprehending much good as weU as evil, — with the unmixed feelings of men contemplating a spectacle equally dreadful and disgusting. The affair of the 10th of August, and the ap- proaching fate of the King, excited general interest in Britain ; and a strong inclination became visible among the higher and middling classes, that the nation should take up arms, and interfere in the fate of the unhappy Louis. Mr. Pitt had been making up his mind to the same point ; but, feeling how much his own high talents were turned to the improvement of the in- ternal regulations and finances of the country, he hesitated for some time to adopt a hostile course, though approved by the sovereign, and demanded by a large proportion of his subjects. But new cir- cumstances arose every day to compel a decision on this important point. The French, whether in their individual or col- lective capacities, have been always desirous to take the lead among European nations, and to be con- sidered as the foremost member of the civilized republic. In almost all her vicissitudes, France has addressed herself as nuich to the citizens of other countries as to those of lier own ; and it wae thus, that in the speeches of her statesmen, invita- tions were thrown out to the subjects of other states, to imitate the example of the Republic, cast away the rubbish of their old institutions, dethrone their Kings, demolish their nobility, divide the lands of the Church and the aristocracy among the lower classes, and arise a free and regenerated people. In Britain, as elsewhere, these doctrines carried a fascinating sound ; for Britain as well as France had men of parts, who thought themselves neglect- ed,— men of merit, who conceived themselves oppressed, — experimentalists, who would willingly put the laws in their revolutionary crucible, — and men desirous of novelties in the Church and in the State, either from the eagerness of restless curiosity, or the hopes of bettering by the change. Above all, Britain had a far too ample mass of poverty and ignorance, subject always to be acted upon by the hope of license. Affiliated societies were formed in almost all the towns of Great Britain. They corresponded \\ ith each other, held very high and intimidating language, and seemed to frame them- selves on the French model. They addressed the National Convention of France directly in the name of their own bodies, and of societies united for the same purpose ; and congratulated them on their freedom, and on the manner in which they had gained it, with many a broad hint that their example would not be lost on Britain. The persons who composed these societies had, generally speaking, little pretension to rank or influence ; and though they contained some men of considerable parts, there was a deficiency of any thing like weight or respectability in their meetings. Their consequence lay chiefly in the numbers who were likely to be influenced by their arguments ; and these were extraordinarily great, especially in large towns, and in the manufacturing districts. That state of things began to take place in Britain, which had preceded the French Revolution ; but the British aristocracy, well cemented together, and possessing great weight in the State, took the alarm sooner, and adopted precautions more eff'ectual, than had been thought of in France. They associated together in poli- tical unions on their side, and, by the weight of in- fluence, character, and fortune, soon obtained a superiority, which made it dangerous, or at least inconvenient, to many, whose situations in society rendered them, in some degree, dependent upon the favour of the aristocracy, to dissent violently from their opinions. The political Shibboleth, used by these associations, was a renunciation of the doctrines of the French Revolution ; and they have been reproached, that this abhorrence was ex- pressed by some of them in terms so strong, as if designed to withhold the subscribers from attempt- ing any reformation in their own government, even by the most constitutional means. In short, while the democratical party made, in their clubs, the most violent and furious speeches against the aristocrats, the others became doubly prejudiced against reform of every description, and all who attempted to assert its propi'iety. After all, had this political ferment broke out in Britain at any other period, or on any other occasion, it would have probably passed away like other heart-burn- ings of the same description, which interest for a time, but weary out tlie public attention, and are laid aside and fcrt-"i)ttcn. But tlie French Revo 126 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. Iiition blazed in the neighbourhood like a beacon of hope to the one party, of fear and caution to the other. The shouts of the democratic triumphs — the foul means by wliich their successes were ob- tained, and the cruel use which was made of them, increased the animosity of both parties in England. In the fury of party zeal, the democrats excused many of the excesses of the French Revolution, in respect of its tendency ; while the other party, in condemning the whole Revolution, both root and branch, forgot that, after all, tlje struggle of the French nation to recover their liberty, was, in its commencement, not only justifiable, but laudable. The wild and inflated language addressed by the French statesmen to mankind in general, and the spirit of conquest which the nation had lately evinced, mixed with their marked desire to extend their political principles, and with the odium which they had heaped upon themselves by the King's death, made the whole aristocratic party, com- manding a very large majority in both Houses of Parliament, become urgent that war should be declared against France ; a holy war, it was said, against treason, blasphemy, and murder, and a necessary war, in order to break off all connexion betwixt the French Government and the discon- tented part of our own subjects, who could not otherwise be prevented from the most close, con- stant, and dangerous intercourse with them. Another reason for hostilities, more in parallel with similar cases in history, occurred, from the French having, by a formal decree, proclaimed the Scheldt navigable. In so doing, a point had been assumed as granted, upon the denial of which the States of Holland had always rested as the very basis of their national prosperity. It is probable that tliis might, in other circumstances, have been made the subject of negotiation ; but the difference of opinion on the general politics of the Revolu- tion, and the mode in which it had been carried on, set the governments of France and England in such direct and mortal opposition to each other, that war became inevitable. Lord Gower,! the British ambassador, was recal- led from Paris, immediately on the King's execu- tion. The prince to whom he was sent was no more ; and, on the same ground, Chauvelin, tiie French envoy at the Court of St. James's, though not dismissed by his Majesty's government, was made acquainted that the ministers no longer con- sidered him as an accredited person.^ Yet, through Maret,^ a subordinate agent, Pitt continued to keep up some correspondence with the French Govern- ment, in a lingering desire to preserve peace, if possible. What the British minister chiefly wished was, to have satisfactory assurances, that the strong expressions of a decree, which the French Con- vention had passed on the 19th November, were not to be considered as applicable to England. The iJecree was in these words : " The National Con- vention declares, in the name of the French nation, that it will grant fraternity and assistance to all people who wish to recover their liberty ; and it charges the executive power to send the necessary ' ■ Afterwards Marquis of Stafford, and created Duke of Sutherland. He died in 1833. 2 Annual Register, vol. xxxv., p. 128. 8 In 17*19, Maret published the jjroceedings of the States- General, under the title of " Bulletin de I'Assemblec," taking Woodfall's Parliamentary Register for his model. The suc- •^ss of thp experiment was so great, that when Pankonkc, orders to the generals, to give succours to such people, and to defend those citizeuo wlio have suf- fered, or may suffer, in the cause of liberty." — " That this decree might not remain a secret to those for whose benefit it was intended, a transla- tion of it, in every foreign language, was ordered to be printed."* The Convention, as well as the ministers of France, refused every disavowal of the decree as applicable to Great Britain ; were equally reluctant to grant explanation of any kind on the opening of the Scheldt ; and finally, with- out one dissentient voice, the whole Convention, in a full meeting, [Feb. 1,] declared war upon England;^ — which last nation is, nevertheless, sometimes represented, even at this day, as having declared war upon France. In fact, Mr. Pitt came unwillingly into the war. With even more than his great father's ministerial talents, he did not habitually nourish the schemes of military triumph, which were famihar to the genius of Chatham, and was naturally unwilling, by engaging in an expensive war, to derange those plans of finance by which he had retrieved the revenues of Great Britain from a very low condi- tion. It is said of Chatham, that he considered it as the best economy, to make every military expe- dition which he fitted out, of such a power and strength, as to overbear, as far as possible, all chance of opposition. A general otficer, who was to be employed in such a piece of service, having demanded a certain body of troops, as sufficient to effect his purpose, — " Take double the number," said Lord Chatham, " and answer with your head for your success." His son had not the same mode of computation, and would, perhaps, have been more willing to have reduced the officer's terms, chaffered with him for the lowest number, and finally despatched him at the head of as small a body as the general could have been prevailed on to consider as affording any prospect of success. This untimely economy of resources arose fi-om the expense attending the British army. They are certainly one of the bravest, best appointed, and most liberally paid in Europe ; but in forming demands on their valour, and expectations from their exertions, their fellow-subjects are apt to in- dulge extravagant computations, from not being in the habit of considering military calculations, or being altogether aware of the numerical superi- ority possessed by other countries. That one Eng- lishman will fight two Frenchmen is certain ; but that he will beat them, though a good article of the popular creed, must be allowed to be more dubi- ous ; and it is not wise to wage war on such odds, OT to suppose that, because our soldiers are in- finitely valuable to us, and a little expensive be- sides, it is therefore judicious to send them in small numbers against desperate odds. Anothov point, well touched by Sheridan, during the debate on the question of peace or war, was not sufficiently attended to by the British Adminis- tration. That .statesman, whose perception of the right and wrong of any great constitutional ques- tion was as acute rs that of any whomever of his the bookseller, projected the plan of the " Monitcur" he pre- vailed on Maret to transfer nis labours to the new jouruaU Such was the origin of f<<"poleon's well-known Dake 01 Bassano. 4 Annual Register, vol. xxxv. p. 153. ^ See the Declaration, Annual Register, vol. xtxv p. 139 FRENCH REVOLUTION. 127 groat political contemporaries, said, " He wished every possible exertion to be made for the preser- vation of peace. If, however, that were impracti- cable, in such case, but in such case only, he pro- posed to vote for a vigorous war. Not a war of shifts and scraps, of timid operation, or protracted effort ; but a war conducted with such energy as might jonvince the world that we were contending for our dearest and most valuable privileges." ' Of this high-spirited and most just principle, the policy of Britain unfortunately lost sight during the first years of the war, when there occurred more than one opportunity in which a home and prostrat- ing blow might have been aimed at her gigantic adversary. A gallant auxiliary army was, however, imme- diately fitted out, and embarked for Holland, with his Royal Highness the Duke of York at their head ; as if the King had meant to give to his allies the dearest pledge in his power, how serious was the interest which he took in their defence. But, though well equipped, and commanded, un- der the young prince, by Abercromby, Dundas, Sir William Erskine, and many other officers of gallantry and experience, it must be owned that the Bi'itish army had not then recovered the de- pressing and disorganizing effects of the American war. The soldiers were, indeed, fine men on the parade ; but their external appearance was acquired by dint of a thousand minute and vexatious atten- tions, exacted from them at the expense of private comfort, and which, after aU, only gave them the extei'ior appearance of high drilling, in exchange for ease of motion and simplicity of dress. No ge- neral system of manoeuvres, we believe, had been adopted for the use of the forces ; each command- ing officer managed his regiment according to his own pleasure. In a field-day, two or three batta- lions could not act in concert, without much pre- vious consultation ; in action, they got on as chance directed. The officers, too, were acquainted both with their soldiers and with their duty, in a degree far inferior to what is now exacted from them. Our system of purchasing commissionSj which is necessary to connect the army with the country, and the property of the country, was at that time so much abused, that a mere beardless boy might be forced at once through the subordinate and sub- altern steps into a company or a majority, without having been a month in the army. In short, all those gigantic abuses were still subsisting, which the illustrious prince whom we have named eradi- cated from the British army, by regulations, for which his country can never be sufficiently grate- ful, and without which they could never have per- formed the distinguished part finally destined to them in the terrible drama, which was about to open under less successful auspices. There hung also, hke a cloud, upon the military fame of England, the unfortunate issue of the Ame- rican struggle ; in which the advantages obtained by regulars, against less disciphned forces, had been trifled with in the commencement, until the genius 1 Annual Register, vol. xxxv., p. 250. — S. 2 Jomini, torn. Ui., pp. 163-181 ; Toulongeon, torn, iv., pp. fi-43. s On the loss of Mentz, the Convention ordered Cuatine to Paris to answer for his conduct, and delivered him over to the revolutionary tribunal, by whom, in August, 171*3, he was condemned aud executed. of Washington, and the increasing spirit and num- bers of the continental armies, completely over- balanced, and almost annihilated, that original pre- ponderance. Yet the British soldiery did not disgrace their high national character, nor show themselves un- worthy of fighting under the eye of the son of their monarch ; and when they joined the Austrian army, under the Prince of Saxe-Cobourg, gave many de- monstrations both of valour and discipline. The storming the fortified camp of the French at Famars — the battle of Lincelles — the part they bore in the sieges of Valenciennes and Conde, both of which surrendered successively to the allied forces, up- held the reputation of their country, and amounted, indeed, to what, in former wars, would have been the fruits of a very successful campaign.^ But Europe was now arrived at a time when war was no longer to be carried on according to the old usage, by the agency of standing amiies of mode- rate numbers ; when a battle lost and won, or a siege raised or successful, was thought sufficient for the active exertions of the year, and the troops on either side were drawn off into winter quarters, while diplomacy took up the contest which tactics had suspended. All this was to be laid aside ; and instead of this drowsy state of hostility, nations were to contend with each other like individuals in mortal conflict, bringing not merely the hands, but every limb of the body into violent and furious struggle. The situation of France, both in internal and external relations, required the most dreadful efforts which had ever been made by any country ; and the exertions which she demanded, were either willingly made by the enthusiasm of the inhabitants, or extorted by the energy and severity of the re- volutionary government. We must bestow a single glance on the state of the country, ere we proceed to notice the measures adopted for its defence. On the north-eastern frontier of France, con- siderable advances had been made by the English and Hanoverian army, in communication and con- junction with the Austrian force under the Prince of Saxe-Cobourg, an excellent officer, but who, be- longing to the old school of formal and prolonged war, never sufficiently considered, that a new descrijjtion of enemies were opposed to him, who were necessarily to be combated in a diflerent manner from those whom his youth had encoun- tered, and w^ho, unenterprising himself, does not appear either to have calculated upon, or prepared to comiteract, strokes of audacity and activity on the part of the enemy. The war on the Rhine was furiously maintained by Prussians and Austrians united. The French lost the important town of Mentz, were driven out of other places, and experienced many reverses, although Custine,^ Moreau, Houchard,* Beauhar- nais,^ and other general officers of high merit, had already given lustre to the arms of the Republic. The loss of the strong lines of Weissenburgh, which were can-ied by General Wurmscr, a distinguished Austrian officer, completed the shade of disad- ■* Accused of not having followed up the advant.iges at Hondscootc, by an immediate attack upon the British force. Houchard was brought before the revolutionary tribunal condemned, and executed, 17th Nov., 17.'*'{. s Alexander, Viscount de Beauharnais, first husb Josephine. Denounced as an aristocrat by his own tr was, in July, 17!M, dragged before the revolutionary which instantly cunden)ned him to death. 128 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PEOSE WORKS. vantage which here hung on the Repubhcan biinners.' In Piedmont, the French were also unsuccess- ful, though the scale was less grand and imposing. The republican general Brunet^ was unfortunate, and he was forced from his camp at Belvidere ; while, on the side of Savoy, the King of Sardinia also obtained several temporary advantages. On the Pyrenees, the Republican armies had been equally unsuccessful. A Spanish army, con- ducted with more spu-it than had been lately the case with the troops of that once proud monarch)', had defeated the republican general Servan, and crossed the Bidassoa. On the eastern extremity of these celebrated mountains, the Spaniards had taken the towns of Port Vendre and Ollioulles.' Assailed on so many sides, and by so many ene- mies, all of whom, excepting the Sardinians, had more or less made impression upon the frontiers of the Republic, it might seem, that the only salva- tion which remained for France, must have been sought for in the unanimity of her inhabitants. But so far was the nation from possessing this first of requisites for a successful opposition to the over- powering coalition which assailed her, that a dread- ful civil war was already waged in the western provinces of France, which threatened, from its importance and the success of the insurgents, to undo in a gi'eat measure the work of the Revo- lution ; while similar discords breaking out on differ- ent points in the south, menaced conclusions no less formidable. It does not belong to us to trace the interesting features of the war in La Vendee with a minute pencil, but they mingle too much with the history of the period to be altogether omitted. We have elsewhere said, that, spealdng of La Vendee as a district, it was there alone, through the whole kingdom of France, that the peasants and the nobles, in other words, the proprietors and cultivators of the soil, remained iu terms of close and intimate connexion and friendsb ip, wliich made them feel the same undivided interest in tlae great changes created by the Revolution. The situation of La Vende'e, its soil and character, as well as the manners of the people, had contributed to an ar- rangement of interests and habits of thinking, which rendered the miion between these two classes indis- soluble. La Vendue is a wooded and pastoral country, not indeed mountainous, but abounding in inequa- lities of ground, crossed by brooks, and intersected by a variety of canals and ditches, made for drain- age, but which become, with the numerous and intricate thickets, posts of great strength in the time of war. The enclosures seemed to be won, as it were, out of the woodland ; and the paths which traversed the country were so intricate and per- plexed, as to render it inaccessible to strangers, ^nd not easily travelled through by the natives tlieraselves. There were almost no roads practi- cable for ordinary carriages during the rainy season ; and the rainy season in La Vendee is a long one. The ladies of rank, when they visited, went in car- riages drawn by bullocks ; the gentlemen, as well as the peasants, travelled chiefly on foot ; and by assistance of the long leaping-poles, which they ' Toulongeon, torn, iv., p. 142 ; Jomini, torn, iv., pi). carried for that purpose, surmounted the ditcliea and other obstacles which other travellers found impassable. The whole tract of country is about one hundred and fifty miles square, and lies at the mouth and on the southern bank of the Loire. The internal part is called Le Bocage (the Thicket,) because partak- ing in a peculiar degree of the wooded and intri- cate character which belongs to the whole country. That portion of La Vendee which lies close to the Loire, and nearer its mouth, is called Le Louroux. The neighbouring districts partook in the insur- rection ; but the strength and character which it assumed was derived cliiefly from La Vende'e. The union betwixt the noblesse of La Vende'e and their peasants, was of the most intimate cha- racter. Their chief exportations from the district consisted in the immense herds of cattle which they reared in their fertile meadows, and which supplied the consumptioil of the metropohs. These herds, as well as the land on which they were raised, were in general the property of the seigneur ; but the farmer possessed a joint mterest in the latter. He managed the stock, and disposed of it at market and there was an equitable adjustment of their in- terests in disposing of the produce. Their amusements were also in common. The chase of wolves, not only for the sake of sport, but to clear the woods of those ravenous animals, was pursued as of yore by the seigneur at the head of his followers and vassals. Upon the evenings of Sundays and holydays, the young people of each village and mitairie repaired to the court-yard of the chateau, as the natural and proper scene for their evening amusement, and the family of the baron often took part in the pastime. In a word, the two divisions of society depended mutually on each other, and were strongly knit to- gether by ties, which, in other districts of France, existed only in particular instances. The Vende'an peasant was the faithful and attached, though humble friend of his lord ; he was his partner in bad and good fortune ; submitted to his decision the dis- putes which might occur betwixt him and his neigh- bours ; anfl had recourse to his protection if he sustained wrong, or was threatened with injustice from any one. This system of simple and patriarchal manners could not have long subsisted under any great ine- quality of fortune. Accordingly, we find that the wealthiest of the Vende'an nobility did not hold estates worth more than twelve or fifteen hundred a-year, while the lowest might be three or four hundred. They were not accordingly much tempted by exuberance of wealth to seek to display mag- nificence ; and sucli as went to court, and conformed to the fashions of the capital, were accustomed to lay them aside in all haste when they returned to the Bocage, and to reassume the simple manners of their ancestors. All the incentives to discord which abounded elsewhere through France, were wanting in this wild and wooded region, where the peasant was the noble's affectionate partner and friend, the noble the natural judge and protector of the pea- sant. The people had retained the feelings of the ancient French in favour of royalty ; they listened 2 Condemned to death, Nov. 6, 1793, by the reToIutionarj tribunal. •< Jomini, torn, iv., p. 273. FRENCH REVOLUTION. 129 with dissatisfaction and disfrnst to the accounts oi the Revolution as it proceeded ; and feeling them- selves none of the evils in which it originated, its whole tendency became the object of their alarm and suspicion. The neighbouring districts, and Bretagne in particular, were agitated by similar commotions ; for although the revolutionary prin- ciples predominated in the towns of the west, they were not relished by the country people any more than by the nobles. Great agitation had for some time taken place through the provinces of Bretagne, Anjou, Maine, and Poitou, to which the strength of the insurrection in La Vendee gave impulse. It was not, however, a poUtical impulse which in- duced the Vendeans to take the field. The influ- ence of religion, seconded by that of natiu'al affec- tion, was the immediate stimulating motive. In a country so simple and virtuous in its man- ners as we have described La Vende'e, religious devotion must necessarily be a general attribute of the inhabitants, who, conseioas of loving their neigh- bours as themselves, are equally desirous, to the extent of their strength and capacity, to love and honour the Great Being who created all. The Vende'aus were therefore very regular in the per- formance of their prescribed religious duties ; and their parish priest, or cure, held an honoured and influential rank in their little society, was the at- tendant of the sick-bed of the peasant, as well for rendering medical as rehgious aid ; his counsellor in his family afiairs, and often the arbiter of dis- putes not of sufiicient importance to be carried before the seigneur. The priests were themselves generally natives of the country, more distinguished for the primitive duty with which they discharged their ofiBce, than for talents and learning. The cure' took frequent share in the large hunting parties, which he announced from the pulpit, and after hav- ing said mass, attended in person with the fowling- piece on his shoulder. This active and simple manner of life rendered the priests predisposed to encounter the fatigues of war. They accompanied the bands of Vende'ans with the crucifix displayed, and promised, in the name of the Deity, victory to the survivors, and honour to those who fell in the patriotic combat. But Madame La Roche-Jacque- lein repels, as a calumny, their bearing arms, ex- cept for the purpose of self-defence.' Almost all th^e parish priests were driven from their cures by the absurd and persecuting fanati- cism of that decree of the Assembly, which, while its promoters railed against illiberality, and intoler- ance, deprived of their office and of their livehhood, soon after of liberty and life, those churchmen who would not renounce the doctrines in which they had been educated, and which they had sworn to maintain." In La Vende'e, as elsewhere, where the curates resisted this unjust and impolitic in- junction of the legislature, persecution followed on the part of the government, and was met in its turn by violence on that of the people. The peasants maintained in secret their ancient pastors, and attended their ministry in woods and deserts ; while the intruders, who were settled in the livings of the recusants, dared hardly appear in • La Roche-Jacquelcin, p. .'Jo ; Guerres des Vendeans et iea CliouaDs, torn, i., p. 31. * See anre, |i. 51. VOL. 11. the churches without the protection of the nationa guards. So early as 1791, when Dumouriez commanded the forces at Nantes, and the districts adjacent, the flame of dissension had begun to kindle. That general's sagacity induced him to do his best to appease the quarrel by moderating betwixt the parties. His mihtary eye detected in the inhabit- ants and their country an alarming scene for civil war. He received the slightest concessions on the part of the parish priests as satisfactory, and ap- pears to have quieted the (hsturbances of the coun- try, at least for a time.^ But in 1793, the same cause of discontent, added to others, hurried the inhabitants of La Vendfe into a- general insurrection of the most formidable description. The events of the 10th of August, 1792, had driven from Paris a great proportion of the Royalist nobility, who had many of them car- ried their discontents and their counter-revolution- ary projects into a country prepared to receive and adopt them. Then followed the Conventional decree, which supported their declaration of war by a compulsory levy of three hundred thousand men throughout France. This measui'e was felt as severe by even those departments in which the revolutionary prin- ciples were most predominant, but was regarded as altogether intolerable by the Vende'ans, averse aUke to the republican cause and principles. They resisted its exaction by main force, delivered the conscripts in many instances, defeated the national guards in others, and finding that they had incur- red the vengeance of a sanguinary government, re- solved by force to maintain the resistance which in force "had begun. Thus originated that cele- brated war, which raged so long in the very bosom of France, and threatened the stabiUty of her go- vernment, even while the Republic was achieving the most brilliant victories over her foreign ene- mies.* It is remote from our purpose to trace the his- tory of these hostilities ; but a sketch of their na- ture and character is essential to a general view of the Revolution, and the events connected with it. The insurgents, though engaged in the same cause, and frequently co-operating, were divided into diff"erent bodies, under leaders independent of each other. Those of the right bank of the Loire were chiefly under the orders of the celebrated La Cliarette, who, descended from a family distin- guished as commanders of privateers, and himself a naval officer, liad taken on him this dangerous command. An early wandering disposition, not unusual among youth" of eager and ambitious cha- racter, had made him acquainted with the inmost recesses of the woods, and his native genius had induced him to anticipate the military advantages which they afforded.* In his case, as in many others, either the sagacity of these uninstructed peasants led them to choose for command men whose talents best fitted them to enjoy it, or per- haps the perils which environed such authority prevented its being aspired to, save by those whoni a mixture of resolution and prudence led to feel 3 Dumouriez, voL U., p. 144. * Guerres des Vendeans, torn, i., p. GS ; Ls. Hocli«-J;n.i;,*? Icin, p. 38. 4 Thiers, torn. iv.. p. 175. 130 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. themselves capable of maintaining their cliaracler when invested witli it. It was remarkable also, that in choosing their leaders, the insurgents made no distinction between the noblesse and the inferior ranks. Names renowned in ancient history — T al- mont, D'Autichamp, L'Escm'e, and La Roche- Jacquelein, were joined in equal command with the game-keeper Stoflet ; Cathelineau, an itinerant wool-merchant ; La Charette, a roturier of slight pretensions ; and others of the lowest order, whom the time and the public voice called into command, but who, nevertheless, do not seem, in general, to have considered their official command as altering the natural distinction of their rank in society, i In their success, they formed a general council of officers, priests, and others, who held their meet- ings at Chatillon, and directed the military move- ments of the ditt'ei-ent bodies ; assembled them at pleasure on particular points, and for particvdar objects of service ; and dispersed them to theii- lioraes when these were accomplished. With an organization so simple, the Vend^an insurgents, in about two months, possessed them- selves of several towns and an extensive tract of country ; and though repeatedly attacked by regu- lar forces, commanded by experienced generals, they were far more frequently victi)rs than van- quished, and inflicted more loss on the Republicans by gaining a single battle, than they themselves sustained in repeated defeats. Yet at first their arms were of the most simple and imperfect kind. Fowling-pieces, and fusees of every calibre, they possessed from their habits as huntsmen and fowlers ; for close encounter they had only scythes, axes, clubs, and such weapons as anger places most readily in the hands of the pea- sant. Their victories, latterly, supplied them with arms in abundance, and they manufactured gun- powder for their own use in great quantity. Their tactics were peculiar to themselves, but of a kind so well suited to their country and theii- habits, that it seems impossible to devise a better and more formidable system. The Vendc'an took the field with the greatest simplicity of military equipment. His scrip served as a cartridge box, his uniform was the country short jacket and pan- taloons, which he wore at his ordinary labour ; a cloth knapsack contained bread and some necessa- ries, and thus he was ready for service. They were accustomed to move with great secrecy and silence amongst the thickets and enclosures by which tlieir country is intersected, and were thus enabled to choose at pleasure the most favourable points of attack or defence. Their army, unlike any other in the world, was not divided into com- panies, or regiments, but followed in bands, and at their pleasure, the chiefs to whom they were most attached. Instead of drums or military music, tliey used, like the ancient Swiss and Scottish soldiers, the horns of cattle for giving signals to their troops. Their officers wore, for distinction, a sort of chequered red handkerchief, knotted ' Madame La Roche Jacquclein mentions an iiitereeting anecdote of a young plebeian, a distinguished nfhcer, wliose habits of respect would scarce permit him to sit down in her presence. This cannot be termed servility It is the noble pride of a generous mind, faithful to its original impressions, and disclaiming the merits which others are ready to heap on it.— S. * The adoptiim of this wild costume, which procured them round their head, with others of the same colmn tied round their waist, by way of sash, in which they stuck their pistols.'-' The attack of the Vendeans was that of sharp- fhooters. They dispersed themselves so as to sur- round their adversaries vr.th a semicircular fire, maintained by a body of formidable marksmen, accustomed to take aim with fatal precision, and whose skill was the more dreadful, because, being habituated to take advantage of every tree, bush, or point of shelter, those who were dealing de- struction amongst others, were themselves compa- ratively free from rislc. ■ This manoeuvre was termed s^vgaler; and the execution of it resem- bling the Indian bush -fighting, was, like the" attack of the red warriors, accompanied by whoops and shouts, which seemed, from the extended space through which they resounded, to multiply the number of the assailants. When the Republicans, galled in this manner, pressed forward to a close attack, they found nc enemy on which to wreak their vengeance ; for the loose array of the Vende'ans gave immediate passage to the head of the charging column, while its flanks, as it advanced, were still more exposed than before to the murderous fire of their invi- sible enemies. In this manner they were some- times led on from point to point, until the regulars meeting with a barricade, or an abatis, or a strong position in front, or becoming perhaps involved in a defile, the Vendeans exchanged their fatal mus- ketry for a close and furious onset, throwing them- selves with the most devoted courage among the enemy's ranks, and slaughtering them in great numbers. If, on the other hand, the insurgents were compelled to give way, a pursuit was almost as dangerous to the Republicans as an engagement. The Vendean, when hard pressed, threw away his clogs, or wooden shoes, of which he could make himself a new pair at the next resting-place, sprang over a fence or canal, loaded his fusee as he ran, and discharged it at the pursuer with a fatal aim, whenever he found opportunity of pausing for that purpose. This species of combat, which the ground ren- dered so advantageous to the Vende'ans, was equally so in case of victory or defeat. If the Republicans were vanquished, their army was nearly destroyed ; for the preservation of order became impossible, and without order their exter- mination was inevitable, while baggage, ammuni- tion, carriages, guns, and all the material part, as it is called, of the defeated army, fell into posses- sion of the conquerors. On the other hand, if the Vende'ans sustained a loss, the victors found no- thing on the field but the bodies of the slain, and the sabots, or wooden shoes of the fugitives. The few prisoners whom they made had generally thrown away or concealed their arms, and their army having no baggage or carriages of any kind, could of course lose none. Pursuit was very apt to convert an advantage into a defeat ; for the the name of brioancis, from its fantastic singularity, originated in the whim of Henri La Roche-Jacquelein, who hrst used the attire. But as this peculiarity, joined to the venturous expo- sure of his person, occasioned a general cry among the Re- publicans, of "Aim at the red handkerchief," other officers assumed tlie fashion to din.inish the danger of the chief whom they valued so highlv, uiitil at length it became a kind of uniform.— S. FRENCH REVOLUTION. 131 cavalry could not act, ami the infantry, dispersed in the chase, became frequent victims to those whom they pursued. In the field, the Vendeans were courageous to rashness. They hesitated not to attack and carry artillery with no other weapons than their staves ; ajid most of their worst losses proceeded from their attacking fortified towns and positions with tlie purpose of carrying them by main force. After conquest they were in general humane and merci- ful : but this depended on the character of their chiefs. At Machecoul, the insurgents conducted themselves with gi-eat ferocity in the very begin- ning of the civil war ; and towards the end of it, mutual and reciprocal injuries had so exasperated the parties against each other, that quarter was neither given nor taken on either side. Yet until provoked by the extreme cruelties of the Revolu- tionary party, and unless when conducted by some peculiarly ferocious chief, tlie character of the Vende'ans united clemency witli courage. They gave quarter readily to the vanquished, but having no means of retaining prisoners, they usually shaved their heads before they set them at liberty, that they might be distinguished if found again in arms, contrary to their parole. A no less striking feature, was the severity of a discipline respecting property, which was taught them only by their moral sense. No temptation could excite them to pillage ; and Madame La Roche- Jacquelein has pre- served the following singular instance of their simple honesty : — After the peasants had taken the town of Bressuire by storm, she overheard two or three of them complain of the want of tobacco, to the use of which they wei-e addicted, like the natives of moist countries in general. " What," said the lady, " is there no tobacco in the shops ? " — " Tobacco enough," answered the simple-hearted and honest peasants, who had not learned to make steel supply the want of gold, — " tobacco enough ; but we have no money to pay for it." * Amidst these primitive warriors were mingled many gentlemen of the first families in France, who, Royalists from principle, had fled to La Ven- dee rather than submit to the dominion of the Con- vention, or the Convention's yet more cruel mas- ters. There were found many men, the anecdotes told of whom remind us continually of the age of Henri Quatre, and the heroes of chivalry. In tliese ranks, and almost on a level with the valiant pea- sants of which they were composed, fought the calm, steady, and magnanimous L'Escure, — D'Elbee, a man of the most distinguished military reputation, — Bonchamp, the gallant and the able officer, who, like the Constable Montmorency, with all his talent, was persecuted by fortune, — the chivalrous Henry La Roche-Jacquelein, whose call upon his soldiers was — " If I fly, slay me — if I advance, foUov.- me — if I fall, avenge me ;" with other names dis- tinguished ^ in the roll of fame, and not the less so, that they have been recorded by the pen of affection. The object of the insurrection was announced in the title of The Royal and Catholic Army, assumed by the Vendeans. In their moments of highest • La Roche-Jacquelein, p. 90. ' The Memoirs of Maihime Bonchamp, and still more those of Madame La Roche .lacquelein, are remarkable for the vir- tues of the heart, as well as the talents which are displayed by their anthors. Without aft'ectation, without vanity, wltli- hope their wishes were singularly modest. Had they gained Paris, and replaced the royal authority in France, they meditated the following simple boons :— 1. They had resolved to petition, that the name of La Vendee be given to the Bocage and its dependencies, which should be united under a separate administration, instead of forming, as at present, a part of three distinct provinces. 2. That the restored monarch would honour the Bocage with a visit. 3. That in remembrance of the loya services of the country, a white flag should be dis- played from each steeple, and the King should add a cohort of Vend(?ans to his body-guard. 4. That former useful projects of improving the navigation of the Loire and its canals, should be perfected by the government. So little of selfish hope or ambi- tion was connected with the public spirit of these patriarchal warriors. The war of La Vende'e was waged with various fate for nearly two years, during which the insur- gents, or brigands as they were termed, gained by far the greater number of advantages, though with means infinitely inferior to those of the govern- ment, which detached against them one general after another, at the head of numerous armies, with equally indifferent success. Most of the Republi- cans intrusted with this fatal command suffered by the guillotine, for not having done that which cir- cumstances rendered impossible. Upwards of two hundred battles and skirmishes were fought in this devoted country. The revolu- tionary fever was in its access; the shedding of blood seemed to have become positive pleasure to the perpetrators of slaughter, and was varied by each invention which cruelty coidd invent to give it new zest. The habitations of the Vendeans were destroyed, their families subjected to violation and massacre, theii' cattle houghed and slaughtered, and their crops burnt and wasted. One Republi- can column assumed and merited the name of the Infernal, by the horrid atrocities which they com- mitted. At Pillau, they roasted the women and children in a heated oven. Many similar horrors could be added, did not the heart and hand recoil from the task. Without quoting any more special instances of horror, we use the words of a Repub- lican eyewitness, to express the general spectacle presented by the theatre of civil conflict : — " I did not see a single male being at the towns of Saint Hermand, Chantonnay, or Herbiers. A few women alone had escaped the sword. Coun- try-seats, cottages, habitations of whichever kind, were burnt. The herds and flocks were wandering in terror around their usual places of shelter, now smoking in ruins. I was surpi-ised by night, but the wavering and dismal blaze of conflagi-ation af- forded light over the country. To the bleating of the disturbed flocks, and bellowing of the terrified cattle, was joined the deep Iioarse notes of carrioi crows, and the yells of wild animals coming from the recesses of the woods to prey on the carcasses of the slain. At length a distant column of fire, widening and increasing as I approached, served me as a beacon. It was the town of Mortagne \\\ flames. When I arrived there, no living creatures out violence or impotent rcpininp, tlicse ladies have described the sanguinary and iircH'ilar warfare, in which they and those who were dearest to them were ciif;apcd for so Ion-; iind stormv a period ; and we arise from tlie perusal sadder and wiser, bv havinu learned what the brave cau dare, jinU wliat the RentU can indure willi )iH'"'iice. — S, l:>2. SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. were to be seen, save a few wretched women \\]io were striving to save some remnants of their pro- perty from the general conflagration." * Such is civil war ! and to this pass had its extre- mities reduced the smiling, peaceful, and virtuous country, which we have described a few pages be- fore ! It is no wonder, after such events, that the hearts of the peasants became hardened in turn, and that they executed fearful vengeance on those who could not have the face to expect mercy. We read, therefore, without surprise, that the Repub- lican General Haxo,'^ a man of great military talent, and who had distinguished himself in the Vende'aii war, shot himself through the head, when he saw his army defeated by the insurgents, rather than encounter their vengeance. During the superiority of the Vende'ans, it may be asked why their effoA-ts, so gigantic in them- selves, never extended beyond the frontier of their own country ; and why an insurrection, so consi- derable and so sustained, neither made any great impression on the French Convention, where they were spoken of only as a handful of brigands, nor on foreign nations, by whom their existence, far less their success, seems hardly to have been known ? On the former subject, it is perhaps suffi- cient to observe, that the war of the Vendeans, and their mode of conducting it, so formidable in their own country, became almost nugatory when ex- tended into districts of an open character, and af- fording high-roads and plains, by which cavalry and artillery could act against peasants, who formed no close ranks, and carried no bayonets. Besides, the Vendeans remained bound to their ordinary occupation — they were necessarily children of the soil — and their army usually dispersed after the battle w^as over, to look after their cattle, cultivate the plot of arable land, and attend to their families. The discipline of their array, in which mere good- will supplied the place of the usual distinctions of rank, would not have been sufficient to keep them united in long and distant marches, and they must have found the want of a commissariat, a train of baggage, field-pieces, a general staff, and all the other accompaniments of a regular army, which, in the difficult country of La Vende'e, familar to the natives, and unkno^vn to strangers, could be so easily dispensed with. In a word, an army which, under circumstances of hope and excitation, might one day amount to thirty or forty thousand, and on the next be diminished to the tenth part of the number, might be excellent for fighting battles, but could not be relied on for making conquests, or secm'ing the advantages of victory. It is not but that a man of D'Elbee's knowledge in the art of war, who acted as one of their prin- cipal leaders, meditated higher objects for the Vende'ans than merely the defence of their own province. A superb prospect offered itself to them by a meditated attack on the town of Nantes. Upon tiie success of this attempt turned, perhaps, the fate of tlie Revolution. This beautiful and import- ' M^moires d'un Anciea Administrateur des Arm&s Re- publicaines. — S. 8 Haxo died at Roche-eur-yon, April 26, 1794. 8 See Jomini, torn, vi., p. 400. * A i)icture by Vernet, representing the attack on Nantes, ^stiiuable as a work of art, but extremely curious in an his- (wricul point of view, used to be in tbc I-uiembourg palace. ant commercial ci'y is situated on the right Lank of the Loire, which is there a fine naxigable river, about twenty-seven miles from its junction with the sea. It is without fortifications of any regular description, but had a garrison of perhaps ten thousand men, and was covered by such hasty works of defence as time had permitted them to erect. The force of the Vende'ans by which it was attacked, has been estimated so high as thirty or forty thousand men under D"Elb^e, while the place was blockaded on the left bank by Charette, and an army of Royahsts equal in number to the actual assailants. Had this important place been gained, it would probably have changed the face of the war. One or more of the French princes might have resorted there with such adherents as they had then in arms. The Loire was open to suc- cours from England, the indecision of whose cabi- net might have been determined by a success so important. Bretagne and Normandy, already strongly disposed to the royal cause, would have, upon such encouragement, risen in mass upon the Republicans ; and as Poitou and Anjou were al- ready in possession of the Royal and Catholic Araiy, they might probably !>.ave opened a march upon Paris, distracted as the capital then was by civil and foreign war.^ Accordingly, [June 18th,] the rockets which were thrown up, and the sound of innumerable bugle-horns, intimated to General Canclaux, who commanded the town, that he was to repel a gene- ral attack of the Vende'ans. Fortunately, for the infant republic, he was a man of military skill and high courage, and by his dexterous use of such means of defence as the place afforded, and parti- cularly by a great superiority of artillery, he was enabled to baffle the attacks of the Vende'ans, al- though they penetrated, with the utmost courage, into the suburbs, and engaged at close quarters the Republican troops. They were compelled to retreat after a fierce combat, which lasted from three in the morning till four in the afternoon.* At different times after the failure of this bold and well-imagined attempt, opportunities occurred j during which the allies, and the English govern- ment in particular, might have thrown important succours into La Vende'e. The island of Noirmou- tier was for some time in possession of the Royal- ists, when arras and money might have been sup- pUed to them to any amount. Auxiliary forces would probably have been of little service, consi- dering in what sort of country they were to be en- gaged, and with what species of troops they were to act. At least it would have required the talents of a Peterborough or a Montrose, in a foreign com- mander, to have freed himself sufficiently from the trammels of military pedantry, and availed him- self of the peculiar qualities of such troops as the Vende'ans, irresistible after their own fashion, but of a character the most opposite possible to tho ideas of excellence entertained by a mere martinet. But it is now well known, there was a division in the British Cabinet concerning the mode of carrying on the war. Pitt was extremely unwil- and is probably now removed to the Louvre. The Vendeans are presented there in all their simplicity of attire, and de- voted valour; the priests who attended them displaying their crosses, and encouraging the assault, which is, on the other hand, repelled by the regular steadiness of the Republican forces.— S.— [This picture is still in the Luxembourg. The paintings of living artists are nev«-r admitted to the Louvre.) FRENCH REVOLUTION. 133 ling to interfere with the internal government of France. He desired to see the barrier of Flanders, so foolishly thrown open by the Emperor Joseph, again re-established, and he hoped from the suc- cess of the allied anus, that this might be attained, — that the French lust for attacking their neigh- bours might be ended^their wildness for crusading in the cause of innovation checked, and some poli- tical advances to a regular government effected. On the other hand, the enthusiastic, ingenious, but somewhat extravagant opinions of Windham, led him to espouse those of Burke in their utmost extent ; and he recommended to England, as to Europe, the replacing the Bourbons, with the an- cient royal government and constitution, as the fundamental principle on \Nhich the war should be waged. Tlais variance of opinion so far divided the British counsels, that, as it proved, no sufficient efforts were made, either on the one line of conduct or the other. Indeed, Madame La Roche-Jacquelein (who, however, we are apt to think, has been in some degree misled in her account of that matter) says, the only despatches received by the Vendeans from the British Cabinet, indicated a singular ignorance of the state of La Vendee, which was certainly near enough to Jersey and Guernsey, to have af- forded the means of obtaining accurate information upon the nature and principles of the Vendean in- surrection. The leaders of The Royal and Catholic Army received their first comiBunication from Britain through a Royalist emissary, the Chevalier de Tinteniac, who carried them concealed in the wad- ding of his pistols, addressed to a supposed chief named Gaston, whose name had scarce been known among them. In this document they were required to say for what purpose they were in arms, whe- ther in behalf of the old government, or of the constitution of 1791, or the principles of the Gi- rondists ? These were strange questions to be asked of men who had been in the field as pure Royalists for more than five months, who might have reason- ably hoped that the news of their numerous and important victories had resounded through all Eu- rope, but must at least have expected they should be well known to those neighbours of France who were at war with her present government. As- sistance was promised, but in a general and inde- cisive way ; nor did the testimony of M. de Tinte- niac give his friends much assurance that it was seriously proposed. In fact, no support ever ar- rived until after the first pacification of La Vendee. The ill-fated expedition to Quiberou, delayed mitil the cause of royalty was nigh hopeless, was at length undertaken, when its only consequence was that of involving in absolute destruction a multi- tude of brave and high-spirited men. But on look- ing back on a game so doubtful, it is easy to criti- cize the conduct of the players ; and perhaps no blund-jr in war or politics is so common, as that which arises from missing the proper moment of exertion.' The French, although more able to seize the advantageous opportunity than we, (for their go- vernment being always in practice something de- spotic, is at liberty to act more boldly, secretly, ' La Roche-Jacquelein. p. (j;); Lacrctcllc, torn, x., p. 143. « Kingrharlcs the Tenth. and decisively, than that of England,) are never- theless chargeable with similar errors. If the English Cabinet missed the opportunities given by the insurrection of La Vende'e, the French did not more actively improve those afforded by the Irish rebellion ; and if we had to regret the too tardy and mihappy expedition to Quiberon, they in their turn might repent having thrown away the troops whom they landed at Castlehaven, after the paci- fication of Ireland,, for the sole purpose, it would seem, of surrendering at Ballinamuck. It is yet more wonderful, that a country whose dispositions were so loyal, and its local advantages so strong, should not have been made by the loy- alists in general the centre of those coimter-revo- lutionary exertions which were vainly expended on the iron eastern fr9ntier, where the fine army of Conde' wasted their blood about paltry frontier redoubts and fortresses. The nobles and gentle- men of France, fighting abreast with the gallant peasants of La Vende'e, inspired with the same sentiments of loyalty with themselves, would have been more suitably placed than in the mercenary ranks of foreign nations. It is certain that the late King Louis XVIII., and also his present Majesty,^ were desirous to have exposed their per- sons in the war of La Vende'e. The former wrote to the Duke d'Harcourt — " What course remains for me but La Vendee ? Who can place me there ? — England — Insist upon that point ; and tell the English ministers in my name, that I demand from them a crown or a tomb."^ If there were a serious intention of supportmg tliese unfortunate princes, the means of this experiment ought to have been afforded them, and that upon no stinted scale. The error of England, through all the early part of the war, was an unwillingness to proportion her efforts to the importance of the ends she had in view. Looking upon tlie various chances which miglit have befriended the vmparalleled exertions of the Vendeans, considering the generous, virtuous, and disinterested character of those primitive soldiers, it is with sincere sorrow that we proceed to trace their extermination by the bloodthirsty ruffians of the Reign of Terror. Yet the course of Providence, after the lapse of time, is justified even in our weak and undiscerning eyes. We should indeed have read with hearts throbbing with the just feelings of gratified vengeance, that La Charette or La Roche- Jacquelein had successfully achieved, at the head of their gallant adherents, the road to Paris — had broke in upon the committees of public safety and public seciu'ity, hke Thalaba the Destroyer^ into the Dom-daniel ; and with the same dreadful result to the agents of the horrors with which these revo- lutionary bodies had deluged France. But such a reaction, accomplished solely for the purpose of re- storing the old despotic monarchy, could not have brought peace to France or to Europe ; nay, could only have laid a foundation for farther and more lasting quarrels. The flame of liberty had been too widely spread in France to be quenched even by such a triumph of royalty as we have supposed, however pure the principles and high the spirit of the Vende'ans. It was necessary that the nation should experience both the extremes of furious license and of stern despotism, to fix the hopes of 3 F/acretelle, torn, xj., p. 145. * See Southey's Tlialab.-i, b. 12 134 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. the various contending parties upon a form of go- vernment, in wliich a limited power in the monarch should be united to the enjoyment of all rational freedom in the subject. We return to our sad task. Notwithstanding the desolating mode in which the Republicans conducted the war, with the avow- ed purpose of rendering La Vende'e uninhabitable, the population seemed to increase in courage, and even in numbers, as their situation became more desperate. Renewed armies were sent into the devoted district, and successively destroyed in as- saults, skirmishes, and ambuscades, where they were not slaughtered in general actions. More than a hundred thousand men were employed at one time, in their efforts to subjugate this devoted province. But this could not last for ever ; and a chance of war upon the frontiers, vv'hich threatened reverses to the Convention, compensated them by furnishing new forces, and of a higher description in point of character and discipline, for the subjec- tion of La Vendt'e. This was the surrender of the town of Mentz to the Prussians. By the capitulation, a garrison of near fifteen thousand experienced soldiers, and some officers of considerable name, were debarred from again bearing arms against the allies. These troops were employed in La Vendee, where tlie scale had already begun to preponderate against the dauntless and persevering insurgents. At the first encounters, the soldiers of Mentz, unacquaint- ed with the Vend^an mode of fighting, sustained Isiss, and were thought lightly of by the Royalists.* This opinion of their new adversaries was changed, in consequence of a defeat [Oct. 17] near Chollet, more dreadful in its consequences than any which the Vendeans had yet received, and which deter- mined their generals to pass the Loire with their whole collected force, leave their beloved Bocage to the axes and brands of the victors, and carry the war into Bretagne, where they expected either to be supported by a descent of the English, or by a general insurrection of the inhabitants.^ In this military emigi'ation the Royalists were accompanied by their aged people, their wives, and their children ; so that their melancholy march resembled that of the Cimbrians or Helvetians of old, when abandoning their ancient dwellings, they wandered forth to find new settlements in a more fertile land. They crossed the river near Saint Florent, and the banks were blackened with nearly a hundred thousand pilgrims of both sexes, and of every age. The broad river was before them, and behind them their burning cottages and the exter- minating sword of the Republicans. The means of embarkation were few and precarious ; the affright of the females almost ungovernable ; and such was the tumult and terror of the scene, that, in the words of Madame La Roche-Jacquelein, the awe-struck spectators could only compare it to the day of judgment.' Without food, directions, or organization of any kind — without the show of an army, saving in the front and i-ear of the colunm, ♦he centre consisting of their defenceless families ' They punned on the word M^oymce (Mentz,) and said, the acwly arrived Repulilicans were soldiers of fuycnce (potter's ware,) which could not endure the fire. — S. - IJeauchamp, Hist, de la Guerre de la Vendue, torn, ii., p. !)!); Jomini, torn, iv., p. 318; La Rocl^j-Jacquelein, p. 239; Lacretelle. torn xi., p. 151. marching together in a mass — these indomitable peasants defeated a Republican army under the walls of Laval. The garrison of Mentz, whose arrival in La Vendee had been so fatal to the insurgents, and who had pursued them in a state of rout, as they thought, out of their own country, across the Loire, were almost exterminated in this most unexpected defeat. An unsuccessful attack upon Granville more than counterbalanced this advantage, and although the Vendeans afterwards obtained a bril- liant victory at Dol, it was the last success of \\liat was termed the Great Army of La Vendee, and which well deserved that title, on more accounts than in its more ordinary sense. They had now lost, by the chances of war, most of their best chiefs ; and misfortunes, and the exasperating feelings at- tending them, had introduced disunion, which had been so long a stranger to their singular association. Charette was reflected upon as being little willing to aid La Roche-Jacquelein ; and Stoflet seems to have set up an independent standard. The insur- gents were defeated at Mons, where of three Re- publican generals of name, Westerman, Mar^eau, and Kleber, the first disgi'aced himself by savage cruelty, and the other two gained honour by their clemency. Fifteen thousand male and female na- tives of La Vendee perished in the battle and the massacre which ensued.* But though La Vendee, after this decisive loss, which included some of her best troops and bravest generals, could hardly be said to exist. La Charette continued, with indefatigable diligencfe, and un- daunted courage, to sustain tlie insurrection of Lower Poitou and Bretagne. He was followed by a division of peasants fi-om the Marais, whose ac- tivity in marshy grounds gave them similar advan- tages to those possessed by the Vendeans in their woodlands. He was followed also by the inhabit- ants of Morbilian, called, from their adherence to royalism, the Little La Vende'e. He was the leader, besides, of many of the bands called Chouans, a name of doubtful origin given to the insurgents of Bretagne, but which their courage has rendered celebrated.^ La Charette himself, who, with these and other forces, continued to sustain the standard of royalty in Bretagne and Poitou, was one of those extraordinary characters, made to shine amidst difficulties and dangers. As prudent and cautious as he was courageous and adventurous, he was at the same time so alert and expeditious in his mo- tions, that he usually appeared at the time and place where his presence was least expected and most formidable. A Republican officer, who had just taken possession of a village, and was speaking of the Royalist leader as of a person at twenty leagues' distance, said publicly, — " I should like to see this famous Charette." — " There he is," said a woman, pointing with her finger. In fact, he was at that moment in the act of charging the Repub- lican troops, who were all either slain or made prisoners. After the fall of Robespierre, the Convention made offers of pacification to La Charette, which 3 Memoires, p. 240. * .lomini, torn. iv.. p. 319; Beauchamp, torn, ii., p. 102. 6 Some derived it from Chat-huant, as if the insurRents, like owls, .appeared chiefly at night; others traced it to Choi:'». the name of two brothers, sons of a blacksmith, said to have been the earliest leaders of the Breton insurgents. -=S. FRENCH REVOLUTION. 135 were adjusted betwixt the Vend(fan chief and General Canclaux/ the heroic defender of Nantes. The articles of treaty were subscribed in that place, which La Charette entered at the head of his mili- tary staff, with his long white plume streaming in the wind. He heard with coldness shouts of wel- come from a city, to which his name had been long a terror ; and there was a gloom on his brow as he signed his name to the articles agreed upon. He certainly suspected the faith of those with whom he transacted, and they did not by any means con- fide in his. An armistice was agreed on until the Convention should ratify the pacification. But this never took place. Mutual complaints and recriminations followed, and the soldiers of La Charette and of the Republic began once more to make a petty war on each other. Meantime, that party in the British Cabinet which declared for a descent on France, m name and on behalf of the successor to the crown, had obtained the acquiescence of their colleagues in an experiment of this nature ; but unhappily it had been postponed mitil its success had become im- possible. The force, too, which composed this experimental operation, was injudiciously selected. A certain proportion consisted of emigrants, in whom the highest confidence might be with justice reposed ; but about two battalions of this invading expedition were vagrant foreigners of various de- scriptions, many or most of them enlisted from among the prisoners of war, who readily took any engagement to get out of captivity, with the men- tal resolution of breaking it the first opportunity. Besides these imprudences, the purpose and time of executing a project, which, to be successful, should have been secret and sudden, were generally known in France and England before the expedi- tion weighed anchor. The event, as is universally known, was most disastrous : The mercenaries deserted to the Re- publicans as soon as they got ashore ; and the un- fortunate emigrants, who became prisoners in great numbers, were condemned and executed without mercy. The ammunition and muskets, of which a quantity had been landed, fell into the hands of the enemy ; and what was worse, England did not, among other lighter losses, entirely save her honour. She was severely censured as giving up her allies to destruction, because she had yielded to the wishes whicli enthusiastic and courageous men had elevated into hope. Nothing, indeed, can be more difficult, tlian to state the just extent of support, which can prudently be extended by one nation to a civil faction in the bosom of another. Indeed, nothing short of success — absolute success — will prove the justification of such entei7)rises in the eyes of some, who will allege, in the event of failure, that men have been enticed into perils, in which they have not been adequately (supported ; or of others, who will condemn such measures as squandering the pubhc resources, in enterprises which ought not to have been encou- ' Canclaux was born at Paris in 1740. After the revolution of the IHth Brumaire, Napoleon Rave him the command of the 14th military division, and made him a serator. At the re- storation he was created a peer. He died in 1817- 2 We can and ought to make great allowances for national feeling; yet it is a little hard to find a well-informed historian, like M. Lacretcllo, [torn. xi.. p. 146,] sravcly insinuate, that Fngland threw the unfortunate Kojalists 011 the toast of Qui- raged at all. But in fair judgment, the expedition of Quiberon ought not to be summarily condemned. It was neither inadequate, nor, excepting as to the description of some of the forces employed, ill cal- culated for the service proposed. Had such rein- forcements and supplies arrived while the Royalists were attacking Nantes or Grenoble, or while they yet held the island of Noirmoutier, the good con- sequences to the royal cause might have been in- calculable. But the expedition was ill-timed, and that was in a great measure owing to those unfor- timate gentlemen engaged, who, impatient of inac- tivity, and sanguine by character, urged the British Ministry, or rather ilr. Windham, to authorise the experiment, without fully considering more than theu" own zeal and courage. We cannot, however, go so far as to say, that their impatience relieved ministers from the responsibility attached to the indifferent intelligence on which they acted. There could be no difficulty in getting full information on the state of Bretagne by way of Jersey ; and they ought to have known that there was a strong French force collected from various garrisons, for the purpose of guarding against a descent at Q,ui- beron.2 After this unfortunate affair, and some subse- quent vain attempts to throw in supplies on the part of the English, La Charette still continued in open war. But Hoche, an officer of high reputa- tion, was now sent into the disturbed districts, with a larger army than had yet been employed against them. He was thus enabled to form movable columns, which acted in concert, supporting each other when unsuccessful, or completing each other's victory when such was obtained. La Charette, after his band was almost entirely destroyed, was himself made prisoner. Being condemned to be shot, he refused to have his eyes covered, and died as courageously as he had lived. With him and Stoflet, who suffered a similar fate, the war of La Vendee terminated. To trace this remarkable civil war, even so slightly as we have attempted the task, has carried us beyond the course of our narrative. It broke out in the beginning of March 1793, and La Cha- rette's execution, by which it was closed, took place at Nantes, 29th March, 1796. The astonishing part of the matter is, that so great a conflagration should not have extended itself beyond a certain limited district, while within that region it raged with such fury, that for a length of time no means of extinguishing it could be discovered. We now return to the state of France in spring 1793, when the Jacobins, who had possessed them- selves of the supreme power of the Republic, fouud that they had to contend, not only with the allied forces on two frontiers of France, and with the Royalists in the west, but also with more than one of the great commercial towns, which, with less inclination to the monarchical cause, than a general heron to escape the future burden of niainfaininR them. Her liberality towards the eniiurants, honourable and meritorious to the country, was entirely gratuitous. She miuht have with- drawn when she pleased a bounty conferred by her benevo- lence; and it is rather too hard to be supposed capable 01 meditating their murder, merely to save the ex|>en>c of sup- porting them. The expedition was a blunder; but one m which the unfortunate sufl'crers contributed to mislead tli« British (jovenimont.— S. * 136 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. terror of revolutionary measures, prepared for ' resistance, after the proscription of the Girondists ' upon the 31st of May. Bourdeaux, Marseilles, Toulon, and Lyons, had declared themselves against the Jacobin supremacy. Rich from commerce and their maritime situation, and, in the case of Lyons, from their command of internal navigation, the wealthy merchants and manufacturers of those cities foresaw the total in- security of property, and in consequence their own ruin, in the system of arbitrary spoliation and murder upon which the government of the Jacobins «as founded. But property, for which they were solicitous, though, if its natural force is used in time, the most powerful barrier to withstand revo- lution, becomes, after a certain period of delay, its most helpless victim. If the rich are in due season liberal of their means, they have the power of enlisting in their cause, and as adherents, those among the lower orders, who, if they see their superiors dejected and despairing, will be tempted to consider them as objects of plunder. But this must be done early, or those who might be made the most active defenders of property will join with such as are prepared to make a prey of it. We have already seen tliat Bourdeaux, in which the Brissotines or Girondists had ventured to hope for a zeal purely republican, at once adverse to royalty and to Jacobin domination, had effectually disappointed their expectations, and succumbed with little struggle under the ferocious victors. Marseilles showed at once her good-will and her impotency of means. The utmost exertions of that wealthy city, whose revolutionary band had contri- buted so much to the downfall of the monarchy in the attack on the Tuileries, were able to equip only a small and doubtful army of about three thousand men, who were despatched to the relief of Lyons. This inconsiderable army threw themselves into Avignon, and were defeated with the utmost ease, by the republican general Cartaux,' despicable as a military officer, and whose forces would not have stood a single tgalement of the Vende'an sharp- shooters. Marseilles received the victors, and bowed her head to the subsequent hoiTors which it pleased Cartaux, with two formidable Jacobins, Barras and Fre'ron,^ to inflict on that flourishing city. The place underwent the usual terrors of Jacobin purification, and was for a time affectedly called, " the nameless commune." ^ Lyons made a more honourable stand. That noble city had been subjected for some time to the domination of Chalier, one of the most ferocious, and at the same time one of the most extravagantly absurd, of the Jacobins. He was at the head of a formidable club, which was worthy of being affi- liated with the mother society, and ambitious of treading in its footsteps ; and he was supported by a garrison of two revolutionary regiments, besides a numerous artillery, and a large addition of volun- teers, amounting in all to about ten thousand men, 1 "This man, originally a painter, had become an adjutant in the Parisian corps; he was afterwards t^mployed in the army; and, ha\ing been successful against the Slarseillois, the deputies of the Mountain had, in the same day, obtained hirn the appointments of brigadier-general and general of di- vision. He was extremely ignorant, and had nothing military about him, otherwise he was not ill-disposed." — Napoleon, Memoirs, vol. i., p. 19. I 2 Stanislaus Freron was son of the well-known victim of ; Voltaire, and god-son of the unfortunate King of Poland. He ! jccompanied the French expedition to St. Domingo in 18ui, i forming what was called a revolutionary army. This Chalier was an apostate priest, an atheist, and a thorough-paced pupil in the school of terror. He had been created Procureur of the Commune, and had imposed on the wealthy citizens a tax, which was raised from six to thirty millions of livres. But blood as well as gold was his object. The massacre of a few priests and aristocrats confined in the fortress of Pierre- Seize, was a pitiful sacri- fice ; and Chalier, ambitious of deeds more decisive, caused a general arrest of an hundred principal citizens, whom he destined as a hetacomb more worthy of the demon whom he served. This sacrifice was prevented by the courage of the Lyonnois ; a courage which, if assumed by the Parisians, might have prevented most of the hor- rors which disgraced the Revolution. The medi- tated slaughter was already announced by Chalier to the Jacobin Club. " Three hundred heads," he said, " are marked for slaughter. Let us lose no time in seizing the members of the departmental office-bearers, the presidents and secretaries of the sections, all the local authorities who obstruct our revolutionary measm-es. Let us make one fagot of the whole, and deliver them at once to the guil- lotine." But ere he could execute his threat, terror was awakened into the courage of despair. The citi- zens Tone in arms, [May 29,] and besieged the Hotel de Ville, in which Chalier, with his revolu- tionary troops, made a desperate, and for some time a successful, yet ultimately a vain defence. But the Lyonnois unhappily knew not how to avail themselves of their triumph. They were not suffi- ciently aware of the nature of the vengeance which they had provoked, or of the necessity of supporting the bold step which they had taken, by measures which precluded a compromise. Their resistance to the violence and atrocity of the Jacobins had no political character, any more than that offered by the traveller against robbers who threaten him with plunder and murder. They were not sufficiently aware, that, having done so much, they must ne- cessarily do more. They ought, by declaring them- selves Royalists, to have endeavoured to prevail on the troops of Savoy, if not on the Swiss, who had embraced a species of neutraUty, (which, after the 1 0th of August, was dishonourable to their ancient reputation,) to send in all haste soldiery to the assistance of a city which had no fortifications or regular troops to defend it ; but which possessed, nevertheless, treasures to pay their auxiliaries, and strong hands and able officers to avail themselves of the localities of their situation, which, when well defended, are sometimes as formidable as the regu- lar protection erected by scientific engineers. The people of Lyons vainly endeavoured to esta- blish a revolutionary character for themselves, upon the system of the Gironde ; two of whose proscribed deputies, BLroteau and Chasset, tried to draw them over to their unpopular and hopeless cause ; and and being appointed sub-prefect at the Cayes, soon sunk under the influence of the climate. His portfolio falling into the hands of the black government, some of its contents were published by tne authority of Dessaline, and subjoined to a work entitled " Memoires pour servir a I'Histoire de Hayti." Among them are several amatory epistles from Napoleon's second sister Pauling, by which it ajipears that Fr6run was the earliest object of her choice, but that Napoleon and Jose- phine would not hear of an alliance with the friend of Ilobus- pierre, and ready instrument of his atrocities. 3 Jomini, torn. iv.,p. 2(i8; Toulongeon, torn. iv.,p. 63 FRENCH REVOLUTION. J37 they inconsistently sought protection by affecting a republican zeal, even while resisting the decrees, and defeating the troops of the Jacobins. There were imdoubtedly many of royalist principles among the insurgents, and some of their leaders were decidedly such ; but these were not numerous or influential enough to establish the true principle of open resistance, and the ultimate chance of rescue, by a bold proclamation of the King's interest. They still appealed to the Convention as their legi- timate sovereign, in whose eyes they endeavoured to vindicate themselves, and at the same time tried to secure the interest of two Jacobin deputies, who had countenanced every violence attempted by Chalier, that they might prevail upon them to re- present their conduct favourably. Of course they had enough of promises to this effect, while Messrs. Guathier and Nioche, the deputies in question, re- mained in their power; promises, doubtless, the more readily given, that the Lyonnois, though de- sirous to conciliate the favour of the Convention, did not hesitate in proceeding to the punishment of the Jacobin Chalier. He was condemned and exe- cuted, along with one of his principal associates, termed Ribard.^ To defend these vigorous proceedings, the un- happy insurgents placed themselves under the inte- rim government of a council, who, still desirous to temporize and maintain the revolutionary charac- ter, termed themselves " The Popular and Repub- lican Commission of Public Safety of the Depart- ment of the Rhone and Loire ;" a title which, while it excited no popular enthusiasm, and attracted no foreign aid, noways soothed, but rather exasperated, the resentment of the Convention, now under the absolute domination of the Jacobins, by whom every thing short of complete fraternization was accounted presumptuous defiance. Those who were not with them, it was their poUcy to hold as their most de- cided enemies. The Lyonnois had, indeed, letters of encou- ragement, and promised concurrence, from several departments ; but no effectual support was ever directed towards their city, excepting the petty reinforcement from Marseilles, which we have seen was intercepted and dispersed with httle trouble by the Jacobin General Cartaux. Lyons had expected to become the patroness and focus of an Anti-jacobin league, formed by the great commercial towns, against Paris and the pre- dominant part of the Convention. She found her- self isolated and unsupported, and left to oppose her own proper forces and means of defence, to an army of sixty thousand men, and to the numerous Jacobins contained within her own walls. About the end of July, after a lapse of an interval of two months, a regular blockade was formed around the city, and in the first week of August hostilities took place. The besieging army was directed in its military character by General Kellerman, who, with other distinguished soldiers, had now begun to hold an eminent rank in the Republican armies. But for the purpose of executing the vengeance for which they thirsted, the Jacobins relied chiefly on the exertions of the deputies they had sent along with the commander, and especially of the repre- sentative Dubois-Crance, a man wliose sole merit appears to have been his frantic Jacobinism. Ge- I.acrcttllc, torn. li., p. VB; Thiers, torn, iv., p. 161 neral Pri'cy, formerly an officer in the Royal ser- vice, undertook the almost hopeless task of defence, and by forming redoubts on the most commanding situations around the town, commenced a resistance agamst the immensely superior force of tlie be- siegers, which was honourable if it could have been useful. The Lyonnois, at the same time, still en- deavoured to make fair weather with the besieging army, by representing themselves as firm Repub- licans. They celebrated as a public festival the anniversary of the 1 0th of August, while Dubois- Crane^, to show the credit he gave them for their republican zeal, fixed the same day for commencing his fire on the place, and caused the first gun to be discharged by his own concubine, a female born in Lyons. Bombs and red-hot bullets were next re- sorted to, against the second city of the French empire; while the besieged sustained the attack with a constancy, and on many parts repelled it with a courage, highly honourable to their character. But their fate was determined. The deputies announced to the Convention their purpose of pour- ing their instruments of havoc on every quarter of the town at once, and when it was on fire in seve- ral places to attempt a general storm. " The city," they said, " must surrender, or there shall not re- main one stone upon another, and this we hope to accomplish in spite of the suggestions of false com- passion. Do not then be surprised when you shall hear that Lyons exists no longer." The fury of the attack threatened to make good these promises. In the meantime the Piedmontese troops made a show of descending from their mountains to the succour of the city, and it is probable their inter- ference would have given a character of royalism to the insurrection. But the incursion of the Pied- montese and Sardinians was speedily repelled by the skill of Kellerman, and produced no effect in favour of the city of Lyons, except that of support- ing for a time the courage of its defenders. The sufferings of the citizens became intolerable. Several quarters of the city were on fire at the same time, immense magazines were burnt to the ground, and a loss incurred, during two nights' bombardment, which was calculated at two hun- dred millions of livres. A black flag was hoisted by the besieged on the Great Hospital, as a sign that the fire of the assailants should not be directed on that asylum of hopeless misery. Tlie signal seemed only to draw the republican bombs to the spot where they could create the most frightful distress, and outrage, in the highest degree, the feelings of humanity. The devastations of famine were soon added to those of slaughter ; and after two months of such horrors had been sustained, it became obvious that farther resistance was impos- sible. The military commandant of Lyons, Pr^cy, re- solved upon a sally, at the head of the active part of the garrison, hoping that, by cutting his way through the besiegers, he might save the lives of many of those who followed him in the desperate attempt, and gain the neutral territory of Switzer- land, while the absence of those who had been actual combatants during the siege, might, in some degree, incline the Convention to lenient measures towards the more helpless part of the inhabitants. A column of about two thousand men made this desperate attempt. But, pursued by the Republi- cans, and attacked oil every side by tiie peasants, 138 SCOTTS MISCELLANEOUS TROSE WORKS. to whom thej' had been represented in the most odious colours by the Jacob-n deputies, and who were stimulated besides by the liope of plunder, scarcely fifty of the devoted body reached, with their leader, the protecting soil of Switzerland. Lyons reluctantly opened her gates after the de- parture of her best and bravest. The rest may be described in the words of Horace, — " Barbirus heu cincres insistet victor, et urbem, dissipabit insolens." The paralytic Couthon, with Collot D'Herbois,' and other deputies, were sent to Lyons by the Committee of Pubhc Safety, to execute the ven- geance which the Jacobins demanded ; while Du- bois-Crance was recalled for having put, it was thought, less energy in his proceedings than the prosecution of the siege required. Collot D'Her- bois had a personal motive of a singular nature for delighting in the task intinisted to him and his col- leagues. In his capacity of a play-actor, he had been hissed from the stage at Lyons, and the door to revenge was now open. The instructions of this committee enjoined them to take the most satisfac- tory revenge for the death of Chalier, and the in- surrection of Lyons, not merely on the citizens, out on the town itself. The principal streets and buildings were to be levelled with the ground, and a monument erected where they stood, was to re- cord the cause ; — "Lyons rebelled against the Re- public — Lyons is no more." Such fragments of tlie town as might be permitted to remain were to bear the name of Commune jiffranchie. It will scarcely be believed, that a doom like that which might have passed the lips of some Eastern despot, in all the frantic madness of arbitrary power and utter ignorance, could have been seriously pronounced, and as seriously enforced in one of the most civi- lized nations in Europe ; and that in the present enlightened age, men who pretended to wisdom and philosophy, should have considered the labours of the architect as a proper subject of punishment. So it was, however ; and to give the demolition more effect, the impoteut Couthon was carried from house to house, devoting each to ruin, by striking the door with a silver hammer, and pronouncing these words — " House of a rebel, I condemn thee in the name of the Law." Workmen followed in great multitudes, who executed the sentence by pulling the house down to the foundations. This wanton demolition continued for six months, and is said to have been carried on at an expense equal to that which the superb military hospital, the Hotel des Invalides, cost its founder, Louis XIV. But republican vengeance did not waste itself ex- clusively upon senseless Ume and stone — it sought out sentient victims. The deserved death of Clialier had been atoned by an apotheosis,^ executed after Lyons had sur- rendered ; but Collot D'Herbois declared that ' Before the arrival of Collot d"Herbois, Fouch^ (afterwards Duke of Otrantol issued a decree, directing that all religious emblems should be destroyed, and that the words " Death is an eternal sleep!" should be placed over the entrance of every burial ground. —See ]\IonUcur, Nos. 57, 64. 2 An ass formed a conspicuous part of the procession, hav- ing a mitre fastened between his ears, and dragging in the dirt a Bible tied to its tail ; which Bible was afterwards burnt, and its ashes scattered to the winds. Fouchd wrote to the Convention — "The shade of Clialier is satisfied. Yes, we swear that the people .shall be avenged. Oui severe courage shall keep pace with their just impatience." — Moniteur ; Montgaillarfl, torn. iv.,pp. ll.'i. I.'JH. every drop of that patriotic blood fell as if scald ing his own heart, and that the murder demanded atonement. All ordinary process, and every usual mode of execution, was thought too tardy to avenge the death of a Jacobin proconsul. The judges o! the revolutionary commission were worn out with fatigue — the arm of the executioner was weary — the very steel of the guillotine was blunted. Collot d'Herbois devised a more summary mode of slaugh- ter. A number of from two to three hundred vic- tims at once were dragged from prison to the Place de Brotteaux, one of the largest squares in Lyon.s, and there subjected to a fire of grape-shot.^ Effica- cious as this mode of execution may seem, it was neither speedy nor merciful. The sufferers fell to to the ground like singed flies, mutilated but not slain, and imploring their executioners to despatch them speedily. This was done with sabres and bayonets, and with such haste and zeal, that some of the jailors and assistants were slain along with those whom they had assisted in dragging to death; and the mistake was not discerned, imtil, upon counting the dead bodies, the nailitary murderers found them amount to more than the destined tale. The bodies of the dead were thro^^•n into the Rhone, to carry news of the Republican vengeance, as Col- lot d'Herbois expressed himself, to Toulon, then also in a state of revolt. But the sullen stream rejected the office imposed on it, and heaved back the dead in heaps upon the banks ; and the Com- mittee of Representatives were compelled at length to allow the relics of their cruelty to be interred, to prevent the risk of contagion.'* The people of the south of France have always been distinguished by the vivacity of their tempera- ment. As cruelties beget retaliation, it may be as well here mentioned, that upon the fall of the Ja- cobins, the people of Lyons forgot not what indeed was calculated for eternal remembrance, and took by violence a severe and sanguinary vengeance on those who had been accessary to the atrocities of Couthon and Collot d'Herbois. They rose on the Jacobins after the fall of Robespierre, and put to death several of them. Toulon, important by its port, its arsenals, and naval-yard, as well as by its fortifications both on the sea and land side, had partaken deeply in the feelings which pervaded Marseilles, Bourdeaux, and Lyons. But the insurgents of Toulon were determinedly royalist. The place had been for some time subjected to the administration of a Jacobin club, and had seen the usual quantity of murders and excesses with the greater pain, that the town contained many naval officers and others who had served under the King, and retained their affection for the royal cause. Their dissatisfaction did not escape the notice of men, to whom every sullen look was cause of suspicion, and the sUghtest cause of suspicion a ground of death. The town 3 Fouch^, on the Iflth December, wrote to Collot d'Herbois — "Let us show ourselves terrible: let us annihilate in our wrath, and at one blow, every conspirator, every traitor, that we may not feel the pain, the long torture, of punishing therj as kings would do. We this evening send two hundred anvl thirteen rebels before the thunder of our cannon. Farewell, my friend! tears of joy stream from my eyes, and overflow my heart.— (Signed) Fouchk." — Monilcur, Ko. 85. * Guillon de Montlfon, Mdmoires pour servir k I'Hist. de la Ville de Lvon, torn, ii., p. 4(t.'>; Toulongeon, torn, iv., p. (if): Jomini. torn, iv., p. 186; Thiers, torn, v., p. 310; Lacr» telle, torn, ix., p. "n" FRENCH REVOLUTION. 139 being threatened with a complete purification after the Jacobin fashion, the inhabitants resolved to an- ticipate the blow. At the dead of night the tocsin was sounded by the citizens, who dispersed the Jacobin club, seized on the two representatives who had governed its jroceedings, arrested seven or eight Jacobins, who had been most active in the previous assassinations, and, in spite of some opposition, actually executed them. With more decision than the inhabitants of Lyons, they proceeded to proclaim Louis XVII. under the constitution of 1791. Cartaux presently marched upon the insurgent city, driving before him the Marseillois, whom, as before mentioned, he had defeated upon their march towards Ljons. Alarmed at this movement, and destitute of a gar- rison which they could trust, the Toulonnois im- plored the assistance of the English and Spanish admirals, Lord Hood and Gravina, who were cruis- ing off their port. It was instantly granted, and marines were sent on shore for their immediate protection, while efforts were made to collect from the different allied powers such a supply of troops as could be immediately thrown into the place. But the event of the siege of Toulon brings our general historical sketch into connexion with the life of that wonderful person, whose actions we have undertaken to record. It was during this siege that the light was first distinguished, which, broad- ening more and more, and blazing brighter and brighter, was at length to fill with its lustre the whole hemisphere of Europe, and was then to set with a rapidity equal to that with which it had arisen. Ere, however, we produce this first-rate actor upon the stage, we must make the reader still more particularly acquainted with the spirit of the scene. CHAPTER XVI. Views of the Sritish Cabinet regarding the French Rerolution — Extraordinary Situation of France — Explanation of the Anomaly which it exhibited — System of Terror — Committee of Public S(ifety — Of Public Security — David the Painter — Law against susjjected Persons — liewlutionary Tri- bunal — Effects of the Emigration of the Princes and Nobles — Causes of the Passiveness of the French People under the Tyranny of the Jocobins — Singular Address of the Committee of Public Safety — General Refections. It has been a maxim with great statesmen, that evil governments must end by becommg their own destruction, according to the maxim. Res nolnnt diu male administrari. Pitt himself was of opinion, that the fury of the Fi-ench Revolution would wear itself out ; and that it already presented so few of the advantages and privileges of social compact, that it seemed as if its political elements must cither altogether dissolve, or assume a new form more similar to that on which all other states and govern- ments rest their stability. It was on this account that this great English statesman declined assist- ing, in plain and open tci-ms the royal cause, and desired to keep England free from any pledge con- cerning the future state of government in Franco, aware of tlie danger of involving her in any de- clared and avowed interference with the right of a people to choose their own system. However anxious to prevent the revolutionary opinions, as well as arms, from extending beyond their own frontier, it was thought in the British Cabinet, by one large party, that the present frantic excess of Republican principles must, of itself, produce a reaction in favour of more moderate sentiments. Some steady system for the protection of life and property, was, it was said, essential to the very existence of society. The French nation must as- sume such, and renounce the prosecution of those revolutionary doctrines, for the sake of their own as well as of other countries. The arrangement must, it was thought, take place, from the inevi- table course of human affairs, which, however they may fluctuate, ai'e uniformly determined at length by the interest of the parties concerned. Such was the principle assumed by many great statesmen, whose sagacity was unhappily baffled by the event. In fact, it was calculating upon the actions and personal exertions of a raving madman, as if he had been imder the regulation of his senses, and acting upon principles of self-regard and self- preservation. France continued not only to subsist, but to be victorious, without a government, unless the revolutionary committees and Jacobin clubs could be accounted such — for the Convention was sunk into a mere engine of that party, and sanc- tioned whatever they proposed ; without religion, which, as we shall see, they formally abolished ; without municipal laws or rights, except that any one of the ruling party might do what mischief he would, while citizens, less distinguished for patriot- ism, were subjected, for any cause, or no cause, to loss of liberty, property, and life itself ; without military discipline, for officers might be dragged from their regiments, and generals from their armies, on the information of their own soldiers ; without revenues of state, for the depression of the assignats was extreme ; without laws, for there were no ordinary tribunals left to appeal to ; with- out colonies, ships, manufactories, or commerce ; without fine arts, any more than those which were useful ; — in short, France continued to subsist, and to achieve victories, although apparently forsaken of God, and deprived of all the ordinary resources of human wisdom. The whole system of society, indeed, seemed only to retain some appearances of cohesion from mere habit, the same which makes trained horses draw up in something like order, even without their riders, if the trumpet is sounded. And yet in foreign wars, notwithstanding the deplorable state of the interior, the Republic was not only occasionally, but permanently and triumphantly victorious. She was like the champion in Berni'a romance, who was so delicately sliced asunder by one of the Paladins, that he went on fighting, and slew other warriors, without discovering for a length of time that he was himself killed. All this extraordinary energy, was, in one woid, the effect of terror. Death — a gi-ave — ai-e sounds which awaken the strongest efforts in those whom they menace. There was never anywhere, save in France during this melancholy period, so awful a comment on the expression of Scripture, " All that a man hath will he give for his life." Force, im- mediate and irresistible force, was the only logic used by tlic government — Death was the only aii- 140 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. pea! from their authority — the Guillotine ' the all- sutticing argument, which settled each debate be- ttvixt them and the governed. Was the exchequer low, the Guillotine filled it with the effects of the wealthy, who were judged ai'istocratieal, in exact proportion to the extent of their property. Wei-e these supplies insufficient, diminished as they were by peculation ere they reached the public coffei's, the assignats remained, which might be multiplied to any quantity. Did the paper medium of circulation fall in the market to fifty under the hundred, the Guillotine was ready to punish those who refused to exchange it at par. A few examples of such jobbers in the public funds made men glad to give one hundred franks for state money, which they knew to be worth no more than fifty. Was bread awanting, corn was to be found by the same compendious means, and distributed among the Parisians, as among the ancient citizens of Rome, at a regulated price. The Guillotine was a key to storehouses, laarns, and granaries. Did the army want recruits, the Guillotine was ready to exterminate all conscripts who should he- sitate to march. On the generals of the Republican army, this decisive argument, which, a priori, might have been deemed less applicable, in all its rigour, to them than to others, was possessed of the most exclusive authority. They were beheaded for want of success, which may seem less different from the common course of affairs ;^ but they were also guillotined when their successes were not improved to the full expectations of their masters. ' Nay, they were guillotined, when, being too successful, the}' were suspected of having acquired over the soldiers who had conquered under them, an inte- rest dangerous to those who had the command of this all-sufficing reason of state.* Even mere me- diocrity, and a limited but regular discharge of duty, neither so brilliant as to incur jealousy, nor so important as to draw down censure, was no protection.'^ There was no rallying point against this universal, and very simple system — of main force. The Vendeans, who tried the open and manly mode of generous and direct resistance, were, as we have seen, finally destroyed, leaving a name which will live for ages. The commercial towns, which, upon a scale more modified, also tried their strength with the revolutionary torrent, were suc- cessively overpowered. One can, therefore, be no more surprised that the rest of the nation gave way to predominant force, than we are daily at seeing a herd of strong and able-bodied cattle di-iven to the shambles before one or two butchers, and as many bull-dogs. As the victims approach the slaughter-house, and smell the blood of those which have suffered the fate to which they are destined, thej' may be often observed to hesitate, start, roar, and bellow, and intimate their dread of the fatal ' The Convention having, by a decree of the 17th March, I7n2, come to the determination to substitute decapitation for hanginjj, this instrument was adopted, on the proposition of Dr. Guillotin, an eminent j)livsician of Paris; who regretted to the hour of his death, in 1814, that his name should have been thus associated with the instrument of so many horrors. He had devised it with a view to humanity. 2 The fate of Custine illustrates this,— a general who had done much for the Republic, and who, when his fortune be- gan to fail him. excused himself by saying, " Fortune was a w^nian, and his hairs were growing grey." — S. — He was guil- lo'iiicd in August, 17!)3. s])ot, and instinctive desire to escape from it ; but the cudgels of their drivers, and the fangs of the mastiffs, seldom fail to compel them forward, sla- vering, and snorting, and trembling, to the destiny which awaits them. The power of exercising this tremendous au- thority over a terrified nation, was vested Ln few hands, and rested on a very simple basis. The Convention had, after the fall of the Giron- dists, remained an empty show of what it had onco some title to call itself, — the Representative Body of the French Nation. The members belonging to The Plain, who had observed a timid neutrality betwixt The Mountain and the Girondists, if not without talent, were without courage to make any opposition to the former when triumphant. They crouched to their fate, were glad to escape in silence, and to yield full passage to the revolution- ary torrent. They consoled themselves with the usual apology of weak minds — that they submitted to what they could not prevent ; and their adver- saries, while despising them, were yet tolerant of their presence, and somewhat indulgent to their scruples, because, while these timid neutrals remained in their ranks, they furnished to the eye at least the appearance of a full senate, filled the ranks of the representative body as a garment is stuffed out to the required size by buckram, and countenanced by their passive acquiescence the measures which they most detested in their hearts. It was worth the while of The Mountain to endure the imbe- cility of such associates, and even to permit occa- sionally some diffident opposition on their part, had it only been to preserve appearances, and afford a show of a free assembly debating on the affairs of the nation. Thus, although the name of the Na- tional Convention was generally used, its deputies, carefully selected from the Jacobin or ruling party, were every where acting in their name, with all the authority of Roman proconsuls ; while two-thirds of the body sate with submitted necks and padlocked lips, unresisting slaves to the minor proportion, which again, under its various fierce leaders, was beginning to wage a civil war within its own limited cii'cle. But the young reader, to whom this eventful history is a novelty, may ask in what hands was the real power of the government lodged, of which the Convention, considered as a body was thus effectually deprived, though permitted to retain, like the apparition in Macbeth, — " upon its baby brow the round And type of sovereignty ? " France had, indeed, in 1792, accepted, with the usual solemnities, a new constitution, which \\i\s stated to rest on the right republican basis, and was, of course, alleged to afford the most perfect and absolute security for liberty and equality, that the nation could desire. But this constitution was entirely superseded in practice by the more com- 3 Witness Houchard, who performed the distinguished ser- vice of raising the siege of Dunkirk, and who, during his trial could be hardly made to understand that he was to suffer fi'i liot carrying his victory still farther.— S.— Guillotined, Not., 17-'«. 4 Several generals of reputation sustained capital punish- ment, from no other reason than the jealousy of the commit- tees of their influence wrth the army. — S. s Luckner. an old German thick-headed soldier, who wan (if no party, ana scrupu)ou-!y obeyed the command of which- ever was upperninst at Paris, had no better fate than cthefM — i. — He was guilltitined in Nov., 1703. FliENCH REVOLUTION. 141 pendious mode of governing by ineanij of a junto, selected out of the Convention itself, without ob- Berving any farther ceremony. In fact, two small Committees vested with the full authority of the state, exercised the powers of a dictatorship ; while the representatives of the people, like the senate under the Roman empire, retained the form and semblance of siipreme sway, might keep their cumle chairs, and enjoy the dignity of fasces and lictors, but had in their possession and exercise scarcely the independent powers of an English vestry, or quarter-sessions. The Committee of Public Safety dictated every measure of the Convention, or more frequently acted without deigning to consult the legislative body at all. The number of members who exer- cised this executive government fluctuated betwixt ten and twelve ; and, as they were all chosen Jaco- bins, and selected as men capable of going all the lengths of their party, care was taken, by re-elec- tions from time to time, to render the situation permanent. This body deliberated in secret, and had the despotic right of interfering with and con- trolling every other authority in the state ; and before its absolute powers, and the uses which were made of them, the Coimcil of Ten of the Venetian government simk into a harmless and liberal insti- tution. Another committee, with powers of the same revolutionary nature, and in which the mem- bers were also renewed from time to time, was that of PubUc Security. It was inferior in importance to that of Public Safety, but was nevertheless as active within its sphere. We regret to record of a man of genius, that David, the celebrated painter,' held a seat in the Committee of Public Security. The fine arts, which he studied, had not produced on his mind the softening and humanizing effect ascribed to them. Frightfully ugly in his exterior, his mind seemed to correspond with the harshness of his looks. " Let us grind enough of the Red," was the professianal phrase of which he made use, when sitting down to the bloody work of the day. That these revolutionary committees might have in their hands a power subject to no legal defence or evasion on the part of the accused, Merlin of Douay, a lawyer, it is said, of eminence, framed what was termed the law against suspected persons, which was worded with so much ingenuity, that not only it enveloped every one who, by birth, friendship, habits of life, dependencies, or other ties, was linked, however distantly, with aristocracy, whether of birth or property, but also all who had, in the various changes and phases of the Revolu- tion, taken one step too few in the career of the most violent patriotism, or had, though it were but for one misguided and doubtful moment, held opi- nions short of the most extravagant Jacobinism. This crime of suspicion was of the nature of the cameleon ; it derived its peculiar shade or colour from the person to whom it attached for the mo- ment. To have been a priest, or even an assertor of the rights and doctrines of Christianity, was fatal ; but in some instances, an overflow of athe- istical blasphemy was equally so. To be silent on public aff"airs, betrayed a culpable indifference ; but it incurred darker suspicion to speak of them ' David is generally allowed to have possessed (jreat merit as a drauphtsman. Foreigners do not admire liis composition iiiil colcurin? so much as his countrymen — S. Otherwise than in the most violent tone of the ruling party. By a supplementary law, this spider's web was so widely extended, that it appeared no fly could be found insignificant enough to escape its meshes. Its general propositions were of a nature so vague, that it was impossible they could ever be made subjects of evidence. Therefore they were assumed without proof ; and at length, defi- nition of the -characteristics of suspicion seems to have been altogether dispensed with, and all those were suspected persons whom the revolutionary committees and their assistants chose to hold as such. The operation of this law was terrible. A sus- pected person, besides being thrown into prison, was deprived of all his rights, his effects sealed up, his property placed under care of the state, and he himself considered as civilly dead. If the unfortu- nate object of suspicion had the good fortune to be set at liberty, it was no security whatever against his being again aiTested on the day following. There was, indeed, no end to the various shades of sophistry which brought almost evei-y kind of per- son mider this oppressive law, so ample was its scope, and undefined its objects. That the administrators of this law of suspicion might not have too much trouble in seeking for victims, all householders were obliged to publish on the outside of their doors a list of the names and description of their inmates. Domestic security, the most precious of all rights to a people who know what freedom really is, was violated on every occasion, even the slightest, by domiciliary visits. The number of arrests which took place tlirough France, choked the prisons anew wliich had been so fearfully emptied on the 2d and od of Septem- ber, and is said to have been only moderately com- puted at three hvmdred thousand souls, one-third of whom were women. The Jacobins, however, found a mode of jail-delivery less Summary than by du'eet massacre ; although diff'ering so little from it in every other respect, that a victim might have had pretty nearly the same chance of a fair trial before Maillard and his men of September, as from the Revolutionary Tribunal. It requires an effort even to write that word, from the extremities of guilt and horror which it recalls. But it is the lot of humanity to record its own greatest disgraces ; and it is a wholesome and humbling lesson to exhibit a just picture of those excesses, of which, in its unas- sisted movements, and when agitated by evil and misguided passions, himian nature can be rendered capable. The extraordinary criminal court, better known by the name of the Revolutionary Tribunal, was first instituted upon the motion of Danton. Its ob- ject was to judge of state crimes, plots, and attempts against liberty, or in favour of royalty, or aS'ecting the rights and liberty of man, or in any way, more or less, tending to counteract the progress of the Revolution. In short, it was the business of this court to execute the laws, or inflict the sentence rather, upon such as had been arrested as suspected persons ; and they generally saw room to punish in most of the instances where the arresting function- aries had s^en ground for imprisonment. This friglitful court consisted of six judges or public accusers, and two assistants. There were twelve jurymen ; but the appointment of these was a mere mockery. They were official persons, v hu 142 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. Held permanent appointments ; had a salary from the state ; and were in no manner liable to the tiioice or cliallenge of the party tried. Jurors and judges were selected for their Republican zeal and steady qualities, and were capable of seeing no ob- stacle either of law or humanity in the path of their duty. This tribunal had the power of deciding without proof, — or cutting short evidence when in the progress of being adduced, — or- stopping the defence of the prisoners at pleasure ; privileges which tended greatly to shorten the forms of court, and aid the despatch of business.' The Revolutionary Tribunal was in a short time so overwlielmed with work, that it became neces- sary to divide it into fom* sections, all armed with similar powers. The quantity of blood which it caused to be slied was something unheard of, even during the proscriptions of the Roman Empire ; and there were involved in its sentences crimes the most different, personages the most opposed, and opinions the most dissimilar. When Henry VIII. roused the fires of Smithfield both against Protest- ant and Papist, burning at the same stake one wretch for denying the King's supremacy, and an- other for disbelieving the divii>e presence in the Eucharist, the association was consistency itself, compared to the scenes presented at the Revolu- tionary tribunal, in which Royalist, Constitution- alist, Girondist, Churchman, Theophilanthropist, Noble and Roturier, Prince and Peasant, both sexes and all ages, were involved in one general mas- sacre, and sent to execution by scores together, and on the same sledge. Supporting by their numerous associations the government as exercised by the Revolutionary Committees, came the mass of Jacobins, who, divided into a thousand clubs, emanating from that which had its meetings at Paris, formed the strength of the party to which they gave the name. The sole principle of the Jacobinical institutions was to excite against all persons who had any thing to lose, the passions of those who possessed no pro- perty, and were, by birth and circumstances, biii- tally ignorant, and envious of the advantages enjoyed by the higher classes. All other governments have made individual property the object of countenance and protection ; but in this strangely inverted state of things, it seemed tlie object of constant suspicion and persecution, and exposed the owner to perpe- tual danger. We have elsewhere said that Equality (unless in the no less intelligible than sacred sense of equal submission to the law) is a mei'e chimera, which can no more exist with respect to property, than in regard to mental qualifications, or personal strength, beauty, or stature. Divide the whole property of a country equally among its inhabitants, and a week will bring back the inequality which you have endeavoured to remove ; nay, a much shorter space will find the industrious and saving richer than the idle and prodigal. But in France, at the period under discussion, this equality, in itself so unattainable, had completely superseded even the principle of liberty, as a watch-word for exciting the people. It was to sin against this leading principle to be possessed of, and more espe- cially to enjoy ostentatiously, any thing which was ^^•anting to your neighbour. To be richer, more accomplished, better bred, or better taught, sub- ' Thiers, torn, iv., p. 6 Mignet, torn, i., p. i4fl. jected you to the law of suspicion, and you wero conducted instantly before a Revolutionary Com- mittee, where you were probably convicted of in- civism ; not for mterferiug with the liberty and property of others, but for making what use you pleased of your own. The whole of the terrible mystery is included in two regulations, communicated by the Jacobin Club of Paris to the Committee of Piiblic Safety. — 1. That when, by the machinations of opulent per- sons, seditions should arise in any district, it should be declared in a state of rebellion. — 2. That the Convention shall avail themselves of such oppor- tunity to excite the pooi- to make war on the rick, and to restore order at any price whatever. — This was so much understood, that one of the persons tried by the Revolutionary Tribunal, when asked what he had to say in his defence, answered, — " I am wealthy — \\hat avails it to me to offer any excul- pation when such is my offence ? " The committees of government distributed large sums of money to the Jacobin Club and its affili- ated societies, as being necessary to the propaga- tion of sound political principles. The clubs them- selves took upon them in every village the exercise of the powers of government ; and while they sat swearhig, drinking, and smoking, examined pass- ports, imprisoned citizens, and enforced to their full extent the benefits of liberty and equality " Death or Fraternity " was usually inscribed over their place of assembly ; which some one trans- lated, — " Become my brother, or I will kill ^ee." These clubs were composed of members drawn from the lees of the people, that they might not, in their own persons, give an example contradicting the equality which it was theu* business to enforce. They were filled with men without resources or talents, but towards whom the confidence of the de- ceived people was dh-ected, from the conviction that, because taken from among themselves, they would have the interest of the lower orders con- stantly in view. Their secretaries, however, were generally selected with some attention to alertness of capacity ; for on them depended the terrible combination which extended from the mother so- ciety of Jacobins in Paris, down into the most re- mote villages of the most distant provinces, in which the same tyranny was maintained by the in- fluence of similar means. Thus rumours could be either circulated or collected with a speed and uni- formity, which enabled a whisper from Robespierre to regulate the sentiments of the Jacobins at the most distant part of his empire ; for his it unques- tionably was, for the space of two dreadful years. France had been subjected to many evils ere circumstances had for a time reduced her to this state of passive obedience to a yoke, which, after all, when its strength was fairly tried, proved as brittle as it was intolerable. Those who witnessed the tragedies which then occurred, look back upon that period as the delirium of a national fever, filled witli visions too horrible and painful for re- collection, and which, being once wiped from the mind, we recall with difficulty and reluctance, and dwell upon with disgust. A long course of events, tending each successively to disorganize society more and more, had unhappily prevented a brave, generous, and accomplished people from combining together in mutual defence. The emigration and forfeiture of the nobles and clergy had deprived the FRENCH REVOLUTION. U3 country at once of those higher classes, that right- hand file, who are bred up to hold their hves light if called on to lay them down for religion, or in de- fence of the rights of their country, or the princi- ples of their own honour or conscience. Whatever may be thought of the wisdom or necessity of emi- gi-ation, its evols were the same. A high-spirited and generous race of gentry, accustomed to con- sider themselves as peculiar depositaries of the na- tional honour — a learned and numerous priesthood, the guardians of religious opinion — had been re- moved from their place, and society was so much the more weak and more ignorant for the want of them. Whether voluntarily abandoning or forci- bly driven from the country, the expulsion of so large a mass, belonging entirely to the higher or- ders, tended instantly to destroy the balance of so- ciety, and to throw all power into the hands of the lower class; who, deceived by bad and artful men, abused it to the frightful excess we have described. We do not mean to say, that the emigrants had carried with them beyond the frontiers all the worth and courage of the better classes in France, or that there were not, among men attached to the cause of liberty, many who would have shed their l)lood to have prevented its abuse. But these had been, unhappily, during the progress of the Revo- lution, divided and subdivided among themselves, were split up into a variety of broken and demo- lished parties, which had repeatedly suffered pro- scription ; and, what was worse, sustained it from the hand of each other. The Constitutionalist could not safely join in league with the Royahst, or either with the Girondi^^t ; and thus there ex- isted no confidence on which a union could be effected, among materials repulsive of each other. There extended, besides, through France, far and near, that sorrow and sinking of the heart, which prevails amid gi'eat national calamities, where there is little hope. The state of oppression was so imi- vei-sal, that no one strove to remedy its evils, more than they would have struggled to remedy the malaria of an infected country. Those who escaped the disorder contented themselves with their individual safety, without thinking of the general evil, as one which human art could remedy, or human courage resist. Moreover, the Jacobinical rulers had .surrounded themselves with such a system of espionage and delation, that the attempt to organize any resist- ance to their power, would have been in fact, to fall inevitably and fatally under their tyranny. If the bold conspirator against this most infernal au- thority did not bestow his confidence on a false friend or a concealed emissary of the Jacobin party, he was scarce the safer on that account ; for if he breathed forth in the most friendly ear any iiing tending to reflect on the free, happy, and humane government under which he had the liap- piness to live, his hearer was bound, equally as a hired spy, to carry the purport of the conversation to the constituted authorities — that is, to the Revo- lutionary Committees or Republican Commbsion- ers ; and above all, to the Committee of Public Safety. Silence on pubhc affairs, and acquiescence in democratic tyranny, became, therefore, matter of httle wonder ; for men will be long mute, when to indulge the tongue may endanger the head. And thus, in the kingdom which boasts hei-self most civilized in Europe, and with all that ardour for liberty which seemed but of late to animate every bosom, the general apathy of terror and astonishment, joined to a want of all power of com- bination, palsied every effort at resistance. They who make national reflections on the French for remaining passive under circumstances so hope- less, should first reflect, that our disposition to pre- vent or punish crime, and our supposed readiness to resist oppression, have their foundation in u strong confidence in the laws, and in the imme- diate support which they are sure to receive from the numerous classes who have been trained up to respect them, as protectors of the rich equally and of the poor. But in France, the whole system of the administration of justice was in the hands of brutal force ; and it is one thing to join in the hue and cry against a murderer, seconded by the will- ing assistance of a whole population — another to venture upon withstanding liim in his den, he at the head of his banditti, the assailant defenceless, excepting in the justice of his cause. It has further been a natural subject of wonder, not only that the richer and better classes, the avowed objects of Jacobin persecution, were so pas- sively resigned to this frightful tyranny, but also why the French populace, whose general manners are so civilized and so kindly, that they are, on or- dinary occasions, the gayest and best humoured people in Europe, should have so far changed their character as to delight in cruelty, or at least to look on, without expressing disgust, at cruelties perpetrated in their name. But the state of a people in ordinary times and peaceful occupations, is in every country totally different from the character which they manifest under strong circumstances of excitation. Rous- seau says, that no one who sees the ordinary grey- hound, the most sportive, gentle, and timid perhaps of the canine race, can form an idea of the same animal pursuing and strangling its screaming and helpless victim. Something of this sort must plead the apologj' of the French people in the early ex- cesses of the Revolution ; and we nmst remember, that men collected in crowds, and influenced with a sense of wrongs, whether real or imaginary, are acted upon by the enthusiasm of the moment, and are, besides, in a state of such general and undis- tinguished fury, that they adopt, by joining in the clamours and general shouts, deeds of which they hardly witness the import, and which perhaps not one of the assembled multitude out of a thousand would countenance, were that import distinctl}- felt and know n. In the revolutionary massacres and cruelties, there was always an executive power, consisting of a few well-breathed and thorough- paced raffians, whose hands perpetrated the actions, to which the ignorant vulgar only lent their accla- mations. This species of assentation became less •vonderful when instant slaugiiter, without even the ceremony of inquiry, had been exchanged for some forms, however flimsy and unsubstantial, of regular trial, condemnation, and execution. These served for a time to satisfy the public mind. The populace saw men di-agged to the guillotine, convicted of criminal attempts, as they were informed, against the liberty of the people ; and they shouted as at the punish ment of their own immediate enemies. But as the work of death proceeded daily, the people became softened as their passions abated • 144 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. and the frequency of such sacrifices having removed the odious interest whicli for a wliile attended them, the lower classes, whom Robespierre desired most to conciliate, looked on, first with indifference, but afterwards with shame and disgust, and at last with the wish to put an end to cruelties, which even the most ignorant and prejudiced began to regard in their own true, undisguised light. Yet the operation of these universal feelings was long delayed. To support the Reign of Terror, the revolutionary committees had their own guards and executioners, without whom they could not have long withstood the general abhorrence of man- kind. All official situations were scrupulously and religiously filled up by individuals chosen from the Sans-Culottes, who had rendered themselves, by tlieir zeal, worthy of that honourable appellation. Were they of little note, they were employed in the various capacities of guards, officers, and jailors, for wliich the times created an unwearied demand. Did they hold places in the Convention, they were frequently despatched upon commissions to dif- ferent parts of France, to give new edge to the guillotine, and superintend in person the punish- ment of conspiracy or rebellion, real or supposed. Such commissioners or proconsuls, as they were frequently termed, being vested with unlimited power, and fresh in its exercise, signalized them- selves by their cruelty, even more than the tyrants whose will they dischai'ged. We may quote in illustration, a remarkable pas- sage in an address, by the Commissioners of Public Safety, to the representatives absent upon com- missions, in which there occur some gentle remarks on their having extended capital punishment to cases where it was not provided by law, although the lustre of their services to the Republic far out- shone the shade of such occasional peccadiloes. For their future direction they are thus exhorted. " Let your energy awaken anew as the term of your labour approaches. The Convention charges you to complete the purification and reorganiza- tion of the constituted authorities with the least possible delay, and to report the conclusion of tliese two operations before the end of the next month. A simple measure may effect the desired purifica- tion. Convoke the peojde in the popular societies — Let the public functionaries appear before them — In- terrof/ate the people on the subject of their conduct, and let their judgment dictate yours."^ Thus the wildest prejudices arising in the Jacobin Club, consisting of the lowest, most ignorant, most pre- judiced, and often most malicious members in so- ciety, were received as evidence, and the populace declared masters, at their own pleasure, of the pro- perty, honour, and life of those who had held any brief authority over them. • Moniteur, No. 9!)5, S.Wi December, 1703.-8. 2 Carrier was bom at Yolay, near Aurillac, in 1756, and, previous to the Revolution, was an attorney. During his mission to Nantes, not less than thirty-two thousand human beings were destroyed by noi/adcs ana fiifil/iiilcs, and by the horrors of crowded and infected prisons. Being accused by Merlin de Thionville, Cariiot, and others, he declared to tlie Convention, 23d November, 1794, that by trying him it would ruin itself, and that if all the crimes committed in its name were to lie punished, " not even the little bell of the president was free from guilt." He was convicted of having had chil- dren of thirteen and fourteen years old shot, and of having ordered drownings, and this with counter-revolutionary in- tentions. He ascended the scaffold with firmness, and said, " I die a victim and innocent: 1 only executed the orders of tlie committees." 1* See MuMtgaillard, torn, iv., p. 42; Toulongeon, torn, v., Where there had occurred any positive rising or resistance, the duty of the commissioners was ex- tended by all -he powers that martial law, in other words, the rule of superior force, could confer. We have mentioned the murders committed at Lyons ; but even these, though hundreds were swept away by volleys of musket-shot, fell short of tlie horrors perpetrated by Carrier at Nantes,^ who, in a,\ eng- mg the Republic on the obstinate resistance of La Vendfe, might have summoned hell to match his cruelty, without a demon venturing to answer his cliallenge. Hundreds, men, women, and children, were forced on board of vessels which were scuttled and sunk in the Loire, and this was called Re- publican Baptism. Men and women were stripped, bound together, and thus thrown into the river, and this was called Republican Marriage.^ But we have said enough to show that men's blood seems to have been converted into poison, and their hearts into stone, by the practices in which they were daily engaged. Many affected even a lust of cruelty, and the instrument of punishment was talked of with the fondness and gaiety with which we speak of a beloved and fondled object. It had its pet name of " the Little National Window," and others equally expressive ; and although saints were not much in fashion, was, in some degree canonized by the name of " the Holy Mother Gul- lotine."* That active citizen, the executioner, had also his honours, as well as the senseless machine which he directed. This official was admitted to the society of some of the more emphatic patriots, and, as we shall afterwards see, shared in tlieir civic festivities. It may be questioned whether even his company was not too good for the patrons who thus regaled him. There was also an armed force raised among the most thorough- paced and hardened satellites of the lower order, termed by pre-eminence " the Revo- lutionary Army." They were under the command of Ronsin, a general every way worthy of such soldiers.* These troops were produced on all oc- casions, when it was necessary to intimidate the metropolis and the national guard. They were at the more immediate disposal of the Commune of Paris, and were a ready, though not a great force, which always could be produced at a moment's notice, and were generally joined by the more active democrats, in the capacity of a Jacobin miUtia. In their own ranks they mustered six thousand men. It is worthy of remark, that some of the persons whose agency was distinguished during this dis- graceful period, and whose hands were deeply dyed in the blood so unrelentingly shed, under whatever frenzy of brain, or state of a generally maddening impulse they may have acted, nevertheless made amends, in their after conduct, for their enormities p. 120; Tiiiers, torn, vi., p. ,'173; Lacretelle, torn, xii., p. 1C5 ; Vie et Crimes de Carrier, par Gracchus Baboeuf; D^noncia- tion des Crimes de Carrier, par Philippes Tronjolly; Procis de Carrier ; Bulletin du Tribunal R6volutionnaire de Nantes. * Lacretelle, torn, xi., p. 309. " In 1793, a bookseller, (a pure Royalist in 1814,) had this inscription painted over his shop door, 'A Notre Dame de la Guillotine.'" — Montgail- LARD, tom. iv., p. 189 6 Ronsin was born at Soissons in 1752. He figured in the early scenes of the Revolution, and in 178J), brought out, at one of the minor Paris theatres, a tragedy called " La Ligue des Fanatiques et des Tyrans," which, though despicable in point of style, had a considerable run. Being denounced by Robespierre, he was guillotined, March 24. 1794. His dra- matic pieces have been published under the title of " Theatre de Ronsiii.' FRENCH REVOLUTION. 145 then committed. This was the case with Tallien, with Barras, with Fouche, Legendre, and others, who, neither good nor scrupulous men, were yet, upon many subsequent occasions, much more hu- mane and moderate than could have been expected from their early acquaintance with revolutionary horrors. They resembled disbanded soldiers, who, returned to their native homes, often resume so entirely the habits of earlier life, that they seem to have forgotten the wild, and perhaps sanguinary character of their military career. We cannot, indeed, pay any of these reformed Jacobins the compliment ascribed to Octavius by the Romans, who found a blessing in the emperor's benevolent government, which compensated the injuries in- flicted by the triumvir. But it is certain that, had it not been for the courage of Tallien and Barras in particular, it might have been much longer ere the French had been able to rid themselves of RobespieiTe, and that the revolution of 9th Ther- midor, as they called the memorable day of his fall, was, in a gi-eat measure, brought about by the remorse or jealousy of the dictator's old comrades. But, ere we arrive at that more auspicious point of our story, we have to consider the train of causes wliich led to the downfall of Jacobinism. Periods which display great national failings or vices, are those also which bring to light distin- guished and redeeming virtues. France unfortu- nately, during the years 1793 and 1794, exhibited instances of extreme cruelty, in principle and prac- tice, which make the human blood curdle. She may also be censured for a certain abasement of spirit, for sinking so long unresistingly under a yoke so unnaturally horrible. But she has to boast that, during this fearful period, she can produce as many instances of the most high and honourable fidelity, of the most courageous and devoted humanity, as honour the annals of any country whatever. The cruelty of the laws denounced the highest penalties against those who relieved proscribed fugitives. These were executed with the most merciless rigour. Madame Boucquey and her hus- band were put to death at Bourdeaux for affording shelter to the members of the Gironde faction ; and the interdiction of fire and water to outlawed persons, of whatever description, was enforced with the heaviest penalty. Yet, not only among the better classes, but among the poorest of the poor, were there men of noble minds found, who, having but half a morsel to support their own family, divided it willingly -svith some wretched fugitive, though death stood ready to reward their charity. In some cases, fidelity and devotion aided the suggestions of humanity. Among domestic ser- vants, a race whose virtues should be the more esteemed, that they are practised sometimes in defiance of strong temptation, were found many distinguished instances of unshaken fidelity. In- deed, it must be said, to the honour of the French manners, that the master and hLs servant live on a ' Strangers are forcibly affected by the triflinj; incidents whicli sometimes recall the memory o{ those fearful times. A venerable French ecclesiastic being on a visit at a centleman's house in North Uritain, it was remarked by the family, that a favourite cat, rather wild and capricious in its habits, paid particular attention to their Ruest. It was explained, by the {)riest giving an account of his lurking in the waste garret, or umber-room, of an artisan's house, for several weeks. In this condition, he had no better amusement than to study the manners and habits of the cats which frequented his phace of retreat, and acquire the mode ot conciliating their favour. VOL. II. footing of much more kindliness than attends the same relation in otlier countries, and especially in Britain. Even in the most trying situations, there were not many instances of domestic treason, and many a master owed his life to the attachment and fidelity of a menial. The feelings of religion shel- tered others. The recusant and exiled priests often found among tlicir former flock the means of con- cealment and existence, when it was death to ad- minister them. Often this must have flowed from gi'ateful recollection of their former religious ser- vices — sometimes from unmingled veneration for the Being whose ministers they professed them- selves.' Nothing short of such heroic exertions, which were numerous, (and especially in the class where individuals, hard pressed on accoimt of their own wants, are often rendered callous to the dis- tress of others,) could have prevented France, during this horrible period, from becoming a uni- versal charnel-house, and her history an unvaried calendar of murder. CHAPTER XVII. Marat, Danton, Mobespierre — 3Iarat poniarded— Danton and Robespierre become Ritah — Com- mune of Paris — their gross Irreligion — Gobel — Goddess of Reason — Marriage reduced to a Civil Contract — Views of Danton — and qf Robespierre — Principal Leaders of the Commune arrested — and Nineteen of them executed — Danton arrested by the Influence of Robespierre — and, along icith Camille Desmoulins, Westermann, and La Croix, taken before the Revolutionary Tribunal, con- demned, and executed — Decree issued, on the mo- tion of Robespierre, acknoid edging a Supreme Being — Cecilee Regnault — Gradual Change in the Public Mind — Robespierre becomes unpopu- lar — Makes every effort to retrieve his power — Stormy Debate in the Convention — Collot D'Her- bois, Tallien, §-c., expelled from the Jacobin Club at the instigation of Robespierre — Robespierre de- nounced in the Contention on the 9th Thermidor, (27th July, 1794,) and, after furious struggles, arrested, along with his brother, Couthon, and Saint Just — Henriot, Commandant of the Na- tional Guard, arrested — Terrorists take refuge in the Hotel de Ville — Attempt their own lives — Robespierre wounds hbnself — but lives, along with most of the others, long enough to be carried to the Guillotine, and executed — tiis character — Strug- gles that followed his Fate — Final Destruction of the Jacobinical System — and return of Tran- quillity — Singular colour given to Society in Paris — Ball of the Victims. The reader need not be reminded, that the three distinguished champions who a.ssumed the front in the Jacobin ranks, were Marat,Danton, and Robes- pierre. The first was poniarded by Charlotte The difficulty of supplying him with food, without atlractme suspicion, was extreme, and it could only be pl.aced near liis place of concealment, in small quantities, and at uncertain times. Men, women, and children knew of his being iu tliat jilace; there were rewards to be gained by discovcnr, life to be lost by persevering in concealing him ; yet he was faithfully preserved, to try upon a .Scottish cat, after the restoration o'f the Monarchy, the arts which he had learned in his miserable place of shelter during the Keign of Terror. TIjc history ej the time abounds with biiiiilar instaiicesr ]}6 SCOTTfi I^.IISCI'XLANEOUS PROSE WORMS. Corday^ an enthusiastic .young person, who had nourished, in a feeling betwixt lunacy and heroism, the ambition of ridding the world of a tyrant.^ Danton and Robespierre, reduced to a Duumvirate, might have divided tlie power betwixt them. But Danton, far the more able and powerful-minded man, could not resist temptations to plunder and to revel ; and Robespierre, who took care to preserve proof of his rival's peculations, a crime of a pecu- liarly unpopular character, and from which he seemed to keep his own hands pure, possessed thereby the power of ruining him whenever'he should find it convenient. Danton maiTied a beau- tiful woman, became a candidate for domestic hap- piness, withdi'ew himself for some time from state affairs, and quitted the stern and menacing atti- tude which he had presented to the public during the earlier stages of the Revolution. Still his as- cendency, especially in the Club of Cordeliers, was fonnidaijle enough to command Robespieri-e's con- stant attention, and keep awake his envy, which was like the worm that dieth not, though it did not draw down any indication of his immediate and active vengeance. A power, kindred also in crime, but more within his reach for the moment, was first to be demolished, ere Robespien-e was to measure strength with liis great rival. This tliird party consisted of those who had pos- sessed themselves of official situations in the Com- mune of Paris, whose civic authority, and the im- plement which they commanded in the Revolution- ary army, commanded by Ronsin, gave them the power of marching, at a moment's warning, upon the Convention, or even against the Jacobin Club. It is true, these men, of whom Hebert, Chaumette, and others, were leaders, had never shown the least diffidence of Robespierre, but, on the contrary, had used all means to propitiate his favour. But the man whom a tyrant fears, becomes, with little far- ther provocation, the object of his mortal enmity. RobespieiTe watched, therefore, with vigilance, the occasion of overreaching and destroying this partj-, whose power be dreaded ; and, singular to tell, he sought the means of accomplishing their ruin in tlie very extravagance of their revolutionary zeal, which shortly before he might have envied, as pushed farther than his own. But Robespierre • Charlotte Corday was born, in IT^S, near S6ez, in Nor- mandy. She was twenty-five years of ase, and resided at Caen, when she conceived and executed the design of ridding the world of this monster. She reached Paris on the 11th July, and on the 12th wrote a note to Marat, soliciting an in- terview, and purchased in the Palais Royal a knife to plunge into the bosom of the tyrant. On the 13th, she obtained ad- mission to Marat, whom she found in his bath-room. He en- quired after the proscribed deputies at Caen. Being told their names—" They shall soon," he said, "meet with the punish- ment they deserve." — "Thine is at hand!" exclaimed she, and stabbed him to the heart. She was immediately brought to trial, and executed on the 17th. — Lacrexelle, tom. xi., p. 47; MoNTGAitLABD. tom. iv., p. 55.— Charlotte Corday was descended, in a direct line, from the great Corneille. See the genealogical table of the Corneille family, prefixed to Lepan's C'lic/s d' (Eiivres osing cathedral was called ' the Temple ol I Reason.'" — Lacbetelle, torn, xi , p. 31)0; Thiers, toui. v. p. 342; TouLONGEON, tom. iv., p. 124. 5 " C'est ici I'asile du sommeil etemel." 6 Lacretelle, tom. xi., p 333. 7 Sophie Arnould, born at Paris in 1740, was not less ceJe- ■ brated for her native wit than her talents on the stage. Shorliy ; after her death, in ll!(i3, appeared " Amouldiana, ou Suphi4 : Arnould ct ses contemporaircs." 148 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. placed his party at the head of affiiirs, and himself nearly as higli as he could promise to climb, was now desirous shouid be done. Ilobespierre looked on tliese extravagant pro- ceedings with a different and more watchful eye. He Kiw what Hebert and his associates had lost in popi.Iarity, by affecting the doctrines of atheism and Htter profaneness ; and he imagined a plan, first, for destroying these blasphemers, by the gene- ral consent of the nation, as noxious animals, and then of enlarging, and, as it were, sanctifying his own power, by once more connecting a spirit of devotion of some modified kind or other with the revolutionary form of government, of which lie de- sired to continue the head. It has even been supposed, that Robespierre's extravagant success in rismg so much above all Human expectation, had induced him to entertain some thoughts of acting the part of a new Maho- met, in bringing back religious opinion into France, under his own direct auspices. He is said to have countenanced in secret the extravagances of a fe- male called Catherine Theos, or Theost, ^ an enthu- siastic devotee, whose doctrines leaned to Quietism. She was a kind of Joanna Southcote,^ and the Aaron of her sect was Dom Gerle, formerly a Car- tliusian monk, and remarkable for the motion he made in the first National Assembly, that the Ca- thohc religion should be recognised as that of France.^ Since that time he had become entirely deranged. A few visionaries of both sexes attended secret and nightly meetings, in which Theos and Dom Gerle* presided. Robespierre was I'ecogni- ■^ed by thera as one of tlie elect, and is said to have favoured their superstitious doctrines. But, whe- tlier the dictator saw in them any thing more than tools, which might be applied to his own purpose, there seems no positive authority to decide. At any rate, whatever religious opinions he might liave imbibed himself, or have become desirous of infusing into the state, they were not such as were qualified to modify either his ambition, his jealousy, or his love of blood. Tlie power of Hebert, Chaumette, and of the Commune of Paris, was now ripe for destruction. Ronsin, with the other armed satellites of the revo- lutionary army, Oullied indeed, and spoke about taking the part of the magistracy of Paris against tlie Convention ; but though they had the master and active ruffians still at their service, they could no longer command the long sable columns of pikes, which used to follow and back them, and without whose aid they feared they might not be found equal in number to face the National Guai'd. So early as 27th December, 1793, we find Chaumette ^ ' This miserable visionary passed herself oif at one time as the mother of God. and at another as a second Eve, destined to regenerate mankind. In 1794, she was arrested and sent to the Conciergerie, where she died at the age of seventy. — See Les Mystires de la Mire de Dku dcvoiUs, in the Collection ell's nUmoires relalifs a. la Rev. Franp., tom. xx., p. 271. 2 This aged lunatic, who fancied herself to be with child of a new Messiah, died in 1815. 3 See ante, p. 61. * Gerle was imprisoned in the Conciergerie, but liberated through the intericrcnce of Robespierre. He was employed, during the reign of Napoleon, in tlie office of the home de- partment. 5 Chaumette was born at Nevers in 1763. For some time he was employed as a transcriber by the journalist Pnid- homme, who describes him as a very ignorant man. In 17.'*-, he was appointed attnrney of the Commune of Paris, upon which occasion he changed his patronymic of Pierrc-G.aspard for that of Anaxagoras— " a saint," he said, " who had been expressing himself to the Comnmne, as one who had fallen on evil times and evil days. He brouglit forward evidence to show that it was not he who had conducted the installation of the Goddess of Reason in his native city of Nevers ; and he com- plains heavily of his lot, that the halls were crowded with women demanding the liberty of their hus- bands, and complaining of the conduct of the Revj lutionary societies. It was plain, that a change was taking place in the political atmosphere, when Chaumtette was obliged to vindicate himself from the impiety which used to be his boast, and was subjected, besides, to female reproach for his re- publican zeal, in imprisoning and destroying a few thousand suspected persons. The spirit of reaction increased,and was strength- ened by Robespierre's influence now thrown into the scale against the Commune. The principal leaders in the Commune, many of whom seem to have been foreigners, and among the rest the cele- brated Anacharsis Clootz, were [22d March] ar- rested. The case of these men was singular, and would have been worthy of pity had it applied to any but such worthless wTetches. They were accused of almost every species of crime, which seemed such in the eyes of a Saiis-Culotte. Much there was which could be only understood metaphysically ; much there was of literal falsehood ; but little or nothing like a distuict or well-grounded accusation of a specific criminal fact. The charge bore, that they were associates of Pitt and Cobourg, and had combined against the sovereignty of the people — loaded them with the intention of starving thereby Paris — with that of ridiculing the Convention, by a set of puppets dressed up to imitate that scarce less passive assembly — and much more to the same purpose, consisting of allegations that were totally unimportant, or totally unproved. But nothing was said of their rivalry to Robespierre, whicli was the true cause of their trial, and as little of their revolutionary murders, being the ground on which they really deserved their fate. Something was talked of pillage, at which Ronsin, the com- mandant of the revolutionary army, lost all pa- tience. " Do they talk to me of pilfering ? " he says. " Dare they accuse such a man as I am of a theft of bed and body linen ? Do they bring against me a charge of petty larceny — against me, who have had all their throats at my disposal ? " ^ The accused persons were convicted and exe- cuted, [23d March,] to the number of nineteen.'' From that time the city of Paris lost the means of being so pre-eminent in the affairs of France, aa her Commmie had formerly rendered her. The hanged for his republicanism." He it was who prepared the charges and arranged the evidence against Marie Antoinette. On being committed to the prison of the Luxembourg, " he appeared," says the author of the Tableau des Prisons de Paris, "oppressed with shame, like a fox taken in a net: he hung his head, his eye was mournful and cast down, his coun- tenance sad, his voice soft and supplicating. He was no longer the terrible attorney of the Commune." He was guillotuied, 13th April, 1794, with the apostate bishop, Gobel, and the actor Grammont. 6 Lacretelle, tom. xi., p. 363. 7 " Such was the public avidity to witness the execution of Hubert and his companions, that considerable sums were re- alized by the sale of seats Hebert wept from weakness, and made no attempt to conceal his terrors. He sunk down at every step; while the populace, who had so recently endea- voured to deliver him from the fangs of the Convention, loaded him with execrations, mimicking the cry of the newsmen who hawked his journal about the streets." — Thiers, tom. vi.. p. 142. FRENCH REVOLUTION. 149 power of the magistracy was much broken by tlie reduction of the I'evohitionary army, which the Con- vention dissolved, as levied upon false principles, and as being rather a metropolitan than a national force, and one which was easily applied to serve the purposes of a party. The He'bertists being removed, Robespierre had yet to combat and defeat a more formidable adver- sary. The late conspirators had held associations with the Club of Cordeliers, with which Danton was supposed to have particular relations, but they had not experienced his support, which in policy he ought to have extended to them. He had be- gun to separate his party and his views too distinctly from his old friends and old proceedings. He imagined, falsely as it proved, that his bark could sail as triumphantly upon waves composed only of water, as on those of blood. He and others seem to have been seized with a loathing against these continued acts of cruelty, as if tliey had been gorged and nauseated by the constant repetition. Dauton spoke of mercy and pardon ; and his par- tisan, Camille Desmoulins, in a very ingenious parody upon Tacitus,' drew a comparison between the t}Tants and informers of the French Jacobin government, and those of the Roman Imperial Court. The parallels were most ably drawn, and Robespierre and his agents might read their own characters in those of the most odious wretches of that odious time. From these aggressions Danton seemed to meditate the part wliich Tallien after- wards adopted, of destroying Roljespierre and his power, and substituting a mode of government which should show some regard at least to life and to property. But he was too late in making his movement ; Robespierre was beforehand with him ; and, on the morning of the 31st of March, the Parisians and the members of the Convention hardly dared whisper to each other, that Danton, whose name had been as formidable as the sound of the tocsin, had been arrested like any poor ex- noble, and was in the hands of the fatal lictors. There was no end of exclamation and wonder ; for Danton was the great apostle, the very Maho- met of Jacobinism. His gigantic stature, his huge and ferocious physiognomy, his voice, which struck terror in its notes of distant thunder, and the energies of talent and vehemence mingled, which supplied that voice with language worthy of its deep tones, were such as became the prophet of that horrible and fearful sect. Marat was a mad- man, raised into consequence only by circum- stances, — Robespierre a cold, creeping, calculating hypocrite, whose malignity resembled that of a paltry and second-rate fiend, — but Danton was a character for Shakspeare or Schiller to have drawn in all its broad lights and shades ; or Bruce could • Of the pamphlet, entitled " Le Vieux Cordelier," one hundred thousand copies, Lacretelle says, •nere sold in a few days. It was reprinted, in 18i5, in the Collection tics M^noires tiir la Revolution. 2 Mipet, torn, ii., p. 308; Thiers, torn. y\., p. 189. 3 " Sneak into exile ! " said he, " can a man carry his coun- try at the sole of his shoe?" — Thiers, torn, vi., p. 'l4i). * Riouffe, a fellow captive, states, that when D.anton en- tered his prison, he exclaimed, " At last 1 perceive, that in revolutions the supreme power rests with the most aban- doned." — Memoircs, p. 67. " Seeing Thomas Payne, he said to him, ' Whiit you have accomplished for the happiness and freedom of your country, I have in vain endeavoured to effect for mine. I have been less successful, but am not more culp.able.* At another time he exclaimed, ' It is just about a year since I was the means of instituting the revolutionary tribuijal. I a.sk pardon of have sketched from him a yet grander Ras Micnael than he of Tigre. His passions were a hurricane, which, furious, regardless, and desolating in its course, had yet its intervals of sunshine and repose. Neither good by nature, nor just by principle or political calculation, men were often surprised at finding he still possessed some feelings of genero- sity, and some tendency even towards magnani- mity. Early habits of profligate indulgence, the most complete stifler of human virtue, and hia implication at the beginning of his career with the wretched faction of Orleans, made him, if not a worse, certainly a meaner villain than nature had designed him ; for his pride must have saved him from much, which he yielded to from the tempta- tions of gross indulgence, and from the sense ot narrow circumstances. Still, when Danton fell under Robespierre, it seemed as if the " mousing- owl" had hawked at and struck an eagle, or at least a high-soaring vulture. His avowed associates lamented him, of course ; nay, Legendre and others. by undertaldng his defence in the Convention, and arrogating for him the merit of those violent mea- sures which had paved the way to the triumph of Jacobinism, showed more consistency in their friendship than these ferocious demagogues mani- fested on any other occasion.^ Danton, before his fall, seemed to have lost much of his sagacity as well as energy. He had full warning of his danger from La Croix, Westermaun, and others, yet took no steps either for escape or defence, though either seemed in his po\\ er.^ Still, his courage was in no degree abated, oi' Lis haughty spirit tamed ; although he seemed to submit pas- sively to his fate, with the disheartening conviction, which often immans great criminals, that his hour was come.* Danton's process was, of course, a short one. He and his comrades, CamUle Desmoulins, Wester- maun, and La Croix,^ were dragged before the Revolutionary Tribunal — a singular accomplish- ment of the prophecy of the Girondist, Boyer- Fonfrede.fi This man had exclaimed to Danton, under whose auspices that engine of arbitrary power was established, " You insist, then, upon erecting this arbitrary judgment-seat ? Be it so ; and, like the tormenting engine devised by Phala- ris, may it not fall to consume its inventors ? " As judges, witnesses, accusers, and guards, Danton was now surrounded by those who had been too humble to aspire to be companions of his atrocities, and held themselves sufficiently honoured in becom- ing his agents. They looked on his unstooping pride and unshaken courage, as timid spectators upon a lion in a cage, while they still doubt the security of the bai-s, and have little confidence in their own personal safety. He answered to the God and man for what I did : my object was to prevent a new September, and not to let loose a scourge of humanity.' . . ' My treacherous brethren (mes freres Cain) understand no- thing of government : I leave every thing in frightful confu- sion." . . ' It were better to be a poor fisherman than a ruler of men.'" — Thiers, torn, vi., p. 155; Mignet, torn, ii., p. .'512. s La Croix was born, in 1754, at Pont-Audcmcr. His de- struction being resolved on by Kobesiiierrc, he was arrested with Danton, .31st March, and executed 5th April, 1794. When the act of accusation was brought, Danton asked him what he said to it. " That I am going to cut off my hairj ' said he, " that Samson [the executioner] may not touch ii. 6 Boyer Fonfrtde was born at Bordeaux. Being appointed deputy from the Gironde to the Convention, he vigorously opposed Marat and the Mountain. He esciped the first pro- scription of the Girondists, but perished on the scafl'old in l/l'i 150 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. furmal interrogatories concerning his name and dwelling, " My dwelling will be soon with annihila- tion — my name will live in the Pantheon of His- tory." 1 Camille Desraoulins,^ He'rault S€chelles,' Fabre d'Eglantine,* men of considerable literary tjilent, and amongst the few Jacobins who had any real pretension to such accomplishments, shared his fate. Westormann was also numbered with them, the same officer who directed the attack on the palace of the Tuileries on the 10th August, and who afterwards was distinguished by so many victories and defeats in La Vendee, that he was called, from his activity, the scourge of that dis- trict.s Their accusation was, as in all such cases at the period, an oUa podrida, if we can be allowed the expression, in which every criminal ingredient was mixed up ; but so incoherently mingled and assem- bled together, so inconsistent with each other, and so obscurely detailed in the charge and m the proof, that it was plain that malignant falsehood had made the gruel thick and slab. Had Danton been con- demned for his real crimes, the doom ought, in justice, to have involved judges, jurors, witnesses, and most of the spectators in the court. Robespierre became much alarmed for the issue of the trial. The Convention showed reviving signs of spirit ; and when a revolutionary deputa- tion demanded at the bar, " tliat death should be the order of the day," and remmded them, that, " had they granted tiie moderate demand of three hundred thousand heads, when requested by the philanthropic, and now canonized Marat, they would have saved the Republic the wars of La Vendee," they were received with discouraging murmurs. Tallien, the president, informed them. 1 Lacrctellc, torn, xi., p. 380. 2 Camille Desraoulins was bom at Guise in 1762, and edu- cated with Robespierre, at the College of Louis-le-Grand. He it was who, in ITHf, began the practice of collecting groups of peoi)!e to harangue them in the streets, and who advised the revolutionists to distinguish themselves by a badge. Hence the tricolor cockade. After the taking of the Bastile, he pub- lished, under the name of "Attorney-General of the Lantern," a periodical paper, called " Revolutions de France et de Bra- bant." " It must not, however," says M. Dumont, " be ima- gined, that he excited the people to use the lantern-posts instead of the gallows, an abomination attributed to him by Bertrand de Moleville -quite the reverse: he pointed out the danger and injustice of such summary executions, but in a tone of lightness and badinage, by no means in keeping with so serious a subject. Camille appeared to me what is called a good fellow ; of rather exaggerated feelings, devoid of re- flection or judgment, as ignorant as he was unthinking, not deficient in wit, but in politics possessing not even the first elements of reason." — P. 135. On his trial, being interrogated as to his age, he answered, " I am thirty-three, the same age as the Sans-Culotte Jesus Christ when he died." On the day of execution he made the most violent efforts fo avoid getting into the fatal cart. His shirt was in tatters, and his shoulders bare ; his eyes glared, his mouth foamed at the moment when he was bound, and on seeing the scaffold, he exclaimed, " This, then, is the reward reserved for the first apostle of liberty!" His wife, a beautiful creature, by whom he was tenderly beloved, was arrested a few days after his death, and acnt to the scaffold.— TatERS, tom. vi., p. 169; Bicig. Mod., torn, j., p. ,T64; Lacretelle, tom. xi., p. 380. 3 Herault Sechelles was born at Piiris in 17fiO. He began his career at the bar, by holding the office of King's advocate at the Chiteiet ; and afterwards, by the patronage of the Queen, was ai>T)ointed advocate-general. Shortly before his arrest he was offered a retreat in Switzerland, and a passport, iti a fictitious name, from the agent of Bale, but his answer was, " I would gladly accept the offer, if 1 could carry mv native country with me." He published " Visite i Buffon," " Th^orie de I'Ambition," and " Rapports sur la Constitu- tion," iStc., 17<<3. ■* Fabre d'F.glantine, bom at Carcassonne in 17S5, was in early life an actor, and performed at Versailles, Brussels, and Lyons, but witli moderate success. As an author he di.sco- vcred considerable taleirt ; the latter part I'f his name being atisiinied, in memory of a pri/;e which he had won in his ynuth. " that not death, but justice, was the order of the day ; " and the petitioners, notwithstanding the patriotic tm-n of their modest request, were driven from the bar with execrations. This looked ill ; but the power of Robespierre was still predominant with the Revolutionary Tribu- nal, and after a gallant and unusually long defence, (of which no notice was permitted to appear in the Moniteur,) Danton^ and his associates were con demned, and carried to instant execution. They maintained their firmness, or rather hardenedness of character, to tlie last.^ The sufferers on this occasion were men whose accomplishments and talents attracted a higher degree of sympathy than that which had been given to the equally eloquent but less successful Girondists. Even honest men looked on the fate of Danton with some regret, as when a furious bull is slain with a slight blow by a crafty Tauridor ; and many men of good feelings had hoped, that the cause of order and security might at least have been benefited in some degree, by his obtaining the victory in a struggle with Robespierre. Those, on the other hand, who fol- lowed the fortunes of the latter, conceived his power had been rendered permanent by the overthrow of his last and most formidable rival, and exulted in proportion. Both were deceived in their calcula- tions. The predominance of such a man as D?,n- ton might possibly have protracted the reign of Jacobinism, even by rendering it somewhat more endurable ; but the permanent, at least the ulti- mate, success of Robespierre, was becoming more impossible, from the repeated decimations to which his jealousy subjected his party. He was like the wild chief. Lope d'Aguirre, whose story is so well told by Southey, who, descending the great river His most successful production was a comedy, entitled, " Le Philinte de Moliere, ou La Suite du Misanthrope," in which he has traced the beau iilt'al of an honest man. His " QEuvres Mel6es et Posthumes," were published, in two volumes, in 1802. One of the things that seemed most to trouble him after his arrest was, that he had left among his papers an un- published comedy called " L'Orange de Malte," which he considered better than his " Philinte," and which he feared Billaud-Varennes would get hold of, and publish as his own. Mercier, his colleague, says of him, " I do not know whether Fabre's hands were stained by the lavishing of money not his own, but I know that he was a promoter of assassinations ; poor before the 2d of September, 1792, he had afterwards an hotel, and carriages, and servants, and women." " As to Fabre," says Madame Roland, " muffled in a cowl, armed with a poniard, and employed in forging plots to defame the innocent, or to ruin the rich, whose wealth he covets, he is so perfectly in character, that whoever would paint the most abandoned hypocrite, need only draw his portrait in that dress." ^ Westermann was born in 1764, at Molsheim, in Alsace. In December, 1792, he was denounced to the Convention, upon proof, as having, in 1786, stolen some silver plate from a coffee-house. " In La Vendte," says Prudbomme, " he ran from massacre to massacre, sparing neither adversaries taken in arms, northe peaceful inhabitants." M. Beauchamp says that " he delighted in carnage, and would throw off' his coat, tuck up his sleeves, and then, with his sabre, rush into the crowd, and hew about him to the right and left. But from the moment that he apprehended death, his dreams were of the horrors which he had perpetrated." 8 " On the way to execution, Danton cast a calm and con- temptuous look around him. Arrived at the steps of tho scaffold, he advanced to embrace Herault Siichelles, who held out his arras to receive him; the executioner interpos- ing, ' Wliat ! ' said he, with a smile of scorn, ' are you, then, more cruel than death? Begone! you cannot prevent our heads from soon uniting in that basket." For a moment hu was softened, and said, ' Oh ! my beloved ! oh, my wife, I shah never see tliee more!' but instantly checking himself, ex- claimed, ' Danton, no weakness !' and ascended the scaffold." — Thiers, tom. vi., p. 169; Bioff. Mod., tom. i., p. Xii. ' It has been said, that when Danton observed Fabre d'Kg- lantine beginning to look gloomy, he cheered him with a l)lay on words: " Courage, my friend, we are all iibout to take up your trade — Nous aUo)ts/af^e ctcs vejs." FRENCH REVOLUTION. 151 Ol'ellana with a party of Buciuiiers, cut off' one part of his followers after another, in doubt of their fidelity, until the remainder saw no chance for escaping a similar fate, unless by being beforehand with their leader in murder. Alluding to Robespierre's having been the in- strument of his destruction, Danton had himself exclaimed, " The cowardly poltroon ! I am the only person who could have commanded influence enough to save him." ^ And the event .showed that he spoke with the spirit of prophecy which the approach of fate has been sometimes thought to confer. In fact, Robespierre was much isolated by the destiTiction of the party of Hebert, and still more by that of Danton and his followers. He had, so to speak, scarped a^^■ay the ground which he occupied, mitil he had scarce left himself standing-room ; and, detested by honest men, he had alienated, by his successive cruelties, even the knaves who would otherwise have adhered to him for their own safety. All now looked on him with fear, and none dared hope at the hands of the Dictator a better boon than that which is promised to OuTis, that he should be the last devoui-ed. It was at tliis period that Robespierre conceived the idea of reversing the profanities of Chaumette, Hebert, and the atheists, by professing a public behef m the existence of a Deitj'. This, he con- ceived, would at once be a sacrifice to public opi- nion, and, as he hoped to manage it, a new and potent spring, to be moved by his own finger. In a word, he seems to have designed to unite, with his power in the state, the character of High Pon- tifiF of the new faith. As the organ of the Committee of Public Safety, Robespierre, [May 7,] by a speech of great length, and extremely dull, midertook the conversion of the French nation from infidelity. Upon all such occasions he had recoui'se to that gross flattery, which was his great, rarely-failing, and almost sole receipt for popularity. He began by assuring them, that, Ln her lights, and the progress of her improve- ment, France had preceded the rest of Europe by a mark of at least two thousand years ; and that, existing among the ordinary nations of the world, she appeared to belong to another race of beings. Still, he thought, some belief in a Deity would do her no harm. Then he was again hurried away by his eloquence, of which we cannot help giving a literal specimen, to show at how little expense of sense, taste or talent, a man may be held an excel- lent orator, and become dictator of a great nation : — " Yes, the delicious land which we inhabit, and which Nature caresses with so much predilection, is made to be the domain of liberty and of happi- ness ; and that people, at once so open to feehng and to generous pride, are born for glory and for virtue. O my native country ! if fortmie had caused my birth in some region remote from thy shores, I would not the less have addressed constant prayers to Heaven in thy behalf, and would have wept over the recital of thy combats and thy virtues. Aly soul would have followed with restless ardour every change in this eventful Revolution — I would have envied the lot of thy natives — of thy representa- tives. But I am myself a native of France — I am myself a representative. Intoxicating rapture ! — sublime people, receive the sacrifice of my entu-e being ! Happy is he who is born in the midst of tliee ! Moie hajipy he who can lay down his hfe for thy weKare !"* Such was the language which this great dema- gogue held to the " sublime people " whose hves he disposed of at the rate of fifty per day, regular task-work ;^ and who were so well protected in person and property, that no man dared call his hat his own, or answer for ten minutes' space for the security of the head that wore it. Much there was, also, about the rashness of the worshippers of Rea- son, whose steps he accuses of being too premature in her cause — much about England and Mr. Pitt, who, he saj-s, fasted on account of the destruction of the Catholic religion in France, as they wore mourning for Capet and his wife. But the sum- mary of this extraordinary oration was a string of decrees, commencing with a declaration that the Repubhc of Frauce acknowledged the existence of a Supreme Being, in the precise fonn in which the grand nation might have recognised the govern- ment of a co-ordinate state. The other decrees established the nature of the worship to be rendered to the Great Being whom these frail atoms had restored to his place in their thoughts ; and this was to be expressed by dedicating a day in each decade to some peculiar and established Virtue, with hymns and processions in due hono\u' of it, approacliing as near to Paganism as could well be accomplished. The last decree appointed a ftU to be given in honour of the Supreme Being him- self, as the. nation might have celebrated by pubUo rejoicings a pacification with some neighboiuiig power.* The speech was received with servile applause by the Convention. Couthon, with affected enthu- siasm, demanded that not only the speech should be published in the usual form, by supplying each member with six copies, but that the plan should be translated into all languages, and dispersed through the universe. The conducting of this heathen mummery, which was substituted for every external sign of rational devotion, was intrusted to the genius of the painter David ; and had it not been that the daring blas- phemy of the purpose threw a chill upon the sense of ridicule, it was scarcely matched as a masquerade, even by tlie memorable procession conducted by the notorious Orator of the Human Race.^ There was a general muster of all Paris, [June 8,] divided into bands of yomig women and matrons, and old men and youths, with oaken boughs and drawn swords, and all other emblems appertaining to their diff"erent ages. They w^ere iircceded by the repre- sentatives of the people, having their hands full (A ' Lacretelle, torn, xi., p. 3P2. 2 When we read such miserable stuff, and consider the crimes which such oratory occasioned, it reminds us of the opinion of a Mahomedan doctor, who assured Bruce that the l>ef;ial, or Antichrist, Avas to apjiear in tlie form of an ass, and that multitudes were to follow him to hell, attracted by the music of his braying. — S. 3 Thiers, torn, vi., p. 2;)I. ■* Thiers, torn, vi., p. 197. 5 I'oor Anacharsis Cloota! He had been expelled from the Jacobin Club as a Prussian, an ex-noble, and, what jierhajis was not previously suspected, a person of fortune enough to be judged an aristocrat. His real offence was being a He bcrtist, and he suftercd accordingly with the leaders of th.it party. — This note was rather unnecessary ; but Anachar.-.is Clootz was, in point of absurdity, one of the most inimitable personages in the Kevolution.— ij.— See unte, p. (U. 152 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. ears of corn, and spices, and fruits ; while Robes- pierre, their president, clad in a sort of purple gar- ment, moved apart and alone, and played the part of Sovereign Pontiff'.' After marching up and down through the streets, to the sound of doggrel hymns, the procession drew up in the gardens of the Tuileries, before some fire- works which had been prepared, and Robespierre made a speech, entirely addressed to the bystanders, without a word either of prayer or invocation. His acknowledgment of a Divinity was, it seems, limited to a mere admission in point of fact, and involved no worship of tlie Great Being, whose existence he at length condescended to own. He had no sooner made his off"ering, than fire was set to some figures dressed up to resemble Atheism, Ambition, Egot- ism, and other evil principles. The young men then brandished their weapons, the old patted them on the head, the girls flung about their flowers, and the matrons flourished aloft their children, all as it had been set down in David's programme. And this scene of masking was to pass for the repentance of a great people turning themselves again to the Deity, whose worship they had forsaken, and whose being they had denied !^ I will appeal^not to a sincere Christian — but to any philosopher forming such idea of the nature of the Deity, as even mere unassisted reason can attain to, whether there does not appear more impiety in Robespierre's mode of acknowledging the Divmity, tlian in He'bert's horrible avowal of direct Atheism ? The procession did not, in common phrase, take with the people : it produced no striking effect — - awakened no deep feeling. By Catholics it was regarded with horror, by \\ise men of every or no principle as ridiculous ; and there were politicians, who, under the disguise of this religious ceremony, pretended to detect further and deeper schemes of tlie dictator Robespierre. Even in the course of the procession, threats and murmurs had reached liis ears, which the impatient resentment of tlie friends of Danton was unable to suppress ;2 and he saw plainly that he must again betake liimself to the task of murder, and dispose of Tallien, Collot d'Herbois, and others, as he had done successively of He'bert and Danton himself, or else his former victories would but lead to his final ruin. Meanwhile the despot, whose looks made even the democrats of The Mountain tremble, when directed upon them, shrunk himself before the apprehended presence of a young female. Ce'cile Regnault, a girl, and, as it would seem, unarmed, came to his house and demanded to see Robespierre. Her manner exciting some suspicion, she was seized upon by the body-guard of Jacobins, who day and night watched the den of the tyrant, amidst riot and blasphemy, while he endeavoured to sleep under 1 "The most indecent irreligion served as a lever for the subversion of the social order. There was a kind of consist- ency in founding crime upon impiety ; it is an liomage paid to the intimate union of religious opinions witli morality. Robes- pierre conceived the idea of celebrating a festival in honour of the Supreme Being, flattering himself, doubtless, with being able to rest his political ascendency on a religion arranged according to his own notions ; as those have frequently done who have wished to seize the supreme power. But, in the pro<-'e«sion of this impious festival, he bethought himself of walking the first, in order to mark his pre-eminence ; and from that time he was lost."— Mad. de Stael, vol. ii., p. 142. i Thiers, tom. vi., p. 2(50; Lacrctclle, torn, xii., p. 15; Mignet, tom. iL, p. .322; Montgaillard, torn, iv., p. 207. 3 " Lccointre de Versailles, stei)ping up to him said, ' I like your festival, Robespierre, but you I detest mortally.' Bour- don de I'Oise reminded him of Mirabeau's famous saying. the security of their ncighbouraood. W hen the young woman was brought before the Revolutionary Tribunal, she would return no answer to the ques- tions respecting her purpose, excepting that she wished to see " what a tyrant was like." She was condemned to the guillotine of course ; and about sixty persons were executed as associates of a con- spiracy, which was never proved, by deed or word, to have existed at all. The victims were drawn at hazard out of the prisons, where most of them had been confined for months previous to the arrest of Ce'cile Regnault, on whose account they were re- presented as suff'ering.* Many have thought the crime entirely imaginary, and only invented by Robespierre to represent his person as endan- gered by the plots of the aristocracy, and attach to himself a part at least of the consequence, which Marat had acquired by the act of Charlotte Corday.-" A few weeks brought on a sterner encovmter, than that of the supposed female assassin. The Terrorists were divided among themselves. The chosen and ancient bands of the 10th August, 2d Septembei', 31st May, and other remarkable periods of the Revolution, continued attached to the Jaco- bins, and the majority of the Jacobin Club adhered to Robespierre ; it was there his strength consisted. On the other hand, Tallien, Barras, Legendre, Fouche, and other of the Mountain party, remem- bered Danton, and feared for a similar fate. The Convention at large were sure to embrace any course which promised to free them from their present tliraldom. The people themselves were beginning to be less passive. They no longer saw the train of victims pass daily to the guillotine in tlie Place de la Re- volution, with stupid wonder, or overwhelming fear but, on the contrary, with the suUemiess of manifest resentment, that waited but an opportunity to dis- play itself. The citizens in the Rue St. Honore shut up their shops at the hours when the fatal tumbrils passed to the scene of death, and that whole quarter of the city was covered with gloom. These ominous feelings were observed, and the fatal engine was removed to a more obscure situa- tion at the Barrier de la Trone, near the Faux- bourg Saint Antoine, to the inhabitants of which it was thought a daily spectacle of this nature must be an interesting relief from labour. But even the people of that turbulent suburb had lost some of their Republican zeal — the men's feelings were al- tered. They saw, indeed, blood stream in such quantities, that it was necessary to make an artifi- cial conduit to carry it off; but they did not feel that they, or those belonging to them, received any advantages from the number of victims daily immo- lated, as they were assured, in their behalf. The constant effusion of blood, without plunder or license ' the Capitol is near the Tarpeian rock;' many among tie crowd muttered the word 'Tyrant!' adding, ' there are still Brutuses ;' and when, in the course of his speech, he said, 'It is the Great Eternal who has placed in the bosom of the op- pressor the sensation of remorse and terror ;' a powerful voice exclaimed, ' True ! Robespierre, very true ! ' " — Lacreteli.e, tom. xii., p. 18. 4 This unheard-of iniquity is stated in the report of the committee appointed to examine Robespierre's papers, of which Courtois was the reporter. It is rather a curious cir- cumstance that, about the time ofC^cile Regnault's adven- ture, there appeared, at a masked ball at London, a character dressed like the spectre of Charlotte Corday, come, as she said, to seek Robespierre, and iufliet on him tlie doom of Marat.— S. s Mignet, tom. ii., p. 322; Lacretelle, tom, xii,, p. 10; BioO BTo-l., tom. iii., p. 149. FRENCH REVOLUTION. 153 to give it zest, disgusted them, as it would have dis- ; gusted all but literal cannibals, to whose sustenance, I indeed, the Revolutionary Tribunal would have | contributed plentifully.' Robespierre saw all this increasing unpopularity with much anxiety. He plainly perceived that, sti'ong as its impulse was, the stimulus of terror began to lose its effect on the popular mind ; and he resolved to give it novelty, not by changing the character of his system, but by varying the mode of its application. Hitherto, men had only been executed for political crimes, although the circle had been so vaguely drawn, and capable of such extension when desired, that the law regarding suspected persons was alone capable of desolating a whole country. But if the penalty of death were to be inflicted for religious and moral delinquencies, as well as for crimes directed against the state, it would at once throw the lives of thousands at his disposal, upon whom he could have no ready hold on political motives, and might support, at the same time, his newly assumed character as a reformer of maimers. He would also thus escape the disagree- able and embarrassing necessity, of drawing lines of distinction betwixt his own conduct and that of the old friends whom he found it convenient to sacrifice. He could not say he was less a murderer than the rest of his associates, but he might safely plead more external decency of morals. His own manners had always been reserved and austere ; and what a triumph would it have been, had the laws permitted him the benefit of slaying Danton, not under that political character which could hardly be distinguished from his own, but on account of the gross peculation and debauchery, which none could impute to the austere and incorruptible Robes- pierre. His subordinate agents began already to point to a reformation of manners. Payan, who succeeded He'bert in the important station of Procureur to the Commune of the metropolis, had already adopted a very different line from his predecessor, whose style derived energy by printing at full length tlie foulest oaths, and most beastly expressions, used by the refuse of the people. Payan, on the con- trary, in direct opposition to Pere Duchesne, is found gravely advising with the Commune of Paiis, on a plan of preventing the exposing licentious prints and works to sale, to the evident danger of corrupt- ing the rising generation. There exists also a curious address from the Convention, which tends to evince a similar purpose in the framer, RobespieiTC. The guilt of profane swearing, and of introducing the sacred name into ordinary speech, as an unmeaning and blasphemous expletive, is severely censured. The using iudecci-.t and vicious expressions in common discourse is also touched upon ; but as this unbounded energy of speech had been so very lately one of the most accredited marks of a true Sans-Culotte, the legis- lators were compelled to qualify their censure by admitting, that, at the connnencement of the Re- volution, the vulgar mode of speaking had been generally adopted by patriots, in order to destroy the jargon employed" by the privileged classes, and to popularize, as it was expressed, the general lan- guage of .society. But these ends being effected. ' Thiers, torn, vi., p. 29' : Lacrctellc, torn, xii., p. 53. 2 Lacruttlle, torn, xii., l>. 12. the speech of Rx^jmblicans ought, it is said, to bo simple, manly, and concise, but, at the same time^ free from coarseness and violence.^ From these indications, and the tenor of a decree to be hereafter quoted, it seems plain, that Robes- pierre was about to affect a new character, not, perhaps, without the hope of finding a Puritanic party in France, as favourable to his ambitious views as that of the Independents was to Crom- well. He might then have added the word virtue to hberty and equality, which formed the national programme, and, doubtless, would have made it the pretext of committing additional crimes. The decree which we allude to was brought forward [June 8] by the philantliropic Couthon, who, with his kindness of manner, rendered more impressive by a silver-toned voice, and an affectation of ex- treme gentleness, tendered a law, extending the powers of the Revolutionary Tribunal, and the penalty of death, not only to all sorts of persons who should in any manner of way neglect their duty to the Republic, or assist her enemies, but to the following additional classes : All who should have deceived the people or their representatives — all who should have sought to inspire discourage- ment into good citizens, or to favour the under- takings of tyrants — all who should spread false news — all who should seek to lead astray the pub- lic opinion, and to prevent the instruction of the people, or to debauch manners, and corrupt the public conscience ; or who should diminish the pin-ity of revolutionary principles by counter-revo- lutionary works, &c. &.C. &.c.^ It is evident, that compared with a law couched in terms so vague and general, so obscure and in- definite, the description of crimes concerning sus- pected persons was broad sunshine, that there was no Frenchman living who might not be brought within the danger of the decree, under one or other of those sweeping clauses ; that a loose or careless expression, or the repetition of an inaccurate ai-ti- cle of news, might be founded on as corrupting the public conscience, or misleading the public opmion ; in short, that the slightest indulgence in the most ordinary functions of speech might be brought under this comprehensive edict, and so cost the speaker his life. The decree sounded like a deafh-knell in the ears of the Convention. All were made sensible that another decimation of the legislative body ap- proached ; and beheld with terror, that no provi- sion was made in the proposed law for respecting the personal inviolabihty of the deputies, but that the obnoxious members of the Convention, without costing Robespierre even the formality of asking a' decree from their complaisant brethren, might be transferred, like any ordinary individuals, to the butchery of the Revolutionary Tribunal, not only by the medium of cither of the committees, but at the instance of the pubUc prosecutor, or even of any of their own brethren of the representative body, who were acting under a commission. Ru- amps, one of the deputies, exciainicd, in accents of despair, that " if this decree were resolved ujion. the friends of liberty had no other course left than to blow their own brains out." The law passed for the night, in spite of all 3 Sec it ill LacrclcUc, torn, xii., p. 23, 154 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. opposition ; but the terrified deputies returned to the attack next day. The measure was again brought into debate, and the question of privileges was evasively provided for. At a third sitting the theme was renewed ; and, after much violence, the fatal decree was carried, without any of the clogs which had offended Robespierre, and he attained possession of the fatal weapon, such as he had ori- ginally forged it.' From this moment there was moi-tal though Becret war betwixt Robespierre and the most dis- tinguished members of the Assembly, particularly those who had sate with liim on the celebrated Mountain, and shared all the atrocities of Jacobin- ism. Collot d'Herbois, the demolisher of Lyons, and regenerator of Ville Affranchie, threw his weight into the scale against his master ; and seve- ral other members of both committees, which were Robespierre's own organs, began secretly to think on means of screening themselves from a po%ver, which, like the huge Anaconda, enveloped in its coils, and then crushed and swallowed, whatever came in contact with it. The private progress of the schism cannot be traced ; but it is said that the dictator found himself in a minority in the Com- mittee of Public Safety, when he demanded the head of Fouche', whom he had accused as a Dan- tonist in the Convention and the Jacobin Club. It is certain he had not attended the meeting of the Committee for two or tloree weeks before his fall, leaving his interest there to be managed by Cou- thon and Saint Just. Feeling himself thus placed in the lists against his ancient friends the Terrorists, the astucious tyrant endeavoured to acquire allies among the remains of the Girondists, who had been spared in contempt more than clemency, and permitted to hide themselves among the neutral party who occupied The Plain, and who gave generally their votes on the prudential system of adhering to the stronger side. Finding little countenance from this timid and long-neglected part of the legislative body, Robes- pierre returned to his more steady supporters in the Jacobin Club. Here he retained his supremacy, and was heard with enthusiastic applause ; while he intimated to them the defection of certain mem- bers of the legislature from the true revolutionary course ; complained of the inactivity and luke- warmness of the Committees of Public Safety and Public Security, and described himself as a pei-se- 3uted patriot, almost the solitary supporter of the cause of his coimtry, and exposed for that reason to the blows of a thousand assassins. " All patriots," exclaimed Couthon, " are brothers and friends ! For my part I invoke on myself the poniards . * Lacrctelle, torn, xii., p. tXi. ]56 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. waved the sword, which their shortsighted pohcy had placed in his hands. Lists of proscribed de- puties were handed around, said to have heen copied from the tablets of the dictator ; genuine or false, they obtained universal credit and cun-ency ; and those whose names stood on the fatal scrolls, engaged themselves for protection in tlie league against their enemy. The opinion that his fall could not be delayed now became general. This sentiment was so commonly entertained in Paris on the 9th Thermidor, or •27th July, that a herd of about eighty victims, who were in the act of being dragged to the guillotine, were nearly saved by means of it. The people, in a generous burst of compassion, began to gather in crowds, and interrupted the melancholy procession, as if the power which presided over these hideous ex- hibitions had already been deprived of energy. But the hour was not come. The vile Henriot, commandant of the national guards, came up vAth fresh forces, and on the day destined to be the last of his own life, proved the means of carrying to execution this crowd of unhappy and doubtless in- nocent persons. On this eventful day, Robespierre arrived in the Convention, and beheld The Mountain in close ar- ray and completely manned, while, as in the case of Cataline, the bench on which he himself was ac- customed to sit, seemed purposely deserted. Saint Just, Couthon, Le Bas (his brother-in-law,) and the younger Robespierre, were the only deputies of name who stood prepared to support him. But could he make an effectual struggle, he might de- pend upon the aid of the servile Barrei-e, a sort of Belial in the Convention, the meanest, yet not the least able, amongst those fallen spirits, wlio, with great adroitness and ingenuity, as well as wit and eloquence, caught opportunities as they arose, and was eminently dexterous in being always strong upon the strongest, and safe upon the safest side. There was a tolerably numerous party ready, in times so dangerous, to attach themselves to Bar- rere, as a leader who professed to guide them to safety, if not to honour ; and it was the existence of this vacillating and uncertain body, whose ulti- mate motions could never be calculated upon, which rendered it impossible to presage with as- surance the event of any debate in the Convention during this dangerous period. Saint Just arose, in the name of the Committee of Public Safety, to make, after his own manner, not theirs, a report on the discourse of Robespierre on the previous evening. He had begun an ha- rangue in the tone of his patron, declaring that, were the tribune which he occupied the Tarpeiau rock itself, he would not the less, placed as he stood there, discharge the duties of a patriot. — " I am about," he said, " to lift the veil." — " I tear it asun- der," said Tallien, interrupting him : " the public interest is sacrificed by individuals, who come hither to speak exclusively in their own name, and con- duct themselves as superior to the whole Conven- tion." He forced Sauit Just from the tribune, and a violent debate ensued. Billaud-Varennes called the attention of the As- sembly to the sitting of the Jacobin Club on the preceding evening. He declared the military force of Paris was placed under the command of Henriot, a traitor and a parricide, who was ready to march the soldiers wliom he f;ommanded acainst the Con- vention. He denoimced Robespierre himself as a second Cataline, artful as well as ambitious, whose system it had been to nurse jealousies and inflame dissensions in the Convention, so as to disunite parties, and even individuals, from each other,' attack them in detail, and thus destroy those anta- gonists separately, upon whose combined and united strength he dared not have looked. The Convention echoed with applause every vio- lent expression of the orator, and when Robespierre sprung to the tribune, his voice was drowned by a general shout of " Down with the tyrant 1 " Tallien moved the denunciation of Robespierre, with the arrest of Henriot, his staff-officers, and of others connected with the meditated violence on the Con- vention. He had undertaken to lead the attack upon the tyrant, he said, and to poniard him in the Convention itself, if the members did not show cou- rage enough to enforce the law against him. With these words he brandished an imsheathed poniard, as if about to make his purpose good. Robespierre still struggled hard to obtain audience, but the tri- bmie was adjudged to Barrere ; and the part taken against the fallen dictator by that versatile and self-interested statesman, was the most absolute sign that his overthrow was irrecoverable. Tor- rents of invective were now uttered from every quarter of the hall, against him whose single word was wont to hush it into silence. The scene was dreadful ; yet not without its use to those who may be disposed to look at it as an extraordinary crisis, in which human passions were brought so singularly into collision. While the vaults of the hall echoed with exclamations from those who had hitherto been the accomplices, the flatterers, the followers, at least the timid and over- awed assentators to the dethroned demagogue — he himself, breathless, foaming, exhausted, like the hunter of classical antiquity when on the point of being overpowered and torn to pieces by his own hounds, tried in vain to raise those screech-owl notes, by which the Convention had formerly been terrified and put to silence. He appealed for a hearing from the president of the assembly, to the various parties of which it was composed. Re- jected by the Mountaineers, his former associates, who now headed the clamour against him, he ap- plied to the Girondists, few and feeble as they were, and to the more numerous but equally helpless de- puties of The Plain, with whom they sheltered. The former shook him from them with disgust, the last with horror. It was in vain he reminded in- dividuals that he had spared their lives, while at his mercy. This might have been applied to every member in the house ; to every man in France ; for who was it during two years that had lived on other terms than under Robespierre's permis- sion ? and deeply must he internally have regretted the clemency, as he might term it, which had left so many with ungashed throats to bay at him. But his agitated and repeated appeals were repulsed by some with indignation, by others with sullen, or embarrassed and timid silence. A British historian must say, that even Robes- pierre ought to have been heard in his defence ; and that such calmness would have done honour to the Convention, and dignified their final sentence of condemnation. As it was, they no doubt treated the guilty individual according to his deserts ; but they fell short of that r, an Essay against the Punish- ment of Death, which gained the prize awarded by the Roya Societv of Metz. 3 I'assantI nc pleure point son sort : Car s'il vivait, tu serais nuut. ICO SCOTT'S I\ILSCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. when it was objected to him, that he had had the common executioner to dine in company with liim, lie answered, " That dehcate people might thmk that wrong ; but Lequinio (another Jacobin pro- consul of horrible celebrity) had made the same useful citizen the companion of his leisure, and hours of relaxation."' He acknowledged with the same equanimity, that an aristocrat being con- demned to the guillotine, he kept him lying in the usual posture upon liis back, with his eyes turned up to the axe, which was suspended above his throat, — in short, in all the agonies which can agi- tate the human mind, when within a hair's breadth of tlie distance of tlie great separation between Time and Eternity, — until he had read to him, at length, the Gazette which had just arrived, giving an account of a victory gained by the Republican armies. This monster, with Heron, Rossignol, and other agents of terror more immediately connected with Robespierre, were ordered for arrest, and shortly after for execution. Tallien and Barras would iiave here paused Th the retrospect ; but similar accusations now began to pour in from every quarter, and when once stated, were such as commanded public attention in the most forcible manner. Those who invoked vengeance, backed the solicitations of each otlier — the general voice of mankind was with them ; and leaders who had shared the excesses of the Reign of TeiTor, Ther- midoriens as they were, began to see some danger of being themselves buried in the ruins of the power which they had overthrown.^ Tallien, who is sujiposed to have taken the lead in the extremely difficult navigation which lay before the vessel of the state, seems to have expe- rienced a change in his own sentiments, at least his principles of action, inclining him to the cause of humanity. He was also, it is said, urged to so favourable a modification of feelings by his newly married wife, formerly Madame Fontenai, who, bred a royalist, had herself been a victim to the law of suspicion, and was released from a prison^ to receive the hand, and influence the activity of the repubUcan statesman. Barras, who, as com- manding the armed force, might be termed the hero of the 9th Thermidor, was supposed to be also inclined towards humanity and moderation. Thus disposed to destroy the monstrous system which had taken root in France, and which, indeed, in the increasing impatience of the country, they would have found it impossible to maintain, Tallien and Barras had to struggle, at the same time to diminish and restrict the general demand for re- ' Mercier, in his Nouveau Tahlean de Paris, has devoted a chapter to tliis personage. " What a man," he says, "is that Samson! Insensible to suffering, he wasalways identified with the axe of execution. He has beheaded the most powerful monarch in Europe, his Queen, Couthon, Brissot, Robespierre — and all this with a composed countenance. He cuts of}' the head that is brought to him, no matter whose. What does lie s,ay? What does he think? I should like to know what passes in his head, and whether he has considered his terrible functions only as a trade. The more I meditate on this man, the president of the great miissacre of tlie human species, overthrowing crowned heads like that of the purest republi- can, without moving a muscle, the more my ideas are con- founded. How did he sleep, after receiving the last words, the last looks of all these severed heads ? I really would give a trifle to be in the soul of this man for a few hours. He sleeps, it is said, and, very likely, his conscience may be at per- fect rest. He is sometimes present at the Vaudeville: he laughs, looks at me ; my head has escaped him, he knows no- thing about it; and as that is very indifferent to him, I never grow weary of contemplating in him the indifference with wluch he has sent that crowd of men to the other world." venge, at a time when, if past tyranny was to be strictly inquired into and punished, the doom, sua Carrier himself told them, would have involved every thing in the Convention, not excepting the president's bell and his arm-chair. So powerful were these feelings of resisting a retrospect, that the Thermidoriens declined to support Le Cointre in bringing forward a general charge of inculpation against the two Committees of Public Safety and Public Security, in which accusation, notwithstand- ing their ultimate quarrel with Robespierre, he showed their intimate conne.xion with him, and their joint agency in all which had been imputed to him as guilt. But tlie time was not mature for hazarding such a general accusation, and it was rejected by the Convention with marks of extreme displeasure.* Still, however, the general voice of humanity demanded some farther atonement for two years of outrage, and to satisfy this demand, the Thermido- riens set themselves to seek victims connected more immediately with Robespierre ; while they endea- voured gradually to form a party, which, setting out upon a principle of amnesty, and oblivion of the past, should in future pay some regard to that preservation of the lives and property of tlie go- verned, which, in every other system saving that which had been just overthrown in France, is re- garded as the principal end of civil government. With a view to the consolidation of such a party, the restrictions of the press were removed, and men of talent and literature, silenced during the reign of Robespierre, were once more admitted to e.xercise their natural influence in favour of civil order and religion. Marmontel, I^a Harpe, and others, who, in their youth, had been enrolled in the list of Voltaire's disciples, and amongst the infidels of the Encyclopedie, now made amends for their youthful errors, by e.xerting themselves in the cause of good morals, and of a regulated govern- ment.* At length followed that general and long-desired measure, which gave liberty to so many thousands, by suspending the law denouncing suspected per sons, and emptying at once of their inhabitants the prisons, which had hitherto only transmitted them to the guillotine.® The tales which these victims of Jacobinism had to repeat, when revealing the secrets of their prison-house, together with the moral influence produced by such a univeral gaol- delivery, and the reunion which it eff'ected amongst friends and relations that had been so long sepa- rated, tended greatly to strengthen the hands of 2 Lacretelle, torn, xii., p. 204; Chateaubriand, Etud. Hist., torn, i., p. 102 ; Prudhomme, Victimes de la Rev., torn, ii., p. 274. On the scaffold, when the red shirt was thrown over him, he exclaimed, " It is not I who should put it on : it should be sent to the Convention, for I have only executed their ordera.' —JiSiog. Mod., vol. ii., p. 267. 3 She was the daughter of Count Cabarus. During her im- prisonment, she had formed a close intimacy with Josephine Beauharnais, afterwards the wife of Napoleon. These ladies were the first to proscribe the revolutionary manners, and seized every opportunity of saving those whom the existing fovernment wished to immolate. The marriage of Madame ontenai with Tallien was not a happy one. On his return from Egypt, a separation took place, and in 1805 she married M. de Caraman, pricce of Chemai. * Lacretelle, tom. xii., p. l.tl. 5 Lacretelle, tom. xii., p. I'M. 6 " In the space of eight or ten days, out of ten thiusand suspected persons, not one remained in the prisons of Paris." — Lachi:ti:i,i.k, tom. xii , p. M."i. FRENCH REA^OLUTION. 161 the Thormidoriens, who still boasted of that name, and to consolidate a rational and moderate party, both in the capital an d^ provinces. It is, however, by no means to be wondered at, that the liberated sufferers showed a disposition to exercise retribu- tion in a degree which their liberators trembled to indulge, lest it might have recoiled upon them- selves. Still both parties united against the re- mains of the Jacobins. A singular and melancholy species of force sup- ported these movements towards civilisation and order. It was levied among the orphans and youth- ful friends of those who had fallen under the fatal guillotine, and amounted in number to two or three thousand young men, who acted in concert, were distinguished by black collars, and by their hair being plaited and turned up a la Tictime, as prepa- red for the guillotine. This costume was adopted in memory of the principle of mourning on which they were associated. These volunteers were not regularly armed or disciplined, but formed a sort of free corps, who opposed themselves readily and effectually to the Jacobins, when they attempted their ordinary revolutionary tactics of exciting par- tial insurrections, and intimidating the orderly citi- zens by shouts and violence. Many scuffles took place betwixt the parties, with Tarious success ; but ultimately the spirit and courage of the young Avengers seemed to give them daily a more deci- ded superiority. The Jacobins dai'ed not show themselves, that is, to avouch their principles, either at the places of public amusement, or in the Palais Royal, or the Tuileries, all of which had fonnerly witnessed their victories. Their assem- blies now took place under some appearance of secrecy, and were held in remote streets, and with such marks of diminished audacity as augured that the spirit of the party was crest-fallen. ^ Still, however, the Jacobin party possessed dreadful leaders in Billaud-Varennes and Collot d'Herbois, who repeatedly attempted to awaken its terrific energy. These demagogues had joined, indeed, in the struggle against Robespierre, but it was with the expectation that an Amurath was to succeed au Amurath — a Jacobin a Jacobin — not for the purpose of relaxing the reins of the revolu- tionary government, far less changing its character. These veteran revolutionists must bo considered as separate from those who called themselves Tlier- midoriens, though they lent their assistance to the revolution on the 9th Thermidor. They viewed as deserters and apostates Legendre, Le Cointre, and others, above all Tallien and Barras, who, in the full height of their career, had paused to take breath, and were now endeavouring to shape a course so different from that which they Iiad hi- therto pursued. These genuine Sans-Culottes endeavoured to rest their own power and popularity upon the same basis as fonnerly. They re-opened the sittings of the Jacobin Club, shut up on the 9th Thermidor. This ancient revolutionary cavern again heard its roof resound with denunciations, by which Vadier, Billaud-Varennes, and others, devoted to the in- fernal deities Le-Cointre, and those, who, they complained, wished to involve all honest Rcp''bli- cans in the charges brought against Robespierre and his friends. Those threats, however, were no longer rapidly followed by the thunder-bolts which used to attend such flashes of Jacobin eloquence. Men's homes were now in comparison safe. A man might be named in a Jacobin dub as an Aristocrat, or a Moderate, and yet live. In fact, the dema- gogues were more anxious to secure immunity for their past crimes, than at present to incur new censure. The tide of general opinion was flowing strongly against them, and a singular incident in- creased its power, and rendered it irresistible. The Parisians had naturally enough imagined, that the provinces could have no instances of Jaco- binical cruelty and misrale to describe, more tragic and appalling than the numerous executions which the capital had exhibited every day. But the arri- val of eighty prisoners, citizens of Nantes, charged with tiie usual imputations cast upon suspected persons, imdeceived them. These captives had been sent, for the purpose of being tried at Paris, before the Revolutionary Tribunal. Fortunately, they did not arrive till after Robespierre's fall, and consequently when they were looked upon rather as oppressed persons than as criminals, and were listened to more as accusers of those by whom they were persecuted, than as culprits on their defence. It was then that the metropolis first heard of horrors which we have formerly barely hinted at. It was then they were told of crowds of citizens, most of whom had been favourable to the repub- lican order of things, and had borne arms against the Vendeans in their attack upon Nantes ; men accused upon grotmds equally slight, and incapable of proof, having been piled together in dungeons, where the air was pestilential from ordure, from the carcasses of the dead, and the infectious diseases of the dying. It was then they heard of Republican baptism and Republican marriages — of men, wo- men, and children sprawling togi-ther, like toads and frogs in the season of spring, in the waters of the Loire, too shallow to afford thorn instant death.' It was then they heard of a hundred other abo- minations — how those uppermost upon the expir- ing mass prayed to be thrust into the deeper water, that they might have the means of death — and of much more that humanity forbears to de- tail ; but in regard to which, the sliarp, sudden, and sure blow of the Parisian guillotine was clemency.- This tale of horrors could not be endured ; and the point of immediate collision between the Thcr- midoriens, compelled and driven onward by the public voice and feeling, and the remnant of the old Jacobin faction, became the accusation of Car- rier, the commissioned deputy under whom these unheard-of horrors had been perpetrated. Ven- geance on the head of this wretch was so loudly demanded, that it could not be denied even by those influential persons, who, themselves deeply interested in preventing recrimination, would wil- lingly have drawn a veil over the past. Through the whole impeachment and defence, tlie Thormi- doriens stood Oil the most di^licate and cmbaiTass- iug ground ; for horrid as his actions wci-e, he had in general their own authority to plead for them. For example, a letter was produced with those di- rections to General Ilaxo — " It is my plan to carry off from that accursed country all manner of sub- ' Lacretelle, tcm. xii., p. 147. ' Toiilongeon, tcm. v., p. Hit' Thiers, torn. VOL. II. P 11/ Lacretelle, an. tnm. xii., p. \K>; Montgaillnni. torn, it., p. 1G2 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. sistence or provisions for man or beast, all forage — in a word, every thing — give all tlie buildings to the flames, and exterminate the whole inhabitants. Oppose their being relieved by a single grain of corn for their subsistence. I give thee the most positive, most imperious order. Thou art answer- able for the execution from this moment. In a word, leave nothing in that proscribed country — let the means of subsistence, provisions, forage, every thing — absolutely every thing, be removed to Nantes." Tlie representatives of the French nation heard with horror such a fiendish commis- sion ; but with what sense of sliame and abasement nmst they have listened to Carrier's defence, in which he proved he was only literally executing the decrees of the very Convention which was now inquiring into his conduct ! A lunatic, who, in a lucid moment, hears some one recount the crimes and cruelties he committed in his frenzy, might perhaps enter into their feelings. They were not tlie less obliged to continue the inquiry, fraught as it was with circumstances so disgraceful to them- selves ; and Cai-rier's impeachment and conviction proved the point on which the Thermidoriens, and those who continued to entertain the violent popu- lar opinions, were now at issue. The atrocious CaiTier was taken imder the avowed protection of the Jacobin Club, before which audience he made out a case which was heard with applause. He acknowledged his enor- mities, and pleaded his patriotic zeal ; ridiculed the delicacy of those who cared whether an aristocrat died by a single blow, or a protracted death ; was encouraged throughout by acclamations, and re- ceived assurances of protection from the remnant of that once formidable association. But their magic influence was dissolved — their best orators had fallen successively by each other's impeachment — and of their most active ruffians, some had been killed or executed, some had fled, or lay concealed, many were in custody, and the rest had become intimidated. Scarce a man who had signalized him- self in the French Revolution, but had enjoyed the applause of these demagogues, as versatile in per- sonal attachments, as steady in their execrable prin- ciples — scarce one whom they had not been active in sacrificing. Nevertheless, those members of the Revolution- ary Committees, who had so lately lent their aid to dethrone Robespierre, the last idol of the Society, ventured to invoke them in their own defence, and that of their late agents. Billaud-Varennes, ad- dressing the Jacobins, spoke of tlie Convention as men spared by their clemency during the reign of Robespierre, who now rewarded the Mountain de- puties by terming them Men of Blood, and by seek- ing the death of those worthy patriots, Joseph Lebon and Carrier, who were about to fall under their counter-revolutionary violence. These excellent citizens, he said, were persecuted, merely because their zeal for the Republic had been somewhat ardent — their forms of proceeding a little rash and severe. He invoked the awaking of the Lion — a new revolutionary rising of the people, to tear the limbs and drink the blood' — (these were the ■ " Brieer lens membreB, et boire leur sang." — Thiehs, tiim. vii., p. 121. " Nager dans luur sang." — Lacretbllk, [(,111. xii.. ]>. l,")?. 2 Lacietcllc, tnin. xii., p. 154. * Lacretellc, torn, xii , p. 177- very words) — of those who had dared to beard them. The meeting dispersed with shouts, and vows to answer to the halloo of their leaders. But the opposite party had learned that such menaces were to be met otherwise than by merely awaiting the issue, and then trying the force of remonstrances, or the protection of the law, with those to whom the stronger force is the only satis- fying reason. Well organized, and directed by military officers in many instances, large bands of Anti-jacobins, as we may venture to call the volunteer force already mentioned, appeared in the neighbourhood of the suburbs, and kept in check those from whom the Mother Club expected its strongest aid ; while the main body of the young Avengers marched down upon the citadel of the enemy, and invested the Jacobin Club itself in the midst of its sitting. These demagogues made but a wretched defence when attacked by that species of popular violence, which they had always considered as their own especial weapon ; and the facility with which they were dispersed, amid ridicule and ignominy, served to show how easily, on former occasions, the mutual understanding and spirited exertion of well-dis- posed men could have at any time prevented crimi- nal violence from obtaining the mastery. Had La Fayette marched against and shut up the Jacobin Club, the world would have been spared many horrors, and in all probability he would have found the task as easy as it proved to those bands of in- censed j'oungmen. — It must be mentioned, though the recital is almost unworthy of history, that the female Jacobins came to rally and assist their male associates, and that several of them were seized upon and punished in a manner, which might excel- lently suit their merits, but which shows that the young associates for maintaining order were not sufficiently aristocratic to be under the absolute restraints imposed by the rules of chivalry. It is impossible, however, to grudge the flagellation ad- ministered upon this memorable occasion.^ When the Jacobins had thus fallen in the popu- lar contest, they could expect little success in the Convention ; and the less, that the impulse of general feeling seemed about to recall into that Assembly, by the reversal of their outlawry, the remnant of the imhappy Girondists, and other mem- bers, who had been arbitrarily proscribed on the 31st of May. The measure was delayed for some time, as tending to eff"ect a change in the composi- tion of the House, which the ruling party might find inconvenient. At length upwards of sixty deputies were first declared free of the outlawry, and finally re-admitted into the bosom of the Con- vention, with heads which had beenito long worn in insecurity, that it had greatly cooled their love of political theory.^ In the mean time the government, through means of a revolutionary tribunal, acting however with much more of legal formality and caution than that of Robespierre, made a sacrifice to the public desire of vengeance. Lebon, Carrier, already mentioned, Fouquier-Tainville,* the public accuser under Ro- bespierre, and one or two others of the same class, < Fouquier-Tainville made an able defence, wbich he con- cliulcd with saying, " I wiis liut the axe of the Convention, and would you punish an axe?" Merciersays, " while stand- ing before the Tribunal, from wliich he had condemned so many victims, he kept cuiistantly writin;^ ; but, like Argus. FRENCH REVOLUTION. 1 fi.S . selected on account of the peculiar infamy and cruelty of their conduct, were condemned and exe- euted, as an atonement for injured humanity. Here, probably, the Thermidoriens would have wished the reaction to stop ; but this was impos- sible. Barras and Tallien perceived plainly, that with whatever caution and clemency they might proceed towards their old allies of The Mountain, there was still no hope of any tiling like reconcilia- tion ; and that their best policy was to get rid of them as speedily and as quietly as they could. The Mountain, like a hydra whose heads bourgeoned, according to the poetic expression, as fast as they were cut off, continued to hiss at and menace the government with unwearied malignity, and to agi- tate the metropolis by their intrigues, which were the more easily conducted that the winter was severe, bread had become scarce and high-priced, and tlic common people of course angry and discon- tented. Scarcity is always the grievance of which the lower classes must be most sensible ; and when it is remembered that Robespierre, though at the expense of the grossest injustice to the rest of the kingdom, always kept bi'ead beneath a certain maxi- mum or fixed price in the metropolis, it will not be wondered at that the population of Paris should be willing to favour those who followed his maxims. The impulse of these feelings, joined to the machi- nations of the Jacobins, showed itself in many dis- orders. At length the Convention, pressed by shame on the one side and fear on the other, saw the necessity of some active measure, and appointed a commis- sion to consider and report upon the conduct of the four most obnoxious Jacobin chiefs, Collot d'Her- bois, Billaud-Varennes, Vadier,' and Barrere.^ The report was of course unfavourable ; yet, upon the case being considered, the Convention were satis- I fied to condemn them to transportation to Cayenne. ! Some resistance was offered to this sentence, so mild in proportion to what those who underwent it had been in the habit of inflicting ; but it was borne down, and the sentence was carried into execution. Collot d'Herbois, the demolisher and depopulator of Lyons, is said to have died in the common hospital, in consequence of drinking off at once a whole bottle of ardent spirits.^ Billaud- Varennes spent his time in teaching the innocent parrots of Guiana the frightful jargon of the Revolu- tionary Committee ; and finally perished in misery.* all eyes and ears, he lost nothing that was said or done. He affected to sleep during the public accuser's recapitulation, as if to feign tranquillity, while he had hell in his heart. ^ When led to execution, he answered the hisses of the popu- lace by sinister predictions. At the foot of the scaffold he seemea, for thte first time, to feel remorse, and trembled as he ascended it." In early life, Fouquier scribbled poetry for the journals. Some verses of his, in praise of Louis XVI., will be found in the notes to Delille's " La Pitii." ' Vadier contrived to conceal himself in Paris, and thereby avoided his sentence. He continued to reside in the capital np to the law of the 12th January, 1816, when he was com- pelled to quit France. He died at Brussels, in liao, at the ape of ninety-three. 2 Barrere contrived to be left behind, at the isle of Oliron, when his colleagues sailed for Cayenne ; upon which Bour- gault observed, that " it was the first time he had ever failed to sail with the wind." He also remained in France, till the law of January, 1816, compelled him to leave it. ^ M. Piton, who, in 1797, was himself transported to Cay- enne by the Directory gives, in his " Voyage a Cayenne," the following account of the death of Collot d'Herbois; — "He was lying ujion the ground, his face exposed to a l)urning sun, in a raging fever — the negroes, who were appointed to liear him from Kouron to Cayenne, having thrown him down to perish ; a surgeon, who found him in this situation, asked him These men both belonged to that class of atheists, who, looking uj) towards heaven, loudly and liter- ally defied the Deity to make his existence known by launching his thunderbolts. Miracles are not wrought on the challenge of a bla.sphemer more than on the detnand of a sceptic ; but both these unhappy men had probably before their death rea- son to confess, that in abandoning the wicked to their own free will, a greater penalty results even in this life, than if Providence had been pleased to inflict the immediate doom which they had im- piously defied. The notice of one more desperate attempt at popular insurrection, finishes, in a great measure, the history of Jacobinism and of The Mountain ; of those, in short, who professed the most outra- geous popular doctrines, considered as a political body. They continued to receive great facilities from the increasing dearth, and to find ready op- portunities of agitating the discontented part of a population, disgusted by the diminution not only of comforts, but of the very means of subsistence. The Jacobins, therefore, were easily able to excite an insurrection of the same description as those which had repeatedly influenced the fate of the Revolution, and which, in fact, proceeded to greater extremities than any which had preceded it in the same desperate game. The rallying word of the rabble was " Bread, and the Democratic Constitu- tion of 1793 ;" a constitution which the Jacobins had projected, but never attempted seriously to put into force. No insurrection had yet appeared more formidable in numbers, or better provided in pikes, muskets, and cannon. On the first of Prai- rial [•20th May] they invested the Convention, with- out experiencing any effectual opposition ; burst into the hall, assassinated one deputy, Ferraud, by a pistol-shot, and paraded his head amongst his trembling brethren, and through the neighbouring streets and environs on a pike. They presented Boissy d'Anglas, the President, with the motions which they demanded should be passed ; but were defeated by the firmness with which he prefen'ed his duty to his life.^ The steadiness of the Convention gave at length confidence to the friends of good order without. The national guards began to muster strong, and the insurgents to lose spirits. They were at length, notwithstanding their formidable appearance, dis- persed with very little effort. The tumult, how- what ailed him, he replied, ' J'ai la fidvre, et une sueur bru- lante ! ' — ' Je le crois bien, vous suez le crime,' was the bitter rejoinder. He expired, vomiting froth and blood, calling upon that God whom he had so often renounced!" M. Piton de- scribes Collot as not naturally wicked, — "11 avait d'excel- lentes qualites du cot^ du cceur, bcaucoup de clinquant du cot6 de I'esjirit ; un caractfere faible et irascible k I'exces ; g^n(?reux sans homes, bon ami, et ennenii implacable. I.a Revolution a fait sa ]ierte." ^ " After Billaud-Varennes reached Cayenne, his life was a continued scene of romantic adventures. He escaped to Mexico, and entered, under the name of Pol vcar])Us.Varenncs, the Dominican convent of Porto Ricco. Obliged "to flee the continent for the part he took in the disputes between the Spanish colonies and the mother countrv, Pethion, then pre- sident of Hayti, not only afforded him .-in asylum, but made him his secretary. After Pethion's death. Buyer refusing to employ him. he went to the United States, and died at Phila- delphia in KUil." — Ulug. Univ. 5 " They held up to him the bloody head of Ferraud ; he turned aside with hornir: they again presented it, arid he bowed before the remains of the martvr ; nor would he quit the chair till comjielled by the efforts of his liieiuis; and ilie insurgents, awed with respect, allowed him to rclirc unmo- lested."— Lachktei.lk, torn, xii., p. 2il. 1G4 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WOEKS. ever, was renewed on the two followinf; days ; until at length the necessity of taking sufficient mea- sures to end it at once and for ever, became evident to all. Pichegni, the conqueror of Holland, who chanced to be in Paris at the time, was placed at the head of the national guards and the volunteers, whose character we have noticed elsewhere. At the head of this force, he marched in military order towards the Fauxbourg Saint Antoine, which had poured forth repeatedly the bands of armed insurgents that were the principal force of the Jacobins. After a show of defending themselves, the inha- bitants of this disorderly suburb were at length obliged to surrender up their arms of every kind. Those pikes, which had so often decided the des- tinies of France, were now delivered up by cart- loads ; and the holy righ.t of insurrection was ren- dered in future a more dangerous and difficult task.» Encouraged by the success of this decisive mea- sure, the government proceeded against some of the TeiTorists whom tliey had hitherto spared, but whose fate was now determined, in order to strike dismay into their party. Six Jacobins, accounted among the most ferocious of the class, were aiTested as encouragers of the late insurrection, and de- livered up to be tried by a military commission. They were all deputies of The ilountain gang. Certain of their doom, they adopted a desperate re- solution. Among the whole party, they possessed but one knife, but they resolved it should serve them all for the purpose of suicide. The instant their sentence was pronounced, one stabbed him- self wiih this weapon ; another snatched the knife from his companion's dying hand, plunged it m his own bosom, and handed it to the third, who imitated the dreadful example. Such was the con- sternation of the attendants, that no one arrested the fatal progress of the weapon — all fell either dead or desperately wounded — the last were de- spatched by the guillotine.''^ After this decisive victory, and last dreadful catastrophe, Jacobinism, considered as a pure and unmixed party, can scarce be said to have again raised its head in France, although its leaven has gone to qualify and characterise, in some degree, more than one of the different parties which have succeeded them. As a political sect, the Jacobins can be compared to none that ever existed, for none but themselves ever thought of an organized, regular, and continued system of murdering and plundering the rich, that they might debauch the poor by the distribution of their spoils. They bear, however, some resemblance to the frantic followers of John of Leyden and Knipperdoling, who occu- pied Munster in the seventeenth century and com- mitted, in the name of Religion, the same frantic horrors which the French Jacobins did in that of Freedom. In both cases, the courses adopted by these parties were most foreign to, and inconsistent with, the alleged motives of their conduct. The Anabaptists practised every species of vice and cruelty, by the dictates, they said, of inspiration — the Jacobins imprisoned three hundred thousand of their countrjTiien in name of liberty, and put to death more than half the number, under the sanc- tion of fraternity. Now at length, however, society began to re- sume its ordinary course, and the business and plea- sures of life succeeded each other as usual.' But even social pleasures brought with them strange and gloomy associations with that Valley of the Shadow of Death, through which the late pilgrim- age of France appeared to have lain. An Assem- bly for dancing, very much frequented by the young of both sexes, and highly fashionable, was called the " Ball of the Victims." The qualifica- tion for attendance was the having lost some near and valued relation or friend in the late Reign of Terror. The hair and head-dress were so arranged as to resemble the preparations made for the guil- lotine, and the motto adopted was, " We dance amidst tombs." ■* In no country but France could the incidents have taken place which gave rise to this association ; and certainly in no country but France would they have been used for such a pur- pose. But it is time to turn from the consideration of the internal government of France, to its external relations ; in regard to which the destinies of the country rose to such a distinguished height, that it is hardly possible to reconcile the two pictures of a nation, triumphant at every point against all Europe coalesced against her, making efforts and obtaining victories, to which history had been yet a stranger; while, at the same time, her affairs at home were directed by ferocious bloodthirsty savages, such as RobespieiTC. The Republic, regarded in her foreign and domestic relations, might be fancifidly compared to the tomb erected over some hero, pre- senting, without, trophies of arms and the emblems of victory, while, within, there lies only a mangled and corrupted corpse. • Mignet, torn, ii., p. 370; Thiers, torn, vii., p. 371; Lacre- telle, torn, xii., p. 220. 2 Rorame, Bourljotte, Duquesnoj, Duroi, Soubrani, and Goujon. Five out of the six had voted for the death of tlie King.— See Mignet, torn, ii., p. 3/3; Montgaillard, torn, iv., p. 335; Lacreteile, torn, xii., p. 230. 3 At the theatres tlie favourite air " I.e Reveil du Peuple," was called for several times in tlic ccurrse of an evening. The tew of the maxiinuni, and tlie prohil>itions against Christian worship were repealed ; and this was followed by an act re- CHAPTER XVIII. Hetrospcctire View of the External Relations of France — Her great Military Successes — Whe)ice they arose — Effect of the Compulsory Levies — 31 i- litary Genius and Character of the French — . French Generals — New Mode of Training the Troops — Light Troops — Siiccessire Attacks in Column — Attachment of the Soldiers to the Rero- lution — Also of the Generals — Carnut — Effect of the French principles preached to the Countries invaded by their Arms — Close of the Revolution with the fall of Robespierre — Reflections upon what was to succeed. It may be said of victory, as the English satirist has said of wealth, that it cannot be of much im- portance in the eye of Heaven, considering in what unworthy association it is sometimes fomid.* storing to the families of those executed during the Revolution such part of their property as had not been disposed of.— Lacrktelle, torn, xii., p. 182. ■♦ Mignet, torn, ii., p. 356; Lacreteile, torn, xii., p. 1/4. s " Riches, in effect. No grace of Heav"n or token of th' Elect ; Giv'n to the fool, the mad, th.e vain, the evil. To 'Ward, to 'WaUrs, Cliartres, aiul the Devil." Pops FRENCH REVOLUTION. 1G5 Wliile the rulers of France were disowning the ^ ery existence of a Deity, her armies appeared to move almost as if protected by the especial favour of Providence. Our former recapitulation pre- sented a slight sketch of the perilous state of France in 1793, surrounded by foes on almost every frontier, and with difficulty maintaining her groxmd on any point ; yet the lapse of two years found her victorious^'Ciay, triumphantly victorious, on all. On the north-eastern frontier, the English, after a series of hard-fighting, had lost not only Flanders, on which we left them advancing, but Holland it- self, and had been finally driven with great loss to abandon the Contment. The King of Prussia had set out on his first campaign as the chief hero of the coalition, and had engaged that the Duke of Brunswick, his general, should put down the revo- lution in France as easily as he had done that of Holland. But finding the enterprise which he had undertaken was above his strength ; that liis accu- mulated treasures were exhausted in an unsuccess- ful war; and that Austria, not Prussia, was regarded as the head of the coalition, he drew off his forces, after they had been weakened by more than one defeat, and made a separate peace with Fi-ance, in which he renounced to the new Republic the sove- reignty of all those portions of the Prussian terri- tory which lay on the east side of the Rhme. The King, to make up for these losses, sought a more profitable, though less honourable field of warfare, and concurred with Russia and Austria in effecting by conquest a final partition and appropriation of Poland, on the same unprincipled plan- on which the first had been conducted. Spain, victoi'ious at the beginning of the con- quest, had been of late so unsuccessful in opposing the French armies, that it was the opinion of many that her character for valour and patriotism was lost for ever. Catalonia was over-run by the Re- publicans, Rosas taken, and no army intervening betwixt the victors and Madrid, the King of Spain was oblig«d to clasp hands with the murderers of his kinsman, Louis XVI., acknowledj^e the French Republic, and withdraw from the coalition. Austria had well sustained her ancient renown, both by the valour of her tx'oops, the resolution of her cabinet, and the talents of one or two of her /:enerals, — the Archduke Charles in particular, and the veteran Wurmser. Yet she too had succumbed under the Republican superiority. Belgium, as the French called Flanders^, was, as already stated, totally lost ; and war along the Rhine was con- tinued by Austria, more for defence than with a hope of conquest. So much and so generally had the fortune of war declared in favour of France upon all points, even while she was herself sustaining the worst of evils from the worst of tyrannies. There must have been unquestionably several reasons for such suc- cess as seemed to attend universally on the arras of the Republic, instead of being limited to one peculiarly efficient army, or to one distinguished general. The first and most powerful cause must be looked for in the extraordinary energy of the Republican government, which, from its very commencement, threw all subordinate considerations aside, and de- voted the wlwle resources of tlie country to its military defence. It was then that France fully learned the import of the word " Requisition," as meaning that which government needs, and which must at all hazards be supplied. Compulsory levies were universally resorted to ; and the undoubted right which a state has to call upon each of its subjects to arise in defence ol the commimity, was extended into the power of sending them upon ex- peditions of foreign conquest. In the month of March, 1793, a levy of two hundred thousand men was appointed, and took place; but by a subsequent decree of the 21st Au- gust in the same year, a more gigantic mode of recniiting was resorted to. Every man in France able to bear arms was placed at the orders of the state, and being divided into classes, the youngest, to the amount of five hundred thousand, afterwards augmented to a mil- lion, were commanded to march for immediate action. The rest of society were to be so disposed of as might best second the efforts of the actual combatants. The married men were to prepare arms and forward convoys, — the women to make unifoi'ms, — the children to scrape lint, — and the old men to preach Republicanism. All property was in like manner devoted to maintaining the war — all buildings were put to military piu-poses — all arms appropriated to the public service — and all horses, excepting those which might be necessary for agriculture, seized on for the cavalry, and other military services. Representatives of the people were named to march with the various levies, — those terrible commissioners, who pmiished no fault with a slighter penalty than death. No excuse was sustained for want of personal compliance with the requisition for personal service — no delay permitted — no substitution allowed — actual and hteral compliance was demanded from every one, and of what rank soever. Conscripts Avho failed to appear, resisted, or fled, were subjected to the penalties which attached to emigration.' By successive decrees of this peremptory nature, enforced with the full energy of revolutionary vio- lence, the Government succeeded in bringing into the field, and maintaining, forces to an amount more than double those of their powerful enemies ; and the same means of supply — arbitrary requisition, namely — which brought them out, supported and maintained them during the campaign ; so that, while there remained food and clothing of any kind in the country, the soldier was sure to be fed, paid, and equipped. There are countries, however, in which the great numerical superiority thus attained is of little con- sequence, when a confused levy en masse of ra^v•, inexperienced, and disorderly boys, are opposed against the ranks of a much smaller, but a regulaf and well-distiiilined army, such as in every respect is that of Austria. On such occasions the taunting speech of Alaric recurs to recollection, — " The thicker the hay the more easily it is mowed." But this was not found to be the case with the youth of France, who adopted the habits most necessary for a soldier with singular facility and readiness. Military service has been popular amongst them in all ages ; and the stories of the grandsire in a French cottage have always tended to excite in his descendants ideas familiar with a military condition. They do not come to it as a violent change of life. 1 Joiuii.i, torn, iv , p. 2:?; Migcet, torn, i;., p. 287 IGG SCOTT'S IMISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. v\ liicli they had never previously contemplated, and wlicre all is new and temble ; but as to a duty which every Frenchman is liable to discharge, and which is as natural to him as to his father or grand- lather before him. Besides this propensity, and undoubtedly con- nected with it, a 3'oung Frenchman is possessed of tlie natural character most desirable in the soldier. He is accustomed to fare hard, to take much exer- cise, to make many shifts, and to support with patience occasional deprivations. His happy gaiety renders him indifferent to danger, his good-humour patient under hardship. His ingenuity seems to amuse as well as to assist him in the contingencies of a roving life. He can be with ease a cook or an artificer, or what else the occasion may require. His talents for actual war are not less decided, l-'.ither in advancing with spirit, or in retreating \^ ith order, the Frenchman is one of the finest sol- diers in the world ; and when requisite, the privates in their ai-ray often exhibit a degi'ee of intelligence and knowledge of the profession, which might Itecome individuals of a higher rank in other ser- vices. If not absolute water-drinkers, they are less addicted to intoxication than the English soldier, who, perhaps, oidy brings, to counterbalance the numerous advantages on the part of his opponent, that mastiff-like perseverance and determination in combat, which induces him to repeat, maintain, and prolong his effi)rts, under every disadvantage of niunbers and circumstances. The spirits of the Frenchman, such as we have described, did not suffer much from the violent summons which tore him from his home. AVe have unhappily, in our own navy, an example, how little men's courage is broken by theu' being forced into a dangerous service. But comfortless as the state of France then was, and painful as the sights must liave been by which the eyes were daily oppressed — closed up too as were the avenues to every civil walk of life, and cheap as they were held in a na- tion which had become all one vast camp, a youth of spirit was glad to escape from witnessing the desolation at home, a'sd to take with gaiety the chance of death or promotion, in the only line which might now be accounted comparatively safe, and indubitably honourable. The armies with whom these new levies were incorporated w«re by degrees admirably supplied with officers. The breaking down the old distinctions of ranks had opened a free cai'eer to those desirous of promo- tion ; and in times of hard fighting, men of merit are distinguished and get preferment. The voice of the soldier had often its influence upon the officer's preferment; and that is a vote seldom bestowed, but from ocular proof that it is deserved. The revolutionary rulers, though bloody in their resentment, were liberal, almost extravagant, in their rewards, and spared neither gold nor steel, honours nor denunciations, to incite their generals to victory, or warn them against the consequences of defeat. Under that stern rule which knew no excuse for ill success, and stimulated by opportunities which seemed to offer every prize to honourable ambi- tion, arose a race of generals whom the world scarce ever saw equalled, and of whom tliei'e cer- taiidy never at any other period flourished so many, in the same service. Such was Napoleon Buona- PAB'^K himself; such were Pichegru and Moreau, doomed to suffer a gloomy fate under his ascen- dency. Such were those Marshals and Generals who were to share his better fortunes, and cluster around his future throne, as the Paladins around that of Charlemagne, or as the British and Armori- can champions begirt the Round Table of Uther's fabled son. In those early wars, and summoned out by the stern conscription, were trained Murat, whose eminence and fall seemed a corollary to that of his brother-in-law — Ney, the bravest of the brave — the calm, sagacious Macdonald — Jou- bert, who had almost anticipated the part reserved for Buonaparte — Massena, the spoiled Child of For- tune — Augereau — Berthier, Lannes, and many others, whose names began already to stir the French soldier as with the sound of a trumpet. These adventurers in the race of fame belonged some of them, as Macdonald, to the old military school ; some, like Moreau, came from the civil class of society ; many arose from origins that were positively mean, and were therefore still more de- cidedly children of the Revolution. But that great earthquake, by throwing down distinctions of birth and rank, had removed obstacles which would otherwise have impeded the progress of almost all these distinguished men ; and they were, there- fore, for the greater part, attached to that new or- der of affairs which afforded full scope to their talents. The French armies, thus recruited, and thus commanded, were disciplined in a manner suitable to the materials of which they were composed. There was neither leisure nor opportunity to sub- ject the new levies to all that minuteness of train- ing, which was required by the somewhat pedantic formality of the old school of war. Dumouriez, setting the example, began to show that the prin- ciple of revolution might be introduced with ad- vantage into the art of war itself; and that the difference betwixt these new conscripts and the veteran troops to whom they were oj)posed, might be much diminished by resorting to the original and more simple mles of stratagie, and neglecting many formalities which had once been considered as essential to playing the great game of war with success.^ It is the constant error of ordinary minds to consider matters of mere routine as equally im- portant with those which are essential, and to en- tertain as much horror at a disordered uniform as at a confused manoeuvre. It was to the honour of the French generals, as men of genius, that in the hour of danger they were able to surmount all the prejudices of a profession which lias its pedantry as well as others, and to suit the discipline which they retained to the character of their recruits and the urgency of the time. The foppery of the manual exercise was laid aside, and it was restricted to the few motions ne- cessary for effectual use of the musket and bayonet. Easier and more simple manoeuvres were substi- tuted for such as were involved and difficult to exe- cute ; and providing the line or column could be formed with activity, and that order was preserved on the march, the mere etiquette of military move- ments was much relaxed. The quantity of light ti'oops was increased greatly beyond the number which had of late been used by European nations. The Austrians, who used to draw from the Tyrol, • Dumouriez, vol. i., p. 3WJ. FRENCH REVOLUTION. 1G7 and from their wild Croatian frontier, the best hght troops iu tlie world, had at this time formed many of them into regiments of the line, and thus limited and diminished their own superiority in a species of force which was becoming of greater im])oi-tance daily. The French, on the contrary, disciplined im- mense bodies of their conscripts as irregulars and sharpshooters. Their numbers and galling fire fre- quently prevented their more systematic and formal adversaries from being able to push forward re- connoitring parties, by which to obtain, any exact information as to the numbers and disposition of the French, while the Republican troops of the line, protected by this swarm of wasps, chose their time, place, and manner, of advancing to the at- tack, or retreating, as the case demanded. It is true, that this service cost an immense number of lives ; but the French generals were sensible that human hfe was the commodity which the Republic set the least value upon ; and that when death was served with so wide a feast from one end of France to the other, he was not to be stinted in his own proper banqueting-hall, the field of battle. The same circumstances dictated another variety or innovation in French tactics, which greatly in- creased the extent of slaughter. The armies with whom they engaged, disconcerted by the great su- periority of numbers which were opposed to them, and baffled in obtaining intelligence by the teazing activity of the French light troops, most frequently assumed the defensive, and taking a strong posi- tion, improved perhaps by field-works, waited until the fiery youth of France should come to throw themselves by thousands upon their batteries. It was then that the French generals began first to employ those successive attacks in column, in which one brigade of troops is brought up after another, without interruption, and without regard to the loss of lives, until the arms of the defenders are weary with slajdng, and their line being in some point or other carried, through the impossibility of every where resisting an assault so continued and despe- rate, the battle is lost, and the army is compelled to give way ; while the conquerors can, by the mul- titudes they have brought into action, afford to pay the dreadful price ^^•hich they have given for the victory. In this manner the French generals employed whole columns of the young conscripts, termed from that circumstance, " food for the cannon" (rhair a canon,) before disease had deprived them of bodily activity, or experience had taught them the dangers of the profession on which they entered with the thoughtless vivacity of schoolboys. It also frecjuently happened, even when the French possessed no numerical superiority upon the whole, that by the celerity of their movements, and the skill with which they at once combined and execu- ted them, they were able suddenly to concentrate such a superiority upon the point which they meant to attack, as ensured them the same advantage. In enumerating the causes of the general suc- cess of the Republican aiTns, we must not forget ' Such was tlie fate of Moreau, wlio, on the eve of one of his most distiiiRuished victoriis, had to receive the news that his father had been beheaded.— S. 2 The risk was considered as a matter of course. Madame I. a Roche-Jacquelein informs us that General Quentineau, a UejMiblican officer who had beliaved with Rreat humanity in la Vendue, having fallen into the hands of the insurgents, was pressed by L'Escure, who commindcd them, not to return to the moral motive — the interest which the troops tooK in the cause of the war. The army, in fact, derived an instant and most flattering advantage from the Revolution, which could scarce be said of any other class of men in France, excepting the peasant. Their pay was improved, their import- ance increased. There was not a private soldier against whom the highest ranks of the profession was shut, and many attained to them. Massena was originally a drummer, Ney a common hussar, and there were many others who arose to the com- mand of armies from the lowest condition. Now this was a government for a soldier to live and flourish under, and seemed still more advantage- ous when contrasted with the old monarchical sys- tem, in which the prejudices of birth interfered at every turn with the pretensions of merit, where a roturier could not rise above a subaltern rank, and where all offices of distinction were, as matters of inheritance, reserved for the grande noblesse alone. But besides the rewards which it held out to its soldiers, the service of the Republic had this irre- sistible charm for the soldiery — it was victorious. The conquests which they obtained, and the plun- der which attended those conquests, attached the victors to their standards, and drew around them fresh hosts of their countrymen. " Vite la liepub lique.'" became a war-cry, as dear to their army a? iu former times the shout of Dennis Mountjoie, and the Tricoloured flag supplied the place of the Oriflamme. By the confusion, the oppression, the bloodshed of the Revolution, the soldiers were but little affected. They heard of friends imprisoned or guillotined, indeed ; ' but a military man, like a monk, leaves the concerns of the civil world behind him, and while he plays the bloody game for his own life or death with the enemy who faces him, has little time to think of what is happening in the native country which he has abandoned. For any other acquaintance with the politics of the Repub- lic, they were indebted to flowery speeches in the Convention, resounding with the praises of the ti'oops, and to harangues of the representatives accompanying the armies, who never failed by flattery and largesses to retain possession of the affection of the soldiers, whose attachment was so essential to their safety. So well did they accom- phsh this, that while the Republic flourished, the armies were so much attached to that order of things, as to desert successively some of their most favourite leaders, when they became objects of sus- picion to the fierce democracy. The generals, indeed, liad frequent and practical experience, that the Republic could be as severe with her military as with her civil subjects, and even more so, judging by the ruthlessness with which they were arrested and executed, with scarce the shadow of a pretext. Yet this did not diminish the zeal of the survivors. If the revolutionary go- vernment beheaded, they also paid, promised, and pi'omoted ; and amid the various risks of a soldier's life, the hazard of the guillotine was only a slight addition to those of the sword and the musket,'^ Paris. " I know the difference of our ))oIitical opinions," said file Royalist; "but why hliould you deliver up your life fo those men with wliom want of success will be a sufficient reason for abridgiiiK it?" — " You say truly," replied Quenti- neau ; "but as a man of luindur, I must present myself in defence of my conduct wlicrevcr it may be impeached." Me went, and perished by the guillotine accordingly.— S. — J/tf- moires, p. 130. 1C8 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. ivliich, in the sanguine eye of courage and ambi- tion, joined to each individual's confidence in his own good luck, did not seem to render his cliance much worse. When such punishment arrived, tlie generals submitted to it as one of the casualties of war ; nor was the Republic worse or more reluct- antly served by those who were left. Such being the admirable quality and talents, the mode of thinking and acting, wliich the Repub- lican, or rather Revolutionary, armies passessed, it required only the ruling genius of the celebrated Carnot, who, bred in the department of engineers, was probably one of the very best tacticians in the world, to bring them into effectual use. He was a member of the frightful Committee of Public Safety ; but it has been said in his defence, that he did not meddle with its atrocities, limiting himself entirely to the war depaifment, for which he showed so much talent, that his colleagues left it to his exclu- sive management.' In his own individual person he constituted the whole bureau mUitaire, or war- office of the Committee of Public Safety, corres- ponded with and directed the movements of the armies, as if inspired by the Goddess of Victory herself. He first daringly claimed for France her natur'al boundaries — that is, the boundaries most convenient for her. The Rhine, the Alps, and the Pyrenees, he assigned as the limits of her domi- nions ; and asserted that all within these belonging to other powers, must have been usui'pations on France, and were unhesitatingly to be resumed as such. And he conquered by his genius the coun- tries which his ambition claimed. Belgium became an integral part of the French Republic — Holland was erected into a little dependent democracy, as an outwork for defending the great nation — the Austrians were foiled on the Rhine — the King of Sardinia driven from Savoy — and sch.emes realized which Louis XIV. never dared to dream of. In retiu-n for the complaisance exhibited by the Com- mittee towards himself, he did not express any scruples, if he entertained such, conceiniing the mode in which they governed the interior of their unhappy country. Yet, notwithstanding his skill and his caution, the blighting eye of Robespierre was fixed on him, as that of the snake which watches its victim. He could not dispense with the talents of Carnot in the career of victory ; but it is well known, that if his plans on any occasion had mis- carried, the security of his head would have become very precarious.''^ It must also be allowed, that although the French armies were attaclied to the Republic, and moved usually under dii-ection of a member of the Com- mittee of Public Security, they did not adopt, in their brutal extent, the orders for exterminating warfare which were transmitted to them by their masters. At one time a decree was passed, refus- ing quarter to such of the allied troops as might be made prisoners ; but the French soldiers could not be prevailed on to take a step which nmst have aggravated so dreadfully the necessary horrors of war. When we consider how the civil govern- ment of France were employed, when the soldiers refused their sanction to this decree, it seems as if Humanity had fled from cities and the peaceful dwellings of men, to seek a home in camps and combats. 1 Caiuot's Mlimoires, p. 2'30. One important part of the subject can be here treated but slightly. We allude to the great ad- vantages* derived by the French arms from the reception of their political doctrines at this period among the people whom they invaded. They pro- claimed aloud that they made war on castles and palaces, but were at peace with cottages ; and as on some occasions besieging generals are said to have bribed the governor of a place to surrender it, by promising they would leave in his unchallenged possession the military chest of the garrison, so the French in all cases held out to the populace the plunder of their own nobles, as an mdueeraent for them to favour, at least not to oppose, the invasion of their country. Thus their armies were always preceded by their principles. A party favourable to France, and listening with delight to the doc- trines of liberty and equality, was formed in the bosom of each neighbouring state, so that the power of the invaded nation was crushed, and its spirit quenched, under a sense of internal discontent and discord. The French were often received at once as conquerors and deliverers by the countries they invaded ; and in almost all cases, the governments on which they made war were obliged to trust ex- clusively to such regular forces as they could bring into the field, being deprived of the inappreciable advantage of general zeal among their subjects in their behalf. It was not long ere the inhabitants of those deceived countries found that the fruits of the misnamed tree of liberty resembled those said to grow by the Dead Sea — fair and goodly to the eye, but to the taste all filth and bitterness. We are now to close our review of the French Revolution, the fall of Robespierre being the era at which its terrors began to ebb and recede, nor did they ever again rise to the same height. If we look back at the whole progress of tlie change, from the convocation of the States-General to the 9th Thermidor, as the era of that man's overthrow was called, the eye in vain seeks for any point at which even a probabihty existed of establishing a solid or permanent government. The three suc- cessive constitutions of 1791, 1792, and 1795, the successive work of Constitutionalists, Girondists, and Jacobins, possessed no more power to limit or aiTest the force of the revolutionary impulse, than a bramble or brier to stop the progress of a rock rushing down from a precipice. Though ratified and sworn to, with every circumstance which could add solemnity to the obligation, each remained, in succession, a dead letter. France, in 1795 and 1796, was therefore a nation without either a regu- lar constitution, or a regular administration ; go- verned by the remnant of an Assembly called a Convention, who continued sitting, merely because the crisis found them in possession of their seats, and who administered the government through the medium of Provisional Committees, with whose dictates they complied implicitly, and who really directed all things, though in the Convention's name. In the meantime, and since those strange scenes had commenced, France had lost her King and nobles, her church and clergy, her judges, courts, and magistrates, her colonies and commerce. The greater part of her statesmen and men of note had 2 Carnct, p. ?55; Tliibaudeau, torn, i., p. 37. FRENCH REVOLUTION. 1G9 perislicd by proscription, aud lior orators' eloquence had been cut short by the guillotine. She had no finances — the bonds of civil society seem to have re- tained their influence from hal)it only. The nation possessed only one powerful engine, which France called her own, and one impulsive power to guide it — These were her army and her ambition. She resembled a person in the delirium of a fever, who has stripped himself in his frenzy of all decent aud necessary clothing, and retains in his hand only a bloody sword ; while those who have endeavoured to check his fury, lie subdued around him. Never had so many great events successively taken place in a nation, without affording something like a fixed or determined result, either already attained, or soon to be expected. Again and again did reflecting men say to each other, — This unheard-of state of things, in which all seems to be temporary and revolutionary, will not, cannot last ; — and especially after the fall of Robespierre, it seemed that some change was ap- proaching. Those who had achieved that work, did not hold on any terms of security the temporary power which it had procured them. They rather retained their influence by means of the jealousy of two extreme parties, than from any confidence reposed in themselves. Those who had suffered so deeply under the rule of the revolutionary go- vernment, must have looked with suspicion on the Thermidoriens as regular Jacobins, who had shared all the excesses of the period of Terror, and now employed their power in protecting the perpetrators. On the other hand, those of the Revolutionists who yet continued in the bond of Jacobin fi-aternity, could not forgive Tallien and Barras the silencing the Jacobin Clubs, the exiling Collot d'Herbois and Billaud-Varcnncs, putting to death many other patriots, and totally crushing the system of revolu- tionary government. In fact, if the thoroughbred Revolutionists still endured the domination of Tal- lien and Barras, it was only because it shielded them from the reaction, or retributive measures threat- ened by the moderate party. Matters, it was thought, could not remain in this uncertain state, nor was the present temporary pageant of government likely to linger long on the scene. But, by whom was that scene next to be opened ? Would a late returning to ancient opinions induce a people, who had suffered so much through innovation, to recall either abso- lutely, or upon conditions, the banished race of her ancient princes ? Or would a new band of Revolu- tionists be permitted by Heaven, in its continued ven- geance, to rush upon the stage ? Would the supreme power become the prize of some soldier as daring as Caesar, or some intriguing statesman artful as Octa- vius ? Would France succumb beneath a Cromwell or a Monk, or again be ruled by a cabal of hack- neyed statesmen, or an Institute of Theoretical Philosophy, or an anarchical Club of Jacobins ? These were reflections which occupied almost all bosoms. But the hand of Fate was on the curtain, and about to bring the scene to light. ilifc Df liapoleou ISuouapartc. CHAPTER I. Corsica — Family of Buonaparte — Napoleon born I5t/i Aui/ust, 1769 — His early habits — Sent to the Royal Military School at Brienne — His great Progress in Mathematical Science — Deficiency in Classical Literature — Anecdotes — B-emored to the General School of Paris — When in his Seventeenth Year, appointed Second Lieutenant of Artillery — His earl y Politics — Promoted to a Captaincy^ Pascal PaJi — Napoleon sides with the French Gorernmenf against Paoli — And is banished from Corsica — Visits Marseilles, and publishes the Souper de Beaucaire. The island of Corsica was, in ancient times, re- markable as the scene of Seneca's exile, and in the last century was distinguished by the memorable stand which the natives made in defence of their liberties against the Genoese and French, during a war which tended to sliow the high and indomi- table spirit of the islanders, united as it is with the fiery and vindictive feelings proper to their country and climate. . In this island, which was destined to derive its future importance chiefly from the circumstance. Napoleon Buonaparte, or Bonaparte,' had his origin. His family was noble, though not of much distinction, and rather reduced in fortune. Flattery afterwards endeavoured to trace the name wliich he had made famous, into remote ages, and researclies were made through ancient records, to discover that there was one Buonaparte who had written a book,2 another who had signed a treaty — a female of the name who had given birth to a pope,^ with other minute claims of distinction, which Napoleon ' There was an absurd debate nbout the spelling of the name, which became, as trifles often do, a jmrty question. Buonaparte had disused the superfluous ;/, which his f;ither retained in the name, and adopted a more modern spelling. This was represented on one side as an attempt to bring his name more nearly to the French idiom ; and, as if it had been a matter of the last moment, the vowel was obstinately re- placed in the name, by a class of writers who deemed it politic not to permit the successful general to relinquish the slightest niark of his Italian extraction, which was in every respect impossible for him either to conceal or to denv, even if he had nourished such an idea. In his baptismal register, his name is spelled Napolcone Bonaparte, though tlje father subscribes. Carlo Buonaparte. The spelling seems to have been quite in- different.— S. — •' During Napoleon's first campaign in Italy, he dropped the u. In this change he had no other motive than to assimilate the orthography to the pronunciation, and to abbreviate his signature."— BoriiniK.v.NE, toin. i., p. 3. justly considered as trivial, and unworthy of notice. He answered the Emperor of Austria, who had a fancy of tracing his son-in-law's descent from one of the petty sovereigns of Treviso, that he was the Rodolph of Hapsbourg of his family ; and to a ge- nealogist, who made a merit of deducing his descent from some ancient line of Gothic princes, he caused reply to be made, that he dated his patent of no- bility from the battle of Montenotte, that is, from his first victory.* All that is known with certainty of Napoleon's family may be told in few words. The Biiona- partes were a family of some distinction in the middle ages ;^ their names are inscribed in the Golden Book at Treviso, and their armorial bear- ings are to be seen on several houses in Florence. But attached, during the civil war, to the party of the Ghibellines, they of course were persecuted by the Guelphs ; and being exiled from Tuscany, one of the family took refuge in Corsica, and there established himself and his successors, who were regularly enrolled among the noble natives of the island, and enjoyed all the privileges of gentle blood. The father of Napoleon, Charles Buonaparte, was the principal descendant of this exiled family. He was regularly educated at Pisa, to the study of the law, and is stated to have possessed a very handsome person, a talent for eloquence, and a vi- vacity of intellect, which he transmitted to his son. He was a patriot also and a soldier, and assisted at the gallant stand made by Paoli against the Frencli. It is said he would have emigrated along with Paoli, who was his friend, but was withheld by the influ- ence of his father's brother, Lucien Buonaparte, who was Archdeacon of the Cathedral of Ajaccio, and the wealthiest person of the family. 2 The book alluded to is entitled " Ragguaglio Storico di tntto I'occorso, giorno per giorno, nel Sacco de Roma dell anno 1527, scritto da Jacopo Buonajiarte, gentiluomo Sarami- niatese, chi vi si trov6 presente." In 1.561), a Giuseppe Buo- naparte published a comedy, entitled " La Vedova." Copies of both these works are in the British Museum. 3 Paul the Fifth. * " I'sent Clarke to Florence as ambassador, where he em- ployed himself in nothing but turning over the old musty records of the place, in search of proofs of the nobility of my family. He so plagued me with letters upon the subject, that I was forced to bid him cease from troubling either his head or mine with this nons«nse about nobility, — that I wa.s t)ie _first of my family." — Napoleo.v, Voice, &c., vol. i., p. 401. 5 " They were of Tuscan origin. In the middle ages they figured as senators of the rei)ublics of Florence, San Miniato, Bologna, Sarzana, and Treviso, and as prelates attached to the Court of Rome." — Kapolicox, Memoirs, vol. iii., p. 7. 1769-1779.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 171 It was in the middle of civil discord, fights, and skirmishes, that Charles Buonaparte married Loeti- tia Ramoliui, one of the most beautiful young women of the island, and possessed of a great deal of firm- ness of character. She partook the dangers of her husband during the years of civil wai', and Ls said to have accompanied him on horseback in some military expeditions, or perhaps hasty flights, shortly before her being delivered of the future emperor.' Though left a widow in the prime of life, she had ah-eady born her husband thirteen children, of whom five sons and three daughters survived him. I. Joseph, the eldest, who, though placed by his brother in an obnoxious situation, as intrusive King of Spain, held the reputation of a good and moderate man. II. Napoleon himself. III. Lncien, scarce inferior to his brother in ambi- tion and talent. IV. Louis, the merit of whose character consists in its unpi-eteuding worth, and who renomiced a crown rather than consent to the oppression of his subjects. V. Jerome, whose dis- position is said to have been chiefly marked by a tendency to dissipation. The females were, I. Maria Anne, afterwards Grand Duchess of Tuscany, by the name of- Eliza.^ II. Maria Annonciada, who became Maria Paulino, Princess of Borghese.-' III. Carlotta, or Caroline, wife of Murat, and Queen of Naples. The family of Buonaparte being reconciled to the French government after the emigration of Paoli, enjoyed the protection of the Count de Mar- boeuf, the French Governor of Corsica, by whose interest Charles was included in a deputation of the nobles of the island, sent to Louis XVI. in ] 779. As a consequence of this mission, he was appointed to a judicial situation — that of assessor of the Tribunal of Ajaccio — the income of which aided him to maintain his inci"easing family, which the smallness of his patrimony, and some habits of expense, would otherwise have rendered difficult. Charles Buonaparte, the father of Napoleon, died at the age of about forty years, of an ulcer in the stomach, on the 24th February ] 785.'' His cele- brated son fell a victim to the same disease. Dur- ing Napoleon's grandeur, the community of Muut- pellier expressed a desire to erect a monument to the memory of Charles Buonaparte. His answer was both sensible and in good taste. " Had I lost my father yesterday," he said, " it would be natu- ral to pay his memory some mark of respect con- sistent with my present situation. But it is twenty years since the event, and it is one in which the public can take no concern. Let us leave the dead in peace." The subject of our narrative was born upon the 15th day of August 1769, at his father's house iri Ajaccio, forming one side of a court which leads out of the Rue Charles.^ \S'e read with interest, ' Las Cases, vol. i., p. 108. 1 Died at Trieste, 9th August, 1820. "On accidentally reading, at St. Helena, the account of her death, Napoleon exclairtied, ' Eliza has just shown us the way; death, which seemed to have overlooked our family, now besins to strike it. I shall be the ne-xt to follow her to the gravo.'" — A.v- TOMMARCHf. vol. i., p. .3H4. 3 She died at the Borghese Palace, near Florence, 9tli June, 1825. ■• " I was quietly pursuinj; my studies whilst my father was BtrucRling a<>ainst the violence of a painful asony. He died, and I had not the consolation to close his eyes: that sad dutv was reserved for Joseph, wlio acquitted himself of it with all the zeal of an aftectioaate sou." — Napoleon', Antommarclii, vol. i., i». 2V>. that his mother's good constitution, and bold cha- racter of mind, having induced her to attend ma.s.s upon the day of his birth, (being the Festival of the Assumption,) she was obliged to return home immediately, and as there was no time to prepare a bed or bedroom, she ^\■as delivered of the future victor upon a temporary couch prepared for her accommodation, and covered with an ancient piece of tapestry, representing the heroes of the Iliad. The infant was christened by the name of Napo- leon, an obscure saint, who had dropped to lee- ward, and fallen altogether out of the calendar, so that his namesake never knew which day he was to celebrate as the festival of his patron. When questioned on this subject by the bishop who con- firmed him, he answered smartly, that there were a great many .=aints, and only three hundred and sixty-five days to divide amongst them. The polite- ness of the Pope promoted the patron in order to compliment the god-child, and Saint Napoleon des Ursins w as accommodated with a festival. To ren- der this compliment, which no one but a Pope could have paid, still more flattering, the feast of Saint Napoleon was fixed for the 15th August, the birth- day of the Emperor, and the day on which he signed the Concordat.^ So that Napoleon had the rare honour of promoting his patron saint. The young Napoleon had, of course, the simple and hardy education proper to the natives of the mountainous island of his birth, and in his infancy was not remarkable for more than that animation of temper, and wilfulness and impatience of inacti- vity, by which children of quick parts and lively sensibility are usually distinguished.' The winter of the year was generally passed by the family of his father at Ajaccio, where they still preserve and exhibit, as the ominous plaything of Napoleon's boyhood, the model of a brass cannon, weighing about thirty pounds.* We lea^"e it to philosophers to inquire, whether the future love of war was suggested by the accidental possession of such a toy ; or whether the tendency of the mind dictated the selection of it ; or, lastly, whether the nature of the pastime, corresponding with the taste which chose it, may not have had each their action and reaction, and contributed between them to the for- mation of a character so warlike. The same traveller who furnishes the above anecdote, gives an interesting account of the coun- try retreat of the fiamily of Buonaparte, during the summer. Going along the sea-shore from Ajaccio towards the Isle Sanguiniere, about a mile from the town, occur two stone pillars, the remains of a door-way, leading up to a dilapidated villa, once the resi- dence of Madame Buonaparte's half-brother on the mother's side, whom Napoleon created Cardinal Fesch.^ The house is approached by an avenue, 5 " 'Jhe patrimonial house of Napoleon, at present in tho ]iossessinn of .\1. Kamolini, member of the Chamber of De- puties for the department of Corsica, continues an object of qreat veneration with travellers and military men." — iins- so.n'.s Corsica, p. 4. 6 Las Cases, vol. i., p. 120. 7 " In my infancy I was noisy and quarrelsome, and feared nobody. I beat one, scratched another, and made mysclt for- midable to all." — Napoleon, Antommarchi, vol. i., p. 327- 8 Benson's Sketches of Corsica, p. 4.— S. 9 The mother of Lctitia T^amolini, wife of Carlo Buona^i.irte, married a Swiss ofticer in the French service, named tcsch, after the death of Lctitia :s father.— S. i: SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [i77'J-178L surrounded and overhung by the cactus and other blnnibs,- which kixuriate in a warm climate. It has a garden and a lawu, showing amidst neglect, ves- tiges of their former beauty, and the house is surrounded by slirubberies, permitted to run to wilderness. This was the summer residence of Madame Buonaparte and her family. Almost en- closed by the wild olive, the cactus, the clematis, and the almond-tree, is a very singular and isolated granite rock, called Napoleon's grotto, which seems to have resisted the decomposition which has taken place around. The remains of a small summer- house are visible beneath the rock, the entrance to which is nearly closed by a luxuriant fig-tree. This was Buonaparte's frequent retreat, when the vaca- tions of the school at which he studied permitted him to visit home. — How the imagination labours to form an idea of the visions, which, in this seques- tered aud romantic spot, must have arisen before the eyes of the future hero of a hundi'ed battles ! The Count de Marboeuf, already mentioned as Governor of Corsica, interested himself in the young Napoleon, so much as to obtain him an ap- pointment [April, 1779] to the Royal Military School at Brienne, which was maintained at the royal expense, in order to bring up youths for the engineer and artillery service. The malignity of contemporary historians has ascribed a motive of gallantry towards Madame Buonaparte as the foundation of this kindness ; but Count Marboeuf liad arrived at a period of life when such con- nexions are not to be presumed, nor did the scandal receive any currency from the natives of Ajaccio. Nothing could be more suitable to the nature of young Buonaparte's genius, than the line of study which thus fortunately was opened before him. His ardour for the abstract sciences amounted to a passion, and was combined with a singular aptitude for applymg them to the purposes of war, while his attention to pm-suits so interesting and exhaust- less in themselves, was stimulated by his natural ambition and desire of distinction. Almost all the scientific teachers at Brienne, being accustomed to study the character of their pupils, aud obliged by their duty to make memoranda and occasional re- ports on the subject, spoke of the talents of Buona- ])arte, and the progress of his studies, with admira- tion. Circumstances of various kinds, exaggerated or invented, have been circulated concerning the youth of a person so remarkable. The following are given upon good authority.' The conduct of Napoleon among his companions, was that of a studious and reserved youth, addict- ing himself deeply to the means of improvement, and rather avoiding than seeking the usual tempta- tions to dissipation of time. He had few friends, and no intimates ; yet at different times when he chose to eyert it, he exhibited considerable influ- ence over his fellow-students, and when there was any joint plan to be carried into effect, he was fre- quently chosen dictator of the little republic. In the time of winter, Buonaparte upon one oc- casion engaged his companions in constructing a fortress out of the snow, regularly defended by ditches and bastions, according to the rules of forti- fication. It was considered as displaying the great powers of the juvenile engineer in the way of his 1 They were, many vcars siiici, communicated to the author by Messrs. Joseph ami Louis Law, brothers ot General Lau- .ntton, J3uonajiart-?'8 favourite aide-decamp. These gentle- profession, and was attacked and defended by the students, who divided into parties for the purpose, until the battle became so keen that their superiors thought it proper to proclaim a truce. The young Buonaparte gave another instance of address and enterprise upon the following occasion. There was a fair held annually in the neighbour- hood of Brienne, where the pupils of the Militai-y School used to find a day's amusement ; but on account of a quarrel betwixt them and the country people upon a former occasion, or for some such cause, the masters of the institution had directed that the students should not, on the fair day, be permitted to go beyond their own precincts, which were surrounded with a wall. Under the direc- tion of the young Corsican, however', the scholars had already laid a plot for secm-ing their usual day's diversion. They had undermined the wall which encompassed their exercising ground, with so much skill and secrecy, that their operations re- mained entirely miknown till the morning of the fair, when a part of the boundary unexpectedly fell, and gave a free passage to the imprisoned students, of which they immediately took the advantage, by hurrying to the prohibited scene of amusement. But although on these, and perhaps other occa- sions, Buonaparte displayed some of the frolic temper of youth, mixed with the inventive genius and the talent for commanding others by which he was distinguished in after time, his hfe at school was in general that of a recluse and severe student, ac- quiring by his judgment, and treasuring in his me- mory, that wonderful process of almost unlimited combination, by means of which he was afterwards able to .simplify the most difficult and complicated undertakings. His mathematical teacher was proud of the young islander, as the boast of his school, and his other scientific instructors had the same reason to be satisfied. In languages Buonaparte was less a proficient, and never acquired the art of writing or spelling French, far less foreign languages, with accuracy or correctness ; nor had the monks of Brienne any reason to pride themselves on the classical profi- ciency of their scholar. The full energies of his mind being devoted to the scientific pursuits of his profession, left little time or incUuation for other studies. Though of Italian origin, Buonaparte had not a decided taste for the fine arts, and his taste in composition seems to have leaned towards the gro- tesque and the bombastic. He used always the most exaggerated phrases ; and it is seldom, if ever, that his bulletins present those touches of sublimity which are founded on dignity and sim- plicity of expression. Notwithstanding the external calmness and re- serve of his deportment, he who was destined for such great things, had, while yet a student at Brienue, a full share of that ambition for distinc- tion and dread of dii^grace, that restless and irritat- ing love of fame, which is the spur to extraordinary attempts. Sparkles of this keen temper sometimes showed themselves. On one occasion, a harsh superintendent imposed on the future Emperor, for some trifling fault, the disgrace of wearing a penitential dress, and being excluded from the men, or at least Joseph, were educated at Brienne, but at a later period than Napoleon. Their distinguished brother W6J his contemporary. — S. [1784-1789. LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 1^0 40 t.aWe of the students, and obliged to cat his meal apart. His pride felt the indignity so severely, that it brought on a severe nervous attack ; to which, though otherwise of good constitution, lie ■was subject upon occasions of extraordinary irrita- tion. Father Petrault,^ the professor of mathe- matics, hastened to deliver his favourite pupil from the punishment by which he was so much affected. It is also said that an early disposition to the popular side distinguished Buonaparte even when at Brienne. Pichegru, afterwards so celebrated, who acted as his monitor in the military school, (a smgular circumstance,) bore witness to his early principles, and to the peculiar energy and tenacity of his temper. He was long afterwards consulted whether means might not be found to engage the commander of the Italian armies in the royal inte- rest. " It will be but lost time to attempt it," said Pichegru. " I knew hina in his youth — his charac- ter is inflexible — he has taken his side, and he will not change it."^ In October, 1784, Napoleon Buonaparte, then only fifteen years old, was, though under the usual age, selected by M. de Keralio,' the inspector of the twelve military schools, to be sent to have his education completed in the general school of Paris. It was a compliment paid to the precocity of his extraordinary mathematical talent, and the steadi- ness of his application. While at Paris he attracted the same notice as at Brienne ; and among other society, frequented that of the celebrated Abb^ Raynal, and was admitted to his literary parties. His taste did not become connect, but his appetite for study in all departments was greatly enlarged ; and notwithstanding the quantity which he daily read, his memory was strong enough to retain, and Jiis judgment sufficiently ripe to arrange and digest, the knowledge which he then acquired ; so that he had it at his command during all the rest of his busy life. Plutarch was his favourite author ; upon the study of whom he had so modelled his opinions and habits of thought, that Paoli afterwards pro- nounced him a young man of an antique caste, and resembling one of the classiciil herocsJ* Some of his biographers have, about this time, ascribed to him the anecdote of a certain youthful pupil of the military school, who desired to ascend in the car of a balloon with the eeronaut Blanchard, and was so mortified at being refused, that he made an attempt to cut the balloon with his sword.'^ The story has but a flimsy support, and indeed does not accord well with the character of the hero, which was deep and reflective, as well as bold and detei-- mined, and not likely to suffer its energies to escape in idle and useless adventure. A better authenticated anecdote states, that at this time he expressed himself disrespectfully ' Father Petrault was subsequently secularized, and joined the army of Italy, where he served his pupil in the capacity of secretary. On Buonaparte's return from Egypt, he found him a corpulent financier; but commencing usurer, he was soon reduced to hepgary. Napoleon granted him a pension Buflicient for his subsistence.— Las Cases, vol. i., p. 119. 2 Las Cases, vol. i., p. 120. 3 The following is a copy of Kcralio's report: — " M. de Buonaparte, (Napoleon,) born Ijtii August, !7'in, height four feet, ten inches, ten lines, has finished his fourth course; of good constitution, excellent liealth, of submissive character, upright, grateful, and regular in conduct ; has always been distinguished for application to the mathematics. He is to- lerably well acquainted with history and geography; he is deficient in the ornamental branches, and in Latin, in which he has only completed his fimrth course. He will make an excellent sailor: he deserves to jiass to the military school at towards the king in one of his letters to his family. According to the practice of the school, he was obliged to submit the letter to the censorship of M. Domairon, the professor of belles lettres, who, tak- uig notice of the offensive passage, insisted upon the letter being burnt, and added a severe rebuke. Long afterwards, in 1802, M. Doma'.ron appeared at Napoleon's levee ; when the fj^st consul re- minded his old tutor good-lmmourcdly, that times had changed considerably since the bm-uing of the letter. Napoleon Buonaparte, in his seventeenth year, [September, 1785,] received his first commission as second lieutenant in the regiment of La Fere, or first artillery, then quartered at Valence. He mingled w ith society when he joined his regiment, more than he had hitherto been accustomed to do ; mi.xed in public amusements, and exhibited the powers of pleasing which he possessed in an uncom- mon degree, when he chose to exert them. His handsome and intelligent featvu'es, with his active and neat, though slight figure, gave him additional advantages. His manners could scarcely be called elegant, but made up in vivacity and variety of expression, and often in great spirit and energy, for what they wanted in grace and polish. In 1786, he became an adventurer for the ho- nours of literature also, and was anonymously a competitor for the prize offered by the Academy of Lyons on Raynal's question, " What are the principles and institutions, by application of which mankind can be raised to the highest pitch of hap- piness?" The prize was adjudged to the young soldier. It is impossible to avoid feeling curiosity to know the character of the juvenile theories re- specting government, advocated by one who at length attained the power of practically making what experiments he pleased. Probably his early ideas did not exactly coincide with his more mature practice ; for when Talleyrand, many years after- wards, got the Essay out of the records of the Academy, and returned it to the author, Buona- parte destroyed it, after he had read a few pages." He also laboured under the temptation of writing a journey from Valence to Mount Cenis, after the manner of Sterne, which he was fortunate enough finally to resist.^ The affectation which pervades Sterne's peculiar style of composition, was not likely to be simplified under the pen of Buonaparte. In 1789, Buonaparte, then quartered at Auxonne, had composed a work, which might form two vo- lumes, on the political, civil, and military history of Corsica. He addressed a letter to General Paoli, then residing in Loiidon, on the subject of the pro- posed work, and the actual condition of his coun- trymen.* He also submitted it to the Abbe Ra>- nal, who recommended the publication of it.^ With Paris." — M. de Keralio, a highly accomplished man, who had been tutor in the royal family of Bavaria, died in 179.1. < ''Paoli often patted me on the head, saying, 'You are one of Plutarch's men.' He divined that I should be some- thing extraordinary."— Napoleon, (■"'oice, &c., vol. i., p. 2f.l. s " This story, though incorrect as to Napoleon, was true as to one of his cijjnrades, Dupont de Chambon." — Arnoui.t, i'ie de Napoleon, p. 3. B Las Cases, vol. i., p. 12f). A copy of the Essay had, how- ever, been taken by his brother Louis. It was publisheit \o imCi by Gourgaud. 7 Ltis Cases, vol. i., p. 135. 8 A copy of this letter is given in the Appendix, No. I. A few months after it was written, P.nnli. In consequciue nl Mirabcau's motion for the recall of the Corsican exiles, kit England for Corsica. ^ Las Cases, vol. ii., p. 345. T74 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1790-1793. this view, Bnonaparte invited M. Joly, a bookseller of Dole, to visit him at Auxonne. He came, he says, and found the future Emperor in a naked barrack room, the sole furniture of which consisted of a wretched bed without curtains, a table placed in the embrasure of a window, loaded with books and papers, and two chairs. His brother Louis, whom he was teaching mathematics, lay on a wretched mattress, in an adjoining closet. M. Joly and the author agreed on the price of the impres- sion of the book, but Napoleon was at the time in uncertainty whether ho was to remain at Auxonne or not. The work was never printed, nor has a trace of it been discovered.' In ] 790, Buonaparte, still at Auxonne, composed a political tract in the form of a letter to M. de Buttafuoco, major-general, and deputy of the Cor- sican noblesse in the National Assembly. A hundred copies were printed and sent to Corsica ; where it was adopted and republished by the patriotic so- ciety of Ajaccio,^ who passed a resolution, attaching the epithet infamous, to the name of their noble deputy.' Sterner times were fast approaching, and the nation was now fully divided by those factions which produced the Revolution. The oiRcers of Buonaparte's regiment were also divided into Royalists and Patriots ; and it is easily to be ima- gined, that the young and the friendless stranger and adventurer should adopt that side to which he had already shown some inclination, and which promised to open the most free career to those who had only their merit to rely upon. " Were I a general officer," he is alleged to have said, " I would have adhered to the King; being a subaltern, I join the Patriots." There was a story cuiTent, that m a debate with some bi'other officers on the politics of the time, Buonaparte expressed himself so outrageously, that tliey were provoked to throw him into the Saone, where he had nearly perished. But this is an inaccurate account of the accident which actually befell him. He was seized with the cramp when bathing in the river. His comrades saved him with difficulty ; but his danger was matter of pm-e chance. Napoleon has himself recorded that he was a warm patriot during the whole sitting of the Na- tional Assembly ; but that, on the appointment of the Legislative Assembly, he became shaken in his opinions. If so, his original sentiments regained force ; for we shortly afterwards find him enter- taining such as went to the extreme heights of the Revolution. Early in the year 1792, Buonaparte became a captain in the artillery by seniority ; and in the same year, being at Paris, he witnessed the two insurrections of the 20th June and 10th August. He was accustomed to speak of the insurgents as ' " This passage is not correct. I recollect very well, that, on my account, alarRerand more commodious apartment was assigned to my brother than to the other ofijcers of the same rank. I had a good chamber and an excellent bed. My bro- ther directed my studies, but I had proper masters, even in literature." — Louis Bionaparte, p. 26. - Norvins, torn. i.. p. ](). 3 The letter to Buttafuoco is a diatribe against that Corsican nobleman, who had been, during the wars with France, a strong opponent of the liberties of his country. He had been, of course, the enemy of the family of Paoli, to which Napo- leon at this time was warmly attached. We have preserved the compcjfiition entire, because, though the matter be unin- the most despicable banditti, and to express witli what ease a determined officer could have checked these apparently formidable, but dastardly and unwieldy masses.* But, with what a different feel- ing of interest would Napoleon have looked on that infuriated populace, those still resisting tliough overpowered ■ Swiss, and that burning palace, had any seer whispered to him, " Emperor that shall be, aU this blood and massacre is but to secure your future empire 1 " Little anticipatii^ the potent effect which the passing events were to bear on his own fortune, Buonaparte, anxious for the safety of his mother and family, was now desirous to ex- cliange Fraiice for Corsica, where the same things were acting on a less distinguished stage. It was a singular feature in the French Revolu- tion, that it brought out from his retirement the celebrated Pascal Paoli, who, long banished from Corsica, the freedom and independence of which he had so valiantly defended, returned from exile with the flattering hope of still witnessing the pro- gress of Uberty in his native land. On visiting Paris, he was received there with enthusiastic veneration, and the National Assembly and Royal Family contended which should show him most distinction. He was created president of the de- partment, and commander of the national guard of his native island, and used the powers intrusted to him with great wisdom and patriotism. But Paoli's views of liberty were different from those which unhappily began to be popular in France. He was desirous of establishing that free- dom, which is the protector, not the destroyer of property, and which confers practical happiness, instead of aiming at theoretical perfection. In a word, he endeavoured to keep Corsica free from the prevailing infection of Jacobinism ; and in re- ward, he was denounced in the Assemljly. Paoli, summoned to attend for the purpose of standing on his defence, declined the journey on account of his age, but offered to withdraw from the island. A large proportion of the inhabitants took part with the aged champion of their freedom, while tlie Convention sent an expedition, at the head of which were La Combe Saint Michel,^ and Salicetti,* one of the Corsican deputies to the Convention, with the usual instructions for bloodshed and pil- lage issued to their commissaries.^ Buonaparte was in Corsica, upon leave of abseiicc from his regiment, when these events were taking place ; and although lie himself, and Paoli, had hitherto been on friendly terms, the young artillery officer did not hesitate which side to choose. He embraced that of the Convention with heart and hand ; and his first military exploit was in the civil war of his native island. In the year 1793, he was despatched from Bastia, in possession of the French party, to sui-prise his native town Ajaccio, then occupied by Paoli or his adherents. Buonaparte teresting, the rough and vivid style of invective is siugularly characteristic of the iiery youth, whose bosom one of his te.tchers compared to a volcano surcharged with molten granite, which it poured forth in torrents, whenever his pas- sions were excited. — See Appendix, No. II. * See ante, p. 75 ; Las Cases, toI. iii., p. 14.T ; and Bourri- enne, torn, i., p. 48. s La Combe Saint Michel was afterwards employed by Na- poleon in Italy, Spain, and Germany. He died in 1812. 6 During the reign of .Joseph, he was appointed minister of police at Naples, where he died in 11!('!). " Napoleon, Memoirs, vol iv.. p. ,51. 1 793.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 175 was acting provisionally, as commanding a battalion of national guards. He landed in the gulf of Ajaccio with about fifty men, to take possession of a tower called the Torre di Capitello, on the oppo- site side of the gulf, and almost facing the city. He succeeded in taking the place ; but as there arose a gale of wind which prevented his commu- nicating with the frigate which had put him asiiore, he was besieged in his new conquest by the oppo- site faction, and reduced to such distress, that he and his little garrison were obliged to feed on liorse-flesh. After five days he was relieved by the frigate, and evacuated the tower, having fii-st in vain attempted to blow it up. The ToiTe di Capitello still shows marks of the damage it then sustained, and its remains may be looked on as a curiosity, as the first scene of his combats, before whom " Temple and tower Went to the ground." ' The strength of Paoli increasing, and the Eng- lish preparing to assist him, Corsica became no longer a safe or convenient residence for the Buona- parte family. Indeed, both Napoleon and his bro- ther Joseph, who had distinguished themselves as partisans of the French, were subjected to a decree of banishment from their native island ; and Ma- dame Buonaparte, with two of her daughters, set sail under their protection, and settled for a time, first at Nice, and afterwards at Marseilles, where the family remained in obscurity, until the dawning prospects of Napoleon afforded him the means of assisting them. One small fountain at Ajaccio is pointed out as the only ornament which, in after days, his bounty bestowed on his birth-place.^ He might perhaps think it impolitic to do any thing which might re- mind the country he ruled that he was not a child of her soil, nay, was in fact very near having been born an alien, for Corsica was not united to, or made an integral part of France, until June 1769, a few weeks only before Napoleon's birth. This stigma w'as repeatedly cast upon him by his oppo- nents, some of whom reproached the French with having adopted a master, from a country from which the ancient Romans were unwiUing even to choose a slave ; and Napoleon may have been so far sensible to it, as to avoid showing any predilec- tion to the place of his birth, which might bring the circumstance strongly under observation of the great nation, with which he and his family seemed to be indissolubly united. But as a traveller already quoted, and who had the best opportunities to be- come acquainted with the feelings of the proud ' Such is the report of the Corsicans concerniiiR the alleged first exploit of their celebrated countryman. See ]3enson'8 Sketches, p. 4. But there is room to believe that Buonaparte nad been in action so early as February, 1793. Admiral Tru- Kuet, with a strong fleet, and having on board a large body of troops, had been at anchor for several weeks in the Corsican harbours, announcing a descent upon Sardinia. At length, having received on board an additional number of forces, he •et sail on his expedition. Buonaparte is supposed to have accompanied fhe admiral, of whose talent and judgment he is made in the Saint Helena MS.S., to bpeak with great con- tempt. Buonaparte succeeded in taking some batteries in the straits of Saint Bonifacio ; but the expedition proving unsuc- cessful, they were speedily abandoned.— S. — for an account of the ex])edition to Sardinia, see Naiwlcun's memoirs, vol. i., p. 5. 2 " As you quit the town, the first object that presents it- self is a little fountain on the left, whicli, except the pavement of the quay, is the only public woik of Buonapaite, lor the place of liis birth." — Bk.vso.v. • Benson's Sketches of Corsica, p. 121.- S. islanders, has expressed it, — " The Corsicans are still highly patriotic, and possess strong local at- tachment-—in their opinion, contempt for the coiui- try of one's birth is never to be redeemed by any other qualities. Napoleon, therefore, certainly -vvas not popular in Corsica, nor is his memory cherished there."' The feelings of the parties were not unnatural on either side. Napoleon, little interested in the land of his bi>'th, and having such an immense stake in that of his adoption, in which he had every thing to keep and lose,* observed a policy towards Cor- sica which his position rendered advisable ; and who can blame the high-spirited islanders, who, seeing one of their countrymen rai.sed (o such ex- alted eminence, and disposed to forget his con- nexion with them, returned with slight and indif- ference the disregard with which he treated them ? On his return from Corsica, Buonaparte had arrived at Nice, and was preparing to join his re- giment, when General Degear, who commanded the artillery of " the army of Italy," then encamped round the city, required his services, and em- ployed him in several delicate operations. Shortly after, the insurrection of Marseilles broke out — a movement consequent upon the arrest of the leaders of the Girondist party in the Convention, on the first Prairial (31st May ;) and which extended with violence into the departments. The insurgents of Marseilles organized a force of six thousand men, with which they took possession of Avignon, and thereby intercepted the communications of the army of Italy. The general-in-chief being much embarrassed by this circumstance, sent Buonaparte to the insurgents, to try to induce him to let the convoys pass. In July he went to Marseilles aitd Avignon, had interviews with the leaders, con- vinced them that it was their own interest not to excite the resentment of. the army of Italy, and in fine secured the transit of the convoys. During his residence at Marseilles, when sent to the insurgents, having, he says, an opportunity of observing all the weakness and incoherence of their means of resistance, he drew up a Uttle pamphlet, which he called " Le Sovper de Beaucalre," and which he published in that city. " He endeavovu-ed," he says, " to open the eyes of these frantic people, and predicted that the only result of their revolt would be to furnish a pretext to the men of blood of the day, for sending the principal persons amongst them to the scaffold." " It produced," he adds, " a very powerful effect, and contributed to calm the agitation which prevailed."^ During these pro- ceedings Toulon had surrendered to the English. ■* Not literally, however ; for it is worth mentioning, that when he was in full-blown possession of his power, an inheri- tance fell to the family, situated near Ajaccio, and was divided amongst them. The First Consul, or Emperor, received an olivfi garden as his share. — Sketches o/Cursic' Aloniteur, 2iJUi December. 1793 J. LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 179 so much as the name of Buonaparte, to whom the victory was entirely to be ascribed.' • In the meantime, Napoleon's sagacity was not deceived in the event. The officers of the allied troops, after a hurried council of war, resolved to evacuate Toulon, since the posts gained by the French must drive the English ships from their anchorage, and deprive them of a future oppor- tunity of retreating, if they neglected the passing moment. Lord Hood alone urged a bolder reso- lution, and recommended the making a desperate effort to regain fort Mulgrave, and the heights which it commanded. But his spirited counsel was rejected, and the evacuation resolved on;^ which the panic of the foreign troops, especially the Neapolitans, would have rendered still more hor- rible than it proved, but for the steadiness of the British seamen. The safety of the unfortunate citizens, who had invoked their protection, was not neglected even amid the confusion of the retreat. The numerous merchant vessels and other craft, offered means of transportation to all. who, having to fear the re- sentment of the Republicans, might be desirous of quitting Toulon. Such was the dread of the vic- tors' cnielty, that upwards of fourteen thousand persons accepted this melancholy refuge.' Mean- time there was other work to do. It had been resolved, that the arsenal and naval stores, with such of the French ships as were not ready for sea, should be destroyed ; and they were set on fire accordingly. This task was in a great measure intrusted to the dauntless intrepidity of Sir Sydney Smith, who carried it tlirough with a degree of order, which, everything considered, was almost marvellous. The assistance of the Spaniards was offered and accepted ; and they imdertook the duty of scuttling and sinking two vessels used a» powder magazines, and destroying some part of the disabled shipping. The rising conflagi-ation grow- ing redder and redder, seemed at length a gi'eat volcano, amid which were long distinctly seen the masts and yards of the burnuig vessels, and which rendered obscurely visible the advancing bodies of Republican troops, who attempted on different points to push their way into the place. The Jaco- bins began to rise in the town upon the flying Royalists ; — horrid screams and yells of vengeance, and revolutionary chorusses, were heard to mingle with the cries and plaintive entreaties of the re- maining fugitives, who had not yet found means of embarkation. The guns from Malbosquet, now l)0ssessed by the French, and turned on the bul- warks of the town, increased the uproar. At once a shock, like that of an earthquake, occasioned by the explosion of many hundred bari'els of gunpowder, silenced all noise save its own, and threw high into the midnight heaven a thousand blazing fragments, which descended, threatening ruin wherever they fell. A second explosion took place, as the other magazine blew up, with the same dreadful effects. This tremendous ad lition to the terrors of the scene, so dreadful in .tself, was owing to the Spa- niards setting fire to those vessels used as maga- ' " AmoiiRst tliose who chiefly distinguished themselves arc the citizens Buonaparte, cominaiidant of the artillery, Arena, and Gcrvoni."— Di(K)MMiER to the Minister of fVar. 2 Rivington's Annual Register, 1793, p. 415. 3 James's Naval History, vol. i., p. 115; Thiers, tom. vi., p. 5y. — " The total number borne away amounted to U,H77" —Mimoxret ailier-f;eneral for him, and concluded with these words, ' Keward this young man, and promote him, for should he be ungratefully treated, he will promote him- self-'"— Napoleon, Montholon, torn, iii., p. 15. Dugommier was killed on the following November, by the bursting of a field-piece. Napoleon bequeathed to his de- scendant IIIII.OOU francs, "as a testimonial of gratitude for the esteem, affection, and friendship of tliat brave and intrepid general." ■* Gonrgaud, torn, i., p. 30. » .An Englishman will probably remember the sublime pas- Sftgc in " The Mariners of England :"— " Uritannia ni-i-nce former errors, and preserve an appearance of consistency in tlie eyes of Europe. For this purpose eleven commissioners, cliiefly selected amongst the former Girondists, were ap- pointed [April] to di-aw up a new Constitution upon a new principle, which was again to receive the universal adhesion of the French by acclama- tion and oath, and to fall, in a short time, under the same neglect which had attended every pre- ceding model. This, it was understood, was to be so constructed, as to unite the consLstency of a mo- narchical government with the name and forms of a democracy. That the system now adopted by the French commissioners might bear a form corresponding to the destinies of the nation, and flattering to its vanity, it was borrowed from that of the Roman republic, an attempt to imitate which had already introduced many of the blunders and many of the crimes of the Revolution. The executive power was lodged in a council of five persons, termed Directors, to whom were to be consigned the con- duct of peace and war, the execution of the laws, and the general administration of the government. They were permitted no shai'e of the legislative authority. This arrangement was adopted to comply with the jealousy of those, who, in the individual per- son of a single Director, holding a situation similar to that of the Stadtholder in Holland, or the Pre- sident of the United States, saw something too closely approaching to a monarchical government. Indeed, it is said, Louvet warned them against es- tablishing such an office, by assuring them, that when the}' referred the choice of the individual who was to hold it, to the nation at large, they would see the Bourbon heir elected.' But the in- convenience of tliis pentarchy could not be dis- guised ; and it seemed to follow as a necessary con- sequence of such a numerous executive council, either that there would be a schism, and a minority and majority established in that pre-eminent body of the state, where imity and vigour were chiefly requisite, or else that some one or two of the ablest and most crafty among the Directors would esta- blish a supremacy over the others, and use them less as their colleagues than their dependents. The legislators, however, though they knew that the whole Roman empire was found insufficient to satiate the ambition of three men, yet appeared to hope that the concord and imanimity of their five directors might continue unbroken, though they had but one nation to govern ; and they decided accordingly. The executive power being thus provided for, the legislative body was to consist of two councils ; one of Elders, as it was called, serving as a House of Lords ; another of Youngers, which they termed, from its number, the Council of Five Hundred. Both were elective, and the difference of age was the only circumstance which placed a distinction betwixt the two bodies. The members of the Coun- cil of Five Hundred were to be at least twenty -five years old, a qualification which, after the seventh year of the Republic, was to rise to thirty years complete. In this assembly laws were to be first proposed ; and, having received its approbation, ' " Peut-L-trc un jour, on vous nommerait un Bourbon." — J'HlKKs, torn, viii., p. 10. " " Its authors were Lesafic, Daunou, Boissy d'Anglas, they were to be refen-ed to the Council of Ancientai The requisites to sit in the latter senate, were the the age of forty years complete, and the being a married man or a widower. Bachelors, though above that age, were deemed unfit for legislation, perhaps from want of domestic experience. The Council of Ancients had the power of reject- ing the propositions laid before them by the Council of Five Hundred, or, by adopting and approving them, that of passing them into laws. These regu- lations certainly gained one great point, in submit- ting each proposed legislative enactment to two separate bodies, and of course, to mature and deli- berate consideration. It is time, that neither of the councils had any especial character, or separate interest which could enable or induce the Ancients, as a body, to suggest to the Five Hundred a diffe- rent principle of considering any proposed measure, from that which was likely to occur to them in their own previous deliberation. No such varied views, therefore, were to be expected, as must arise between assemblies composed of persons who differ in rank or fortune, and consequently view the same question in various and opposite lights. Still, de- lay and reconsideration were attained, before the irrevocable fiat was imposed upon any measure of consequence ; and so far much was gained. An orator was supposed to answer all objections to the system of the two councils thus constituted, when he described that of the Juniors as being the ima- gination, that of the Ancients as being the judgment of the nation ; the one designed to invent and sug- gest national measures, the other to deliberate and decide upon them. ' This was, though liable to many objections, an ingenious illustration indeed ; but an illustration is not an argument, though often pass- ing current as such. On the whole, the form of the Constitution ^ of the year Three, i. e. 1795, showed a greater degree of practical efficacy, sense, and consistency, than any of those previously suggested ; and in the intro- duction, though there was the usual proclamation of the rights of man, his duties to the Laws and to the social system were for the first time emmierated in manly and forcible language, intimating the de- sire of the framers of these institutions to put a stop to the continuation of revolutionary violence in future. But the constitution, now promulgated, had a blemish common to all its predecessors ; it was totally new, and unsanctioned by the experience either of France or any other country; a mere experiment in politics, the result of which could not be known until it had been put in exercise, and which, for many years at least, must be necessarily less the object of respect than of criticism. Wise legislators, even Avhen lapse of time, alteration of manners, or increased liberality of sentiment, re- quire corresponding alterations in the institutions of their fathers, are careful, as far as possible, to preserve the ancient form and character of those laws, into which they are endeavouring to infuse principles and a spirit accommodated to the altered exigencies and temper of the age. There is an enthusiasm in patriotism as well as in religion. We value institutions, not only because they are ours, but because they have been those of our Creuzee-Latouche, Berlier, Louvet, Larevcilleire I.cpaux, Languinais, Durand-Maillanne, Baudin des Ardennes, aud Thibaudeau." — Thif.rs, torn, viii., p. ." — Th KK,is, fops -a phrase applied to the betVa.- class of SdmCu'.oKfs — y. accompanied by La Porte, a member of the Con- vention, he found the citizens under arms, and exhibiting such a show of resistance, as induced him, after a parley, to retreat without venturing an attack upon them. Menou's indecision showed that he was not a man suited to the times, and he was suspended from his command by the Convention, and placed under arrest. The general management of affairs, and the direction of the Conventional forces, was then committed to Barras ; but the utmost anxiety prevailed among the members of the committees by whom government was administered, to find a general of nerve and decision enough to act under Barras, in the actual command of the military force, in a service so delicate, and times so menac- ing. It was then that a few words from Barras, addressed to his colleagues, Carnot and Talhen, decided the fate of Europe for wellnigh twenty years, " I have the man," he said, " whom you want, a httle Corsican officer, who will not stand upon ceremony." ^ The acquaintance of Barras and Buonaparte had been, as we have already said, formed at the siege of Toulon, and the former had not forgotten the inventive and decisive genius of the young officer to whom the conquest of that city was to be ascribed. On the recommendation of Barras, Buonaparte was sent for. He had witnessed the retreat of Menou, and explained with much simplicity the causes of that check, and the modes of resistance which ought to be adopted in case of the apprehended attack. His explanations gave satisfaction. Buonaparte was placed at the head of the Conventional forces, and took all the necessary precautions to defend the same palace which he had seen attacked and carried by a body of insurgents on the 10th of August. But he possessed far more formidable means of defence than were in the power of the un- fortunate Louis. He had two hundred pieces of cannon, which his high military skill enaliled him to distribute to the utmost advantage. He had more than five thousand regular forces, and about fifteen hundred volunteers. He was thus enabled to defend the whole circuit of the Tuileries ; to establish posts in all the avenues by which it could be approached ; to possess himself of the bridges, so as to prevent co-operation between the sections which lay on the opposite banks of the river ; and finally, to establish a strong reserve in the Place Louis Quinze, or, as it was then called, Place de la Re'volution. Buonaparte had only a few hours to make all these arrangements, for he was named in place of Menou late on the night before the conflict. A merely civic army, having no cannon, (for the field-pieces, of which each section possessed two, had been almost all given up to the Convention after the disarming the suburb of Saint Antoine,) ought to have respected so strong a position as the Tuileries, when so formidably defended. Their policy should have been, as in the days of Henry II., to have barricaded the streets at every point, and cooped up the Conventional troops within the defensive position they had assumed, till want of provisions obliged them to sally at disadvantage, or 3 " For several months. Napoleon, not being actively em- ployed, laboured in the military comniittee. and wgs well ac- quainted with Carnot and Tallicn, whom he saw daily. How, tlien, could Barras make them the proposal attributed !• hira?"— LoLMS BuoNArARXE, p. 17. 1796.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 187 to suri'ender. But a popular force is generally im- patient of delay. The retreat of Menou had given them spii'it, and they apprehended, with some show of reason, that the sections, if they did not unite their forces, might be attacked and disarmed sepa- rately. They therefore resolved to invest the Con- vention in a hostile manner, require of the mem- bers to recall the obnoxious decrees, and allow the nation to make a free and undictated election of its representatives. On the thirteenth Vendemaire, corresponding to the 4th October, the civil affray, commonly called the Day of the Sections, took place. The national guards assembled, to the number of thirty thousand men and upwards, but having no artillery. They advanced by different avenues, in close columns, but everywhere found the most formidable resist- ance. One large force occupied the quays on the left bank of the Seine, tlireatening the palace from that side of the river. Another strong division advanced on the Tuileries, through the Rue St. Honore', designing to debouche on the palace, ■where the Convention was sitting, by the Rue de I'Echelle. They did so, without duly reflecting that they were flanked on most points by strong posts in the lanes and crossings, defended by artillery. The contest began in the Rue St. Honore. Buo- naparte had established a strong post with two guns at the cul-de-sac Dauphine, opposite to the church of St. Roche. He permitted the imprudent Pari- sians to involve their long and dense columns in the narrow street without intermption, until they established a body of grenadiers in the front of the church, and opposite to the position at the cul-de- sac. Each party, as usual, throws on the other the blame of commencing the civil contest for which both were prepared. But all agree the firing com- menced with musketry. It was instantly followed by discharges of grape-shot and cannister, which, pointed as the guns were, upon thick columns of the national g^uards, arranged on the quays and in the narrow streets, made an astounding carnage. The national guards offered a brave resistance, and even attempted to rush on the artillery, and carry the guns by main force. But a measure which is desperate enough in the open field, becomes im- possible when the road to assault lies through nar- row streets, which are swept by the cannon at every discharge. The citizens were cijmpclled to give way. By a more judicious arrangement of their respective forces, different results might have been hoped ; but how could Danican, in any circum- stances, have competed with Buonaparte ? The affair, in which several hundred men were killed and wounded, was terminated as a general action in about an hour ; and the victorious troops of the Convention, marching into the different sections, completed the dispersion and disarming of their opponents, an operation which lasted till late at niglit. The Convention used this victory with the mo- deration which recollection of the Reign of Terror had inspired. Only two pereons suffered deatli for the Day of the Sections. One of them. La Fond, had been a garde de corps, was distinguished for his intrepidity, and repeatedly rallied the national guard under the storm of grajie shot. Several other persons having fled, were in their absence capitally condemned, but were not strictly looked after ; and deportation was the pu lishmcnt inflicted upon others. The accused were indebted for this,cl«j- mency chiefly to the interference of those membei-a of the Convention, who, themselves exiled on the 31st of May, had suffered persecution and learned mercy. The Convention showed themselves at the same time liberal to their protectors. General Bemiyer," who commanded the volunteers of 1789, and othe* general ofiicers employed on the Day of the Sec- tions, were loaded with praises and preferment. But a separate triumph \\as destined to Buona- parte, as the hero of the day. Five days after the battle, Barras soUcited the attention of the Con- vention to the young officer, by whose prompt and skilful dispositions the Tuileries had been protected, on the 1 3th Vendemaire, and proposed that they should approve of General Buonaparte's appoint- ment as second in command of the army of the interior, Barras himself still remaining commander- in-chief. The proposal was adopted by acclamation. The Convention retained their resentment against Menou, whom they suspected of treachery ; but Buonaparte interfering as a mediator, they were content to look over his offence. After this decided triumph over their opponents, the Convention ostensibly laid down their authority, and retiring from the scene in their present charac- ter, appeared upon it anew in that of a Primary Assembly, in order to make choice of such of their membere as, by virtue of the decrees of two-thirds, as they were called, were to remain on the stage, as members of the Legislative Councils of Elders and Five Hundred. After this change of names and dresses, resem- bling the shifts of a strolling company of players, the two-thirds of the old Convention, with one- third of members newly elected, took upon them the administration of the new constitution. The two re-elected thirds formed a large proportion of the councils, and were, in some respects, much like those unfortunate women, who, gathered from jails and from the streets of the metropolis, have been sometimes sent out to foreign settlements ; and, however profligate their former lives may have been, often regain character, and become tolerable members of society, in a change of scene and situa- tion. The Director}' consisted of Ban-as, Sieyes, Reu- bel, Latourneur de la Manche, and Reveilliere- Lepaux, to the exclusion of Tallien, who was deeply offended. Four of these directors were reformed Jacobins, or Thermidoriens ; the fifth, Reveilliere- Lepaux, was esteemed a Girondist. Sieyes, whose taste was rather for speculating in politics than act- ing in them, declined what he considered a hazard- ous office, and was replaced by Carnot. The nature of the insurrection of the Sections was not ostensibly royalist, but several of its leaders were of that party in secret, and, if successful it Would most certainly have assumed that complexion. Thus, the first step of Napoleon's rise commenced by the destruction of the hopes of the House of Bourbon, under the reviving influence of which, twenty years afterwards, he himself was obliged to succumb. But the long path which closed ao darkly, was now opening upon him in light and jojr. ' In I7Hn. the Directory ippoinlcd Berniycr commander of tlic tlopilal lies Invalidcs wliicli Mtuatiun he held till his (Ica'li, ill llii'4. 188 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1795. Huonaparte's high services, and the rank which he liad obtained, rendered him now a young man of tlie first hope and expectation, mingling on terras of consideration among the rulers of the state, in- stead of being regarded as a neglected stranger,' supporting himself with difficulty, and haunting public othces and bureaux in vain, to obtain some chance of preferment, or even employment. From second in command, the new general soon became general-in-chief of the army of the inte- rior, Barras having found his duties as a director incompatible with those of military command. He employed his genius, equally prompt and profound, in improvmg the state of the military forces ; and, in order to prevent the recurrence of such insur- rections as that of the 13th Vendemaire, or Day of the Sections, and as the many others by which it was preceded, he a]ipointed and organized a guard for the protection vH the representative body. As the dearth of bread, and other causes of disaffection, continued to produce commotions in Paris, the general of the interior was sometimes obliged to oppose them with a military force. On one occasion, it is said, that when Buonaparte was anxiously admonisliing the multitude to disperse, a very bulky woman exhorted them to keep their ground. " Never mind these coxcombs with the « paulets," she said ; " they do not care if we are all starved, so they themselves feed and get fat." — " Look at me, good woman," said Buonaparte, who was then as thin as a shadow, " and tell me which is the fatter of us two." This turned the laugh against the Amazon, and the rabble dispersed in good-humour.' If not among the most distinguished of Napoleon's victories, this is certainly worthy of record, as achieved at the least cost. Meantime, circumstances, which we will relate, according to his own statement, introduced Buona- parte to an acquaintance, which was destined to have much influence on his futui'e fate. A fine boy of ten or twelve years old, presented himself at the levee of the general of the interior, with a request of a nature unusually interesting. He stated liis name to be Eugene Beauharnais, son of the ci-devant Vicomte de Beauharnais, who, adhering to the revolutionary party, had been a general in the Republican service upon the Rhine, and falling under the causeless suspicion of the Committee of Piililic Safety, was delivered to the Revolutionary Tribunal, and fell by its sentence just four days before the overthrow of Robespierre. Eugene was come to request of Buonaparte, as general of the interior, that his father's sword might be restored to him. The prayer of the young sup- plicant was as interesting as his manners were engaging, and Napoleon felt so much interest in liim, tJmt he was induced to cultivate the acquaint- ance of Eugene's motlier, afterwards the Empress Josephine.'-' This lady was a Creolian, the daughter of a (ilanter in St. Domingo. Her name at full length was Marie-.Joseph Rose Detacher de la Page'rie. Slio had suffered her share of revolutionary mi- ' Las Cases, torn, i., p. lOI. - Moiitliolon, torn, iii., p. 02. ^ See niiU; p. 16(1. ■< Huonaparte was tlu-n in his twcntv-sixtli year. JosejOiinc nave lierself ill tlic marriage contract fur twtiitv ci'^lit.— S. s A lady of liiRli rank, who lijippem <1 to livcfor some time m tlie same convent at I'ai is. wIrtc .Toseiiliiiie was also a jien- siuiur or boarder, lieaid lur mention the prophecy, and told series. After her husband. General Beauharnais, had been deprived of his command, she was ar- rested as a suspected pei-son, and detained in prison till the general liberation, which succeeded the re- volution of 9th Thermidor. While in confinement, Madame Beauharnais had formed an intimacy with a companion in distress, Madame Fontenai, now Madame Tallien,' from which she derived great advantages after h^r friend's marriage. With a remarkably gracefid person, amiable manners, and an inexhaustible fund of good humour, Madame Beauharnais was formed to be an ornament to so- ciety. Barras, the Thermidorien hero, himself an ex-noble, was fond of society, desirous of enjoying it on an agreeable scale, and of washing away the dregs which Jacobinism had mingled with all the dearest interests of life. He loved show, too, and pleasure, and might now indulge both without the risk of falling under the suspicion of incivism, which, in the Reign of Terror, would have been incurred by any attempt to intermingle elegance with the enjoyments of social intercourse. At the apartments which he occupied as one of the direc- tory, in the Luxemburg palace, he gave its free course to his natural taste, and assembled an agree- able society of both sexes. Madame Tallien and her friend formed the soul of these assemblies, and it was supposed that Barras was not insensible to the charms of Madame Beauharnais, — a rumour which was likely to arise, whether with or without foundation. When Madame Beauharnais and General Buona^ parte became intimate, the latter assures us, and we see no reason to doubt him, that although the lady was two or three years older than himself,'' yet being still in the full bloom of beauty, and ex- tremely agreeable in her manners, lie was induced, solely by her personal charms, to make her an oft'er of his hand, heart, and fortunes, — little supposing, of course, to what a pitch the latter were to arise. Although he himself is said to have been a fatal- ist, believing in destiny and in the influence of his star, he knew nothing, probably, of the prediction of a negro sorceress, who, while Marie-Joseph w as but a child, prophesied she should rise to a dignity greater than that of a queen, yet fall from it before her death.^ This was one of those vague auguries, delivered at random by fools or imposters, which the caprice of Fortune sometimes matches with a cori'esponding and conforming event. But without trusting to the African sibyl's prediction, Buona- parte ma)' have formed his match under the auspices of ambition as well as love. The marrying Madame Beauharnais was a mean of uniting his fortune with those of Barras and Tallien, the first of whom governed France as one of the directors ; and the last, from talents and political connexions, had scarcely inferior influence. He had already de- served well of them for his conduct on the Day of the Sections, but he required their countenance to rise still higher ; and without derogating from the liride's merits, we may suppose her influence in their society corresponded with the views of liei" it herself to the author, just about the time of the Italian cc- Ijeditloii, when Buonaparte was beginning to attract notice. Another cl.ause is usually added to the jirediction — that the party whom it concerned should die in an hospital, which was al'terwards exx)lained as referring to Malniaison. This the author did not hear from the same authority. Tlie lady men- tioned used to speak in the highest terms of the simple man- ners and great kindness of Madame Beauharnais.— S. 179G.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 189 lover. It is, howcvor, certain, that he always re- garded her with peculiar aft'cction ; that he relied on her fate, which he conisidered as linked with and strengthening his own ; and reposed, besides, con- siderable confidence in Josephine's tact and ad- dress in political business. She had at all times the art of mitigating his temper, and turning aside the hasty determinations of his angi-y moments, not by directly opposing, but by gradually parrying and disarming them. It must be added, to her great praise, that she was always a willing, and often a successful advocate, in the cause of humanity. They were married 9th March 1796 ; and the dowery of the bride was the chief command of the Italian armies, a scene which opened a full career to the ambition of the youthful general. Buona- parte remained with his wife only three days after his marriage, hastened to see his family, who were still at Marseilles, and having enjoyed the pleasure of exhibiting himself as a favourite of Fortune in the city which he had lately left in a very subor- dinate capacity, proceeded rapidly to commence the career to which Fate called him, by placing himself at the head of the Italian army.^ CHAPTER III. The Aljys — Feelings and Vieics of Buonaparte on being appointed to the Command of the Army of Italy — General Account of his new Principles of Warfare — Mountainous Countries peculiarly fa- Tourable to them — Rctrosjwxt of Military Pro- ceedings since October 1795 — Hostility of the French Government to the Pope — Massacre of the French Envoy Basserille, at Rome — Austrian Army under Beaulien — Napoleon^s Plan for entering Italy — Battle ofMontenotte, and Buona- parte's first Victory — Again defeats the Austrians at Millesimo — and again under Colli — Takespos- f<'ssio7i of Cherasco — King of Sardinia requests an Armistice, ichich leads to a Peace, concluded on very severe Terms — Close of the Piedmontese Canipaign — Naj^oleon's Character at this period. Napoleon has himself observed, that no country in the world is more distinctly marked out by its natural boundaries than Italy.^ The Alps seem a barrier erected by Nature herself, on which she has insci"ibed in gigantic characters, " Here let ambi- tion be staid." Yet this tremendous circumvallation of mountains, as it could not prevent the ancient Romans from breaking out to desolate the world, so it has been in like manner found, ever since the days of Hannibal, unequal to protect Italy herself from invasion. The French nation, in the times of which we treat, spoke indeed of the Alps as a natural boundary, so far as to authorise them to claim all which lay on the western side of these mountains, as naturally pertaining to their domi- nions ; but they never deigned to respect them as Buch,when the question respected their invading, on their own part, the territories of other states, which lay on or beyond the formidable frontier. They as- 1 " It was I who projjosed Buonaparte for the command of the array of Italy, not Barras." — Carnot, Ri'ponse a Bailb'id. " Napoicon owed the appointment to the command of *he army of Italy to his signal services under Dumerbion." — JoMrNi, torn, viii., p. 4t). * Napoleon, Memoirs, torn, iii., p. 91. snmed the law of natural limits as an unchalleiiga- ablc rule when it made in favour of France, but never allowed it to be quoted against her interest. During the Revolutionary War, the general for- tune of battle had varied from time to time in the neighbourhood of these mighty boundaries. The King of Sardinia-' possessed almost all the fortresses which command the passes on these mountains, and had therefore been said to wear the keys of the Alps at his girdle. He had indeed lost his Duke- dom of Savoy, and the County Of Nice, in the late campaigns ; but he still maintained a very con- s.iderab]e army, and was supported by his powerful ally the Emperor of Austria, always vigilant regard- ing that rich and beautiful portion of his dominions which lies in the north of Italy. The frontiers of Piedmont were therefore covered by a strong Austro-Sardinian army, opposed to the French, of which Napoleon had been just named commander- in-chief. A strong Neapolitan force* was also to be added, so that in general numbers their oppo- nents were much superior to the French ; but a great part of this force was cooped up in garrisons which could not be aliandoned. It may be imagined with what delight the general, scarce aged twenty-six, advanced to an indepen- dent field of glory and conquest, confident in his own powers, and in the perfect knowledge of the country, which he had acquired vv-hen by liis scien- tific plans of the campaign, he had enabled General Dumerbion to drive the Austrians back, and obtain possession of the Col di Tende, Saorgio, and the gorges of the higher Alps.^ Buonaparte's achieve- ments had hitherto been under the auspices of others. Ho made the dispositions before Toulon, but it was Dugommier who had the credit of taking the place. Dumerbion, as we have just said, ob- tained the merit of the advantages in Piedmont. Even in the civil turmoil of the 1 3th Vendemaire, his actual services had been overshadowed by the official dignity of Barras as commander-in-chief. But if he reaped honour in Italy, the success would be exclusively his own ; and that proud heart must have throbbed to meet danger upon such terms ; that keen spirit have toiled to discover the means of success. For victory he relied chiefly upon a system of tactics hitherto unpractised in war, or at least upon any considerable or uniform scale. It may not be unnecessary to pause, to take a general view of the principles which he now called into action. Nations in the savage state, being constantly engaged in war, always form for themselves some peculiar mode of fighting, suited to the country they inhabit, and to the mode in which they are armed. The North-American Indian becomes for- midable as a rifleman or sharpshooter, lays am- buscades in his pathless forests, and practices all the arts of iii-egular war. The Arab, or Scythian, manoeuvres his clouds of cavalry, so as to envelope and destroy his enemy in his deserts by sudden onsets, rapid retreats, and unexpected rallies ; de solating the country around, cutting off his anta- gonist's supplies, and practising, in short, the species of war proper to a people superior in light cavalry. 3 Victor Amadcua III. He was bom in 1726, and died in ■1 " The Neapolitan army was W.OnO stronp;; tlio cavalry Wiis excellent." — Napoleon, Mntioirs, tom. iii.. p. I.'i4. s Viz. in April, I7!)-l.— See Napoleon, Memoirs, torn iii p. 211. 190 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [179G. The first stage of civilisation is less favourable to success in war. As a nation advances in the peaceful arts, and the character of the soldier begins to be less famiharly united with that of the citizen, this system of natural tactics falls out of practice ; and when foreign invasion, or civil broils, call the inhabitants to arms, they have no idea save that of finding out the enemy, rushing upon him, and committing the event to superior strength, bravery, or inmibers. An example may be seen in the great Civil War of England, wliere men fought on both sides, in almost every county of the kingdom, without any combination, or exact idea of uniting in mutual support, or manoeuvring so as to form their insulated bands into an army of pi'e- ponderating foi'ce. At least, what was attempted for that purpose must have been on the rudest plan possible, where, even in actual fight, that part of an army which obtained any advantage, pursued it as fiir as they could, instead of using their success for the support of their companions ; so that the main body was often defeated when a victorious wing was in pursuit of those whom their first onset had broken. But — as war becomes a profession, and a subject of deep study — it is gradually discovered, that the principles of tactics depend upon mathematical and arithmetical science ; and that the commander will be victorious who can assemble the greatest number of forces upon the same point at the same moment, notwithstanding an inferiority of numbers to the enemy when the general force is computed on both sides. No man ever possessed in a gi-eater degree than Buonaparte, the power of calculation and combination necessary for directing such decisive manoeuvres. It constituted, indeed, his secret — as it was for some time called — and that secret consisted in an imagination fertile in expedients which would never have occun-ed to others ; clear- ness and precision in forming his plans ; a mode of directing with certainty the separate moving columns which were to execute them, by arranging so, that each division should arrive on the destined position at the exact time when their service was necessary ; and above all, in the knowledge which enabled such a master-spirit to choose the most fitting subordinate implements, to attach them to his person, and, by explaining to them so much of his plan as it was necessary each should execute, to secure the exertion of their utmost ability in carrying it into effect. Thus, not only were his manceuvres, however daring, executed with a precision which warlike operations had not attaincnl before his time ; but they were also performed with a celerity which gave them almost always the effect of surprise. Napoleon was like lightning in the eyes of his ene- mies; and when repeated experience had taught them to expect this portentous rapidity of move- ment, it sometimes induced his opponents to wait, in a dubious and hesitating posture, for attacks, which, with less apprehension of thsir antagonist, they would have thought it more pmdent to frus- trate and to anticipate. Great sacrifices were necessary to enable the French troops to move with that degree of celerity which Buonaparte's combinations required. He made no allowance for impediments or unexpected obstacles; the time which he had calculated for execution of manoeuvres prescribed, was on no account to foe exceeded — every sacrifiee was to De made of baggage, stragglers, even artillery, rather than the column should arrive too late at the poist of its destination. Hence, all that had hitherto been considered as essential not only to the health, but to the very existence of an army, was in a great measure dispensed with in the French ser- vice ; and, for the first time, troops were seen to take the field without tents, without camp-equi- page, without magazines of provisions, without military hospitals ; — the soldiers eating as they could, sleeping where they could, dying where they could ; but still advancing, still combating, and still victorious. It is true that the abandonment of every object, save success in the field, augmented frightfully all the usual horrors of war. The soldier, with arms in his hands, and wanting bread, became a ma- rauder in self-defence ; and, in supplying his wants by rapine, did mischief to the inhabitants, in a degree infinitely beyond the benefit he himself received ; for it may be said of military requisition, as truly as of despotism, that it resembles the pro- ceedings of a savage, who cuts down a tree to come at the fruit. Still, though purchased at a high rate, that advantage was gained by this rapid system of tactics, which in a slower progress, du- ring which the soldier was regularly maintained, and kept under the restraint of discipline, might have been rendered doubtful. It wasted the army through disease, fatigue, and all the consequences of want and toil ; but still the victory was attained, and that was enough to make the sm-vivors forget their hardships, and to draw forth new recruits to replace the fallen. Patient of labours, light of heart and temper, and elated by success beyond all painful recollections, the French soldiers were the i very men calculated to execute this desperate spe- cies of service under a chief, who, their sagacity soon discovered, was sure to lead to victory all those who could sustain the hardships by which it was to be won. The character of the mountainous countries, among which he was, for the first time, to exercise his system, was highly favourable to Buonaparte's views. Presenting many lines and defensible posi- tions, it induced the Austrian generals to become stationary, and occupy a considerable extent of ground, according to their old system of tactics. But though abounding in such positions as might at first sight seem absolutely impregnable, and were too often trusted to as such, the mountains also exhibited to the sagacious eye of a great captain, gorges, defiles, and difficult and unsuspected points of access, by which he could turn the positions that appeared in front so formidable ; and, by threaten- ing them on the flank and on the rear, compel the enemy to a battle at disadvantage, or to a retreat with loss. The forces which Buonaparte had under his com- mand were between fifty and sixty thousand good troops, having, many of them, been brought from the Spanish campaign, in consequence of the peace with that country ; but very indifferently provided with clothing, and suffering from the hardships they had endured in those mountainous, barren, and cold regions.' The cavalry, in particular, were in 1 Napoleon states his fighting force, fit for duty, at about 30,(KK) men.— l\roiitliolon, torn, iii., p. lit}; Jomiiii, toiii. vUi. p. 59, at 42,4UU. 179G.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 191 very poor order ; but the nature of their new fielol of action not admitting of their being much em- ployed, rendered this of less consequence. The misery of the French army, until these Alpine campaigns were victoriously closed by the armis- tice of Cherasco, could, according to Buonaparte's authority,^ scarce bear description. The officers for several years had received no more than eight livres a-month (twenty pence sterling a-week) in name of pay, and staff-officers had not amongst them a single horse. Berthier preserved, as a cu- riosity, an order of the day, dated Albenga, direct- ing an advance of four Louis d'or to every general of division, to enable them to enter on the cam- paign.''' Among the generals to whom this paltry supply was rendered acceptable by their wants, were, or might have been, many whose names be- came afterwards the praise and dread of war.^ Augereau, Massena,* SeiTurier, Joulnert, Lasnes, and Murat, all generals of the first consideration, served under Buonaparte in his first Italian cam- paign. The position of the French army had repeatedly varied since October 1795, after the skh-mish at Cairo. At that time the extreme left of the line, which extended from south to north, rested upon the Col d'Argentine, and communicated with the higher Alps — the centre was on the Col diTende and Mount Bertrand — the left occupied the heights of Saint Bertrand, Saint Jacques, and other ridges nmning in the same direction, which terminated on the Mediterranean shore, near Finale. The Austrians, strongly reinforced, attacked this line, and carried the heights of Mont Saint Jacques ; and Kellermann, after a vain attempt to regain that point of his position, retreated to the line of de- fence more westward, which rests on Borghetto. Kellermann, an active and good brigade officer, but without sufficient talent to act as commander- in-chief, was superseded, and Scherer was placed in command of the anny of Italy. He risked a bat- tle with the Austrians near Loana, in which the talents of Massena and Augereau were conspicu- ous ; and by the victory which ensued, the French regained the line of Saint Jacques and Finale, which Kellermann had been forced to abandon ; so that, in a general point of view, the relative posi- tion of the two opposed armies was not very diffe- rent from that in which they liad been left by Buo- naparte.^ But though Scherer had been thus far victorious, he was not the person to whom the Directory desi- red to intrust the daring plan of assuming the of- fensive on a grand scale upon the Alpine frontier, and, by carrying their arms into Italy, compelling the Austrians to defend themselves in that quarter, and to diminish the gigantic efforts which that power had hitherto continued witli varied success, but unabated vigour, upon the Rhine. The rulers of France liad a farther object in this bold scheme. ' Las Cases, torn, i., p. 162. 2 This reminds us of the liberality of the Kings of Brentford to their Knightsbridge forces — First King. Here, take five guineas to these warlike men. Second King. And here, five more, which makes the sura just ten. Herald. We have not seen so much the Lord knows when ! — S. 3 " The state of the finances was such, that the government, with all its efforts, could only furnish the chest of the army, at the opening of the camjiaign, with 2000 louis in specie, and a million in drafts, part of which were protested." — Napo- LEov, Mvniholun, tom. lii., p. l-lli; Thiers, torn viii., p. 174. They desired to intimidate, or annihilate and de- throne the Pope. He was odious to them as head of the Church, because the attachment of the French clergy to the Roman See, and the points of con- science which rested upon that dependence, had occasioned the recusancy of the priests, especially of those who were most esteemed by the people, to take the constitutional oath. To the Pope, and his claims of supremacy, were therefore laid the charge of the great civil war in La Vendee, and the general disaffection of the Catholics in the south of France. But this was not the only cause of the animosity entertained by the Directory against the head of the Catholic Church. They had, tlu-ee years be- fore, sustained an actual injury from the See of Rome, which was yet unavenged. The people of Rome were extremely provoked that the French residing there, and particularly the young artists, had displayed the three-coloured cockade, and were proposing to exhibit the scutcheon containing the emblems of the Republic, over the door of the French consul. The Pope, through his minister, had intimated his desii-e that this should not be at- tempted, as he had not acknowledged the Republic as a legitimate government. The Frencli, how- ever, pursued their purpose ; and the consequence was, that a popular commotion arose, which the papal troops did not greatly exert themselves to suppress. The carriage of the French envoy, or charge' des affaires, named Basseville, was attacked in the streets, and chased home ; his house was broken into by the mob, and he himself, unarmed and unresisting, was cruelly assassinated. The French Government considered this very naturally as a gross insult, and were the more desirous of avenging it, that by doing so they would approach nearer to the dignified conduct of the Roman Re- public, which, in good or evil, seems always to have been their model. The affair happened m 1793, but was not forgotten in 1796.^ The original idea entertained by the French Government for prosecuting their resentment, had been by a proposed landing at Civita Vecchia with an army of ten thousand men, marching to Rome, and exacting from the pontiff' complete atonement for the murder of Basseville. But as the English fleet rode unopposed in the Mediterranean, it be- came a matter of very doubtful success to transport such a body of troops to Civita Vecchia by sea, not to mention the chance that, even if safely landed, tliey would have found themselves in the centre of Italy, cut off' from suppUos and succours, assaulted on all hands, and most probably blockaded by the British fleet. Buonaparte, who was consulted, re- commended that the north of Italy should be first conquered, in order that Rome might be with safety approached and chastised ; and this scheme, though in appearance scarce a less bold measure, was a much safer one than the Directory had at first in- ■* " An idea of the penury of the army may be collected from the correspondence of the commander-in-chief, w ho ap- pears to have once sent Massena a su)>ply of twenty-four francs to provide for his official expenses." — Jomini, tom. viii., p. !iO 5 Napoleon, Memoirs, tom. iii., p. 54. 6 " He received a thrust of a bayonet in the abdomen : he was dragged into the streets, holding his bowels in his hands and at length left on a field-bed in a gu.ird-house, where he expired." — Mo.vtholon', tom. iii., p. 41 ; Botta, Storia d'lt.ilia, turn, i., p. 271. Basseville, in 17tt!), was editor of the Al&rcurt \ativital. Ho published KU'nicns de MyOiologic, &c. 192 SCOTT'S INIISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [170G. dined to, sim-e Buonaparte would only approach Rome in the event of his being able to preserve his communications with Lombardy and Tuscany, which he must conquer in the first place.' The plan of crossing the Alps and marching into Italy, suited in every respect the ambitious and self-confident character of the general to whom it was now intrusted. It gave him a separate and independent authority, and the power of acting on his own judgment and responsibihty ; for his coun- tryman Salicetti, the deputy who accompanied him as a commissioner of the Government, was not probably much disposed to intrude his opinions. He had been Buonaparte's patron, and was still his friend.^ The young general's mind was made up to the alternative of compiest or ruin, as may be judged from his words to a friend at taking leave of him. " In three months," he said, " I will be either at Milan or at Paris ;" intimating at once his desperate resolution to succeed, and his sense that the disappointment of all his prospects must be the consequence of a failure. On the 27th of March Buonaparte reached Nice. Tlie picture of the army which General Scherer ^ laid before him, was even worse than he had formed any idea of. The supply of bread was very uncer- tain ; distributions of meat had long ceased ; and for means of conveyance there were only mules, and not above five hundred of these could be reckoned upon. The headquarters had never been removed from Nice, since the commencement of the war : they were instantly ordered to be transferred to Albenga. On the march thither, along the rugged and preci- pitous shore of the ilediterranean, the staff, broken with the rear and baggage of the army, were ex- posed to the cannonade of Nelson's squadron ; but the young commander-in-chief would not allow the columns to halt, for the purpose either of avoiding or of returning it.* On the 3d of April, the army reached port Maunie, near Oneglia, and on the 4th arrived at Albenga ; where, with the view of Tuimating his followers to ambitious hopes, he addressed the army of Italy to the following pur- pose : — " Soldiers, you are hungry and naked. — The Republic owes you much, but she has not the means to acquit herself of her debts. The patience with which you support your hardships among these barren rocks is admirable, but it cannot pro- cure you glory I am come to lead you into the most fertile plains that the sun beholds — Rich provinces, opulent towns, all shall be at your dis- posal — Soldiers, with such a prospect before you, can you fail in courage and constancy?" This was sho\s-ing the deer to the hound when the leash is about to be slipped. The Austro-Sardinian army, to which Buona- parte was opposed, was commanded by Beaulieu, an Austrian general of great experience and some talent, but no less than seventy-five years old ; accustomed all his life to the ancient rules of tac- tics, and unlikely to suspect, anticipate, or fnistrate, ' Montholon, torn, iii., p. 43; Thibaudcau, Hist. Gen. do Napoleon, torn, i., p. 139; Jomini, torn, viii., p. 49. 2 " Salicetti was never the personal friend of Napoleon, but of liis brother Joseph ; with whom, in 1792 and 17il,3, he had been member for tlic department of Corsica."— Joskph Buo- .MAPARTE, Nules sitr k-s Meiiwires lie liourrienne, torn, i., p. i'M. those p'ans, formed by a genius so fertile as that of Napoleon. Buonaparte's plan for entering Italy differed from that of former conquerors and invaders, who had approached that fine country by penetrating or surmounting at some point or other her Alpine barriere. This inventive warrior resolved to attain the same object, by turning round the southern extremity of the Alpine range, keeping as close as possible to the shores of the Mediterranean, and passing through the Genoese territory by the nar- row pass called the Boccheta, leading around the extremity of the mountains, and betwixt these and the sea. Thus he proposed to penetrate into Italy by the lowest level which the surface of the coun- try presented, which must be of course where the range of the Alps unites with that of tlie Apen- nines. The point of junction where these two immense ranges of moimtains touch upon each other, is at the heights of Mount Saint Jacques, above Genoa, where the Alps, running north-west- ward, ascend to Mont Blanc, their highest peak, and the Apennines, running to the south-east, gradually elevate themselves to Monte Velino, the tallest mountain of the range. To attain his object of turning the Alps in the manner proposed, it was necessary that Buonaparte should totally change the situation of his army ; those occupying a defensive line, running north and south, being to assume an offensive position, ex- tending east and west. Speaking of an army as of a battalion, he was to form into column upon the right of the line which he had hitherto occupied. This was an extremely delicate operation, to be un- dertaken in presence of an active enemy, his supe- rior in numbers ; nor was he permitted to execute it uninterrupted. No sooner did Beaulieu learn that the French general was concentrating his forces, and about to change his position, than he hastened to preserve Genoa, without possession of which, or at least of the adjacent territory, Buonaparte's scheme of advance could scarce have been accomplished. The Austrian divided his army into three bodies. Colli, at the head of a Sardinian division, he stationed on the extreme right at Ceva ; his centre division, under D'Argenteau, having its head at Sasiello, had directions to march on a mountain called Montenotte, with two villages of the same name, near to which was a strong position at a place called Montelegnio, which the French had occupied in order to cover their flank during their march towards the east. At the head of his left wing, Beaulieu himself moved from Novi upon Voltri, a small town within ten miles of Genoa, for the pro- tection of that ancient city, whose independence and neutrality were like to be held in little reve- rence. Thus it appears, that while the French were endeavouring to penetrate into Italy by an advance from Sardinia by the way of Genoa, their line of march was threatened by three armies of Austro- Sardinians, descending from the skirts of 3 " I am particularly f^atified with my reception by General Scherer; who, by his honourable deportment and Teadines^ to supply me with all useful information, has acquired a right to my gratitude. To great facility in expressing himself, he unites an extent of general and military knowicdijc, whi^li may probably induce you to deem his services useful in some important station." — Sapoleon to the Directory, March 'M. ■^ Jomini, tom. viii., p. Gi; Thiers, torn, viii., p. 32i). 179G.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 193 the Alps, and menacing to attack (heir flank. But though a skili'ul disposition, BeauHeu's had, from the very mountainous character of the country, the great disadvantage of wanting connexion between the three separate divisions ; neither, if needful, could they be easily united on any point desired, ■while the lower line, on which the French moved, permitted constant communication and co-operation. On the 10th of April, D'Argenteau, with the central division of the Austro-Sardinian army, marched on Montenotte, while Beaulieu on the left attacked the van of the French army, which had come as far as Voltri. General Cervoni, com- manding the French division which sustained the attack of Beaulieu, was compelled to fall back on the main body of his countrymen ; and had the assault of D'Aa-genteau been equally animated, or equally successful, the fame of Buonaparte might have been stifled in the birth. But Colonel Ram- pon, a French officer, who commanded the redoubts near Montelegino, stopped the progi'ess of D'Ar- genteau by the most determined resistance. At the head of not more than fifteen hundred men, whom he inspired with his own courage, and caused to swear either to maintain theh* post or die there,! j^g continued to defend the redoubts, during the whole of the 11th, until D'Argenteau, whose conduct v.as afterwards greatly blamed for not making more determined efforts to carry them, di-ew off his forces for the evening, intending to renew the attack next morning. But, on the morning of the 12th, the Austrian general found himself surrounded with enemies. Cervoni, who retreated before Beaulieu, had uni- ted himself with La Harpe, and both advancing northward during the night of the 1 1 th, established themselves in the rear of the redoubts of Monte- legino, which Rampou had so gallantly defended. Tliis was not all. The divisions of Augereau and Massena had marched, by different routes, on the flank and on the rear of D'Argenteau's column ; BO that next morning, instead of renewing his at- j tack on the redoubts, the Austrian general was ! obliged to extricate himself by a disastrous retreat, leaving behind him colours and cannon, a thousand slain, and two thousand prisoners.^ Such was the battle of Montenotte, the first of Buonaparte's victories ; eminently displaying that truth and mathematical certainty of combination,^ ■which enabled him on many more memorable occasions, even when his forces were inferior in numbers, and apparently disunited in position, sud- denly to concentrate them and defeat his enemy, by overpowering him on the very point where he thought himself strongest. He had accumulated a superior force on the Austrian centre, and des- troyed it, while Colli, on the right, and Beaulieu himself, on the left, each at the head of numerous forces, did not even hear of the action till it was fought and won.* In consequence of the success at Montenotte, and the close pursuit of the defeated Austrians, the French obtained possession of Cairo, which placed them on that side of the Alps which slopes ' Thiers, torn, viii., p. 178; Lacretclle, torn, xiii., p. 153. 2 Napoleon, Memoirs, torn, iii., p. 145; Jomini, torn, viii., p. 70; Las Cases, torn, ii., p. 187. 3 " Napoleon placed himself on a ridi;e in the centre of his divisions, the better to judge of the turn of afi'airs, and to pre- VOL. II. 193 towards Lombardy, and where the streams frcm these mountains run to join the Po. Beaulieu had advanced to Voltri, while the French withdrew to unite themselves in the attack upon D'Argenteau. He had now to retreat north- ward with all haste to Dego, in the valley of tb.e river Bormida, in order to resume communication with the right wing of his army, consisting chiefly of Sardinians, from which he was now nearly sepa- rated by the defeat of the centre. General Colli, by a corresponding movement on the right, occu- pied Millesimo, a small town about nine miles from Dego, with which he resumed and maintained com- munication by a brigade stationed on the heights of Biastro. From the strength of this position, though his forces were scarce sufficiently concen- trated, Beaulieu hoped to maintain his ground till he should receive supplies from Lombardy, and re- cover the consequences of the defeat at Montenotte. But the antagonist ^^■hom he had in front had no purpose of permitting him such respite. Determined upon a general attack on all points of the Austrian position, the French army ad- vanced in three bodies upon a space of four leagues in extent. Augereau, at the head of the division which had not fought at jMontenotte, advanced on the left against Millesimo ; the centre, under ]Massena, directed themselves upon Dego, by the vale of the Bormida ; the right wing, commanded by La Harpe, proceeded by the heights of Cairo, for the purpose of turning Beaulieu's left flank. Augereau, whose division had not engaged at the battle of Montenotte, was the first who came in contact with the enemy. He attacked General Colli on the 1 3th April. His troops, emulous of the honour acquired by their companions, behaved with great bravery, rushed upon the outposts of the Sai-dinian army at Millesimo, forced, and re- tained possession of the gorge by which it was defended, and thus separated from the Sardinian army a body of about two thousand men, imder the Austrian General Provera, who occupied a detached eminence called Cossaria, which covered the extreme left of General Colli's position. But the Austrian showed the most obstinate courage. Although sm-rounded by the enemy, he threw himself into the ruinous castle of Cossaria, which crowned the eminence, and showed a disposition to maintain the place to the last ; the rather that, as he could see from the turrets of his stronghold the Sardinian troops, from whom he had been sepa- rated, preparing to fight on the ensuing day, he might reasonably hope to be disengaged. ■^ Buonaparte in person came up ; and seeing the necessity of dislodging the enemy from this strong post, ordered three successive attacks to be made on the castle. Joubert, at the head of one of the attacldng columns, had actually, with six or seven others, made his way into the outworks, when he was struck do\Mi by a wound in the head. General Banel, and Adjutant-general Que'nin fell, each at the head of the column which he commanded ; and Buonaparte was compelled to leave the obstinate Provera in possession of the castle for the night. scribe the manceuvres ■which might become necessary."— Jo.^ui.vi, torn, viii., p. 7-- ■4 Montholon, torn, iii., p. 145; Las Cases, torn, ii., p. 190; Thiers, torn, viii., p. 1/8. 5 Montholon, torn, iii., p. )4C ; Las Cases, torn, ii, p. 192; Jomini, torn, viii., p. 76- O 194 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [179G. The morning of the 14th brought a different scene. Contenting himself with blockading the castle of Cossaria, Buonaparte now gave battle to General Colli, who made every effort to relieve it. These attempts were all in vain. He was defeated and cut off from Beauheu ; he retired as well as he could upon Ceva, leaving to his fate the brave General Provera, who was compelled to surrender at discretion. On the same day, Massena, with the centre, at- tacked the heights of Biastro, being the point of communication betwixt Beaulieu and Colli, while La Harpe, having crossed the Boi-mida, where the stream came up to the soldiers' middle, attacked in front and in flank the village of Dego, where the Austrian commander-in-chief was stationed. The first attack was completely successful, — the heights of Biastro were carried, and the Picdmontese routed. The assiiult of Dego was not less so, although after a harder struggle. Beauheu was compelled to retreat, and was entirely separated from the Sardinians, wlio had hitherto acted in combination with him. Tlae defenders of Italy now retreated in different directions, Colli moving westward towards Ceva, while Beaulieu, closely pursued through a difficult country, retii-ed upon D'Aqui.i Even the morning after the victory, it was nearly wrested out of the liands of the conquerors. A fresh division of Austrians, who had evacuated Voltri later than the others, and were approacliing to form a junction with their general, found the enemy in possession of Beaulieu's position. Tliey arrived at Dego like men who had been led astray, and were no doubt surprised at finding it in the hands of the French. Yet they did not hesitate to assume the offensive, and by a brisk attack drove out the enemy, and replaced the Austrian eagles in the village. Great alarm was occasioned by this sudden apparition ; for no one among the Frencli could conceive the meaning of an alarm beginning on the opposite quarter to that on wliich the enemy had retreated, and without its being announced from the outposts towards D'Aqui. Buonaparte hastily marched on the village. The Austrians repelled two attacks ; at the third. Gene- ral Lanusse, afterwards killed in Egypt, put his hat upon the point of his sword, and advancing to the charge, penetrated into the place. Lannes also, afterwards Duke of MontebeUo, distinguished him- self on the same occasion by courage and military skill, and was recommended by Buonaparte to the Dii-ectory for promotion. In this battle of Dego, more commonly called of Millesimo, the Austro- Sardinian army lost five or six tliousand men, thirty pieces of cannon, with a great quantity of baggage. Besides, the Austrians were divided from the Sardinians ; and the two generals began to show, not only that their forces were disunited, but that they themselves were acting upon separate motives ; the Sardinians desiring to protect Tm-in, whereas the movements of Beaulieu seemed still ' Las Cases, torn, ii., p. 193; Montholon, torn, iii, p. 148; Thiers, torn, viii., p. 181. - Montholon, torn, iu., p. 148; Las Cases, torn, ii., p. 193; Lacrctelle, torn, xiii., p. 159. 3 " Annabal a forc6 lesAlpes; nous nous les avons tour- n^cs!"— Napoleon, Munlliulon, torn, iii., p. 151. ■* " The rapidity of Massena's movements was a suhjcct of astonishment and tenor -with the Piedmontese, wlio regarded him as a rebel. He was born at Nice, but attached himself 194 directed to prevent the French from entering the Milanese territory .^ Leaving a sufficient force on the Bormida to keep in check Beaulieu, Buonaparte now turned liis strength against Colli, who, overpowered, and witliout hopes of succour, abandoned liis lino of defence near Ceva, and retreated to the line of the Tanaro. Napoleon, in the meantime, fixed his head- quarters at Ceva, and enjoyed from the heights of Montezemoto, the splendid view of the fertile fields of Piedmont stretching in boundless perspective beneath his feet, watered by the Po, the Tanaro, and a thousand other streams which descend from the Alps. Before the eyes of the delighted army of victors lay this rich expanse like a promised land ; behind them was the wilderness tliey had passed ; • — not indeed, a desert of barren sand, similar to that in wliich the Israelites wandered, but a huge tract of rocks and inaccessible mountains, crested w-itli ice and snow, seeming by nature designed as the barrier and rampart of the blessed regions which stretched eastward beneath them. We can sympathize with the self-congratulation of the ge- neral who liad surmounted such tremendous ob- stacles in a way so unusual. He said to the officers around him, as they gazed upon this magnificent scene, " Hannibal took the Alps by storm. We have succeeded as well by turning their flank." ^ The dispirited army of Colli was attacked at Mondovi duruig his retreat, by two corps of Buo- naparte's army, from two different points, com- manded by Massena and Serrurier. The last general, the Sardinian repulsed with loss ; but when he found ^Massena, in the meantime, was turning the left of his line, and that he was thus pressed on both flanks, his situation became almost desperate* The cavalry of the Piedmontese made an effort to renew the combat. For a time they overpowered and drove back those of the French ; and General Stengel, who commanded the latter, was slain in attempting to get them into order.^ But the desperate valour of Murat, unrivalled per- haj)s in the heady charge of cavalry combat, re- newed tlie fortune of the field ; and tlie horse, as well as the infantry of Colli's army, were compelled to a disastrous retreat. The defeat was decisive ; and the Sardinians, after the loss of the best of their ti'oops, their cannon, baggage, and appoint- ments, and being now totally divided from their Austrian allies, and liable to be overpowered by the united forces of the French army, had no longer hopes of effectually covering Turin. Buo- naparte, pursuing his victory, took possession of Cherasco, within ten leagues of the Piedmontese capital.^ Thus Fortune, in the course of a campaign of scarce a month, placed her favourite in full posses- sion of the desii-ed road to Italy by command of the mountain-passes, which had been invaded and conquered with so much military skill. He had gained three battles over forces far superior to his early in hi.s youth to the French service. The Revolution fouiid him a sergeant in the Hoyal Italian regiment." — La- CBETELLE, tom. xiii., p. 161. s " General Stengel, a native of Alsace, was an excellent hussar ofticer; he had served under Dumouriez, and in the other camiiaijjns of the North ; he was adroit, intelligent, and active, combining the qualities of youth with those of niata- rity, he was the true general for advanced posts." — Napoleom, 3Io»lkoloii, tom. iii., p. 152. 6 Montholon, tom. iii., p. 151 ; Jomini. tom. viii., p. Si 179G.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 195 own ; inflicted on the enemy a loss of twenty-five thousand men in killed, wounded, and prisoners ; taken eighty pieces of cannon, and twenty-one stand of colours ; ' reduced to inaction the Aus- trian army ; almost annihilated that of Sardinia ; and stood in full communication with France upon the eastern side of the Alps, with Italy lying open before him, as if to invite his invasion. But it was not even with such laurels, and with facilities which now presented themselves for the accomplishment of new and more important victories upon a lai'ger scale, and with more magnificent results, that the career of Buonaparte's earliest campaign was to be closed. The head of the royal house of Savoy, if not one of the most powerful, still one of the most distinguished in Europe, was to have the melan- choly experience, that he had encountered with the Man of Destiny, as he was afterwards proudly called, who, for a time, had power, in the emphatic phrase of Scripture, " to bind kings with chains, and nobles with fetters of iron." The shattered relics of the Sardinian array had fallen back, or rather fled, to within two leagues of Tm'in, without hope of being again able to make an eft'ectual stand. The Sovereign of Sardinia, Savoy, and Piedmont, had no means of preserving his capital, nay, his existence on the contment, ex- cepting by an almost total submission to the will of the victor. Let it be remembered, that Victor Amadeus the Third was the descendant of a race of heroes, who, from the peculiar situation of their territories, as constituting a neutral ground of great strength betwixt France and the Italian possessions of Austria, had often been called on to play a part in the getieral affairs of Europe, of importance far superior to that which their condition as a second- rate power could otherwise have demanded. In general, they had compensated their inferiority of force by an ability and gallantry which did them the highest credit, both as generals and as politi- cians ; and now Piedmont was at the feet, in her turn, of an enemy weaker in numbers than her own. Besides the reflections on tho past fame of his country, the present humiliating situation of the King was rendered more mortifying by the state of his family connexions. Victor Amadeus was the father-in-law of Monsieur (Louis XVIII.,) and of the Comte d'Artois, (afterwards Charles X.) He had received his sons-in-law at his court at Turin, had afforded them an opportunity of assembling around them their forces, consisting of the emigrant noblesse, and had strained all the power he pos- sessed, and in many instances successfully, to with- stand both the artifices and the arms of the French Republicans. And now, so born, so connected, and with such principles, he was condemned to sue for peace, on any terms which might be dictated, from a General of France, aged twenty-six years, who, a few months before, was desirous of an ap- pointment in the artillery service of the Grand Signior. Under these afflicting circumstances, a suspen- sion of hostilities was requested by tlie King of Sardinia ; and, on the 24th April, conferences were held at Carru, the headquarters of the French, but 1 Murat was des])3tched to Paris with them, and the treaty for tile armistice of Cherasco. His arrival, by way of Mount Cenis, with so many trophies, and the King of Sardinia's sub- mission, caused great joy in the capital. Junot, who had been despatched after the battle of Millesimo by the Nice road, ar- •ivcd later than Murat. 1.95 an armistice could only be purchased by placing two of the King's strongest fortresses — Coni and Tortona, in the hands of the French, and thus ac- knowledging that he surrendered at discretion. The armistice was agreed on [April 28] at Che- rasco, but commissioners were sent by the King to Paris, to arrange with the Directory the final terms of peace. These were such as victors give to the vanquished. Besides the fortresses already surrendered, the King of Sardinia was to place in the hands of the French five others of the first importance. The road from France to Italy was to he at all times open to the French armies ; and indeed the King, by surrender of the places mentioned, had lost the power of interrupting their progress. He was to break off every species of alliance and connexion with the combined powers at war with France, and become bound not to entertain at his court, or in his service, any French emigrants whatever, or any of their connexions ; nor was an exception even made in favour of his own two daughters. In short, the surrender was absolute.^ Victor Ama- deus exhibited the utmost reluctance to subscribe this treaty, and did not long survive it.^ His son succeeded in name to the kingdom of Piedmont ; but the fortresses and passes, which had rendered him a prince of some importance, were, excepting Tiu-in, and one or two of minor consequence, all surrendered into the hands of the French. Viewing this treaty with Sardinia as the close of the Piedmontese campaign, we pause to consider the character which Buonaparte displayed at that period. The talents as a general which he had exhibited were of tlie very first order. There was no disconnexion in his objects ; they were all attained by the very means he proposed, and the success was improved to the utmost. A different conduct usually characterises those who stumble unexpectedly on victory, either by good fortune or by the valour of their troops. When the favour- able opportunity occm-s to such leaders, they are nearly as much embai-rassed by it as by a defeat. But Buonaparte, who had foreseen the result of each operation by his sagacity, stood also prepared to make the most of the advantages which might be derived from it. His style in addressing the Convention was, at this period, more modest and simple, and therefore more impressive, than the figurative and bombastic style which he afterwards used in his bulletins. His self-opinion, perhaps, was not risen so high as to permit him to use the sesquipedalian words and violent metaphors, to which he afterwards seems to have given a preference. We may remark also, that the young victor was honourably anxious to secm-e for such officers as distinguished them- selves, the preferment which their services entitled them to.* He urges the promotion of his brethren in arms in almost every one of his despatches, — a conduct not only just and generous, but also highly politic. Were his recommendations successful, tlicir general had the gratitude duo for the benefit ; were they overlooked, thanks equally belonged to him for his good wishes, and the resentment for tho 2 The treaty was concluded at Paris, on the loth May. For a copy of it, see Annual Register, vol. xxxviii,, p. i&J. 3 Victor Amadeus died of apoplexy, in the following Octo- ber, and was succeeded by his son, Charles Emanuel. 4 See Correspondence lu^dite, torn, i., p. 85. j9G SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE TTORKS. [179G. 6!ight attached itself to the government, wlin ilicl not give effect to tliem. If Buonaparte spoke simply and modestly on liis own aeliievenients, the bombast winch he spared was liberally dealt ont to the Convention by an orator named Danliermesnil, who invokes all bards, from Tyrtajus and Ossinn down to the author of the Mai-seillois Hymn — all painters, from Apelles to David — all musicians, from Orpheus to the author of the Cliant du d'part, to sing, paint, and compose music, upon the achievements of the General and Army of Italy. ^ With better taste, a medal of Buonaparte was sti'uck in the character of the Conqueror of the battle of Montenotte. The face is extremely thin, with lank hair, a striking contrast to the fleshy square countenance exhibited on his later coins. On the reverse, Victorj', bearing a palm branch, a wreath of laurel, and a naked sword, is seen flying over the Alps. This medal we notice as the first of the splendid series which records the victories and honours of Napoleon, and which was designed by Denon as a ti-ibute to the genius of his patron. CHAPTER IV. t'arlJier progress of the French Anni/ under Buona- jyarte — He crosses the JPo, at Placenza, on 7th May — Battle of Lodi takes place on the lOth, in which the French are tictorious — Hemarks on Napoleon's Tactics in this celebrated Action — French take possession of Cremona and Pizzlijhitone — Milan deserted by Hie Archduke Ferdinand and his Duchess — Buonaparte enters Milan on the \oth May — General situation of the Italian States at this period — Napoleon inflicts Fines vpon the neutral and unoffending States of Parma and Modena, and extorts the surrender of some of their finest Pictures — Pemarks vpon this novel procedure. The ardent disposition of Buonaparte did not long permit him to rest after the advantages which he had secured. He had gazed on Italy with an eagle's eye ; but it was only for a moment, ere stooping on her with the wing, and pouncing on her with the talons, of the king of birds. A general with less extraordinary talent would perhaps have thought it sufficient to have obtained possession of Piedmont, revolutionizing its govern- ment as the French had done that of Holland, and would have awaited fresh supplies and reinforce- ments from France before advancing to farther and more distant conquests, and leaving the Alps under the dominion of a hostile, though for the present a subdued and disarmed monarchy. But Buonaparte had studied the campaign of Villars in these regions, and was of opinion that it was by that general's hesitation to advance boldly into Italy, after the 1 See the speech in the Monitcitr, No. 233, 12th May. 2 Montholon, torn, iii., p. 162. 3 " — procul obscures coUes humilemque videmu? Italiam. Italiam ! primus conclamat Achates; Italiam ! lato socii clamore salutant." Vrno. Mwid, Book III.— S. " Now every star before Aurora flies. Whose glowing bluslies streak the puriile skies ; When tlie dim hills of Italy we view'd. That peep'd by turns, and dived beneath the flood, I-o! Italy appears. Achates cries, Aud, Italy! with shouts the crowd reiilies." Drvden. 196 victories which the Marshal de Coigni had ob- tained at Parma and Guastalla, that the enemy had been enabled to assemble an accumulating ibrce, before which the French were compelled to re- treat.^ He determined, therefore, to give the Republic of Venice, tlie Grand Duke of Tuscany, and other states in Italy, no time to muster forces, and take a decided part, as they were likely to do, to oppose a French invasion. Their terror and surprise could not fail to be increased by a sudden irruption ; while m.onths, weeks, even days of con- sideration, might afford those states, attached as the rulers must be to their ancient oligarchical forms of government, time and composure to assume arms to maintain them. A speedy resolution was the more necessary, as Austria, alarmed for her Italian pos- sessions, was about to make every effort for their defence. Orders had already been sent by the Aulic Council of War to detach an army of thirty thou- sand men, under Wurmser, fnm the Army of the Rhine to the frontiers of Italy. These were to be strengthened by other reinlorcements from the interior, and by such forces as could be raised in the mountainous district of the Tyrol, which fur- nishes perhaps the most experienced and most formidable sharpshooters in the world. The whole was to be united to the fragments of Beaulieu's defeated troops. If suff'ered to form a junction, and arrange their plans for attack or defence, an army, of force so superior to the French in num- bei-s, veterans in discipline, and commanded by a general like Wurmser, was likely to prevent all the advantages which the French might gain by a sudden irruption, ere an opposition so formidable was collected and organized. But the daring scheme which Napoleon contemplated, corresponding to the genius of him who had formed it, required to be executed with caution, united with secrecy and celerity. These were the more necessary, as, although the thanks of the French Government had been voted to the army of Italy five times in the course of a month, yet the Directory, alarmed at the more doubtful state of hostilities npou the Rhine, had turned their exertions chiefly in that direction ; and, trusting to the skill of their general, and the courage of his troops, had not transmitted recruits and supplies upon the scale necessary for the gi-eat undertakings which he meditated. But Italiam — Italiam!^ — the idea of penetrating into a comitrj' so guarded and defended by natm'e, as well as by military skill, the consciousness of having surmounted obstacles of a nature so extraordinary, and the hope that they were approaching tlie reward of so many labours — above all, their full confidence in a leader, who seemed to have bound Victory to his standard— made the soldiers follow their general, without counting then* own deficien- cies, or the enemy's numbers.'' To encourage this ardour, Buonaparte circulated an address,^ m which, complimenting the army on ■* " The army, on reaching the Adigc, will command all the states of the House of Austria in Italy, and all those of the Pope on this side of the Apennines; it will be in a situation to proclaim the principles of liberty, and to excite Italian pa- triotism against the sway of foreigners. The word Italiam! Itnliam! proclaimed at Milan, Bologna, and Verona, will produce a magical effect." — Napoleo.v, Muntkolon, torn, iii., p. IGo. s It was dated Chcrasco, April the 26th, and sufficiently proves, that notwithstanding all their victories, many of the soldiery, nay, even of the superior officers, were still alarmed at the magnitude of the enterjirise on which Napoleon waj entering with apparently very inadequate resources. 179G.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 107 the victories tliey had gained, he desired them at the same time " to consider nothino; as won so long as tlie Austrians held Milan, and while the ashes of those who had conquered the Tarqnins were soiled by the presence of the assassins of Basseville." It would appear that classical allusions are either familiar to the French soldiers, or that, without being more learned than others of their rank, they are pleased with being supposed to undei-stand thrin. They probably considered the oratory of their great leader as soldier-like words, and words of exceeding good command. The English soldier, addressed in such flights of eloquence, would either have laughed at them, or supposed that he had got a crazed play-actor put over hiui, instead of a gene- ral. But there is this peculiar trait in the French character, that they are willing to take every thing of a complimentary kind in the manner in which it seems to l>e meant. They appear to have made that bargain with themselves on many points, which the audience usually do in a tlieatre, — to accept of the appearance of things for the reality. They never inquire whether a triumphal arch is of stone or of wood ; whether a scutcheon is of solid metal, or only gilt ; or whether a speech, of which the tendency is flattering to their national vanity, con- tains genuine eloquence, or only tumid extrava- gance. All thoughts were therefore turned to Italy. The fortress of Tortona was surrendered to the French by the King of Sardinia ; Buonaparte's headquarters were fixed there, [May 4.] Massena concentrated another part of the army at Alexan- dria, menacing Milan, and threatening, by the pass- age of the Po, to invade the territories belonging to Austria on the northern bank of that stream. As Buonaparte himself observed, the passage of a great river is one of the most critical operations in modern war ; and Beaulieu had collected his forces to cover Milan, and prevent the French, if possible, from crossing the Po. But, in order to a\'ert the dangerous consequences of attempting to force his passage on the river, defended by a formidable enemy in front, Buonaparte's subtle genius had al- ready prepared the means for deceiving the old Austrian respecting his intended operations. Valenza appeared to be the point of passage pro- posed by the French ; it is one of those fortresses ■which cover the eastern frontier of Piedmont, and is situated upon the Po. During the conferences previous to the armistice of Cherasco, Buonaparte had thrown out hints as if he were particularly desirous to be possessed of this place, and it was actually stipulated in the terms of the treaty, that the French should occupy it for the purpose of effecting their passage over the river. Beaulieu did not fail to learn what had passed, which coincid- ing with his own ideas of the route by which Buonaparte meant to advance upon Milan, he has- tened to concentrate his army on the opposite bank, at a place called Valeggio, about eighteen miles from Valenza, the point near which he expected the attempt to be made, and from which he could move easily in any dii'ection towards the river, be- fore the French could send over any considerable force. Massena also countenanced this report, and riveted the attention of the Austrians on Valenza, by pushing strong reconnoitring parties from Alex- andria in the direction of that fortress. Besides, Beaulieu had himself crossed the Po at this pJaccj 197 and, like all men of routine — (for such ho was though a brave and approved soldier) — he was al- ways apt to suppose that the same reasons which directed himself, must needs seem equally convinc- ing to others. In almost all delicate affairs, per- sons of ordinary talents are misled by their incapa- city to comprehend, that men of another disposition will be likely to view circumstances, and act upon principles, with an eye and opinion very different from their own. But the reports which induced the Austrian general to take the position at Valeggio, arose out of a stratagem of war. It was never Buonaparte's intention to cross the Po at Valenza. The proposal was a feint to draw Beanlieu's attention to that point, while the French accomplished the desired passage at Placenza, nearly fifty miles lower down the river than Valeggio, w here their subtle general had induced the Austi'ians to take up their line of defence. Marching for this purpose with incredible celerity, Buonaparte, on the 7th of May, assenibled his forces at Placenza, when their presence was least expected, and where there were none to de- fend the opposite bank, except two or three squa- drons of Austrians, stationed there merely for the purpose of reconnoitring. General Andre'ossi (for names distinguished during those dreadful wars begin to rise on the narrative, as the stars glimmer out on the horizon) commanded an advanced guard of five hundred men. They had to pass in the com- mon ferry-boats, and the crossing required nearly half an hour ; so that the difficulty, or rather im- possibility, of achieving the operation, had they been seriously opposed, appears to demonstration. Colonel Lannes threw himself ashore first with a body of grenadiers, and speedily dispersed tlie Aus- trian hussars, who attempted to resist their landing. The vanguard having thus opened the passage, the other divisions of the army were enabled to cross in succession, and in the course of two days the %\hole were in the Milanese territory, and on the left bank of the Po. The military manoeuvres, by means of which Buonaparte achieved, without the loss of a man, an operation of so much consequence, and which, without such address as he displayed, must have been attended with great loss, and risk of failure, have often been considered as among his most masterly movements. Beaulieu, informed too late of the real plans of the French general, moved his advanced g-uard, composed of the division of General Liptay, from Valeggio towards the Po, in the direction of Pla- cenza. But here also the alert general of the French had been too rapid in his movements for the aged German. Buonaparte had no intention to wait an attack from the enemy with such a river as the Po in his rear, which he had no means of recrossing if the day should go against him ; so that a defeat, or even a material check, would have endangered the total loss of his army. He was, therefore, pushing for\\ard in order to gain ground on which to manoeuvre, and the advanced divisions of the two armies met at a village called Fombio, not far from Casal, on the 8th of May. The Aus- trians threw themselves into the place, fortified and manned the steeples, and whatever posts else could be made effectual for defence, and reckoned upon defending themselves there until the main body of Beanlieu's army should come up to support them. But they were unable to sustain the vivacity of tho 1D8 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1796. French onset, to which so many successive victories had now given a double impulse. The village was carried at the bayonet's point ; the Austrians lost their cannon, and left behind one-third of their men, in slain, wounded, and prisoners. The wreck of Liptay's division saved themselves by crossing the Adda at Pizzighitone, while they protected their retreat by a hasty defence of that fortress.' Another body of Austrians having advanced from Casal, to support, it may be supposed, the division of Liptay, occasioned a great loss to the French army in tJie person of a very promising officer. This was General La Harpc, higlily respected and trusted by Buonaparte, and repeatedly mentioned in the campaigns of Piedmont. Hearing the alarm given bjf the out-posts, when the Austrian patrols came in contact with them. La Harpe rode out to satisfy himself concerning the nature and strength of the attacking party. On his return to his own troops, they mistook him and his attendants for the enemy, fired upon, and killed him. He was a Swiss by birth, and had been compelled to leave his country on account of his democratical opinions ; a grenadier, says Buonaparte, in stature and in courage, but of a restless disposition. The soldiers with the superstition belonging to their profession, remarked, that during the battle of Fombio, on the day before, he was less animated than usual, as if an obscure sense of his approaching fate already overwhelmed him.^ The Austrian regiment of cavalry which occa- sioned this loss, after some skirmishing, was con- tent to escape to Lodi, a point upon which Beaulieu was again collecting his scattered forces, for the purpose of covering Milan, by protecting the line of the Adda. " The passage of the Po," said Buonaparte, in his report to the Directory, " had been expected to prove the boldest and most difficult mancBuvre of the campaign, nor did we expect to have an action of more vivacity than that of Dego. But we have now to recount the battle of Lodi.'"^ As the con- queror deservedly congratulated himself on this hard-won victory, and as it has become in a manner especially connected with his name and military character, we must, according to our plan, be some- what minute in our details respecting it. The Adda, a large and deep river, though ford- able at some places and in some seasons, crosses the valley of the Milanese, rising in the Tyrolese Alps, and joining the Po at Pizzighitone ; so that, if the few points at which it can be crossed are fortified or defended, it forms a line covering all the Milanese territory to the eastward, from any force approaching from the direction of Piedmont. This line Beaulieu proposed to make good against the victor before whom he had so often retreated, and he conjectured (on this occasion rightly) that, to prosecute his victory by marching upon Milan, Buonaparte would first desire to dislodge the cover- ing army from the line of the Adda, as he could not safely advance to the capital of Lombardy, leaving the enemy in possession of such a defensive line upon their flank. He also conjectured that this attempt would be made at Lodi. This is a large town, containing twelve thousand inhabitants. It has old Gothic walls, but its chief 1 Mnritholon, torn, iii., p. 169; Thibaudeau, torn, i., p. 2(lC; Jonnai, toni. viii., p. 117. 198 defence consists in the river Adda, which Hows through it, and is crossed by a wooden bridge about five liundrcd feet in length. When Beaulieu, after the affair of Fombio, evacuated Casal, he re- treated to this place with about ten thousand men. The rest of his army was directed upon Milan and Cassano, a town situated, like Lodi, upon the Adda. Buonaparte calculated that, if he could accom- plish the passage of the Adda at Lodi, he might overtake and disperse the remainder of Beaulieu's army, without allowing tlie veteran time to con- centrate them for farther resistance in Milan, or even for rallying under the walls of the strong fortress of Mantua. The judgment of the French general was in war not more remarkable for seizing the most advantageous moment of attack, than for availing himself to the very uttermost of success when obtained. The quick-sighted faculty and power of instant decision with which nature had endowed him, had, it may be supposed, provided beforehand for the conscqviences of the victory ere it was yet won, and left no room for doubt or hesitation when his hopes had become certainties. We have already remarked, that there have been many commanders, who, after an accidental victory, are so much at a loss what is next to be done, that while they are hesitating, the golden moments pass away unimproved ; but Buonaparte knew as well how to use advantages, as to obtain them. Upon the 1 0th day of May, attended by his best generals, and heading the choicest of his troops, Napoleon pressed forward towards Lodi. About a league from Casal, he encountered the Austrian rear-guard, who had been left, it would appear, at too great a distance from the main body. The French had no difficulty in driving these troops before them into the town of Lodi, which was but slightly defended by the few soldiers whom Beau- lieu had left on the western or right side of the Adda. He had also neglected to destroy the bridge, although he ought rather to have supported a de- fence on the right bank of the river, (for which the town afforded many facilities,) till the purpose of destruction was completed, than have allowed it to exist. If his rear-guard had been actually stationed in Lodi, instead of being so far in the rear of the main body, they might by a protracted resistance from the old walls and houses, have given time for this necessary act of demolition. But though the bridge was left standing, it was swept by twenty or thirty Austrian pieces of artil- lery, whose thunders menaced death to any who should attempt that pass of peril. The French, with great alertness, got as many guns in position on the left bank, and answered this tremendous fire with equal spirit. During this cannonade, Buona- parte threw himself personally amongst the fire, in order to station two guns loaded with grape- shot in such a position, as rendered it impossible for any one to approach for the purpose of mider- mining or destroying the bridge ; and then calmly proceeded to make arrangements for a desperate attempt. His cavalry was directed to cross, if possible, at a place where the Adda was said to be fordable, — ■ a task which they accomplished with difficulty - Montliolnn. torn, iii., p. 17^ 3 Mouitcur, No. 241, May 20. 179G.] LIFE OF NAFOLEON BUONAPARTE. 100 Meantime, Napoleon observed that the Austrian line of infantry was llirown considei-ably beliiiid the batteries of artillery which tliey supported, in order that they might have the advantage of a bending slope of ground, which afforded them Bhelter from tlie French fire. He therefore drew up a close column of three thousand grenadiers, protected from the artillery of the Austrians by the walls and houses of the town, and yet considerably nearer to the enemy's line of guns on the opposite side of the Adda than were their own infantry, which ought to have protected them. The column of grenadiei-s, thus secured, waited in comparative safety, until the appearance of the French cavalry, who liad crossed the ford, began to disquiet the flank of the Austrians. This was the critical mo- ment which Buonaparte expected. A single word of command wheeled the head of the column of grenadiei-s to the left, and placed it on the perilous bridge. The word was given to advance, and they rushed on with loud shouts of Virc la lujyuhlique ! But their appearance upon the bridge was the sig- nal for a redoubled shower of grape-shot, while from the windows of the houses on the left side of the river, the soldiers who occupied them poured volley after volley of musketry on the thick column as it endeavoured to force its way over the long bridge. At one time the French grenadiers, unable to sustain this dreadful storm, appeared for an instant to hesitate. But Berthier, the chief of Buonaparte's staff, with Llassena, L'Allemagne, and Corvini, hurried to the head of the column, and by their presence and gallantry renewed the resolution of the soldiers, who now poured across the bridge. The Austrians had but one resource left ; to rush on the French with the bayonet, and kill, or drive back into the Adda, those who had forced their passage, before they could deploy into line, or receive support from their comrades, who were still filing along the bridge. But the oppor- tunity wan neglected, either because the troops, who should have executed the manoeuvre, had been, as we have already noticed, withdi'awn too far from the river ; or because the soldiery, as happens when they repose too much confidence in a strong position, became panic-struck when they saw it unexpectedly carried. Or it may be, that Genei-al Beaulieu, so old and so unfortunate, had somewhat lost that energy and presence of mind which the critical moment demanded. Whatever was the cause, the French rushed on the artillery- men, from whose fire they had lately suffered so tremendously, and, unsupported as they were, had little difficulty in bayoneting them. The Austrian army now completely gave way, and lost in their retreat, annoyed as it was by the French cavalry, upwards of twenty guns, a thou- sand prisoners, and perhaps two thousand more wounded and slain.* Such was the famous passage of the Bridge of Lodi; achieved with such skill and gallantry, as gave the victor the same character for fearless in- trepidity, and practical talent in actual battle, which the former part of the campaign had gained him as a most able tactitian. Yet this action, though successful, has been severely criticized by those who desire to derogate ' Montholon, torn, jii., p. 173; Jomini, torn, viii., \i. 12t) Thibaudeau, torn, i., i>. 21U. 199 from Buonaparte's military talents. It has been said, that ho might have passed over a body of infantry at the same ford where tlie cavalry had crossed ; and that thus, by manoeuvring on both sides of the river, he might have compelled the Austrians to evacuate their position on the left bank of the Adda, without hazarding an attack upon their front, which could not but cost the assailants verj' dearly. Buonaparte had perhaps this objection in his recollection when he states, that the column of grenadiers was so judiciously sheltered from tho fire until the moment when their wheel to the left brought them on the bridge, that they only lost two hundred men^ during the storm of the passage. We cannot but suppose, that this is a very miti- gated account of the actual loss of the French army. So slight a loss is not to be easily reconciled with the horrors of the battle, as he himself de- tailed them in his despatches ; nor with the conclu- sion, in which he mentions, that of the sharp contests which the army of Italy had to sustain during the campaign, none was to be compared with that " terrible passage of the bridge of Lodi."^ In fact, as w'e may take occasion to prove here- after, the JNlemoranda of the great general, dic- tated to his officei-s at Saint Helena, have a little too much the character of his original bulletins ; and, while they show a considerable disposition to exaggerate the difficulties to be overcome, the fury of the conflict, and the exertions of courage by which the victory was attained, show a natural in- consistency, from the obvious wish to diminish the loss which was its unavoidable price. But, admitting that the loss of the French had been greater on this occasion than their general cared to recollect or acknowledge, his military con- duct seems not the less justifiable. Buonaparte appears to have had two objects in view in this daring exploit. The first was, to im- prove and increase the terror into which his pre- vious successes had thrown the Austrians, and to impress upon them the conviction, that no position, however strcng, was able to protect them against the audacity and talent of the French. This dis- couraging feeling, exemplified by so many defeats, and now by one in circumstances where the Aus- trians appeared to have every advantage, it was natural to suppose, would hurry Beaulieu's retreat, induce him to renounce all subsequent attempts to cover Alilan, and rather to reunite the fragments of his army, particularly that part of Liptay's divi- sion, which, after being defeated at Fombio, had thrown themselves into Pizzighitone. To luxve manoeuvred slowly and cautiously, would not have struck that terror and confusion which was inspired by the desperate attack on the position at Lodi. Supposing these to have been his views, the victor perfectly succeeded ; for Beaulieu, after his misad- venture, di-ew off without any farther attempt to protect the ancient capital of Lombardy, and threw himself upon Mantua, with the intention of cover- ing that strong fortress, and at the same time of sheltering under it the remains of his army, until he could form a junction with the forces which Wurmser was bringing to his assistance from the Rhine. 2 " The loss of the Frencli was onlj four liuiidicd men."'—* Thibaudeau, torn. i.. p. 21H. 3 Aloniteur, No. 241, May 20. 200 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [17'J6. Buonaparte himself has pointed out a second ©bjcct, in which he was less successful. He had hoped the rapid surprise of the bridge of Lodi might enable hira to overtake or intercept the rest of Beaulieu's army, which, as ^^•e have said, had retreated by Cassano. He failed, indeed, in this object ; for these forces also made their way into the Mantuan territory, and joined Beaulieu, who, by crossing the classical Mincio, placed another strong line of military defence betwixt him and his victor But the prospect of iuterceptuig and de- stro) ing so large a force, was worth the risk he encountered at Lodi,' especially taking into view the spirit which his army had acquired from a long train of victory, together with the discouragement which had ci'ept into the Austrian ranks from a uniform series of defeats. It should also be remembered, in considering the necessity of forcing the bridge of Lodi, that the ford over th.e Adda was crossed with difficulty even by tlie cavalry, and that when once separated by the river, the communication between the main army and the detachment of infautry, (which his censors say Napoleon should have sent across in the same manner,) being in a great degree inter- rupted, the latter might have been exposed to losses, from which Buonaparte, situated as he was on the right bank, could have had no means of protecting them. Leaving the discussion of what might have been, to trace that which actually took place, the French cavalry pursued the retreating Austrians as far as Cremona, of which they took possession. Piz- zighitone was obliged to capitulate, the garrison being cut off from all possibility of succour. About five hundred prisoners surrendered in that fortress ; the rest of Liptay's division, and other Austrian corps, could no otherwise escape, than by throwing themselves into the Venetian territory. It was at this time that Buonaparte had some conversation with an old Hungarian officer made prisoner in one of the actions, whom he met with at a bivouac by chance, and who did not know him. The veteran's language was a curious commentary on the whole campaign ; nay, upon Buonaparte's general system of warfare, which appeared so extra- ordinai'y to those who had long practised the art on more formal principles. " Things are going on as ill and as irregularly as possible," said the old martinet. " The French have got a young general, who knows nothing of the regular rules of war ; he is sometimes on our front, sometimes on the Hank, sometimes on the rear. There is no supporting such a gross violation of rules. "^ This somewhat resembles the charge which foreign tactitians have brought against the English, that they gained vic- tories by contmuing, with their insular ignorance and obstinacy, to fight on, long after the period when, if they had known the rules of war, they ought to have considered themselves as completely defeated. A peculiar circumstance is worth mentioning. The French soldiers had a mode at that time of 1 " Vand^niiaire and Montcnotte," said tlie Emperor, " never induced me to look upon myself as a man of a supe- rior class : it was not till after Lodi that I was struck with the possibility of my bccomini; a decibive actor on the scene of political events. It was then that the first snark of my am- bition was kindled."— Las Cases, torn, i., p. 150. ^ Montholiin, torn. iii.. p 178. a " How subtle is the cliain which ui;ites the most trivial ■200 amusing themselves, by conferring an imaginary rank upon their generals, when they had done some remarkable exploit. They showed their sense of the bravery displayed by Buonaparte at the Battle of Lodi, by creating hira a Corporal ; and by this phrase, of the Little Coiyoral, he was distinguished in the intrigues formed against him, as well as those which were carried on in his favour ; in the lan- guage of Georges Cadondal, who laid a scheme for assassinating him, and in the secret consultation of the old soldiers and others, who arranged his re- turn from Elba.' We are now to turn for a time from war to its consequences, which possess an interest of a nature different from the military events we have been detailing. The movements which had taken place since the King of Sardinia's defeat, had struck terror into the Government of Milan, and the Archduke Fer- dinand, by whom Austrian Lombardy was governed. But while Beaulieu did his best to cover the capital by force of arms, the measures resorted to by the Government were rather of a devotional than war- like character. Processions were made, relics exposed, and rites resorted to, which the Catholic religion prescribes as an appeal to Heaven in great national calamities. But the saints they invoked were deaf or impotent ; for the passage of the bridge of Lodi, and Beaulieu's subsequent retreat to Mantua, left no possibility of defending Milan. The archduke and his duchess immediately left Milan, followed by a small retinue, and leaving only a moderate force in the citadel, which was not in a very defensible condition. Their carriages passed through a large crowd which filled the streets. As tliey moved slowly along, the royal pair were observed to shed natural tears, at leaving the capital of these princely possessions of their house. The people observed a profovmd silence, only broken by low whispers. They showed nei- ther joy nor sorrow at the event which was passing — all thoughts were bent in anxious anticipation upon what was to happen next.* When the archduke had departed, the resti-aint which his presence had imposed from habit and sentiment, as much as from fear of his authority, was of course removed, and many of the Milanese citizens began, with real or affected zeal for repub- licanism, to prepare themselves for the reception of the French. The three-coloured cockade was at first timidly assumed ; but the example being shown, it seemed as if these emblems had falbn like snow into the caps and hats of the multitude. The imperial arms were removed from the public buildings, and a placard was put on the palace of the government with an inscription — "'This house is to be let — apply for the keys to the French Commissioner Salieetti." The nobles hastened to lay aside their armorial bearings, their servants' liveries, and other badges of aristocracy. ]\Iean time the magistrates caused order to be maintained in the to^^■n, by regular patrols of the burgher guard. A deputation of the principal inhabitants circumstances to the most important events! Perhaps this very nickname contributed to the Emperor's miraculous suc- cess on his return from Elba in 1815. While he w.is haranguing the first battalion he met, which he found it necessary to par- ley with, a voice from the ranks exclaimed, ' Vive notre jictit Caporall— We will never fisht against him.'" — Las C'Aii.iS, tom. i., p. 170. 4 Thiers, tom. viii,, p. 2l»7. 170G.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 201 of Milan, with Melzi ' at its head, was sent to tlie victorious general with offei-s of full submission, since there was no longer room for resistance, or for standing upon terms. On the 1 .5th of May, Buonaparte made his public entry into Milan, under a triumphal arch prepared for the occasion, which he traversed, surrounded by his guards, and took up his residence in the archiepiscopal palace. The same evening a splen- did entertainment was given, and the Tree of Liberty, (of which the aristocrats observed, that it was a bare pole without either leaves or fruit, roots or branches,) was erected with great form in the principal square. All this affectation of popular joy did not disarm the purpose of the French gene- ral, to make Milan contribute to the relief of his army. He imposed upon the place a requisition of twenty millions of livi-es, but offered to accept of goods of any sort in kind, and at a rateable valua- tion ; for it may be easily supposed that specie, the representative of value, must be scarce in a city circumstanced as Milan was.^ The public funds of every description, even those dedicated to the support of hospitals, went into the French military chest ; the church-plate was seized as a part of the requisition ; and, when all this was done, the citi- zens were burdened with the charge of finding rations for fifteen thousand men daily, by which force the citadel, with its Austrian garrison, was instantly to be blockaded.' While Lombardy suffered much, the neighbour- iug countries were not spared. The reader must be aware, that for more than a century Italy had been silently declining into that state of inactivity which succeeds great exertion, as a rapid and furious blaze sinks down into exhaustion and ashes. The keen judgment of Napoleon had seen, that the geographical shape of Italj-, though presenting in many respects advantages for a great and com- mercial nation, offered this main impediment to its Separate existence as one independent state, that its length being too great in proportion to its breadth, there was no point sufficiently central to preserve the due influence of a metropolis in relation to its extreme northern and southern provinces ; and that the inhabitants of Naples and Lombardy being locally so far divided, and differing in climate, habits, and the variety of temper which climate and habits produce, could hardly be united under ' " It was in memory of this mission, that Napoleon, when King of Italy, created the duchy of Lodi, iii favour of Melzi." ^Mo.VTHOLON, torn, iii., p. 1/9. - Botta, torn, i., p. 4-31 ; Jomini, torn, viii., p. 179; Thibau- deau, torn, i., p. i'34; Thiers, torn, viii., p. 2iib. 3 On the 20th, Buonaparte addressed the following remark- able order of the day to the armv : — " Soldiers! you have rushed like a torrent from the top of the Apennines: you have overthrown, dispersed, all that op- posed your march. Piedmont, delivered from Austrian ty- ranny, indulges her natural sentiments of peace and friendship towards France. Milan is yours ; and the republican flag ■waves throuchout Lombardy. The Dukes of Parma and Mo- dena are indebted for their political existence only to your generosity. The army which so proudly threatened you, can now find no barrier to'protect it against your courace : neither the Po, the Ticino, nor the Adda, could stop you a single day : those vaunted bulwarks of Italy opposed jou in vain ; you passed them .as rapidly as the Apennines. These great suc- cesses have filled the heart of your country with joy; your representatives have ordered a festival to commemorate your ■victories, which has been held in every commune of the re- public. There your fathers, your mothers, your wives, sisters, and mistresses, rejoiced in your victories, and i)roudly boasted of belonfiing to you. Yes, soldiers! you have done much. — Hut remains there nothing more to perform ? Shall it be said of us, that we know how to conquer, but lot how to make u.sc 201 the same government. From these causes Italy was, after the demolition of the great Roman Em- pire, early broken up into different subdivisions, which, more civilized than the rest of Europe at the time, attracted in various degrees the attention of mankind ; and at length, from the sacerdotal power of Rome, the wealth and extensive com- merce of Venice and Genoa, the taste and splen- dour of Florence, and the ancient fame of the me- tropolis of the world, became of importance much over-proportioned to their actual extent of terri- tory. But this time had passed away, and the Italian states, rich in remembrances, were now comparatively poor in point of immediate conse- quence in the scale of nations. They retained their oligarchical or monarchical forms and consti- tutions, as in the more vigorous state of their existence, but appeared to have lost their energies both for good and evil. The proud and jealous love which each Italian used to bear towards his own province was much abated ; the hostility of the factions which divided most of their states, and induced the citizens to hazard their own deatli or exile in the most trifling party quarrel, had sub- sided into that calm, selfish indifference, which disregards public interests of all kinds. They were ill governed, in so far as their rulers neglected all means of benefiting the subjects or improving the country ; and they were thus far well-governed, that, softened by the civilisation of the times, and perhaps by a tacit sense of their own weakness, their rulers had ceased, in a great measure, to exercise with severity the despotic powers with which they were in many cases invested, though they continued to be the cause of petty vexations, to which the natives had become callous. The Va- tican slept like a volcano, which had exhausted its thunders; and Venice, the most jealous and cruel of oligarchies, was now shutting her wearied eyes, and closing her ears, against informers and spies of state. The Italian states stood, therefore, like a brotherhood of old trees, decayed at heart and root, but still making some show of branches and leaves ; until the French invasion rushed down, like the whirlwind which lays them prostrate. In the relations between France and Italy, it must be observed, that two of the most considerable of these states, Tuscany and Venice, were actually in league with the former country, having acknow- of victory ? Shall posterity reproach us with having found our Capua in lombanly?— But 1 see you already hasten to arms: an efl'eminate repose is tedious to you ; the days which are lost to glorv, are lost to vour happiness. Well, then ! let us set forth ; we have still forced marches to make, enemies to subdue, laurels to gather, injuries to avenge. Let those ■who have sharpened the daggers of civil war in France, who have basely murdered our ministers, and burnt our ships at Toulon, tremble! The hour of vengeance has struck. But let the people of all countries be free from apprehension ; we are the friends of the people every where, and more particularly o£ the descendants of Brutus and Scipio, and the great men whom we have taken for our models. To restore the capitol, to replace there the statues of the heroes who rendereil it il- lustrious, with suitable honours, to awaken the Homan i>eoplc, stupified by several apes of slavery— such is the fruit of our victories. They will form an historical era for posterity: vours will be the immortal glorv of having changed the face of the finest part of Kurope. The French people, free, re- spected by the whole world, ■will give to Europe a glorious peace, which will indemnifv her for the sacrihces of every kind, which, for the last si.x years, she has been making. You will then return to your homes; and your countrymen will say, as they point you out—' He buluiiytd to the army oj Iliily."' — Moniti'iir, No.' 254, June 2. On reading over this proclamation one day at St. Helena, the Hmjieror e.vclairaed— " And yet they have the folly to saf I could not write!"— Las Cases, torn, iii., p. li(5. 202 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1796. ledged the republic, and done nothing to deserve the chastisement of her ai'mies. Otliers might be termed neutral, not having perhaps deemed them- selves of consequence sufficient to take part in the quarrel of the coalesced powers against France. The Pope had given offence by the afiair of Basse- ville, and the encouragement which his countenance afforded to the non-conforming clergy of France. But, excepting Naples and Austrian Lombardy, no state in Italy could be exactly said to be at open war with the new republic. Buonaparte was deter- mined, however, that this should make no differ- ence in his mode of treating them. The fii'st of these slumbering potentates with i\-hom he came in contact, was the Duke of Parma.i This petty sovereign, even before Buonaparte entered j\iilan, had deprecated the victor's wrath ; and although neither an adherent of the coalition, nor at war with France, he found himself obliged to purchase an armistice by heavy sacrifices. He paid a tribute of two millions of livres, besides fur- nishing horses and provisions to a large amount, and agreeing to deliver up twenty of the finest paintings in his cabinet, to be chosen by the French general.''' The next of these sufferers was the Duke of Modena.' This prince was a man of moderate abilities ; his business was hoarding money, and his pleasure consisted in naihng up, with his own princely hands, the tapestry which ornamented churches on days of high holiday ; from which he acquired the nickname of " the royal upholsterer." But his birth was illustrious as the descendant of that celebrated hero of Esto, the patron of Tasso and of Ariosto ; and his alliance was no less splen- did, having married the sister of the unfortunate Marie Antoinette, and of Joseph the Second : then his daughter was married to the Archduke Fer- dinand, the Governor of Milan. Notwithstanding his double connexion with the Imperial family, the principality of Modeua was so small that he might have been passed over as scarce worthy of notice, but for the temptation of his treasures, in the works of art, as well as in specie. On the approach of a column of the French army to IModena, the dulie fled from his capital, but sent his brother, the Che- valier d'Este, to caf)itulate with Napoleon, [May 20.] 4 It might have been urged in his favour, that he was no avowed partner in the coalition ; but Buona- parte took for granted his good-will towards his brother-in-law the Emperor of Austria, and es- teemed it a crime deserving atonement.^ Indeed it was one which had not been proved by any open action, but neither could it admit of being disproved. The duke was therefore obliged to purchase the privilege of neutrality, and to expiate his supposed good inclination for the house of Austria. Five millions and a half of French livres, with large contributions in provisions and accoutrements, perhaps cost the Duke of Modcna more anxious > Frederic, Duke of Parma, grandson of Philip V. of Spain, was born in 1751. On his death, in 1802, the duchy was united to France, in virtue of the convention of ll'dl. - Montholon, torn, iii., p. 173; J^acreteUe, torn, xiii., p. 172; Tliibaudeau, torn, i., p. 211. See the Treaty, Annual Kcgister, vol. xxxvii\, p. 233. 3 Hercules III., Renaud d'Este, last Duke of Modena, was hnrn in 1727, and died in 1797. •" Lacretille, torn, xiii., p. 1H7; Montholon, torn, iii., p. 187. * " Tlic duke is .avaricious. His only daufjhter and heiress b> married to the Archduke of Milan. The more Tou squeeze 202 thoughts than he had bestowed on the misfortunea of his imperial relatives. To levy on obnoxious states or princes the means of paying or accommodating troops, would have been only what has been practised by victors in all ages. But an exaction of a new kind was now for the first time imposed on these Italian Princes. The Duke of Modena, like the .Duke of Parma, was compelled to surrender twenty of his choicest pictures, to be selected at the choice of the French general, and the persons of taste with whom ha might advise. This was the first time that a de- mand of this nature had been made in modern times in a public and avowed manner,** and we must pause to consider the motives and justice of such a requisition." Hitherto, works of art had been considered as sacred, even during the utmost extremities of w^ar. They were judged to be the property, not so much of the nation or individuals who happened to pos- sess them, as of the world in general, who were supposed to have a common interest in these pro- ductions, which, if exposed to become the ordinary spoils of war, could hardly escape damage or de- struction. To take a strong example of forbearance, Frederick of Prussia was a passionate admirer of the fine arts, and no scrupulous investigator of the rights conferred by conquest, but rather disposed to stretch them to the uttermost. Yet, when he obtained possession of Dresden under circumstances of high ii-ritation, Fredei-ick respected the valuable gallery, cabinets, and museums of the capital of Saxony, and preserved their contents inviolate, as a species of property which could not, and ought not, to fall within the rights of a conqueror. He considered the elector as only the keeper of the gallery ; and regarded the articles which it con- tained as belonging to the civilized world at large. There are persons who demand the cause of this distinction, and require to know why works of art, the value of which is created solely by the opinion of those who pretend to understand them, and is therefore to be regarded as merely imaginary, or, as it is called by lawyers, a mere pretium affectionis, should be exempted from that martial law which disposes at pleasure of the real property of the vanquished. It might easily be shown in reply, that the re- spect due to genius of the liighest order, attaches with a sort of religious zeal to the objects of our admiration in the fine arts, and renders it a species of sacrilege to subject them to the chances of war. It has besides already been hinted, that these chefs- d'oeuvre being readily liable to damage, scarcely admitting of being repaired, and absolutely incap- able of being replaced, their existence is hazarded by rendering them the objects of removal, accord- ing to the fluctuation of victory. But it is surely sufficient to say, that wherever the progress of civihsation has introduced rules to qualify and soften the extremities of war, these from him, the more you take from the House of Austria."— Lallewant to BuoNAPAKTE, 14th May; Correspondence Iiieditc, tom. i., p. 161). <> Montholon, tom. iii., p. 174. 7 " The republic had already received, by the same title, and placed in its Museum, the clii'/s-tl'iviivrc of tlie Dutch and Flemish .schools. The Romans carried away from conc|uc'rcd Greece the statues which adorn the capitol. Every cnpital of Europe contained the spoils of antiquity, and no one had ever thought of imputing it to thera as a crime." — Tiiibaudeau, tom. i., p. 214. 179G.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 203 elioiild be strictly adhered to. In the rudest ages of society, man avails himself of the right of the strongest in the fullest extent. The victor of the Sandwich islands devours his enemy — the North- American Indian tortures him to death — almost all savage tribes render their prisoners slaves, and sell them as such. As society advances, these in- humanities fall out of pi-actiee ; and it is unneces- sary to add, that, as the victorious general deserves honourable mention in history, who, by his cle- mency, relaxes in any respect the rigorous laws of conquest, so he must be censured in proportion whose conduct tends to retrograde towards the brutal violence of primitive hostility. Buonaparte cannot be exempted from this cen- sure. He, as the willing agent of the Directory under whose commands he acted, had resolved to disregard the neutrality which had hitherto been considered as attaching to the productions of the fine arts, and, for the first time, had determined to \iew them as the spoils of conquest. The motive is moi'e easily discovered than justified. In the Reign of Terror and Equality, the fine arts, with every thing connected with cultivated feelings, had been regarded as inconsistent with the simplicity of the Republican character ; and, like the successful fanatics of England, and the first enthusiastic votaries of the Koran, the true Sans- Culottes were disposed to esteem a taste which could not generally exist without a previous supe- rior education, as something aristocratic, and alien from the imaginary standard of equality, to which it was their purpose to lower all the exertions of intellect, as well as the possession of property. Palaces were therefore destroyed, and monuments broken to pieces. But this brutal prejudice, with the other attempts of these frantic democrats to bring back the world to a state of barbarism, equally in moral and in ge- neral feeling, was discarded at the fall of the Ja- cobin authority. Those who succeeded to the government, exerted themselves laudably in endea- vouring rather to excite men's minds to a love of those studies and tastes, which are ever found to humanize and soften the general tone of society, and which teach hostile nations that they liave points of friendly union, even because they vmite in admiring the same masterpieces of art. A museum was formed at Paris, for the purpose of collecting and exhibiting to public admiration paintings and statues, and whatever was excellent in art, for the amusement of the citizens, whose cliicf scene of pleasure hitherto had been a wild and ill-regulated civic festival, to vary the usual exhibition of the procession of a train of victims moving towards the guillotine. The substitution of such a better object of popular attention was honourable, virtuous, and politic in itself, and speedily led the French people, partly from taste, partly from national vanity, to attach consequence to the fine arts and their pro- ductions. Unfortunately there were no ordinary measures 1 Montholon, torn, iii., p. 174. 2 " Is it, then, so difficult for Sir Walter tn justify tlie mo- tive wliich induced Napoleon to prefer works of art ? It was a motive too great and too praiseworthy to need justification." ^Louis Buonaparte, p. 21. » On the 7th of May, Carnot had written to Buonaparte— " The executive Directory is convinced, citizen-general, tliat you consider the glory ol tlie fine arts connected with that of •203 by which the French, as purchasers, could gi-eatly augment the contents of their Museum ; and more unfortunately for other nations, and ultimately fop themselves, they had the power and the will to in- crease theh" possessions of this kind, without re- search or expense, by means of the irresistible progress of their arms. We have no right to say that this peculiar species of spoliation originated with Buonaparte personally. He probably obeyed the orders of the Directory ; and, besides, instances might no doubt be found in the history of all nations, of interesting articles of this nature having been transferred by the chance of war from one country to another, as in cases of plunder of an ordinary description, which, though seldom avowed or defended, are not the less occasionally practised. But Napoleon was unquestionably the first and most active agent, who made such exactions a mat- ter of course, and enforced them upon principle ; and that he was heartily engaged in this scheme of general plunder, is sufficiently proved from his ex- pressions to the Directory, upon transmitting those paintings which the Duke of Modena, the first sufferer on this system, was compelled to surrender, and which were transferred to Paris as the legiti- mate spoils of war. But before copying the terms in which Napoleon announces the transmission of masterpieces of art to the National Museum, it ought to be remarked, that the celebrated Saint Jerome, by Correggioj which he mentions with a sort of insulting triumph, was accounted so valuable, that the Duke of Mo- dena offered two millions of livres as the ransom of that picture alone. This large sum the French general, acting on the principle which many in his situation were tempted to recogitise, might have safely converted to his own use, under the certainty that the appropriation, indispensable as his services were to the government, would neither have been inquired into nor censured. But avarice cannot be the companion, far less the controller, of ambition. The feelings of the young victor were of a character too elevated to stoop to the acquisition of wealth ; nor was his cai'eer, at that or any other period, sullied by this particular and most degrading spe- cies of selfishness. When his officers would have persuaded him to accept the money, as more useful for the army, he replied, that the two millions of livres would soon be spent, but the Correggio' wotild remain an ornament of the city of Paris for ages, and inspire the production of future master- pieces.2 In his despatch to the Directory, of 17th Floreal (8tli of May,) Napoleon desires to have some artists sent to him, w^ho might collect the monuments of art ; which shows that the purpose of seizing upon them had been already formed.^ In the letter which accompanied the transmission of the pictures, ho has these remarkable expressions : — " You will re- ceive the articles of the suspension of arms wliich I have granted to the Duke of Parma. I will scud you as soon as possible the finest pictures of Cor- the armv under your command. Italy is, in great part, in- dehted to them fur her riches and reiiown ; but the time is arrived when tlicir rcii,'n must pass into France to strengthen and embellish that (jf lilieity. Tlie National Museum must contain the most dislingnishcd monumeiits of all the arts, and you will neglect no o])i)ortiinity of enrieliing it with such as it expects from the pres^jnt conquests of the army of Italy, and those which may follow," &c.—C'onx-FpoiiUc>tte IiMili; tuui. i., p. 155. 20t SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [170G. reggio, amongst others a Saint Jerome, which is said to be liis masterpiece. I miist ov.n that tlie saint takes an unlucky time to visit Paris, but I hope you will graut him the honours of the IMu- seiim."! The same system was followed at Milan, where several of the most valuable articles were taken from the Ambrosian collection. The articles were received in the spirit with which they were trans- mitted. The most able critics were despatched to assist the general in the selection of the monuments of the fine arts to be transferred to Paris, and the Secretary-general of the Lyceum, confounding the possession of the production of genius with the genius itself which created them, congratulated his countrymen on the noble dispositions which the vic- tors had evinced. " It is no longer blood," said the orator, " which the French soldier thirsts for. He desirestolead no slavesintriumphbehind his chariot — it is the glorious spoils of the arts and of industry with which he longs to decorate his victories — he cherishes that devouring passion of gi-eat souls, the love of glory, and the enthusiasm for high talents, to which the Greeks owed their astonishing successes. It was the defence of their temples, their monu- ments, their statues, their great artists, that stimu- lated their valour. It was from such motives they conquered at Salamis and at Marathon. It is thus that our armies advance, escorted by the love of arts, and followed by sweet peace, from Coni to Milan, and soon to proceed from thence to the proud basilic of St. Peter's." The reasoning of the Se- cretary of the Lyceum is lost amidst his eloquence ; but the speech, if it means any thing, signifies, that the seizing on those admired productions placed the nation which acquired the forcible possession of them, in the same condition as if she had pro- duced the great men by whom they were achieved ; — ^just as the ancient Scythians believed they be- came inspired with the talents and virtues of those whom they murdered. Or, according to another interpretation, it may mean that the French, who fought to deprive other nations of their property, had as praise\\orthy motives of action as the Greeks, who made war in defence of that which was their own. But however their conduct might be regarded by themselves, it is very certain that they did by no means resemble those whose genius set the example of such splendid success in the fine arts. On the contrary, the classical prototype of Buona- parte in this transaction, was the Roman Consul Mummius, who violently plundered Greece of those treasures of art, of which he himself and his coun- trymen were insensible to the real and proper value. It is indeed little to the purpose, in a moral point of view, whether the motive for this species of ra- pine were or were not genuine love of the art. The fingering connoisseur who secretes a gem, can- not plead in mitigation, that he stole it, not on ac- count of the value of the stone, but for the excel- lence of the engraving ; any more than the devotee who stole a Bible could shelter herself under a re- ligious motive. But, in truth, we do not believe that the French or their general were actuated on this occasion by the genuine love of art. This taste leads men to entertain respect for the objects which it admires ; and feeling its genuine mflueuce, a con- ' ilonilcur, 25ih Floreal, IfitU May. 204 queror would decline to give an example of a spe- cies of rapine, which, depriving those objects of ad- miration of the protection with which the general sentiment of civilized nations had hitherto invested them, must hold them up, like other ordinary pro- perty, as a prey to the strongest soldier. Again, we cannot but be of opinion, that a genuine lover of the arts would have hesitated to tear those paintings from the churches or palaces, for the de- coration of which they had been expressly painted, and where they must always have been seen to the best effect, whether from the physical advantages of tlie light, size of apartment, and other suitable localities connected with their original situation, or from the moral feelings which connect the works themselves with the place for which they were pri- marily designed, and which they had occupied for ages. The destruction of these mental connexions, which give so much additional effect to painting and statuary, merely to gratify the selfish love of appropriation, is like taking a gem out of the set- ting, which in many cases may considerably dimi- nish its value. We cannot, therefore, believe, that this system of spoliation was dictated by any sincere and manly love of the arts, though this was so much talked of in France at the time. It must, on the contrary, be ascribed to the art and ambition of the Directory who ordered, and the general who obeyed ; both of whom, being sensible that the na- tional vanity would be flattered by this species of tribute, hastened to secure it an ample gratifica- tion. Buonaparte, in particular, was at least suf- ficiently aware, that, with however little purity of taste the Parisians might look upon these exqui- site productions, they would be sufficiently alive to the recollection, that, being deemed by all civilized people the most admirable specimens in the world, the valour of the French armies, and the skill of their unrivalled general, had sent them to adorn the metropolis of France ; and might hope, that once brought to the prime city of the Great Na- tion, such chefs-d'oeuvre could not again be subject to danger by transportation, but must remain there, fixed as household gods, for the admiration of posterity. So hoped, as we have seen, the vic- tor himself; and doubtless with the proud antici- pation, that in future ages the recollection of him- self, and of his deeds, must be inseparably con- nected with the admiration which the iluseum, ordained and enriched by him, was calculated to produce. But art and ambition are apt to estimate the ad- vantages of a favom-ite measure somewhat too hastily. By this breach of the law of nations, as hitherto acknowledged and acted upon, the French degraded their own character, and excited the strongest prejudice against their rapacity among the Italians, whose sense of injury was in proportion to the value which they set upon those splendid works, and to the dishonour which they felt at being forcibly deprived of them. Their la- mentations were almost like those of Micah the Ephraimite, when robbed of " the graven image, and the Teraphim, and the Ephod, and the molten image," by the armed and ovei'bearing Danites — • " Ye have taken away my gods that I have made, and what have I more ? " Again, by this unjust proceeding, Buonaparte prepared for France and her capital the severe 1 5.1 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONxVPARTE. 205 moral lesson iiiflictod upon lier by the allies in 1815. Victory has wings as well as Riches; and the ahuse of conquest, as of wealth, becomes fre- quently the source of bitter retribution. Had the paintings of Cori'eggio, and other great masters, been left undisturbed in the custody of their true owners, there could not have been room, at an after period, when looking aroiuid the Louvre, for the reHection, " Here once were disposed the trea- sures of art, which, won bv violence, were lost by defeat." 1 CHAPTER V. J)lrectory proposes to divide the Army of Italy he- twixt Buonaparte and KcUermann — Buonaparte resigns, and the Directory yire up the point — In- surrection against the French at Pavia — crushed — and the Leaders shot — Also at the Imperial Fiefs, and Lugo, quelled and punished in the same way — Reflections — Austrians defeated at Borgheito, and retreat behind thcAdige — Buona- parte narrowly escapes being made Prisoner at Valeggio — Mantua blockaded — Verona occupied by the French — King of Naples secedes from Au- stria — Ai'mistice purchased by the Pope — I^he Neutrality of Tuscany riolatcd, and Leghorn occupied by the French Troops — Views of Buo- naparte respecting the Revolutionizing of Italy — He temporizes — Conduct of the Austrian Gorern- ment at this Crisis — Beaulieu displaced, and suc- ceeded by Wu)-mser — Buonaparte sits down be- fore Mantua, Occupying Milan, and conqueror in so many battles, Buonaparte might be justly considered as in absolute possession of Lombardy, while the bro- ken forces of Beaulieu had been compelled to re- ti-eat under that sole remaining bulwark of the Austrian power, the strong fortress of Mantua, where tliey might await such support as should be detached to them through the Tyrol, but could un- dertake no oft'ensive operations. To secure his position, the Austrian general had occupied the line formed by the Jlincio, his left flank resting upon Jlantua, his right upon Peschiera, a Venetian city and fortress, but of which he had taken pos- session, against the reclamation of the Venetian government, who were desirous of observing a neu- trality between such powerful belligerents, not perhaps altogether aware how far the victor, in so dreadful a strife, might be disposed to neglect the general law of nations. The Austrian defence on the right was prolonged by the lago di Guarda, a large lake out of which the Mincio flows, and which, running thirty-five miles northward into the mountains of the Tyrol, maintained uninterrupted Beaulieu's communication with Germany. Buonaparte, in the meantime, permitted his for- ces only the repose of four or five days, ere he again summoned them to active exertion. He called on them to visit the Capitol, there to re-esta- blish (he ought to have said to carry away) the 1 See also Lacretelle's " Digression eur reiilfeveraent do ttatues, tableaux, is.c."—H'tst., torn, xiii., p. Vti- See Letter of the Directory to Buonaparte, May 7: Cor- respondence Inedile, torn, i., p. 145 ; aud Monlhoion, torn, iv., p. 447. 3 " Je crois qu' il faut plufot un mauvais gd-ncral que deux tons. I,a guerre est comme le vouvernemcnt— <■'*< unt affaire dc lad." — Corrcspundcnce Incihle, torn, i., p. IGU. 205 statues of the great men of antiquity, and to change, or rather renovate, the destinies of the finest district of Europe. But while thus engaged, he received orders from Paris respecting his far- ther proceedings, which must have served to con- vince him that all his personal enemies, all who doubted and feared him, were not to be found in the Austrian raidis. The Directory themselves had begun to suspect the prudence of suffering the whole harvest of suc- cess which Italy aff"orded, to be reaped by the ad- venturous and haughty character who had first thrust in the sickle. They perhaps felt already an instinctive distrust of the waxing influence, wliich was destined one day to overpower their own. Under some such impression, they resolved [May 7] to divide the army of Italy betwixt Buonaparte and Kellermann, directing the former general to pass the I'o, and advance southward on Rome and Naples, with twenty thousand men, while Keller- mann, with the other moiety of the Italian army, should press the siege of Mantua, and make head against the Austrians.^ This was taking Buonaparte's victory out of his grasp ; and he resented the proposal accordingly, by transmitting his resignation [May 14,] and de- clining to have any concern in the loss of his army, and the frtiits of his conquests. He aflirnied, that Kellermann, v.ith an army reduced to twenty thousand men, could not face Beaulieu, but would be speedily driven out of Loitibardy ; and that, in consequence, the army which advanced southward would be overwhelmed and destroyed. One bad general, he said, was better than two good ones.^ The Director)' must have perceived from such a reply, the firm and i;iflexible nature of the man they had made the leader of their armies, but they dared not, such was his reputation, proceed in the plan they had formed for the diminution of his power ; and perhaps, for the first time since the Revolution, the executive government of France was compelled to give way to a successful general and adopt his views instead of their own. The campaign was left to his sole management ;* he obtained an ascendancy which he took admirable care not to relinquish, and it became the only task of the Directory, so far as Italy was concerned, to study phrases for intimating their approbation of the young general's measm-es. Whatever were the ultimate designs of Buona- parte against Rome, he thought it prudent to stis- pend them until he should be free from all danger of the Austrians, by the final defeat of Beaulieu. For this object, he directed the divisions of his army towards the right bank of the Mincio, with a view of once more forcing Beaulieu's position, after having taken precautions for blockading the citadel of Milan, where the Austrians still held out, and for guarding Pavia and other points, which ap- peared necessary to secure his conquests. Napoleon himself fixed his headquarters at Lodi, upon the 24th of May. But he was scarcely arrived there, when he received the alarming intelligence, < " You appear desirous, citizen-general, to continue to conduct the whole scries of the military operations of the pre- sent campaign in Italy. The Directory have maturely reflected on this proposition, and the confidence they have in your ta- lents and Hcpuhlican zeal, h,is decided tliis question in tlie aiiirmative."— Car.vot to Buo.naparte, 21st May; Curro poiidence InediU, torn, i., p. 202. 2-0 G SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [179G. that the city of Pavla, with all the surrounding districts, were in arms in his rear ; that the tocsin was ringing in every village, and that news were circulated, that the Prince of Conds5's army, united with a strong Austrian force, had descended from the Tp-ol into Italy. Some commotions had shown themselves in Milan, and the Austrian garrison there made demonstrations towards favouring the insurrection in Pavia, where the insurgents were completely successful, and had made prisoners a French corps of three hundred men. Buonaparte represents these disturbances as effected by Austrian agents ;' but he had foi-merly assured us, that the Italians took little interest in the fate of their German masters. The truth is, that, having entered Italy with the most flattering assurances of observing respect for public and pri- vate property, the French had alieiiated the inha- bitants, by exacting the contributions which they had imposed on the country with great severity. As Catholics, the Italians were also disgusted with the open indignities thrown on the places and ob- jects of public worship, as well as on the persons and character of their priests.^ The nobles and the clergy naturally saw their ruin in the success of the French ; and the lower classes joined them for the time, from dislike to foreigners, love of national independence, resent- ment of the exactions made, and the acts of sa- crilege committed by the ultramontane invaders. About thirty thousand insurgents were in arms ; but having no regular forces on which to rest as a rallying point, they were ill calculated to endure the rapid assault of the disciplined French. Buonaparte, anxious to extinguish a flame so for- midable, instantly returned from Lodi to Milan, at the head of a strong division, took order for the safety of the capital of Lombardy, and moved next morning towards Pavia, the centre of the insurrec- tion. The village of Benasco, which was defended against Lannes, was taken by storm, the inhabitants put to the sword, and the place plundered and liurnt. Napoleon himself arrived before Pavia, blew the gates open with his cannon, disjjersed with ease the half-armed insurgents, and caused the leaders of the insurrection to be put to death, for having attempted to defend the independence of their country. He then seized on the persons of many inhabitants, and sent them to Paris as hos- tages for the subjection of their fellow-citizens.^ The French general published a proclamation in the Republican style, in which he reproaches the insurgents for presuming to use arms in defence of their country, and menaces with fire and sword whatever individuals should in future prosecute tlie same daring course. He made his threat good some weeks afterwards, when a similar insiu'rec- tion took place in those districts called the Impe- 1 Monthulon, torn, iii., p. 196. 2 It lias been alleged, that in a farce exhibited on the public Btafie by authority of Buonaparte, the Pope was introduced in bis pontifical dress. This, which could not be looked on as less than sacrilege by a Catholic population, does not accord with the general conduct of BuonaiJarte. See, however, " Tnhleau des Pirniien'S Gnerrcs de Buonaparte," Paris, 1813, par Lc Chevalier Mechaud de Villelle, p. 41.— S. 3 " The pillage lasted several hours; but occasioned more frar than damage ; it was confined to some goldsmiths' shops. The selection of the hostages fell on the principal families. It was conceived to be advantageous that some of tiie persons of most influence should visit France. In fact, they returned ft few months after, several of them having travelled in all 20G rial Fiefs,* and still later, when an effort at resist- ance was attempted in the town of Lugo. On both occasions, the leaders of the armed inhabitants were tried by a military commission, condemned, and shot. On the last, indeed, to revenge the defeat sustained by a squadron of French dragoons, Lugo was taken by storm, pillaged, burnt, and the men put to the sword ; while some credit seems to be taken by Buonaparte in his despatches, for the cle- mency of the French, which spared the women and children.^ It is impossible to read the account of these bar- barities, without contrasting them with the opinions professed on other occasions, both by the republican and imperial governments of France. The first of these exclaimed as at an unheard of cruelty, when the Duke of Brunswick, in his celebrated procla- mation, threatened to treat as a brigand every Frenchman, not being a soldier, whom he should find under arms, and to destroy such villages as should offer resistance to the invading army. The French at that time considered with justice, that, if there is one duty more holy than another, it is that which calls on men to defend their native country against invasion. Napoleon, being emperor, was of the same opinion in the years 1813 and 1814, when the allies entered the French territories, and when, in various proclamations, he called on the inhabitants to rise against the invaders with the implements of their ordinary labour when they had no better arms, and " to shoot a foreigner as they woidd a wolf." It would be difficult to recon- cile these invitations with the cruel vengeance taken on the town of Lugo,® for observing a line of conduct which, in similar circumstances, Buona- parte so keenly and earnestly recommended to those whom fortune had made his own subjects. The brief insurrection of Pavia suppressed by these severities, Buonaparte once more turned his thoughts to the strong position of the Austrians, with the purpose of reducing Beaulieu to a more decided state of disability, before he executed the threatened vengeance of the Republic on the So- vereign Pontiff. For this purpose he advanced to Brescia, and manosuvred in such a manner as in- duced Beaulieu, whom repeated surprises of the same kind had not put upon his guard, to believe, that either the French general intended to attempt the passage of tlie ]\Iincio at the small but strong town of Peschiera, where that river issues from the lago di Guarda, or else that, marching north- ward along the eastern bank, he designed to come round the liead of the lake, and thus turn the right of the Austrian position. While Beaulieu disposed his forces as expecting an attack on the right of his line, Buonaparte, with his usual celerity, pro- posed t(^ attack him on the centre, at Borghetto, a town situated on the Mincio, and commanding a our provinces, where they had adopted French manners."^ N.iPOLKON, Monlholon, torn, iii., p. 2l)(t. " Pavia," said the Emperor, " is the only place I eter gave up to pillage. I had promised it to the soldiers for twenty- four hours; but after three hours I could bear it no longpr, and put an end to it. Policy and morality are equally op- posed to the system. Nothing is so certain to disorganize and comi)lctely ruin an army." — Las Cases, torn, iv., p. 3l'(). See also Botta, tom. v., p. -165; Jomini torn, viii., p. 1J7; and Lacretelle, tom. xiii., p. 199. •* Montholon, tom. iii., p. 227. 6 Montholon, tom. iii., \t. 227. 6 " The examples of the Imperial Fiefs and Liigo, though extremely severe, were indispensable, and authoriBed by the usage of war." — Jo.mini, tom. viii., p. 156. 179G.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 207 bridgo over it, above ten miles lowoi- than Pes- chiera. On the 30th May, the French general attacked with superior force, and repulsed across the Mincio, an Austrian corps who endeavoured to cover the town. The fugitives attempted to demolish the bridge, and did break down one of its arches. But the French, rushing forward with impetuosity, imder cover of a heavy fire, upon the retreating Austrians, repaired the broken arch so as to effect a passage, and the Mincio, passed as the Po and the Adda had been before, ceased in its turn to be a protection to the army drawn up behind it. Beaulieu, who had his headquarters at Valeggio, a village nearly opposite to Borghetto, hastened to retreat, and evacuating Peschiera, marched his dismayed forces behind the Adige, leaving five hundred pi-isoners, with other trophies of victory, in the hands of the French. Buonaparte had designed that this day of success should have been still more decisive ; for he meditated an attack upon Peschiera at the moment when the passage at Borghetto was accomplished ; but ere Augereau, to- whom this manoeuvre was committed, had time to approach Peschiera, it was evacuated by the Austrians, who were in full retreat by Cast el Nuovo, protected by their cavalry.' The left of the Austrian line, cut off from the centre by the passage of the French, had been sta- tioned at Puzzuolo, lower on the JNIincio. When Sebottendorf, who commanded the Imperial troops stationed on the left bank, heard the cannonade, he immediately ascended the river, to assist his commander-in-chief to repel the French, or to take them in flank if it was already crossed. The re- treat of Beaulieu made both purposes impossible ; and yet this march of Sebottendorf had almost pro- duced a result of greater consequence than would have been the most complete victory. The French division which first crossed the Mincio, had passed through Valeggio without halt- ing, in pursuit of Beaulieu, by whom the village had been just before abandoned. Buonaparte with a small retinue remained in the place, and Mas- sena's division were still on the right bank of the Mincio, preparing their dinner. At this moment the advanced guard of Sebottendorf, consisting of hulans and hussars, pushed into the village of Va- leggio. There was but barely time to cry to arms, and, shutting the gates of the inn, to employ the general's small escort in its defence, while Buona- parte, escaping by the garden, mounted his lioi'se and galloped towards Massena's division. The soldiers threw aside their cookery, and marched instantly against Sebottendorf, who, with much difficulty, and not without loss, effected a retreat in the same direction as his commander-in-chief Beaulieu. This personal risk induced Buonaparte to form what he called the corps of guides, veterans of ten years' service at least, who were perpetually near his person, and, like the Triarii of the Ro- mans, were employed only when the most despe- rate efforts of courage were necessary. Besicres, afterwards Duke of Istria, and Marshal of France, '•vas placed at the head of this chosen body, which gave rise to the formation of the celebrated Imperial Guards of Napoleon.^ ' Afontliolon, torn, iii., p. 204; Jomiui, torn, viii., p. 140. 2 Montlioloii, torn, iii., j). 2i'(i. •207 The passage of the ]\Iincio obliged the Austrians to retire within the frontier of the Tyrol ; and they might have been considered as completely ex])ftllcd from Italy, had not Mantua and the citadel of Milan .'^till continued to display the Imperial ban- ners. The castle of Milan was a place of no extra- ordinary strength, the surrender of which might be calculated on so soon as the general fate of war had declared itself against the present possessors. But ]\Iantua v.as by nature one of those almost impregnable fortresses, which may long, relying on its own resources, defy any compulsion but that of famine. The town and fortress of Mantua are situated on a species of island, five or six leagues square, called the seraglio, formed by three lakes, which cfTmmu- nicate with, or rather are formed by, the Mincio. This island has access to the land by five causeways, the most important of which was in 1796 defended by a regular citadel, called, from the vicinity of a ducal palace, La Favorita. Another was defended by an intrenched camj), extending between the fortress and the lake. The third was protected by a hornwork. The remaining two causeways were only defended by gates and draw-bridges. JIantua, low in situation, and surrounded by water, in a warm climate, is natiu'ally unhealthy ; but the air was likely to be still more destructive to a besieging army, (which riecessarily lay in many respects more exposed to the elements, and were besides in greater numbers, and less habituated to the air of the place,) than to a garrison who had been sea- soned to it, and were well accommodated within the fortress. To surprise a place so strong by a conp-de-main was impossible, though Buonaparte represents his soldiers as murmuring that such a desperate feat was not attempted. But he blockaded ISIantua [June 4 ] with a large force, and proceeded to take such other measures to improve his success, as might pave the way to future victories. The gar- rison was numerous, amounting to from twelve to fourteen thousand m.en ; and the deficiencies of the fortifications, which the Austrians had neglected in over security, were made up for by the natural strength of the place. Yet of the five causewaj's, Buonaparte made himself master of four ; and thus the enemy lost possession of all beyond the walls of the town and citadel, and had only the means of attaining the mainland through the citadel of La Favorita. Lines of circumvallation were formed, and Seriiirier was left in blockade of the fortress, which the possession of four of the accesses enabled him to accomplish with a body of men inferior to the garrison.^ To complete the blockade, it was necessary to come to some arrangement with the ancient republic of Venice. With this venerable government Napo- leon had the power of working his own pleasure ; for although the state might liave raised a consi- derable army to assist the Austrians, to whom its senate, or aristocratic government, certainly bore good will, yet, having been in amity with the French Republic, they deemed the step too hazardous, and vainly trusting that their neutrality would be respected, they saw the Austrian power completely broken for the time, before they took any active 3 Napoleon, Memoirs, torn, iii., p. 209. 208 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [179G. out ceremony on the territories and resources en that repubhc, although a neutral power as far as her utmost exertions could preserve neutrality. He contented himself for the time with occupying Verona, and other dependencies of Venice upon the line of the Adige. " You are too weak," lie said to the Proveditoi-e Foscarelli, " to pretend to en- force neuti'ality, with a few hundred Sclavonians, on two such nations as France and Austria. The Austrians have not respected your territory where it suited their purpose, and I must, in requital, occupy such part as falls within the line of the Adige." 3 But he considered that the Venetian territories to the westward should in policy be allowed to retain the character of neutral ground, which The Government, as that of Venice was emphatically called, would not, for their own sakes, permit them to lose ; while otherwise, if occupied by the French as conquerors, these timid neutrals might, upon any reverse, have resumed the character of fierce opponents. And, at all events, in order to secure a territory as a conquest, which, if respected as neutral, would secure itself, there would have been a necessity for dividing the French forces, which it was Buonaparte's wish to concentrate. From in- terested motives, therefore, if not from respect to justice, Buonaparte deferred seizing the territory of Venice when within his gi'asp, conscious that the total defeat of the Austrians in Italy would, when accomplished, leave the prey as attainable, and more defenceless than ever. Having disposed his army in its position, and prepared some of its divi- sions for the service which they were to perform as moveable columns, he returned to Milan to reap the harvest of his successes. Tlie first of these consisted in the defection of the King of Naples from the cause of Austria, to which, from family connexion, he had yet remained attached, though of late with less deep devotion. His cavalry had behaved better during the en- gagements on the Mincio, than has been of late the custom with Neapolitan troops, and had suf- fered accordingly. The King, discouraged with the loss, solicited an armistice, which he easily obtained [June 5] ; for his dominions being situated at the lower extremity of Italy, and his force extending to sixty thousand men at least, it was of importance to secure the neutrality of a power who might be dangerous, and who was not, as matters stood, uu der the immediate control of the French. A Nea- politan ambassador was sent to Paris to conclude a final peace ; in th.e meanwhile, the soldiei-s of the King of the Tv,^o Sicilies were withdrawn from the army of Beaulieu, and returned to their own coun- try. The dispositions of the Court of Naples con tinned, nevertheless, to vacillate, as opportunity ox advantage, joined with the hatred of the Queen, (sister of Marie Antoinette,) or the fear of the French military superiority, seemed to predomi- nate.'' The storm now thickened round the devoted head of the Pope. Ferrara and Bologna, the ter- ritories of which belonged to the Holy See, were occupied by the French troops. In the latter place, four hundred of the Papal troops were made prisoners, with a cardinal who acted as their officer. ' Daru, Hist, de Vcnisc, torn, v., p. 436 ; Thibaudeau, torn. 3 Thiers, tom. viii., p. 225. i.. p. 257. Moniteur, No. 2G7, June 17; Montholon, torn, iv., p. 121. * Moiitliolon. torn, iil., p. 213; Tliibaudcau, tom. i., p 275 208 measures either to stand in their defence, or to deprecate the wrath of the victor. But when the line of the Mincio was forced, and Buonaparte oc- cupied the Venetian territory on the left bank, it was time to seek by concessions that deference to the rights of an independent country which the once haughty aristoci'acy of Venice had lost a fa- vourable opportunity of supporting by force. There was one circumstance which rendered their cause unfavourable. Louis XVIII., under the title of a private person, the Comte de Lille, had received the hospitality of the republic, and was permitted to remain at Verona, living in strict seclusion. The permission to entertam this dis- tinguished exile, the Venetian government had almost mendicated from the French revolutionary rulers, in a manner which we would term mean, were it not for the goodness of the intention, which leads us to regard the conduct of the ancient mis- tress of the Adriatic with pity rather than con- tempt. But when the screen of the Austrian force }io longer existed between the invading armies of France and the Venetian territories — when the final subjugation of the north of Italy was resolved on — the Directory peremptorily demanded, and the senate of Venice were obliged to grant, an order, removing the Comte de Lille from the boundaries of the republic. The illusti-ious exile protested against this breach of hospitality, and demanded, before parting, that his name, which had been placed on the golden book of the republic, should be ei'ased, and that the armour presented by Henry IV. to Venice, should be restored to his descendant.' Both demands were evaded, as might have been expected in the circumstances, and the future monarch of France left Verona on the '21st of April, 1796, for the array of the Prince of Conde', in whose ranks he proposed to place himself, without the purpose of assuming any command, but only that of fighting as a volunteer in the character of the first gentle- man in France. Other less distinguished emi- grants, to the number of several hundreds, who had found an asylum in Italy, were, by the suc- cesses at Lodi and Borghetto, compelled to fly to other countries. Buonaparte, immediately after the battle of Bor- ghetto, and the passage of the Mincio, occupied the town of Verona [June 3,] and did not fail to intimate to its magistrates, that if the Pretender, as he termed him, to the throne of France, had not left Verona before his arrival, he would have burnt to the ground a town which, acknowledging him as King of France, assumed, in doing so, the air of being itself the capital of that republic.^ This might, no doubt, sound gallant in Paris ; but Buona- parte knew well that Louis of France was not re- ceived in the Venetian territory as the successor to his brother's throne, but only with the hospita- lity due to an unfortunate prince, who, suiting his claim and title to his situation, was content to shel- ter his head, as a private man might have done, from the evils which seemed to pursue him. The neutrality of Venice was, however, for the time admitted, though not entirely from respect for the law of nations ; for Buonaparte is at some pains to justify himself for not having seized with- 1790.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 209 The latter was dismissed on his parole. But when summoned to return to the French headquarters, his eminence declined to obey, and amused the re- publican officers a good deal, by alleging, that the Pope had dispensed with his engagement. After- wards, however, there were officers of no mean rank in the French service, who could contrive to extricate themselves from the engagement of a parole, without troubling the Pope for his inter- ference on the occasion. Influenced by the ap- proachmg danger, the Court of Rome sent Azara, the Spanish minister, with full powers to treat for an armistice. It was a remarkable part of Buona- parte's character, that he knew as well when to forbear as when to strike. Rome, it was true, was an enemy whom France, or at least its present rulers, both hated and despised; but the moment was then inopportune for the prosecution of their resentment. To have detached a sufficient force m that direction, would have weakened the French army in the north of Italy, where fresh bodies of German troops were already arriving, and might have been attended with gi'eat ultimate risk, since there was a possibility that the English might have transported to Italy the forces which they were about to withdraw from Corsica, amounting to six thousand men. But, though these considerations recommended to Napoleon a negotiation with the Pope, his hohness was compelled to purchase the armistice [June 23] at a severe rate. Twenty-one millions of francs, in actual specie, with large con- tributions in forage and military stores, the cession of Ancona, Bologna, and Ferrara, not forgetting one hundred of the finest pictures, statues, and similar objects of art, to be selected according to the choice of the committee of artists who attended the French army, were the price of a respite which was not of long duration. It was particularly sti- pulated, with republican ostentation, that the busts of the elder and younger Brutus were to be among the number of ceded articles, and it was in this manner that Buonaparte made good his vaunt, of establishing in the Roman capitol the statues of the illustrious and classical dead.^ The Archduke of Tuscany was next to undergo the republican discipline. It is true, that prince had given no offence to the French Republic ; on the contrary, he had claims of mei'it with them, from having been the very first power in Europe who acknowledged them as a legal government, and having ever since been in strict amity with them. It seemed also, that while justice required he should be spared, the interest of the French themselves did not oppose the conclusion. His country could have no influence on the fate of the impending war, being situated on the western side of the Apennines. In these circumstances, to have seized on his museimi, however tempting, or made requisitions on his territories, would have appeared unjust towards the earliest ally of the French Republic ; so Buonaparte contented himself with seizing on the grand duke's seaport of Leghorn [June 27,] confiscating the English goods which his subjects had imported, and entirely ruining the once flourishing commerce of the dukedom. It was a principal object with the French to seize the 1 Montholon, torn, iii., p 221 ; Thiers, tom. viii., p. 23C. 2 " II parcourut avet Ic grand-due la cdlfebre galcrie et n' y VOL. II. British merchant vessels, who, confiding in the respect due to a neutral power, were lying in great numbers in the harbour ; but the English merchant- men had such early intelligence as enabled them to set sail for Corsica, although a very great quantity of valuable goods fell mto the possession of the French. While the French general was thus violating the neutrality of the grand duke, occupying by sur- prise his valuable seaport, and destroying the com- merce of his state, the unhappy prince was com- pelled to receive him at Florence,^ with all the respect due to a valued friend, and profess the utmost obligation to him for his lenity, while Man- fredini, the Tuscan minister, endeavoured to throw a veil of decency over the transactions at Leghorn, by allowing that the English were more masters in that port than was the grand duke himself. Buonaparte disdained to have recourse to any pal- try apologies. " The French flag," he said, " has been insulted in Leghorn — You are not strong enough to cause it to be respected. The Direc- tory has commanded me to occupy the place." ^ Shortly after, Buonaparte, during an entertainment given to him by the grand duke at Florence, re- ceived mtelligence that the citadel of Milan had at length surrendered. He i-ubbed his hands with self-congratulation, and turning to the grand duke, observed, " that the Emperor, his brother, had now lost his last possession in Lombardy. When we read of the exactions and indignities to which the strong reduce the weak, it is impos- sible not to remember the simile of Napoleon him- self, who compared the alliance of France and an inferior state, to a giant embracing a dwarf. " The poor dwarf," he added, " may probably be suffo- cated in the arms of his friend ; but the giant does not mean it, and cannot help it." While Buonaparte made truce with several of the old states in Italy, or rather adjourned their destruction in consideration of large contributions, he was far from losing sight of the main object of the French Directory, which was to cause the adja- cent governments to be revolutionized and new- modelled on a repubhcan form, corresponding to that of the Great Nation herself. This scheme was, in every respect, an exceed- ingly artful one. In every state which the French might overrun or conquer, there must occur, as we have already repeatedly noticed, men fitted to form the members of revolutionary government, and who, from their previous situation and habits, must necessarily be found eager to do so. Such men are sure to be supported by the rabble of large towns, who are attracted by the prospect of plunder, and by the splendid promises of liberty, which they always understand as promising the equalization of property. Thus provided ^\ith materials for then- edifice, the bayonets of the Frtyich army were of strength sufficient to prevent the task from being interrupted, and the French Republic had soon to greet sister states, under the government of men who held their offices by the pleasure of France, and who were obliged, therefore, to comply with all her requisitions, however unreasonable. This arrangement afforded the French govern- rcmarqua quo trop la V6nus de Medicis." — Lacretelle, tom. xiii., ]). 190. 3 Montholon, torn, iii., p. 226; Pomraereuil, Campagnes de Buonaparte, p. 70- 210 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1796. ment an opportunity of deriving every advantage from the subordinate republics, wliieli could pos- sibly be drained out of them, without at the same time incurring the odium of making the exactions in their own name. It is a custom in some coun- tries, when a cow who has lost her calf will not yield her milk freely, to place before the refractory animal the skin of her young one stuffed, so as to have some resemblance to life. The cow is de- ceived by this imposture, and yields to be milked upon seeing this representative of her offspring. In like manner, the show of independence assigned to the Batavian, and other associated republics, enabled France to drain these countries of supplies, ■which, while they had the appearance of being given to the governments of those who granted the supplies, passed, in fact, into the hands of their engi-ossing ally. Buonaparte was sufficiently aware that it was expected from him to extend the same system to Italj', and to accelerate, in the conquered counti'ies of that fertile land, this species of political regeneration ; but it would appear that, upon the ■whole, he thought the soil scarcely prepared for a republican harvest. He mentions, no doubt, that the natives of Bologna and Reggio, and other dis- tricts, were impatient to unite with the French as allies, and intimate friends ; but even these expres- sions are so limited as to make it plain that the feelings of the Italians in general were not as yet favourable to that revolution which the Du'cctory desired, and which he endeavoured to forward. He had, indeed, in all his proclamations, declared to the inhabitants of the invaded countries, that his war was not waged with them but with their go- vernments, and had pubhshed the strictest orders for the discipline to be observed by his followers. But though this saved the inhabitants from imme- diate violence at the hand of the French soldiery, it did not diminish the weight of the requisitions with which the country at large was burdened, and to which poor and rich had to contribute their share. They were pillaged with regularity, and by order, but they were not the less pillaged ; and Buonaparte himself has informed us, that the neces- sity of maintaining the French army at their ex- pense very much retarded the march of French principles in Italy. " You cannot," he says, with much truth, " at the same moment strip a people of their substance, and persuade them, while doing so, that you are their friend and benefactor." He mentions also in the St. Helena manuscripts,^ the regret expressed by the wise and philosophical part of the community, that the revolution of Rome, the som'ce and director of superstitious opinions, had not been commenced ; but frankly admits that the time was not come for going to such exti'emi- ties, and that he was contented with plundering the Roman See of its money and valuables, waiting until the fit moment should arrive of totally de- stroying that ancient hierarchy. It was not without difficulty that Buonaparte could bring the Directory to understand and relish these temporizing measures. They had formed a false idea of the country, and of the state and tem- per of the people, and were desirous at once to re- volutionize Rome, Naples, and Tuscany. Napoleon, more prudently, left these extensive regions imder the direction of theii' old and feeble ' llontliolon, torn, iii., p. 222. governments, whom he compelled, in the interim, to supply him with money and contributions, in exchange for a protracted existence, which he in- tended to destroy so soon as the fit opportunity should offer itself. What may be thought of this policy in diplomacy, we pretend not to say ; but in private life it would be justly branded as alto- gether infamous. In point of morality, it resembles the conduct of a robber, who, having exacted the surrender of the traveller's property, as a ransom for his life, concludes his violence by murder. It is alleged, and we have little doubt with truth, that the Pope was equally insincere, and struggled only, by immediate submission, to prepare for the hour when the Austrians should strengtlien their power in Italy. But it is the duty of the historian loudly to proclaim, that the bad faith of one party in a treaty forms no excuse for that of the other ; and that national contracts ought to be, especially on the stronger side, as pure in their intent, and exe- cuted as rigidly, as if those with whom they were contracted were held to be equally sincere in their propositions. If the more powerful party judge otherwise, the means are in their hand to continue the war ; and they ought to encounter their more feeble enemy by detection, and punishment of his fraud, not by anticipating the same deceitful course which their opponent has resorted to in the con- sciousness of his weakness, — like a hare which doubles before the hounds when she has no other hope of escape. It will be well with the world, when falsehood and finesse are as thoroughly ex- ploded in international communication, as they are among individuals in all civilized countries. But though those states, whose sovereigns could afford to pay for forbearance, were suffered for a time to remain under their ancient governments, it might have been thought that Lombardy, from which the Austrians had been almost totally driven, and where, of course, there was no one to compound with on the part of the old government, Avoukl have been made an exception. Accordingly, the French faction in these districts, with all the numerous class who were awakened by the hope of national independence, expected impatiently the declaration of their freedom from the Austrian yoke, and their erection, under the protection of France, into a republic on the same model with that of the Great Nation. But although Buonaparte encouraged men who held these opinions, and writers who supported them, he had two weighty reasons for procrasti- nating on this point. First, if France manumitted Lombardy, and converted her from a conquered province into an ally, she must in consistency have abstained from demanding of the liberated countiy those supplies, by which Buonaparte's army was entirely paid and supported. Again, if this diffi- culty could be got over, there remained the secret purpose of the Directory to be considered. They had determined, when they should make peace with the Emperor of Austria, to exact the cession of Belgium and the territory of Luxembourg, as provinces lying convenient to France, and had resolved, that under certain circumstances, they would even give up Lombardy again to his domi- nion, rather than not obtain tliese more desirable objects. To erect a new republic in the country which they were prepared to restore to its former sovereign, would have been to throw a bar in the way of their own negotiation. Buonaparte had 179G.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 211 therefore the difficult task of at once encouraging, on the part of the repubhcaus of Lombard}', the principles which induced them to demand a sepa- rate government, and of sootliing tlitin to expect with patience events, which he was secretly con- scious might possibly never come to pass. The final issue shall be told elsewhere. It may be just necessary to observe, that the conduct of the French towards the republicans whom they had formed no predetermination to support, was as uncandid as towards the ancient governments wliom they ti'eated with. They sold to the latter false hope's of security, and encouraged tlie former to express sentiments and opinions, which must have exposed them to ruin, in case of the restoration of Lom- bardy to its old rulers, an event which the Direc- tory all along contemplated in secret. Such is, in almost all cases, the risk incurred by a domestic faction, who trust to carry their peculiar objects in the bosom of their own country by means of a foreign nation. Their too powerful auxiliaries are ever ready to sacrifice them to their own ■V'iews of emolument. Having noticed the effect of Buonaparte's short but brilliant campaign on other states, we must observe the effects which his victories produced on Austria herself. These were entirely consistent ■with her national character. The same tardiness which has long made the government of Austria slow in availing themselves of advantageous cir- cumstances, cautious in their plans, and unwilling to adopt, or indeed to study to comprehend, a new system of tactics, even after having repeatedly experienced its terrible efficacies, is combined with the better qualities of firm determination, resolute endurance, and unquenchable spirit. The Aus- trian slowness and obstinacy, which have some- times threatened them with ruin, have, on the other hand, often been compensated by their firm perse- verance and courage in adversity. Upon the present occasion, Austria showed am- ple demonstration of the various qualities we have ascribed to her. The rapid and successive victories of Buonaparte, appeared to her only the rash flight of an eaglet, whose juvenile audacity had over- estimated the strength of his pinion. The Imperial Council resolved to sustain their diminished force in Italy, with such reinforcements as might enable them to reassume the complete superiority over the French, though at the risk of weakening their armies on the Rhine. Fortune in that quarter, though of a various complexion, had been, on the whole, more advantageous to the Austrians than elsewhere, and seemed to authorise the detaching considerable reinforcements from the eastern fron- tier, on which they had been partially victorious, to Italy, where, since Buonaparte had descended from the Alps, they had been uniformly unfortunate. Beaulieu, aged and unlucky, was no longer con- sidered as a fit opponent to his inventive, young, and active adversary. He ■s\as as full of displeasure, it is said, against the Aulic Council, for the teso- ' The followiiif; letter appears in the journals as an inter- cepted despatch from Beaulieu to the AuJic Council of War. It seems worthy of preservation, as expressing the irritated feelings with wliich the veteran general was certainly affected, whether he wrote tliK letter in question or not. It will be re- collected, that IJ'Argcnteau, of whom he complains, was the cause of his original misfortunes at Montenotte. t^ee p. V.)3. " I asked you for a_ot:>ii:ral, and you have sent me Arijenteau — I am quite aw^are that he is a great lord, and that he is to be created Field-marshal of the Empire, to atone for my hav- ciates whom they had assigned him, as they coidd be with him for his bad success.* He was recalled, therefore, in that species of disgrace which misfor- tune never fails to infer, and the command of his remaining forces, now drawn back and secured within the passes of the Tyrol, was provisionally assigned to the veteran Melas. Meanwhile Wurmser, accounted one of the best of the Austrian generals, was ordered to place himself at the head of thirty thousand men from the Imperial forces on the Rhine, and, traversing the Tyrol, and collecting what recruits he could in that warlike district, to assume the command :>{ the Austrian army, which, expelled from Italy, now lay upon its frontiers, and might be supposed eager to resume their national supremacy in the fertile climate out of which they had been so lately driven. Aware of the storm which was gathering, Buo- naparte made every possible effort to carry jlantua before arrival of the formidable Austrian army, whose first operation would doubtless be to raise the siege of that important place. A scheme to take the city and castle by surprise, by a detach- ment which should pass to the Seraglio, or islet on which J.Iantua is situated, by night and in boats, having totally failed, Buonaparte was compelled to open trenches, and proceed as by regular siege. The Austrian general. Canto D'Irles, when smn- moned to surrender it, replied that his orders were to defend the place to extremity. Napoleon, on his side, assembled all the battering ordnance which could be collected from the walls of the neighbour- ing cities and fortresses, and the attack and defence commenced in the most vigorous manner on both sides ; the French making every effort to reduce the city before Wurmser should open his campaign, the governor determined to protract his resistance, if possible, until he was relieved by the advance of that general. But although red-hot balls were expended in profusion, and several desperate and bloody assaults and sallies took place, many more battles were to be fought, and much more blood expended, before Buonaparte was fated to succeed in this important object.'^ CHAPTER VI. Campaign on the Rhine — General Plan — Wartens- lehen and the Archduke Charles retire before Jourdan and Moreau — The Archduke forms a junction with Wartenslebcn, and defeats Jourdan, icho retires — Morean, also, makes his celebrated Retreat through the Black Forest — Buonaparte raises the Siege of Mantua, and defeats the Aus- trians at Scdo and Lonato — Misbehariour of the French General Valctte, at Castiglione — Lonato taken, with the French Artillery, on M August — ■ Retaken by Ma?sena and Augereau — Singular escape of Buonaparte from being captured, at Lonato — Wurmser defeated between Lonato and ing placed him under arrest— I apprise you that I have no more than twenty thousand men remaining, and that the French are sixty thousand strong. I apprise you farther, that I will retreat to'-morrow— next day— tne day after that— and every day— even to Siberia itself, if they pursue me so fat My age gives me a right to speak out the truth. Hasten to make peace on any conditioti whatever."— il/onjVcwr, ITyG, No. 269.-8. 2 Montholon, torn. Hi., p 229 ; Jomiiii, tom. Tiii., p. 163. 212 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1796. Castiglione, and retreats on Trent and Roteredo ^Huonaparte resumes his position before Mantua — Effects of the French Victories on the different Italian States — Inflexibility of Austria — Wurm- ser recruited — Battle of Hoveredo — French ticto- rious, and Massena occupies Trent — Buonaparte defeats ^Vurmser at Primolano — and at Bassano, 8th September — Wurmser flies to Vicenza — Bat- tle of Saint-Geonje— Wurmser finally shut up icithin the walls of Mantua. The reader must, of course, be aware, that Italy, 1,'hrougli which we are following the victorious career of Napoleon, was not the only scene of war betwixt France and Austria, but that a field of equally strenuous and much more doubtful contest was opened upon the Rhine, where the high mili- tary talents of the Archduke Charles were opposed to those of Moreau and Jourdan. The plan which the Directory had adopted for the campaign of 1796 was of a gigantic character, and menaced Austria, their most powerful enemy upon the continent, with nothing short of total destruction. It was worthy of the genius of Car- not, by whom it was formed, and of Napoleon and Moreau, by whom it had been revised and approved. Under sanction of this general plan, Buonaparte regulated the Italian campaign in which he had proved so successful ; and it had been scliemed, that to allow Austria no breathing space, Moreau, with the army of the Sambre and Meuse, should press forward on the eastern frontier of Germany, supported on the left by Jourdan, at the head of the army of the Rhine, and that both generals should continue to advance, until Moreau should be in a position to communicate with Buonaparte through the Tyrol. When this junction of the whole forces of France, in the centre of the Aus- trian dominions, was accomplished, it was Carnot's ultimate plan that they should advance upon Vienna, and dictate peace to the Emperor under the walls of his capital.' Of this great project, the part intrusted to Buonaparte was completely executed, and for some time the fortune of war seemed equally auspicious to France upon the Rhine as in Italy. Moreau and Jourdan crossed that gi-eat national boundary at Neuwied and Kehl, and moved eastward through Germany, forming a connected front of more than sixty leagues in breadth, until Moreau had actually crossed the river Lech, and was almost touching with his right flank the passes of the Tyrol, through which he was, according to the plan of the campaign, to have communicated with Buonaparte. During this advance of two hostile armies, amounting each to seventy-five thousand men, which filled all Germany with consternation, the Austrian leader Wartensleben was driven from position to position by Jourdan, while the Archduke Charles was equally unable to maintain his ground before Moreau. The imperial generals were re- duced to this extremity by the loss of the army, consisting of from thirty to thirty-five thousand 1 See Correspondence In^dite, torn, i., \>. 12; Montholon, torn, iv., p. 372 ; Joniini, torn, viii., p. 308. 2 " That retreat was the greatest blunder that ever Moreau committed. If he had, instead of retreating, made a d(5tour, and marched in th? rear of Prince Charles, he would have destroyed or taken tlic Austrian army. The nirectorv, jealous of me, wanted to divide, if possible, the stoclf of military re- putation ; and as they could not give Moreau credit for a vic- men, who had been detached tmder Wurmser to support the remains of Beaulieu's forces, and rein- state the Austrian aifairs in Italy, ajid who were now on their march through the Tyrol for that purpose. But the archduke was an excellent and enterprising officer, and at this important period he saved the empire of Austria by a bold and de- cided manoeuvre. Leaving a large part of his army to make head against Moreau, or at least to keep him in check, the archduke moved to the right with the rest, so as to form a junction with Wartensleben, and overwhelm Jourdan with a local superiority of numbers, being the very principle on which the French themselves achieved so many victories, Jourdan was totally defeated, and compelled to make a hasty and disorderly retreat, which was rendered disastrous by the insurrection of the Ger- man peasantry around his fugitive army. Moreau, also unable to maintain himself in the heart of Germany, when Jourdan, with the army which covered his left flank, was defeated, was likewise under the necessity of retiring, but conducted his retrograde movement with such dexterity, that his retreat through the Black Forest, where the Aus- trians hoped to cut him off, has been always judged worthy to be compared to a gi-eat victory .^ Such were the proceedings on the Rhine, and in the interit)r of Germany, which must be kept in view as influencing at first by the expected success of Moreau and Jourdan, and afterwards by their actual failure, the movements of the Italian army.^ As the divisions of Wurmser's army began to arrive on the Tyrolese district of Trent, where the Austrian general had fixed his head-quarters, Buo- naparte became urgent, either that reinforcements should be despatched to him from France, or that the armies of the Rhine should niake such a move- ment in advance towards the point where they might co-operate with him, as had been agreed upon at arranging the original plan of the campaign. But he obtained no succours ; and though the campaign on the Rhine commenced, as we have seen, in the month of June, yet that period was too late to afford any diversion in favour of Napoleon, Wurm- ser and his whole reinforcements being already either by that time arrived, or on the point of arriving, at the place where they were to commence operations against the French army of Italy.'' The thunder-cloud which had been so long black- ening on the mountains of the Tyrol, seemed now about to discharge its fury. Wurmser, having under his command perhaps eighty thousand men, was about to march from Trent against the French, whose forces, amounting to scarce half so many, were partly engaged in the siege of Mantua, and partly disper.=ed in the towns and villages on the Adige and Chiese, for covering the division of Serrurier, which carried on the siege. The Aus- trian veteran, confident in his numbers, was only anxious so to regulate his advance, as to derive the most conclusive consequences from the victory which he doubted not to obtain. With an impru- dence which the misfortunes of Beauheu ought to tory, they caused his retreat to be extolled in the highest terms: although even the Austrian generals condemned him for it."— Napoleon, f^oice, &c., vol. ii., p. 40. Kee also Gour- gaud, torn, i., p. 157. 3 Montholon, tom. iii., pp. 292-307; Jomini, torn, riii., pp. 178-li)4. * Montholon, tom. iii.. p S34 1796]. LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 213 nave warned him against, he endeavoured to occupy with the divisions of liis army so large au extent of country, as rendered it very difficult for them to maintain their communications with each other. This was particularly the case with liis right wing under Quasdonowieh, the Prince of Reuss, and General Ocskay, who were detached down the val- ley of the river Chiese, with orders to direct their march on Brescia. This division was destined to occupy Brescia, and cut off the retreat of the Fi-ench in the direction of Milan. The left wing of Wurmser's army, under ]Melas, was to descend the Adige by both banks at once, and manoeuvre on Verona, while the centre, commanded by the Austrian fiold-marshal in person, was to march southward by the left bank of the lago di Guarda, take possession of Peschiera, which the French occupied, and, descending the Mincio, relieve the siege of Mantua. There was this radical error in the Austrian plan, that, by sending the right wing by the valley of Chiese, Wurmser placed the broad lake of Guarda, occupied by a French flotilla, be- tween that division and the i"est of his army, and of course made it impossible for the centre and left to support Quasdonowicli, or even to have intelli- gence of his motions or his fate.' The active invention of Buonaparte, sure as he was to be seconded by the zeal and rapidity of the French army, speedily devised the means to draw advantage from this dislocation of the Austrian forces. He resolved not to await the arrival of Wurmser and Melas, but, concentrating his whole strength, to march into the valley of Chiese, and avail himself of the local superiority thus obtained, to attack and overpower the Austrian division left under Quasdonowich, who was advancing on Bres- cia, down the eastern side of the lake. For this purpose one great sacrifice was necessary. The plan inevitably involved the raising of the siege of Mantua. Napoleon did not hesitate to relinquish this great object, at whatever loss, as it was liis uniform system to sacrifice all secondary views, and to incur all lesser hazards, to secure what he considered as the main object of the campaign. Serrurier, who commanded the blockading army, was hastily ordered to destroy as much as possible of the cannon and stores which had been collected with so much pains for the prosecution of the siege.- A hundred guns were abandoned in the trenches, and \^'^ulTQser, on arriving at Mantua, foimd that Buonaparte had retired with a precipitation resem- bling that of fear .3 On the night of the 31st July this operation took place, and, leaving the division of Augereau at Borghetto, and that of Massena at Peschiera, to protect, wliile it was possible, the line of the Min- cio, Buonaparte rushed, at the head of an army wliich his combinations had rendered superior, upon the right wing of the Austrians, which had already directed its march to Lonato, near the bot- tom of the lago di Guarda, in order to approach the Mincio, and resume its communication with Wurmser. But Buonaparte, placed by the cele- rity of his movements between the two hostile ■ Montholon, torn, iii., p. 23.i ; Jomini, torn, viii., p. .'iil2. 2 Jomini, torn. \iii., p. .'^4; Montliolon, torn, iii., ji. 2X). 3 " Napoleon despatclied Louis in the greatest liaste to Paris, with an at'count of what had taken place. Louis left liis brother with regret on the eve of the battle, to become the bearer of bad news. ' It must be so,' said Napoleon, ' but before you return you vUl have to preseut to tne Directory armies, defeated one division of the Austrian right at Salo, upon the lake, and another at Lonato. At the same time, Augereau and Massena, leaving just enough of men at their posts of Borghetto and Peschiera to maintain a respectable defence against Wurmser, made a forced march to Brescia, which they stipposed to be still occupied by a third divi- sion of the Austrian right wing. But that body, finding itself insulated, and conceiving that the whole French army was debouching on them from different points, was already in full retreat to- wards the Tyrol, from which it had advanced with the expectation of turning Buonaparte's flank, and destroying his retreat upon Milan. Some French troops were left to accelerate their flight, and pre- vent their again making head, while Mas.sena and Augereau, rapidly countermarching, returned to the banks of the ^Mincio to support their respective rear-guards, which they had left at Borghetto and Peschiera, on the line of that river. They received intelligence, however, which in- duced them to halt upon this counter -march. Both rear-gtiards had been compelled to retire from the line of the Mincio, of which river the Austrians had forced the passage. The rear-guard of Mas- sena, under General Pigeon, had fellen back in good order, so as to occupy Lonato ; that of Au- gereau fled with precipitation and confusion, and failed to make a stand at Castiglione, which was occupied by Austrians, who intrenched themselves there. A'^alette, the officer who commanded this body, was deprived of his commission in presence of his troops for misbehaviour,'* an example which the gallantry of the French generals rendered ex- tremely infrequent in their service. Wurmser became now seriously anxious about the fate of his right wing, and determined to force a commiuiication with Quasdonowich at all risks. But he could only attain the valley of the Chiese, and the right bank of the lago di Guarda, by breaking a passage through the divisions of Mas- sena and Augereau. On the 3d of August, at break of day, two divisions of Austrians, who had crossed the Mincio in pursuit of Pigeon and Valette, now directed themselves, with the most determined re- solution, on the French troops, in order to clear the way between the commander-in-chief and his right wing. The late rear-gttard of Massena, which, by his counter-march, had now become his advanced- guard, was defeated, and Lonato, the place which they occupied, was taken by the Austrians, with the French artillery, and the general officer who commanded them. But the Austrian general, thus far successful, fell into the great error of extending his line too much towards the right, in order, doubtless, if possible, to turn the French position on their left flank, thereby the sooner to open a commimieation with his o^vn troops on the right bank of the lago di Guarda, to force which had been his principal object in the attack. But, in thus manoeu\Ting,* he weakened liLs centre, an error of which Massena instantly availed himself. He formed two strong columns under Augereau, the colours which we shall take to-morrow.' " — Louis Bugn.-v- PARTE, torn, i., p. iiJ. * Buonaparte to the Directory; Monitcur, No. 3:30 ; Jomini, torn, viii., p. 318 ; Botta, torn, ii., p. 64. 5 " Sa manoeuvre me panit un sGr garant de la victoire."-^ Bt'ONAfARTK to tlie Directory, 6tb August. 214 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1796. with wbicli he redeemed the victory, by breaking through and dividing tlie Austrian line, and re- taking Lonato at the point of the bayonet. The manoeuvre is indeed a simple one, and the same by which, ten years afterwards, Buonaparte gained the battle of Austerlitz ; but it requires tlie utmost promptitude and presence of mind to seize the exact moment for executing such a daring measure to advantage. If it is but partially successful, and the enemy retains steadiness, it is very perilous ; since the atta clung column, instead of flanking the broken divisions of the opposite line, may be itself flanked by decided officers and determined troops, and thus experience the disaster which it was their object to occasion to the enemy. On the present occasion, the attack on the centre completely suc- ceeded. The Austrians, finding their line cut asunder, and their flanks pressed by the victorious columns of the French, fell into total disorder. Some, who were farthest to the right, pushed for- vard, in hopes to unite themselves to Quasdono- wich, and what they miglit find remaining of the original right wing ; but these were attacked in front by General Soret, who had been active in defeating Quasdonowich upon the 30th July, and were at the same time pursued by another detach- ment of the French, which had broken through their centre. Such was the fate of the Austrian riglit at the battle of Lonato, while that of the left was no less unfavourable. They were attacked by Augereau ■with the utmost bravery, and driven from Castig- lione, of which they had become masters by the bad conduct of Valette. Augereau achieved this important result at the price of many brave men's Uves ; ' but it was always remembered as an essen- tial service by Buonaparte, who afterwards, when such dignities came in use, bestowed on Augereau the title of Duke of Castiglione.^ After their de- feat, there can be nothing imagined more confused or calamitous than the condition of the Austrian divisions, who, having attacked, without resting on each other, found themselves opposed and finally overwhelmed by an enemy who appeared to pos- sess ubiquity, simply from his activity and power of combining his forces. A remarkable instance of their lamentable state of disorder and confusion, resembling in its conse- quences more than one example of the same sort, occurred at Lonato. It might, with any briskness of intelligence, or firmness of resolution, have proved a decisive advantage to their arms ; it was, in its result, a humiliating illustration, how com- pletely the succession of bad fortune had broken the spirit of the Austrian soldiers. The reader can hardly have forgotten the incident at the bat- tle of Millesirao, when an Austrian column which had been led astray, retook, as if it were by chance, the important village of Dego ; ' or the more re- cent instance, when a body of Beaulieu's advanced- guard, alike unwittingly, had nearly made Buona- parte prisoner in liis quartei-s.* The present dan- ger arose from the same cause, the confusion and want of combination of the enemy ; and now, as in the former perilous occurrences, the very same 1 Buonaparte, in his despatch to the Directory, states the loss of tlie Austrians at from two to three thousand killed, and four thousand prisoners; Joraini, torn, viii., p. 325, says, " three thousand killed, wounded, or prisoners." . 2 " Xhat day was the most brilliant of Augereau's life, nor did Napoleon ever forget it."— Montholon, tom. iii., p. 255. circumstances which brought on the danger, served to ward it off". A body of four or five thousand Austrians, partly composed of those who had been cut off at the battle of Lonato, partly of stragglers from Quasdonowich, received information from the peasantry, that the French troops, having departed in every direction to improve their success, had only left a garrison of twelve hundred men in the town of Lonato. The commander of the division resolved instantly to take possession of the town, and thus to open his march to the Mincio, to join Wurmser. Now, it happened that Buonaparte himself, coming from Castiglione with only his staff for protection, had just entered Lonato. He ^^•as surprised when an Austrian officer was brought before him blind-folded, as is the custom on such occasions, who summoned the French commandant of Lonato to surrender to a superior force of Aus- trians, who, he stated, were already forming co- lumns of attack to carry the place by irresistible force of numbers. Buonaparte, with admirable presence of mind, collected his numerous staff around him, caused the officer's eyes to be un- bandaged, that he might see in whose presence he stood, and upbraided him with the insolence of which he had been guilty, in bringing a summons of surrender to the French commander-in-chief in the middle of his army.s The credulous officer, recognising the presence of Buonaparte, and be- lieving it impossible that he could be there with- out at least a strong division of his army, stam- mered out an apology, and returned to persuade his dispirited commander to surrender himself, and the four thousand men and up\\ards whom he com- manded, to the comparatively small force which occupied Lonato. They grounded their arms ac- cordingly, to one-fourth of their number, and miss- ed an invitmg and easy opportunity of carrying Buonaparte prisoner to Wurmser's headquarters. The Austrian general himself, whose splendid army was thus destroyed in detail, had been hither- to employed in revictualling Mantua, and throwing in supplies of every kind ; besides which, a large portion of his army had been detached in the vain pursuit of Serrurier, and the troops lately engaged in the siege, who had retreated towards Marcaria. When Wurmser learned the disasters of his right wing, and the destruction of the troops despatched to form a communication with it, he sent to recall the division which we have mentioned, and ad- vanced against the French position between Lonato and Castiglione, with an army still numerous, not- withstanding the reverses which it had sustained. But Buonaparte had not left the interval unim- proved. He had recalled Serrurier from Marcaria, to assail the left wing and the flank of the Austrian field-marshal. The opening of Serrurier's fire was a signal for a general attack on all points of Wurm- ser's Ime. He was defeated, and nearly made pri- soner ; and it was not till after suffering great losses in the retreat and pursuit, that he gained with difficulty Trent and Roveredo, the positions adjacent to the Tyrol, from which he had so lately sallied with such confidence of victory. He had 3 See ante, p. 104. ^ See a?ite, p. 20?. 6 " Go and tell your general," said Napoleon, " that I give him eight minutes to lay down his arms ; ho is in the midst of the French army ; after that time there are no hoi>es for him."— MoNTHOi.oN, tom. iii., p. 246; Jomini, tom. viii., pt 326. But see Botta, tom. i., p. 646. 179G.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 215 lost perhaps one half of his fine ai'my, and the only consolaticjn ^\hicli remained was, that he had thrown supplies into the fortress of Mantua. His troops also no longer had the masculine confidence which is necessary to success in war. They were no longer proud of themselves and of their commanders ; and those, especially, who had sustained so many losses under Beaulieu, could hardly be brought to do their duty, in circumstances where it seemed that Destiny itself was fighting against them. The Austrians are supposed to have lost nearly forty thousand men in these disastrous battles. The French must have at least suff"ered the loss of one- fourth of the number, though Buonaparte confesses only to seven thousand men ; ' and their army, desperately fatigued by so many marches, such constant fighting, and tlie hardships of a campaign, where even the general for seven days never laid aside his clothes, or took any regular repose, re- quired some time to recover their physical strength. Meantime, Napoleon resumed his position be- fore Mantua ; but the want of battering cannon, and the commencement of the unhealthy heats of au- tumn, amid lakes and inundations, besides the great chance of a second attack on the part of Wurmser, induced him to limit his measures to a simple blockade, which, however, was so strict as to re- tain tlie garrison within the walls of the place, and cut them ofi" even from the islet called the Seraglio. Tlie events of this hurried campaign threw light ou the feelings of the different states of Italy. Lombardy in general remained quiet, and the citizens of Milan seemed so well affected to the French, tliat Buonaparte, after the victory of Cas- tiglione, returned tliem his thanks in name of the Republic.^ But at Pavia, and elsewhere, a very opposite disposition was evinced ; and at Ferrara, the Cardinal Mattei, archbishop of that town, made some progress in exciting an insurrection. His apology, when introduced to Buonaparte's pre- sence to answer for his conduct, consisted in utter- ing the single word Peccari! and Napoleon, soothed by his submission, imposed no punishment on him for his offence,^ but, on the contrary, used his me- diation in some negotiations with the court of Rome. Yet though the Bishop of FeiTara, ovei-awed and despised, was permitted to escape, the conduct of his superior, the Pope, who had shown vacillation in his purposes of submission, when he heard of the temporary raising of the siege of Mantua, was carefully noted and remembered for animadver- sion, when a suitable moment should occur. Nothing is more remarkable, during these cam- paigns, than the inflexibility of Austria, which, reduced to the extremity of distress by the advance of Moreau and Jourdan into her teri'itories, stood nevertheless on the defensive at every point, and by extraordinary exertions again recruited Wurm- ser with fresh troops, to the amount of twenty thousand men ; which reinforcement enabled that general, though under no more propitious star, ' " In the different engagements between the 2f)th July and the 12th August, the French army took I5,(KK» ))risoncrs, 70 Jiieces of cannon, and nine stand of colours, and killed or wounded 25,(MI0 men ; the loss of tltc French army was 7t'UU men." — MoNTHOLON, torn, iii., p. 251. 2 " Your people render themselves daily more worthy of liberty, and they will, no doubt, one day a()pear with glory on the stage of the'world." — I\toiiilair, No. .'J.'jl, Aug. fl. 3 " When brought before the commander-in-''hief, he an- iwered only by the word iieccavi, which disarmed the victor. again to resume the offensive, by advancing from the Tyrol. Wurmser, with less confidence than before, hoped now to relieve the siege of Mantua a second time, and at a less desperate cost, by moving from Trent towards Mantua, through tho defiles formed by the river Brenta. This manoeuvre he proposed to execute with thirty thousand men, while he left twenty thousand, under General Davidowich, in a strong position at or near Rove- redo, for the purpose of covering the Tyrol ; an invasion of which district, on the part of the Frencli, must have added much to the general panic which already astounded Germany, from the apprehended advance of Moreau and Jourdan from the banks of the Rhine. Buonaparte penetrated the design of the veteran general, and suffered him without disturbance to march towards Bassano upon the Brenta, in order to occupy the line of operations on which he in- tended to manoeuvre, with the secret intention that he \\ould himself assume the offensive, and over- whelm Davidowich as soon as the distance betwixt them precluded a communication betwixt that ge- neral and Wurmser. He left General Kilmaine, an officer of Irish extraction* in whom he reposed confidence, with about three thousand men, to cover the siege of Mantua, by posting himself under the walls of Verona, while, concentrating a strong body of forces, Napoleon marched upon the town of Roveredo, situated in the valley of the Adige, and having in its rear the strong position of Gal- liano. The town is situated on the high road to Trent, and Davidowich lay there with twenty-five thousand Austrians, intended to protect the Tyrol, while Wurmser moved down the Brenta, which runs in the same direction with the Adige, but at about thirty miles' distance, so that no communi- cation for mutual support could take place betwixt Wurmser and his lieutenant-general. It was upon Davidowich that Buonaparte first meant to pour his thunder. The battle of Roveredo, fought upon the 4th of September, was one of that great general's splendid days. Before he could approach the town, g^ . ^ one of his divisions had to force the strongly intrenched camp of Mori, where the enemj' made a desperate defence. Another attacked the Austrians on the opposite bank of the Adige, (for the action took place on both sides of the river,) until the enemy at length retreated, still fighting desperately. Napoleon sent his orders to General Dubois, to charge with the first regiment of hussars : — he did so, and broke the enemy, but fell mortally wounded with three balls. " I die," he said, " for the Re- public — bring me but tidings that the victory is certain."^ The retreating enemy were driven through the town of Roveredo, without having it in their power to make a stand. The extreme strength of the position of Calliano seemed to afford them rallying ground. The Adige is there bordered by preci- pitous mountains, approaching so near its course, who merely confined him three months in a religious house." — MoNTHOLON, tom. iii., p. 2;J4. Mattei was born at Home in 1744. Compelled, in 1810, to repair to France with his colleagues, he was banished by Na- poleon to Bhetel, for refusing to be present at his marriage with Maria Louisa. The cardinal died in 1820. 4 Kilmaine was born at Dublin in 1754. He distinguished himself at Jemappes and in La Vendee, and was selected to command the " Army of Kn(]lan citadel termed La Favorita, and a long series of severe sallies and attacks took place, which, al- though gallantly fought by the Austrians, generally tended to their disadvantage, so that they were finally again blockaded within the walls of the city and castle.2 The woes of war now appeared among them in a different and even more hideous form than when inflicted with the sword alone. When Wurmser threw himself into Mantua, the garrison might amount to twenty-six thousand men ; yet, ei'e October was far advanced, there were little above the half of the number fit for service. There were nearly nine thousand sick in the hospitals, — infec- tious diseases, privations of every kind, and the unhealthy air of the lakes and marshes with which they were surrounded, had cut off the remainder. The French also had lost great numbers ; but the conquerors could reckon up their victories, and for- get the price at which they had been purchased. It was a proud vaunt, and a cure in itself for many losses, that the minister of war had a right to make the following speech to the Directory, at the formal introduction of Marmont, then aide-de- camp of Buonaparte, and commissioned to present on his part the colours and standards taken from the enemy : — " In the course of a single campaign," he truly said, " Italy had been entirely conquered 2 Montholon, torn, iii., p. 271 ; Jomini, torn, is., p. l^ 1796.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 219 — three large armies had been entirely destroyed — - more than fifty stand of colours had been taken by the victors — forty thoii-iand Austrians had laid down their arms — and, what was not the least sur- prising part of the whole, these deeds had been accomplished by an army of only thirty thousand Frenchmen, commanded by a general scarce twenty- six yeai-s old." * CHAPTER VII. Corsica reunited with France — Critical situation of Buonaparte in Italy at this period — The Austrian General Alvinzi placed at the head of a new Army — Various Contests, attended icith no deci- sive result — Want of Concert among the Austrian , Generals — French Army begin to murmur — First Battle of Areola — Napoleon in personal danger — No decisive result — Hecond Battle of Areola — The French victorious — Fresh tmnt of concert among the Austrian Generals — General Vieics of Military and Political Affairs, after the conclu- sion of the fourth Italian Campaign — Austria commences affth Campaign — but has not profited by expierlence — Battle of Rivoli, and Victory of the French — Further successful at La Favorita — French regain their lost ground in Italy — Surrender of Mantua — Instances of Napoleon's Generosity. About this period the reunion of Corsica with France took place. Buonaparte contributed to this change in the political relations of his native coun- try indirectly, in part by the high pride which his countrymen must have originally taken in his splendid career ; and he did so more immediately, by seizing the town and port of Leghorn, and assisting those Corsicans, who had been exiled by the English party, to return to their native island.^ He intimated the event to the Directory, and stated that he had appointed Gentili, the principal partisan of the French, to govern the island provisionally ; and that the Commissioner Salicetti was to set sail for the purpose of making other necessary arrange- ments.' The communication is coldly made, nor does Buonaparte's love of his birth-place induce him to expatiate upon its importance, although the Directory afterwards made the acquisition of that island a great theme of exultation. But his des- tinies had called him to too high an elevation to permit his distinguishing the obscure islet which he had arisen from originally. He was like the yoimg lion, who, while he is scatterir _• the herds and destroying the hunters, thinks httle of the forest-cave in which he first saw the light.* Indeed, Buonaparte's situation, however brilliant, was at the same time critical, and required his im- divided thoughts. Mantua still held out, and was likely to do so. Wuxmser had caused about three- 1 Moniteur, No. 13, October 4. 2 Joitiiiii, torn, ix., p. 153; Thibaudcau, torn, ii., p. 32; MontRaiUard, torn, iv., p. 4G8. 8 " Gentili and all the refugees landed in October, 171"), in spite of the English cruisers. The republicans took posses- sion of Bastia and of all the furtresses. The English hastily embarked. The King of England wore the Corsican crown only two years. This whim cost the British treasury five mil- lions sterling. .John Bull's riches could not have been worse employed." — Napolko.v, Slontholon, tom. iii., p. 58. * It is fair to add, however, that Buonaparte in his Memoirs, while at St. Helena, gives a sketch of the geographical do- fourths of the horses belonging to his cavalry to bo killed and salted for the use of the garrison, and thus made a largo addition, such as it was, to the provisions of the place. His character for courage and determination was completely established ; and being now engaged in defending a fortress by or- dinary rules of art, which he perfectly understoodj ho was in no danger of being over-reached and out- manoeuvred by the new system of tactics, which occasioned his misfortunes in the open field. While, therefore, the last pledge of Austria's dominions in Italy was confided to such safe cus- tody, the Emperor and his ministers were eagerly engaged in making a new effort to recover their Italian territories. The defeat of Jourdan, and the retreat of Moreau before the Archduke Charles, had given the Imperialists some breathing time, and enabled them, by extensive levies in the war- like province of Illyria, as well as draughts from the army of the Rhine, to take the field with a new army, for the recovery of the Italian provinces, and the relief of Mantua. By orders of the Aulic Council, two armies were assembled on the Italian frontier ; one at Friuli, which was partly composed of that portion of the army of Wurmser, which, cut off from their main body at the battle of Bassano, had effected, under Quasdonowich, a I'etreat in that direction ; the other was to be formed on the Ty- roL They were to operate in conjunction, and both were placed under the command of Marshal Alvinzi,'' an officer of high reputation, which waa then thought merited. Thus, for the fourth time, Buonaparte was to contest the same objects on tlie same ground, with new forces belonging to the same enemy. He had, indeed, himself, received from France, reinforce- ments to the number of twelve battalions, from those troops which had been formerly employed in La Vende'e. The army, in general, since victory had placed the resources of the rich country which they occupied at the command of their leader, had been well supplied with clothes, food, and provi- sions, and were devotedly attached to the chief who had conducted them from starving on the barren Alps into this land of plenty, and had directed their military efforts with such skill, that they could scarce ever be said to have failed of success in whatever they undertook under his direction. Napoleon had also on his side the good wishes, if not of the Italians in general, of a considerable party, especially in Lombardy, and frieiuls and enemies were alike impressed with belief in his predestined success. During the former attempts of Wurmser, a contrary opinion had prevailed, and the news that the Austrians were in motion, had given birth to insurrections against the French in many places, and to the publication of sentiments imfavourable to them almost every where. But now, when all predicted the certain success of Na- scription and history of Corsica, and suggests several plans for the civilisation of bis countrymen, —one of which, the depriv- ing them of the arms which they constantly wear, miglit be prudent were it practicable, but certainly would he higlily un- palatable. There occurs an odd observation, " that the Ci own of Corsica must, on the temporary annexation of the island to Great Britain, have been surprised at finding itself api)ertain- ing to the successor of Fingal." Not more, we should think, than the diadem of Erance, and the iron crown of Italy, may have marvelled at tneeting on the brow of a Corsican soldier of fortune. —S. 6 Alvinzi was, at this time, seventy years of age. He died in 1810. 220 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [179C. poleon, the friends of Austria remained quiet, and the numerous party who desire in such cases to keep on the winning side, added weight to the actual friends of France, by expressing tlieir opinions in her favour. It seems, however, that Victory, as if displeased that mortals should presume to calculate the motives of so fickle a deity, was, on this occa- sion, disposed to be more coy than formerly even to her greatest favourite, and to oblige hira to toil harder than he had done even when the odds were more against him.^ Davidowich commanded the body of the Aus- trians which was in the Tyrol, and which included the fine militia of that martial province. There was little difficulty in prevailing on them to advance into Italy, convinced as they were that there was small security for their national independence while the French remained in possession of Lombardy. Buonaparte, on the other hand, had placed Vaubois in the passes upon the river La^^sa, above Trent, to cover that new possession of the French Re- public, and check the advance of Davidowich. It was the plan of Alvinzi to descend from Friuli, and approach Vicenza, to which place he expected Davidowich might penetrate by a corresponding movement down the Adige. Having thus brought his united army into activity, his design was to advance on Mantua, the constant object of bloody contention. He commenced his march in the be- ginning of October, 179G. As soon as Buonaparte heard that Alvinzi was in motion, he sent orders to Vaubois to attack Davido- wich, and to Massena to advance to Bassano upon the I3renta, and make head against the Austrian commander-iu-cliief. Both measures failed in effect. Vaubois indeed made his attack, but so unsuc- cessfully, that after two days' fighting he was com- pelled to retreat before the Austrians, Nov. 5. to evacuate the city of Trent, and to re- treat upon Galliano, already mentioned as a very strong position, in the previous account of the battle of Roveredo. A great part of his op- ponents being Tyrolese, and admirably calculated for mountain warfare, they forced Vaubois from a situation which was almost impregnable ; and their army, descending the Adige upon the right bank, appeared to manoeuvre with the purpose of march- ing on Montebaldo and Rivoli, and thus opening the communication with Alvinzi. On the other hand, though Massena had sus- tained no loss, for he avoided an engagement, the approach of Alvinzi, with a superior army, com- pelled him to evacuate Bassano, and to leave the enemy in undisputed possession of the valley of the Brenta. Buonaparte, therefore, himself saw the necessity of advancing with Augereau's division, determined to give battle to Alvinzi, and force him back on the Piave before the arrival of Davido- wich. But he experienced unusual resistance ; and it is amid complaints of the weathei', of misadven- tures and miscarriages of dlff'erent sorts, that he faintly claims the name of a victory for his first encounter with Alvinzi. It is clear that he had made a desperate attempt to drive the Austrian general from Bassano — that he had not succeeded ; but, on the contrary, was under the necessity of 1 Montholon, torn, iii., p. .'545; Thibaudeau, torn, ii., p. 02. * MouUiolon, torn, iii., p. 345; Tliibaudtau, torn. ii.. p. 109. retreating to Vicenza. It is firrther manifest, that Buonaparte was sensible this retreat did not accord well with his claim of victory ; and he says, with a consciousness which is amusing, that the inha- bitants of Vicenza were surprised to see the French army retire through their town, as they had been witnesses of their victory on the preceding day.* No doubt there was room for astonishment if the Vicenzans had been as completely convinced of the fact as Buonaparte represents them. The truth was, Buonaparte was sensible that Vaubois, being in complete retreat, was exposed to be cut off' un- less he was supported, and he hasted to prevent so great a loss, by meeting and reinforcing hira. His own retrograde movement, howevei-, which ex- tended as far as Verona, left the whole country betwixt the Brenta and Adige open to the Aus- trians ; nor does there occur to those who read the account of the campaign, any good reason why Davidowich and Alvinzi, having no body of French to interrupt their comnnmication, should not in- stantly have adjusted their operations on a common basis.^ But it was the bane of the Austrian tac- tics, through the whole war, to neglect that con- nexion and co-operation betwixt their separate divisions, which is essential to secure the general resvdt of a campaign. Above all, as Buonaparte himself remarked of them, their leaders were not sufficiently acquainted with the value of time ia military movements. Napoleon having retreated to Verona, where he could at pleasure assume the off"ensive by means of the bridge, or place the Adige between himself and the enemy, visited, in the first place, the positions of Rivoli and Corona, where were stationed the troops which had been defeated by Davidowich. They appeared before him with dejected coun- tenances, and Napoleon upbraided them with their indifferent behaviour. " You have displeased me," he said ; — " You have shown neither discipline, nor constancy, nor bravery. You have suffered your- selves to be driven from positions where a handful of brave men might have arrested the progress of a large army. You are no longer French soldiers. — • Let it be written on their colours — ' They are not of the Army of Italy.' " Tears, and groans of sor- row and shame, answered this harangue — the rules of discipline could not stifle their sense of mortifi- cation, and several of the grenadiers, who had deserved and wore marks of distinction, called out from the ranks — " General, we have been mis- represented — Place us in the advance, and you may then judge whether we do not belong to the army of Italy." Buonaparte liaving produced the neces- sary eff"ect, spoke to them in a more conciliatory tone ; and the regiments who had imdergone so severe a rebuke, redeemed their character in the subsequent part of the campaign.* While Napoleon was indefatigable in concentra- ting his troops on the right bank of the Adige, and inspiring them with his own spirit of enterprise, Alvinzi had taken his position on the left bank, nearly opposite to Verona. His army occupied a range of heights called Caldiero, on the left of which, and somewhat in the rear, is the little village of Areola, situated among marshes, which extend around the foot of that eminence. Here the Aus- 3 Jnmini, torn, ix., p. 16.5. * Moutliolou, torn, iii., p. 349. 179G.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 221 tnan general had stationed himself, with a view, it may be supposed, to wait until Davidowieh and his division should descend tlie right bank of the Adige, disquiet the French leader's position on that river, and give Alvinzi himself the opportunity of forcing a passage. Buonaparte, with his usual rapidity of resolution, resolved to drive the Austrian from his position on Caldiero, before the arrival of Davidowieh. But neither on this occasion was fortune propitious to liim.' A strong French division, under Massena, attacked the heights amid a storm of rain ; but their most strenuous exertions proved completely unsuccessful, and left to the general only his usual mode of conceahng a check, by railing at the ele- ments.2 Tlie situation of the French became critical, and, what was worse, the soldiers perceived it ; and complained that they had to sustain the whole bur- den of the war, had to encounter army after army, and must succumb at last under the renewed and vmwearied efforts of Austria. Buonaparte parried these natural feelings as well as he could,^ promis- ing that their conquest of Italy should be speedily sealed by the defeat of this Alvinzi ; and he applied his whole genius to discover the means of bringing the war to an effective struggle, in which he con- fided that, in spite of numbers, his own talents, and the enterprising character of an army so often vic- torious, might assure him a favourable result. But it was no easy way to discover a mode of attacking, with even plausible hopes of success. If he ad- vanced northward on tlie right bank to seek out and destroy Davidowieh, he must weaken his line on the Adige, by the troops withdz-awn to effect that purpose ; and during his absence, Alvinzi would probably force the passage of the river at some point, and thus have it in his power to relieve Mantua, The heights of Caldiero, occupied by the Austi-ian main body, and lying in his front, had, by dire experiment, been proved impregnable. In these doubtful circumstances the bold scheme occurred to the French general, that the position of Caldiero, though it could not be stormed, might be turned, and that by possessing himself of the village of Areola, which lies to the left, and in the rear of Caldiero, the Austrians might be compelled to fight to disadvantage. But the idea of attacking Areola was one whicla would scarce have occurred to any general save Buonaparte. Areola is situated upon a small stream called the Alpon, which, as already hinted, finds its way into the Adige, through a wilderness of marshes, inter- sected with ditches, and traversed by dikes in va- rious directions. In case of an unsuccessful attack, the assailants were like to be totally cut off in the swamps. Then to debouche from Verona, and move in the direction of Areola, would have put Alvinzi and his whole army on their guard. Se- crecy and celerity are the soul of enterprise. All these difficulties gave way before Napoleon's genius. Verona, it must be remembered, is on the left bank of the Adige — on the same with the point ' Jomini, torn, ix., p. 170; Thibaudcau. torn, ii., p. 112. 2 •' The rain fell in torrents ; the ground was so comiilctely Boakcd, that the French artillery could make no movement, ■whilst that of the Austrians, heinf; in position, and advanta- eeousW placed, produced its full effect." — iIoNTHOi,ON, torn, lii., ]). '.'ioi. 3 " We have but one more effort to make, and Italy is our own. The enemy is, no doubt, more numerous than we are, which was the object of Buonaparte's attack. At nightfall, the whole forces at Verona were under arms ; and leaving fifteen hundred men under Kil- maine to defend the place from any assault, with strict orders to secure the gates, and prevent all communication of his nocturnal expedition to tlio enemy, Buonaparte commenced his march at first to the rear, in the direction of Peschiera ; which seemed to imply that his resolution was at length taken to resign the hopes of gaining Mantua, and perhaps to abandon Italy. The silence with which the march was conducted, the absence of all the usual rumours which used in the French army to precede a battle, and the discouraging situation of affairs, appeared to presage the same issue. But after the troops had marched a little way in this direction, the heads of columns were wheeled to the left, out of the line of retreat, and descended the Adige as far as Ronco, which they reached before day. Here a bridge had been prepared, by which they passed over the river, and were placed on the same bank with Areola, the object of their attack, and lower than the heights of Caldiero. There were three causeways by which the marsh of Areola is traversed — each was occupied by a French column. The central column ,. .. moved on the causeway which led to the village so named. The dikes and causewaj's were not defended, but Areola and its bridge were pro- tected by two battalions of Croats with two pieces of cannon, which were placed in a position to enfi- lade the causeway. These received the French column with so heavy a fire on its flank, that it fell back in disorder. Augereau rushed forward upon the bridge with his chosen grenadiers ; but en- veloped as they were in a destructive fire, they were driven back on the main body. Alvinzi, who conceived it only an affair of light troops, sent, however, forces into the marsh by means of the dikes which traversed them, to drive out the French. These were checked by finding that they were to oppose strong columns of in- fantry, yet the battle continued with unabated vigour. It was essential to Buonaparte's plan that Areola should be carried ; but the fire continued tremendous. At length, to animate his soldiers to a final exertion, he caught a .stand of colours, rushed on the bridge, and planted them there with his own hand. A fresh body of Austrians arrived at that moment, and the fire on flank blazed more de- structively than ever. The rear of the French column fell back ; the leading files, finding them- selves unsupported, gave way ; but, still careful of their general, bore him back in their arms through the dead and dying, the fire and the smoke. In the confusion he was at length pushed into the marsh. The Austrians were already betwixt him and his own troops, and he must have perished or been taken, had not the grenadiers perceived his danger. The cry instantly arose, " Forward — forward — • save the general!" Their love to Buonaparte's person did more than even his commands and ex- ample had been able to accomplish.* They returned but half his troops are recruits; when he is beaten, Mantua must fall, and we shall remain masters of all. From the smilinR flowery bivouacs of Italy, you cannot return to the Alpine snows. Succours arc on the road ; only beat Alvinzi, and I will answer for your future welfare." — Mo.ntholo.v, torn. iii.. p. .'{.">5. ■• " 'I'hLs was the day of military devotedness. Lannes, wh» had been wounded at Governolo, bad hastened from Milan 222 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [179G. to the charge, and at length pushed the Ausfrians out of the village ; but not till the appearance of a French corps under General Guieux had tiu'ned the position, and he had thrown himself in the rear of it. These succours had passed at the ferry of Alborado, and the French remained in possession of the long-contested village. It was at the mo- ment a place of the greatest importance ; for the possession of it would have enal3led Buonaparte, had the Austrians remained in their position, to operate on their communications with the Brenta, interpose between Alvinzi and his reserves, and destroy his park of artillery. But the risk was avoided by the timely caution of the Austrian field- marshal.^ Alvinzi was no sooner aware that a great divi- sion of the French army was in his rear than, without allowing them time for farther operations, he instantly broke up his position on Caldiero, and evacuated these heights by a steady and orderly retreat. Buonaparte had the mortification to see the Austrians effect this manoeuvre by crossing a bridge in their rear over the Alpon, and which could he have occupied, as was his purpose, he might have rendered their retreat impossible, or at least disastrous. As matters stood, however, the village of Areola came to lose its consecpience as a position, since, after Alvinzi's retreat, it was no longer in the rear, but in the front of the enemy. Buonaparte remembered he had enemies on the right as well as the left of the Adige ; and that Davidowich might be once more routing Vaubois, while he was too far advanced to afford him assist- ance. He therefore evacuated Areola, and the village of Porcil, situated near it, and retreating to Ronca, recrossed the river, leaving only two demi- brigades in advance upon the left bank. The first battle of Areola, famous for the obsti- nacy with which it was disputed, and the number of brave officers and men who fell, was thus at- tended with no decisive result. But it had checked the inclination of Alvinzi to advance on Verona — it had delayed all communication betwixt his army and that of the Tyrol — above all, it had renewed the Austrians' apprehensions of the skill of Buona- parte and t!:e bravery of his troops, and restored to the French soldiery the usual confidence of their national character. Buonaparte remained stationary at Ronco until next morning at five o'clock, by which time he received intelligence that David- owich had lain quiet in his former position ; that he had no cause to be alarmed for Vaubois' safety, and might therefore operate in security against Alvinzi. This was rendered the more easy, ( 1 6th November,) as the Austrian general, not aware of Buonaparte's having halted his army at Ronco, imagined he was on his march to concentrate his forces nearer Mantua, and hastened therefore to overwkelm the rear-guai'd, whom he expected to And at the ferry. Buonaparte spared them the Irouble of a close advance to the Adige. He again crossed to the left side, and again advanced his columns upon the dikes and causeways which tra- versed the marshes of Areola. On such ground, where it was impossible to assign to the columns more breadth than the causeways could accomrao- he was still suffering ; he threw himself between the enemy and _Naj)oleon, and received three wounds. Muiron, Napo- leon's aide-de-camp, was killed iu covering his general with , Nov. 16. date, the victorious soldiers of France had gi-eat advantage over the recent levies of Austria ; for though the latter might be superior in number on the whole, success must in such a case depend on the personal superiority of the front or leading files only. The French, therefore, had the first advantage, and drove back the Austrians upon the village of Areola ; but here, as on the former day, Alvinzi constituted his j)rincipal point of defence, and maintained it with the utinost obstinacy. After having repeatedly failed when attacking in front a post so difficult of approach. Napoleon endeavoured to turn the position by crossing the little river Alpon, near its union with the Adige. He attempted to effect a passage by means of fas- cines, but unsuccessfully; and the night approached without any thing effectual being decided. Both parties drew off, the French to Ronco, where they recrossed the Adige ; the Austrians to a position behind the well-contested village of Areola. The battle of the 16th November was thus far favourable to the French, that they had driven back the Austrians, and made many prisoners in the commencement of the day ; but they had also lost many men ; and Napoleon, if he had gained ground in the day, was fain to return to his posi- tion at night, lest Davidowich, by the defeat of Vaubois, might either relieve Mantua, or move on Verona. The 17th was to be a day more decisive. The field of battle, and the preliminary manoeu- vres, were much the same as on the preceding day ; but those of the French were nearly dis- concerted by the sinking of one of the boats which constituted their bridge over the Adige. The Austrians instantly advanced on the demi-brigade which had been stationed on the left bank to defend the bridge. But the French having repaired the damage, advanced in their turn, and compelled the Austrians to retreat upon the marsh. Massena directed his attack on Porcil — General Robert pressed forward on Areola. But it was at the point where he wished to cross the Alpon that Buonaparte chiefly desired to attain a decided superiority ; and in order to win it, he added stra- tagem to audacity. Observing one of his columns repulsed, and retreating along the causeway, he placed the 32d regiment in ambuscade in a thicket of willows which bordered the rivulet, and saluting the pursuing enemy with a close, heavy, and un- expected fire, instantly rushed to close with the bayonet, and attacking the flank of a column of nearly three thousand Croats, forced them into the marsh, where most of them perished. It was now that, after a calculation of the losses sustained by the enemy, Napoleon conceived their niurierical superiority so far diminished, and their spirit so much broken, that he need no longer con- fine his operations to the dikes, but meet his enemy on the firm plain which extended beyond the Alpon. He passed the brook by means of a temporary bridge which had been prepared during night, and the battle raged as fiercely on the dry level, as it had done on the dikes and amongst the marshes. The Austrians fought with resolution, the rather that their left, though stationed on dry ground, was secured by a marsh which Buonaparte had no means of turning. But though this was the case. his own body. Heroic and affecting death!" — Napoleon, Memoirs, torn, iii., p. 362. 1 Jomini, torn, ix., p. 190; Tlibaudeau, torn, ii., p. 117. 179G.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 223 Napoleon contrived to gain his point by impressing on the enemy an idea that he had actually accom- plished that which he had no means of doing. This he effected by sending a daring otiicer, with about thirty of the guides, (his own body-guards they may be called,) with four trumpets ; and directing these determined cavaliers to charge, and the trum- pets to sound, as if a large body of horse had crossed the marsh. Augereau attacked the Aus- trian left at the same moment ; and a fresh body of troops advancing from Leguago, compelled them to retreat, but not to fly. Alvinzi was now compelled to give way, and commence his retreat on Montebello. He disposed seven thousand men in echelon to cover this move- ment, which was accomplished without very much loss ; but his ranks had been much thinned by the slaughter of the three battles of Areola. Eight thousand men has been stated as the amount of his losses.' Tlie French who made so many and so sanguinary assaults upon the villages, must also have suffered a great deal. Buonaparte acknow- ledges this in energetic terms. " Never," he writes to Carnot, " was field of battle so disputed. I have almost no generals remaining — I can assure you that the victory could not have been gained at a cheaper expense. The enemy were numerous, and despei'ately resolute."^ The truth is, that Buona- parte's mode of striking terror by these bloody and desperate chai'ges in front upon strong positions, was a blemish in his system. They cost many men, and were not uniformly successful. That of Areola was found a vain waste of blood, till science was employed instead of main force, when the position was turned by Guieux on the first day ; and on the third, by the troops who crossed the Alpon. The tardy conduct of Davidowich, during these three undecided days of slaughterous struggle, is worthy of notice and censure. It would appear that from the 10th November that general had it in his power to attacli the division which he had hitherto driven before him, and that he had delayed doing so till the 16th; and on the 18th, just the day after Alvinzi had made his retreat, he ap- proached Verona on the right bank. Had these movements taken place before Alvinzi's defeat, or even during any of the three days preceding, when the French were engaged before Areola, the con- sequences must have been very serious. Finding, however, that Alvinzi had retreated, Davidowich followed the same course, and withdrew into the mountains, not much annoyed by the French, who respected tlie character of his army, which had been repeatedly victorious, and felt the weakness incident to their own late losses.-' Another incidental circumstance tends equally Btrongly to mark the want of concert and commu- nication among the Austrian generals. Wurmser, ■who had remained quiet in Jlantua during all the time when Alvinzi and Davidowich were in the neighbourhood, made a vigorous sally on the '23d • 1 Jomini, torn, ix., p. 101. Napoleon estimates the loss of Alvinzi, in the three days' engagements, at IIMUIO men includ- ing 6U(J0 prisoners. Montliolon, torn, iii., )). .'J70. 2 Letter to the Directory, l!*th November. 3 " The French army re-entered Verona in triumph hy the Venice gate, three days after having quitted that city almost clandestinely by the Milan gate. It would be ditticult to con- ceire the astonishment and enthusiasm of the inhabitants.' — MoNPiicLON, torn. iii.. p. ."iyn- * " You announce the arrival of 10,000 men from the Army November ; when his doing so was of little conse- quence, since he could not be supported. Thus ended the fourth campaign undertaken for the Austrian possessions in Italy. The consequences were not so decidedly in Buonaparte's favour as those of the three former. Mantua, it is true, had received no relief; and so far the principal object of the Austrians had miscarried. But Wurmser was of a temper to continue the defence till the last moment, and had already provided for a longer defence than the French counted upon, by curtailing the rations of the garrison. The armies of Friiili and the Tyrol had also, since the last campaign, retained possession of Bassano and Trent, and re- moved the French from the mountains through which access is gained to the Austrian hereditary dominions. Neither had Alvinzi suffered any such heavy defeat as his predecessors Beaulieu or Wurm- ser ; while Davidowich, on the contrary, was uni- formly successful, had he known how to avail him- self of his victories. Still the Austrians were not likely, till reinforced again, to interrupt Buona- parte's quiet possession of Lombardy. During two mouths following the battle of Areola and the retreat of the Aust.rians, the war which had been so vigorously maintained in Italy expe- rienced a short suspension, and the attention of Buonaparte was turned towards civil matters — the arrangement of the French interestswith the various powers of Italy, and with the congi'ess of Lombardy, as well as the erection of the districts of Bologna, Ferrara, Reggie, and Modena, into what was called the Transpadane Republic. These we shall notice elsewhere, as it is not advisable to interrupt the course of our military aimals, until we have re- counted the last struggle of the Austrians for the relief of ]\Iantua. It must be in the first place observed, that whe- ther from jealousy or from want of means, supplies and recruits were very slowly transmitted from France to their Italian army. About seven thou- sand men, who were actually sent to join Buona- parte, scarcely repaired the losses which he had sustained in the late bloody campaigns."* At the same time the treaty with the Pope being broken off, the supreme pontiff threatened to marcli a con- siderable army towards Lombardy. Buonaparte endeavoured to supply the want of reinforcements by raising a defensive legion among the Lombards, to which he united many Poles. This body was not fit to be brought into line against the Austrians, but was more than sufficient to hold at bay the troops of the papal see, who have never enjoyed of late years a high degree of military reputation. Mean time Austria, who seemed to cling to Italy with the tenacity of a dying grasp, again, and now for the fifth time, recruited her armies on the front- ier, and placing Alvinzi once more at the head of sixty thousand men, commanded him to resume the offensive against the French in Italy.^ The spirit of the country had been roused instead of discou- of the Ocean, and a like number from that of the Rhine ; hut they have not arrived, and should they not come speedily, you will sacrifice an army ardently devoted to the Constitu- tion." — Buonaparte to the Directory, 28th December. 5 "The Austrian army amounted to from (iS.OtlO to 70,t>flO fighting men, and GdOO Tyrolese, besides 24, OIK) men of the gar- rison of Mantua." — Montholo.^j, tom. iii., p. 4(i4. "After the battle of Areola, the active French army amounted to Xi.'Mt; while 10,2.')0 formed the blockade of Mantua."— Jomini, tom. ix., p. '2&i. 224 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PKOSE WOEKS. [1707. raged by the late defeats. The volunteer corps, consisting of persons of respectability and con.sider- ation, took the field, for the redemption, if their blood could purchase it, of the national honour. Vienna furnished four battalions, which were pre- sented by the Empress with a banner, that slie had wrought for them with her own hands. The Ty- rolese also thronged once more to their sovereign's standard, undismayed by a proclamation made by Buonaparte after the retreat from Areola, and which paid homage, though a painful one, to these brave marksmen. " Whatever Tyrolese," said this atrocious document, " Ls taken with amis in liLs hand, ehall be put to instant death." Alvinzi sent abroad a counter proclamation, " that for every Ty- rolese put to death as threatened, he would hang lip a French officer." Buonaparte again replied, " that if the Austrian general should use the reta- liation he threatened, he would execute in his turn officer for officer out of his prisonere, commencing with Alviuzi's own nephew, who was in his power." A little calmness on either side brought them to reflect on the cruelty of aggravating the laws of war. whicla are already too severe ; so that the system of military execution was renoimced on both sides. But notwithstanding this display of zeal and loyalty on the part of the Austrian nation, its coim- cils do not appear to have derived wisdom from experience. The losses sustained by Wurmser and by Alvinzi, proceeded in a great measure from the radical eri-or of having divided their forces, and commenced the campaign on a double hne of ope- ration, which could not, or at least were not made to, correspond and commmiicate with each otlier. Yet they commenced this campaign on the same unhappy principles. One army descending from the Tyrol upon Montebaldo, the other was to march down by the Brenta on the Paduan territory, and then to operate on the lower Adige, the line ot ■which, of course, they were expected to force, for the purpose of relieving Mantua. The Aulic Coun- cil ordered that these two armies were to direct their course so as to meet, if poasible, upon the be- leaguered fortress. Should they succeed in raismg the siege, there was little doubt that the French must be driven out of Ital}- ; but even were tlie scheme only partially successful, still it might allow Wurmser with his cavalry to escape from tliat be- sieged city, and retreat into the Romagna, where it was designed that he should, with the assistance of his staff and officers, organize and assume the command of the papal army. In the meantime, an intelligent agent was sent to communicate, if pos- sible, with Wurmser.' This man fell into the hands of the besiegers. It ■was in vain that he swallowed his despatches, which were inclosed in a ball of wax ; means were found to make the stomach render up its trust, and the document which the wax enclosed was found to be a letter, signed by the Emperor's own hand, direct- ing Wurmser to enter into no capitulation, but to hold out as long as possible in expectation of relief, and if compelled to leave Mantua, to accept of no conditions, but to cut his way into the Romagna, and take upon himself the command of the papal army. Thus Buonaparte became acquainted with 1 Montholon, torn. iiL, p. 4(t5 ; Jomini, torn, ix., p. 263. * Montholon, torn. iiL, p. 4UC. * See ante, p. 193. the storm which was approaching, and whicli was not long of breaking.^ Alvinzi, who commanded the principal army, advanced from Bassano to Roveredo upon the Adige. Provera, distinguished for his gallant de- fence of Cossaria, during the action of Millesimo,' coromanded the divisions which were to act upon the lower Adige. He marched as far as Bevi I'Acqua, wliile his advanced guard, under Prince Hohenzollern, compelled a body of French to cross to the right bank of the Adige. Buonaparte, uncertain which of these attacks he was to consider as the main one, concentrated his army at Verona, which had been so important a place during all these campaigns as a central point, from which he might at pleasure march either up the Adige against Alvinzi, or descend the river to resist the attempts of Provera. He trusted tliat Joubert, whom he had placed in defence of La Co- rona, a little to^\•n which had been strongly fortified for the purpose, might be able to make a good temporary defence. He despatched troops for Jou- bert's support to Castel Nuovo, but hesitated to direct his principal force in that direction untU ten m the evening of 13tla January, when he received information that Joubert had been attacked at La Corona by an immense body, which he had resisted with difficulty during the day, and •^^"" was now about to retreat, hi order to secure tlie important eminence at Rivoli, which was the key of his whole position.* Judging from this account, that the principal danger occurred on the upper part of the Adige, Buonaparte left only Augereau's division to dispute with Provera the passage of that river on the lower part of its course. He was especially desirous to secure the elevated and commanding position of Rivoli, before the enemy had time to receive his cavalry and cannon, as he hoped to bring on an engagement ere he was united with those import- ant parts of his army. By forced marches Napo- leon arrived at Rivoli at two in the morning of the 14th, and from that elevated situation, by the assistance of a clear moonlight, he was able to dis- cover, that the bivouac of the enemy was divided into five distinct and separate bodies, from which he infeii-ed that tlieh- attack the next day would be made in the same number of columns.^ The distance at which the bivouacs were sta- tioned from the position of Joubert, made it evident to Napoleon that they did not mean to make their attack before ten in the morning, meaning probably to wait for their infantry and artillery. Joubert was at this time in the act of evacuati'ig the posi- tion which he only occupied by a rear-guard. Buonaparte commanded him instantly to counter- march and resume possession of the important eminence of Rivoli. A few Croats had already advanced so near the French line as to discover that Joubei-t's light troops had aim adoned the chapel of Saint ]\Iarc, of which they took possession. It was retaken by the French, and the struggle to recover and maintain it brought on a severe action, first with the regiment to which the detachment of Croats belonged, and afterwards with the whole Austrian column which lay nearest to that point, and which 4 Jomini, torn, ix., p. 208. 6 Montholon, torn, iii., p. 410. 1797.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 225 was commanded by Ocskay. The latter was re- pu(f,ed, but the cohiniu of Ivobler pressed forward to support them, and havhig gained the summit, attacked two regiments of the French wlio were stationed there, each protected by a battery of camion. Notwithstanding this advantage, one of the regiments gave way, and Buonaparte himself galloped to bring up reinforcements. The nearest French were those of Massena's division, which, tired with the preceding night's march, had lain down to take some rest. They started up, however, at the command of Napoleon, and suddenly arriving on the field, in half an hour the column of Kobler was beaten and driven b.ick. That of Liptay ad- vanced in turn ; and Quasdonowich, observing that Joubert, in prosecuting his success over the divi- sion of Ocskay, had pushed forward and abandoned the chapel of Saint Marc, detached three battalions to ascend the hill, and occupy that jiost. While the Austrians scaled, on one side the hill on which the chapel is situated, three battalions of French infan- try, who had been countermarched by Joubert to prevent Quasdonowicli's purpose, struggled up the steep ascent on another point. The activity of the Fl-ench brought them first to the summit, and liaving then the advantage of the ground, it was no difficult matter for them to force the advancing Austrians headlong down the hill which they were endeavouring to climb. Mean time, the French batteries thundered on the broken columns of the enemy — their cavalry made repeated charges, and the whole Austrians who had been engaged fell into inextx-icable disorder. The columns which had advanced were irretrievably defeated ; those who remained were in such a condition, that to attack would have been madness. Amid this confusion, the division of Lusignan, which was the most remote of the Austrian columns, being intrusted with the charge of the artillery and baggage of the army, had, after depositing these according to order, mounted the heights of Rivoli, and assumed a position in rear of the French. Had this column attained the same ground while the engagement continued in front, there can be no doubt that it would have been decisive against Napoleon. Even as it was, their appearance in the rear would have startled troops, however brave, who had less confidence in their general ; but those of Buonaparte only exclaimed, " There arrive farther supplies to our market," in full reliance that their commander could not be out-manoeuvred. The Austrian division, on the other hand, arriving after the battle was lost, being without artillery or cavalry, and having been obliged to leave a pro- portion of their numbers to keep a check upon a French brigade, felt that, instead of being in a position to cut off the French, by attacking their rear while their front v.as engaged, they themselves were cut off by the intervention of the victorious French betwixt them and their defeated army. Lusignan's division was placed imder a heavy fire 1 It is represented in some military accounts, that the divi- sion which appeared in the rear of the French belonged to the army of Provera, and had been detached by him on cross- ing the Adige, as mentioned below. But Napoleon's Saint Helena manuscrii>ts ])rove the contrary. Provera only crossed on the 14th January, and it was on tlie morning' of the same day tliat Napoleon had seen the five divisions of Alvinzi, that of Lusiguan which afterwards appeared in the rear of his army bein? one, lying around Joubert's po>ition of Kivoli,— S. — See Montholon, tom. iii., p. 114, and Jomini, tom. ix., p. 284. 2 Jomini, tom. ix., pp. 275, 287 ; Montholon, tom. iii., p. 408. VOL. II. of the artillery in reserve, and was Boon obliged to lay down its arms. So critical are the events of war, that a military movement, which, executed at one particular period of time, would have ensured victory, is not unlikely, from the loss of a brief interval, to occasion only more general calamity.' The Austrians, on this, as on some other occa- sions, verified too much Napoleon's allegation, that they did not sufficiently consider the value of time in military affairs. The field of Rivoli was one of the most desperate that Buonaparte ever won, and was gained entirely by superior military skill, and not by the overbear- ing system of mere force of numbers, to which he has been accused of being partial.^ He himself had his horses repeatedly wounded in the course of the action, and exerted to the utmost his per- sonal influence to bring up the troops into action where their presence was most required.' Alvinzi's error, which was a very gros.s one, consisted in supposing that no more than Joubert's inconsiderable force was stationed at Rivoli, and in preparing, therefore, to destroy him at his leisure ; when his acquaintance with the French celerity of movement* ought to have prepared him for the- possibility of Buonaparte's night march, by which, bringing up the chosen strength of his army into the position where the enemy only expected to find a feeble force, he was enabled to resist and defeat a much superior army, brought to the field ui>oii different points, without any just calculation on the means of resistance which were to be opposed ; without the necessary assistance of cavalry and artillery ; and, above all, without a preconcerted plan of co-opei-ation and mutual support. The excellence of Napoleon's manoeuvi-es was well sup- ported by the devotion of his generals, and the courage of his soldiers. Massena, in particular, so well seconded his general, that afterwards, whei,' Napoleon, as Emperor, conferred on him the title of Duke, he assigned him his designation from the battle of Rivoli.^ Almost before this important and decisive vic- tory was absolutely gained, news arrived^ which required the presence of Buonaparte elsewhere. On the very same day of the battle, Provera, whom we left manoeuvring on the Lower Adige, threw a bridge of pontoons over that river, where the French were not prepared to oppose his passage, and pushed forward to Mantua, the relief of which fortress he had by stratagem nearly achieved. A regiment of his cavalry, wearing white cloaks, and resembling, in that particular, the first regiment of French hussars, presented themselves before the suburb of Saint George, then only covered by a mere line of circumvallation. The barricades were about to be opened without suspicion, when it occurred to a .sagacious old French sexgeant, who was beyond the walls gathering wood, that the dresa of this regiment of white cloaks was fresher than that of the French corps, called Bertini's, for w honi 3 " This day the gencral-in-chief was several times siir- rounded by the enemy; he had several horses killed."— Montholon, tom. iii., p. 415. -* " The Roman legions are reported to have marched twenty- four miles a day ; but our brigades, though fighting at inter- vals, march thirty."— Bi'onapartk to the Directory. 5 " It was after the battle nf Rivoli, that Massena received from Buonaparte and the army the title of ' enfant ch^ri de la victoire," ■' &c. — Thibaudkait, tom. ii., p. I'JO. 8 " At two o'clock in the afternoon, in tlie midst of thu battle of Rivoli."— Montholon, tom. iii., Ji. 41(5 Q 226 SCOTTS IkUSCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1737. they were mistalien. He communicated his suspi- cions to a drummer who was near him ; tliej gained the suburb, and cried to arras, and the gims of tho defences were opened ou the hostile cavalry, whom they were about to have admitted in the guise of friends.' About the time that this uieident took place, Buonaparte himself an-ived at Roverbella, ^"' ■ within twelve miles of Mantua, to which he had marched with incredible despatch from the field of battle at Rivoli, leaving to Massena, Murat, and Joubert, the task of completing his victory, by the close pursuit of Alviuzi and his scattered forces. In the meanwhile, Provera communicated with the garrison of ^Mantua across the lake, and con- certed the measures for its relief with Wurmser. On tlie 1 6th of January, being the morning after the battle of Rivoli, and the unsuccessful attempt to surprise the suburb of Saint George, the garri- son of Mantua sallied from the place in strength, and took post at the causeway of La Favorita, being the only one which is defended by an enclosed citadel or independent fortress. Napoleon, return- ing at the head of his victorious forces, surrounded and attacked with fiu-y the troops of Provera, while the blockading army compelled the garrison, at the bayonet's point, to re-enter the besieged city of ^lantua. Provera, who had m vain, though with much decision and gallantry, attempted the relief of Mantua, which his Imperial master had so much at heart, was compelled to lay down his arms with a division of about five thousand men, whom he had still united under his person. The detached corps which he had left to protect his bridge, and other passes m liis rear, sustained a similar fate. Thus one division of the army, which had com- menced the campaign of January only on the 7th of that month, were the prisoners of the destined conqueror before ten days had elapsed. The larger army, commanded by Alvinzi, had no better for- tune. They were closely pursued from the bloody field of Rivoli, and never were permitted to draw breath or to recover their disorder. Large bodies were intercepted and compelled to surrender, a practice now so frequent among the Austrian troops, that it ceased to be shameful.''^ Nevertheless, one example is so peculiar as to deserve commemoration, as a striking instance of the utter consternation and dispersion of the Aus- trians after this dreadful defeat, and of the confi- dent and audacious promptitude which the French officers derived from their unvaried success. Rene, a young officer, was in possession of the village called Garda, on the lake of the same name, and, in visiting his advanced posts, he perceived some Austrians approaching, whom he caused his escort to surround and make prisoners. Advancing to the front to reconnoitre, he found himself close to the head of an imperial column of eighteen hun- dred men, which a turning in the road had con- cealed till he was within twenty yards of them. " Down with your arms !" said the Austrian com- mandant ; to which Rene' answered with the most ready boldness, — « Do you lay down your arms ! I have destroyed your advanced guard, as witness 1 Montholon, torn, iii., p. 416. a Jl'^^'holon torn, iii., p. 417; Jomini, torn, ix., p. 293. »r nnA • *™P'''^s acquired in the course of January were ej,lK» prisoners, twenty-four colours and standards, and sixty these prisoners — ground your arms or no quarter.' And the French soldiers, catching the hint of their leader, joined in the cry of " Ground your arms." The Austrian officer hesitated, and proposed to enter into capitulation ; the Frenchman would admit of no terms but instant and immediate sur- render. The dispirited imperialist yielded up his sword, and commanded his soldiers to imitate his example. But the Austrian soldiers began to sus- pect the truth ; they became refractory, and refused to obey their leader, whom Rene' addressed with the utmost apparent composure. " You are an officer, sir, and a man of honour — you know the rules of war — you have surrendered — you are therefore my prisoner, but I rely on your parole. Here, I return your sword — compel your men to submission, otherwise I direct against you the divi- sion of six thousand men who are under ray com- mand." The Austrian was utterly confounded, betwixt the appeal to his honour and the threat of a charge from six thousand men. He assured Rene' he might rely on his punctilious compliance with the pai'ole he had given him ; and spealdng in German to his soldiers, persuaded them to lay down their arms, a submission which he had soon after- wards the satisfaction to see had been made to one- twelfth part of their number. Amid such extraordinary success, the ground which the French had lost in Italy was speedily resumed. Trent and Bassano were again occupied by the French. They regained all the positions and strongholds which they had possessed on the frontiers of Italy before Alvinzi's first descent, and might perhaps have penetrated deeper into the mountainous frontier of Germany, but for the snow which choked up the passes.' One crowning consequence of the victories of Rivoli and of La Favorita, was the suwender of Mantua itself, that prize which had cost so much blood, and had been defended with such obstinacy. For several days after the decisive actions wliich left him without a shadow of hope of relief, Wurmser continued the defence of the place in a sullen yet honourable despair, natural to the feel ings of a gallant veteran, who, to the last, hesitated between the desire to resist, and the sense that, his means of subsistence being almost totally expended, I'esistance was absolutely hopeless. At length he sent his aide-de-camp, Klenau, (after- v; v. o wards a name of celebrity,) to the head- quarters of Serrurier, who commanded the block- ade, to treat of a surrender. Klenau used the customary language on such occasions. He expa- tiated on the means which he said Mantua still possessed of holding out, but said, that as Wurmser doubted whether the place could be relieved in time, he would regulate his conduct as to imme- diate submission, or farther defence, according to the conditions of surrender to which the French generals were willing to admit him. A French officer of distinction was present, muffled in his cloak, and remaining apart from the two officers, but within hearing of what had passed. When their discussion was finished, this unknown person stepped forward, and taking a pen wrote down the conditions of surrender to which Wurm- pieces of cannon ; on the whole, the enemy's loss was at least 35,0(10 men. Bessieres carried the colours to Paris. The pri- soners were so numerous that they created some difficulty." — Montholon, torn, iii , p. 419. 1797]. LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 227 Eer was to be admitted — conditions more I/onour- able and favoui-able by far than wliat his extremity could have exacted. " These," said tlie unknown oflBcer to Klenau, " are the terms whieli Wurmser may accept at present, and which will bo equally tendered to him at any period when he finds far- ther resistance impossible. We are aware he is too much a man of honour to give up the fortress and city, so long and honourably defended, while the means of resistance remain in his power. If he delays accepting the conditions for a week, for a month, for two months, they shall be equally his when he chooses to accept them. To-morrow I pass the Po, and march upon Rome." Klenau, perceiving that he spoke to the French commander- in-chief, frankly admitted that the garrison could not longer delay surrender, having scarce three days' provisions miconsumed.' This trait of generosity towards a gallant but unfortunate enemy, was highly favourable to Buo- naparte. The taste which dictated the stage-efifect of the cloak may indeed be questioned ; but the real current of his feeling towards the venerable object of his respect, and at the same time compas- sion, is ascertained otherwise. He wrote to the Directory on the subject, that he had afforded to Wurmser such conditions of surrender as became the generosity of the French nation towards an enemy, who, having lost his army by misfortune, was so little desirous to secure his personal safety, that he threw himself into Mantua, cutting his way through the blockading army ; thus voluntarily un- dertaking the privations of a siege, which his gal- lantry protracted until almost the last morsel of provisions w'as exhausted.''^ But the j'oung victor paid still a more delicate and noble-minded compliment, in declining to be personally present when the veteran Wurmser had the mortification to surrender his sword, with his garrison of twenty thousand men, ten thousand of whom were fit for service. This self-denial did Napoleon as much credit nearly as liis victory, and must not be omitted in a narrative, which, often called to stigmatize his ambition and its consequen- ces, should not be the less ready to observe marks of dignified and honourable feeling. The history of this remarkable man more frequently reminds us of the romantic and improbable victories imputed to the heroes of the romantic ages, than of the spi- rit of chivalry attributed to them ; but in this in- stance Napoleon's conduct towards Wurmser may be justly compared to that of the Black Prince to his royal prisoner. King John of France. Serrurier, who had conducted the leaguer, had the honour to receive the surrender of Wurmser, after the siege of Mantua had continued for six months, during which the garrison is said by Na- poleon to have lost twenty seven thousand men by disease, and in the vai-ious numerous and bloody sallies which took place. This decisive event put an end to the war in Italy. The contest with Aus- tria was hereafter to be waged on the hereditary dominions of that haughty power. The French, possessed of this grand object of their wishes, were not long in displaying their na- tional characteristics. Their military and prescient sagacity was evinced in employing one of the most ' Montholon, torn, iii., p. 420. * Baonapart': to the Directory, 15 Pluviose, 3d February. celebrated of their engineers, to improve and bring nearly to perfection the defence of a city which may be termed the citadel of Italy. They set afoot, besides, civic feasts and ceremonies, and among others, one in honour of Virgil, who, being the panegyrist of an emperor, was indifferently select- ed as the presiding genius of an infant repubUc. Their cupidity was evinced by their artists' exer- cising their ingenuity in devising means to cut from the wall and caiTV off the fresco paintings, by Ti- tian, of the wars between the Gods and the Giants, at all risks of destroying what could never be re- placed. Luckily, the attempt was found totally unadvisable. CHAPTER VIII. Situation and Views of Buonaparte at this period — His politic Conduct toicards the Italians — Po- pularity — Severe terms of Peace proposed to the Pope — rejected — Napoleon differs from the Direc- tory, and Negotiations are renewed — hut again rejected — The Pope raises his army to 40,000 3icn — Napoleon invades the Papial Territories — The Papal Troops defeated near Imola — and at Ancona — ichich is captured — Loretio taken — Clemency of Buonaparte to the French recusant Clergy — Peace of Tolentino — Nap>oleon''s Letter to the Pope — San Marino — View of the Situa- tion of the different Italian States — Home- Naples — Tuscany — Venice. The eyes of all Europe were now riveted on Napoleon Buonaparte, whose rise had been so sud- den, that he was become the terror of empires and the founder of states — the conqueror of the best generals and most disciplined troops in Europe ; within a few months after he had been a mere sol- dier of fortune, rather seeking for subsistence than expecting honourable distinction. Such sudden elevations have occasionally happened amid semi- barbarous nations, where gi-eat popular insurrec- tions, desolating and decisive revolutions, are com- mon occurrences, but were hitherto unheard of in civilized Europe. The pre-eminence which he had suddenly obtained had, besides, been subjected to so many trials, as to afford every proof of its per- manence. Napoleon stood aloft, like a cliff on which successive tempests had expended their rage in vam. The means which raised him were equally competent to make good his greatness. He had infused into the armies which he commanded the firmest reliance on his genius, and the greatest love for his person ; so that he could always find agents ready to execute his most difficult commands. He had even inspired them with a portion of his own indefatigable exertion and his commanding intelli- gence. The maxim which he inculcated upon them when practising those long and severe marches which formed one essential part of his system, was, " I would rather gain victory at the expense of your legs than at the price of your blood.'"' The French, under his training, seemed to become the very men he wanted, and to forget in the excita- tion of war and the hope of victory, even the feel- ings of weariness and exhaustion. The following 3 Louis Buonaparte, torn, ii., p. (!0. 228 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1797. description of the French soldier by Napoleon him- self, occurs in his despatches to the Directory du- ring his first campaign in Italy : — " Were I to name all those who have been dis- tinguished by acts of personal bravery, I must send the muster-roll of all the grenadiers and carabineers of the advanced-guard. They jest with danger, and laugh at death ; and if any thing can equal their intrepidity, it is the gaiety with which, sing- ng alternately" songs of love and patriotism, they accomplish the most severe forced marches. When they arrive at their bivouac, it is not to take their repose, as might be expected, but to tell each his story of the battle of the day, and pi-oduce his plan for "that of to-morrow ; and many of them think with great correctness on military subjects. The other day I was inspecting a demi-brigade, and as it filed past me, a common chasseur approached my horse, and said, ' General, you ought to do so and Bo.' — * Hold your peace, you rogue ! ' I replied. He disappeared immediately, nor have I since been able to find him out. But the manoeuvre which he recommended was the very same which I had pri- vately resolved to carry into execution."^ To command this active, intelligent, and in- trepid soldiery, Buonaparte possessed officers en- tirely worthy of the charge ; men young, or at least not advanced in years, to whose ambition the Ile- volution, and the wars which it had brought on, had opened an unlimited career, and whose genius was inspired by the plans of their leader, and the success which attended them. Buonaparte, who had his eye on every man, never neglected to dis- tribute rewards and punishments, praise and cen- sure with a liberal hand, or omitted to press for what latterly was rarely if ever denied to him — the promotion of such officers as particularly dis- tinguished themselves. He willingly assumed the task of soothing the feelings of those whose rela- tions had fallen under his banners. His letter of consolation to General Clarke upon the death of young Clarke, his nephew, who fell at Areola, is affecting, as showing that mid all his victories he felt himself the object of reproach and criticism .^ His keen sensitiveness to the attacks of the public press attended him through life, and, like the slave in the triumphal car, seemed to remind him, that he was still a mortal man. It should farther be remarked, that Napoleon withstood, instantly and boldly, all the numerous attempts made by commissaries, and that descrip- tion of persons, to encroach upon the fund destined for the use of the army. Much of his public, and more of his private correspondence, is filled with ' Letter to the Directory, June 1; Monitcur, No. 264. 2 Letter from Napoleon to General Clarke, 25 Brumaire, 15th Nov. 1796. — " Your nephew has been slain on the field of battle at Areola. The young man had been familiar with arms— had led on columns, and would have been one day an excellent officer. He has died with glory in the face of the enemy. He did not suffer for an instant. What man would not envy such a death? Who is he that would not accept as a favourable condition the choice of thus escaping from the vicissitudes of a contemiitible world? Who is there among us who has not a hundred times regretted that he has not been thus withdrawn from the powerful effects of calumny, of envy, and of all the odious passions wliich seem the almost exclu- give directors of the conduct of mankind?" — This letter, re- markable in many respects, will remind the English reader of Cato's exclamation over the body of his son — " Who would not be this youth!" — S'. 3 " Decrfes has often told me, that he was at Toulon when he first heard of Napoleon's appointment to the command of the army of Italy. He had known him well at Paris, and thought himself on terms of perfect familiarity with him. complaints against these agents, although he must have known that, in attacking them, he disobliged men of the highest influence, who had frequently some secret interest in their wealth. But his mili- tary fame made his services indispensable, and permitted him to set at defiance the enmity of such persons, who are generally as timid as they are sordid. Towards the general officers there took place a gradual change of deportment, as the commander- in-chief began to feel gradually, more and more, the increasing sense of his own personal importance. We have been informed by an officer of the highest rank, that, during the earlier campaigns. Napoleon used to rejoice with, and embrace them as asso- ciates, nearly on the same footing, engaged in the same tasks. After a period, his language and car- riage became those of a franlv soldier, who, sensible of the merit of his subordinate assistants, yet makes them sensiljle, by his manner, that he is their com- mander-in-chief. When his infant fortunes began to come of age, his deportment to his generals was tinctured with that lofty courtesy which princes use towards their subjects, and which plainly inti- mated, that he held them as subjects in the war, not as brethren.^ Napoleon's conduct towards the Italians indivi- dually was, in most instances, in the highest degree prudent and political ; while, at the same time, it coincided, as true policy usually does, with the rules of justice and moderation, and served, in a great measure, to counterbalance the odium which he in- curred by despoiling Italy of the works of art, and even by his infringements on the religious system of the Catholics. On the latter subject, the general became parti- cularly cautious, and his dislike or contempt of the Church of Rome was no longer shown in that gross species of .satire which he had at first given loose to. On the contrary, it was veiled under philoso- phical indifference ; and, while relieving the clergy of their worldly possessions, Napoleon took care to avoid the error of the Jacobins ; never proposing their tenets as an object of persecution, but pro- tecting their persons, and declaring himself a de- cided friend to general toleration on all points of conscience. In point of politics, as well as religion, the opi- nions of Buonaparte appear to have experienced a great change. It may be doubted, indeed, if he ever in his heart adopted those of the outrageous Jacobins.'' At all events, his clear and sound good sense speedily made him aware, that such a vio- lence on the established rules of reason and mora- ' Thus,' said he, ' when we learned that the new general was about to iiass through the city, I hastened to him full of eager- ness and joy; the door of the apartment was thrown open, and 1 was on the point of rushing towards him with my wonted familiarity, but his attitude, his look, the tone of his voice, suddenly deterred me. Not that there was any thing oilcnsive either in his appearance or manner ; but tlie impres- sion he produced was sufficient to prevent me from ever again attempting to encroach upon the distance that separated us.' ' —Las Cases, torn, i., p. 164. < Even when before 'I'oulon, he was not held by clearsighted persons to be a very orthodox Jacobin. General Cartaux. the stupid SansXuIotte under whom he first served, was talking of the young commandant of artillery with applause, when his wife, who was somewhat first in command at home, ad* vised him not to reckon too much on that young man, " who had too much sense to be long a Sans-Culofte." — " Sense Female-citizen Cartaux," said her offended husband, " do yoo take us for fools?"-—" By no means," answered the lady " but his sense is not of the same kind with yours." — S.-" Lab Cases, vol. i., p. 144. 1797.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 22). 19. sacred porringer, and a bedgown of dark-coloin'eil camlet, warranted to have belonged to the Blessed Virgin.^ This image, said to have been of celestial workmanship, was sent to Pari.s, but was restored to the Pope in 1802. We are not informed thai any of the treasures were given back along with the Madonna, to whom they had been devoted. As the French army advanced upon the Roman territory, there was a menace of the interference of the King of Naples, worthy to be mentioned, both as expressing the character of that court, and show- ing Napoleon's readiness in anticipating and de- feating the arts of indirect diplomacy. The Prince of Belmonte-Pignatelli, who attended Buonaparte's head-quarters, in the capacity, per- haps, of an observer, as much as of ambassador for Naples, came to the French general in secrecy, to show him, under strict confidence, a letter of the Queen of the Two Sicilies, proposing to march an armyof thirty thousand meii towards Rome. " Your confidence shall be repaid," said Buonaparte, who at once saw through the spirit of the communica- tion — " You shall know what I have long since settled to do in case of such an event taking place." He called for the port-folio containing the papers respecting Naples, and presented to the discon- certed Prince the copy of a despatch written in November preceding, which contained this passage : — " the approach of Alvinzi would not prevent my sending six thousand men to chastise the court of Rome ; but as the Neapolitan army might march to their assistance, I will postpone this movement till after the surrender of Mantua ; in which case, if the King of Naples should interfere, I shall be able to spare twenty-five thousand men to march against his capital, and drive him over to Sicily.'' Prince Pignatelli was quite satisfied with the result of this mutual confidence, and there was no more said of Neapolitan armed interference.^ From Ancona, the division commanded by Victor turned westward to Foligno, to unite itself with another column of French which penetrated into the territories of the church by Perugia, which they easily accomplished. Resistance seemed now unavailing. The Pope in vain solicited his subjects to rise against the second Alarie, who was approach- ing the Holy City. They remained deaf to his exhortations, though made in the names of the Blessed Virgin, and of the Apostles Peter and Paul, who had of old been the visible protectors of the metropolis of the Christian world in a similar emer- gency. All was dismay and confusion in the patri- mony of Saint Peter's, which was now the sole teii'itor}' remaining in possession of his represen- tative. But there was an unhappy class of persons,, who had found shelter in Rome, rather than disiowD whose allegiance they had left their homes, and resigned their means of living. These were the recusant French clergy, who had refused to take the constitutional oath, and who now, recollecting 3 Jomini, torn, ix., p. 307; Montholon, torn, iv., p. 7; Thi- baudean, torn, ii., p. 220. 4 " Monge was sent to the spot. He reported that the Madonna actually wept. The chapter received orders to bring her to headquarters. It was an optical illusion, ingenioiisly managed by means of a glass."— Montholon, torn, iv., p. 12. 5 "It is a wooden statue clumsily carved; a proof of its antiquity. It was to be seen for some years at the National Library." — Montholcv, tom. iv., p. 13. 6 Jomini, tom. ix., p. 311 ; Thibaudeau, tom. iii., p. 2;T8. 1797.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 233 the scenes which tliey witnessed in France, ex- pected httle else, than that, on the approach of the RepnbHcan troops, they would, like the Israelitish captain, be slain between the horns of the very altar at which they had taken refuge. It is said that one . of their number, frantic at the thoughts of the fate which he supposed awaited them, presented liimself to Buonaparte, announced his name and condition, and prayed to be led to instant death. Napoleon took the oppoi'tunity to show once more that he was acting on principles different from the brutal and persecuting spirit of Jacobinism. He issued a proclamation, in which, premising that the recusant priests, though banished from the French territory, were not prohibited from residing in countries which might be conquered by the French arms, he declares himself satisfied with their conduct. The proclamation goes on to prohibit, under the most severe penalty, the French soldiery, and all other persons, from doing any injurj"^ to these unfortunate exiles. The convents are directed to afford them lodging, nourishment, and fifteen French livres (twelve shillings and sixpence British) monthly, to each individual, for which the priest was to com- pensate by saying masses ad rcdorem ; — thus assign- ing the Italian convents payment for their hospi- tahty, in the same coin with which they themselves requited the laity. Perhaps this lil.erality might have some weight with the Pope in inducing him to throw himself upon the mercy of France, as had been recom- mended to him by Buonaparte in a confidential communication through the superior of the monas- tic order of Camalduli, and more openly in a letter addressed to Cardinal Mattel. The King of Naples made no movement to his assistance. In fine, after hesitating what course to take, and having had at one time his equipage ready harnessed to leave Rome and fly to Naples, the Pontiff' judged resist- ance and flight alike unavailing, and chose the hu- miliating alternative of entire submission to the will of the conqueror. It was the object of the Directory entirely to destroy the secular authority of the Pope, and to depi'ive him of all his temporalities. But Buona- parte foresaw, that whether the Roman territories were united with the new Cispadane republic, or formed into a separate state, it would alike bring on prematurely a renewal of the war with Naples, ere the north of Italy was yet sufficiently secui-e to admit the marching a French force into the south- ern extremities of the Italian peninsula, exposed to descents of the English, and insurrections in the rear. These Napoleon foresaw would be the more dangerous and difficult to subdue, that, though he might strip the Pope of his temporalities, he could not deprive him of the supremacy assigned him in spiritual matters by each Catholic ; which, on the contrary, was, according to the progress of human feeling, Hkely to be the more widely felt and re- ' Montholon, torn, iv., p. 16. 2 Montholon, torn, iv., p. •2ii. 3 For a copy of the Treaty of Tolentino, see Annual Register, Tol. xxxix.. ji. 328, and Montholon, torn, iv., p. 1!1. * " One of the negotiators of the Pope observed to Buona- parte that he was the only Frcncliman who had marched apainst Rome since the Constable Bourbon ; but what ren- dered this circumstance still more singular was, that the his- tory of the first ex])edition, under the title of ' The h^acking of Rome," was written by Jacopo Buonaparte, an ancestor of him who executed the second." — Las Cases, tom. i., p 98. cognised in favour of a wanderer and a^sufferer for what would be accounted conscience-sake, than of one who, submitting to circumstances, retained as much of the goods of this world as the clemency of his conqueror would permit.' Influenced by these considerations, Buonaparte admitted the Pope to a treaty, which terminated in the peace of Tolentino, by which Sextus purchased such a political existence as was left to him, at the highest rate which he had the least chance of dis- charging. Napoleon mentions, as a cui-ious instance of the crafty and unscrupulous character of the Neapolitans, that the same Pignatelli, whom we have already commemorated, attached himself closely to the plenipotentiaries during the whole treaty of Tolentino ; and in his ardour to discover whether there existed any secret article betwixt the Pope and Buonaparte which might compromise the interests of his master, was repeatedly disco- vered listening at the door of the apartment in which the discussions were carried on.^ The articles which the Pope was obliged p , ,(, to accept at Tolentino,^ included the ces- "^ • • ■ sion of Avignon and its territories, the appropria- tion of which, by France, had never yet been re- cognised ; the resigning the legations of Bologna, Ferrara, and Romagna ; the occupation of Ancona, the only port excepting Venice, which Italy has iu the Adriatic ; the payment of thirty millions of livres, in specie or in valuable effects ; the com- plete execution of the article in the armistice of Bologna respecting the delivery of paintings, ma- nuscripts, and objects of art ; and several other stipulations of similar severity.* Buonaparte informs us, that it was a principav object in this treaty to compel the abolition of the Inquisition, from which he had only departed in consequence of receiving information, that it had ceased to be used as a religious tribunal, and sub- sisted only as a court of police. The conscience of the Pope seemed also so tenderly affected by the proposal, that he thought it safe to desist from it. The same despatch, in which Buonaparte informs the Directory, that his committee of artist collectors " had made a good harvest of paintings in the Pa- pal dominions, and which, with the objects of art ceded by the Pope, included almost all that was curious and valuable, excepting some few objects at Turin and Naples," conveyed to them a docu- ment of a very different kind. This was a respect- ful and almost reverential letter from Napoleon to the Pope,^ recommending to his Holiness to distrust such persons as might excite him to doubt the good intentions of France, assuring him that he would ahvays find the Republic most sincere and faithful, and expressing in his own name the pei'fect esteem and veneration which he entertained for the per- son of his Holiness, and the extreme desire wdiicli he had to afford him proofs to that effect.^ This letter furnished much amusement at the 5 " The Directory adopted the most insultinp forms in com- municatiUK with tlie Pope; the general wrote to him with respect. The Diructory endeavoured to overthrow the au- thority of the Pope ; Napoleon ])reservcd it. The Directory banished and proscribed priests; Na|ioleon commanded his soldiers, wlierever they might fall in with thcni, to remcmbel that tbey were Frenchmen and their brothers." — Las Cases, tom. i., p. 17U. 8 Montiiolon, tom. iv., p. Zii; Thibaud.>au, tom. ii , i>. SS7. 234 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1797. time, and seemed far less to intimate the senti- ments of a sans-culotte general, than those of a civilized highwayman of the old school of Mae- heath, who never dismissed the travellers whom he had phmdered, without his sincere good wishes for the happy prosecution of their journo}'. A more pleasing view of Buonaparte's character was exhibited about this time, in his conduct to- wards the little interesting republic of San Marino. That state, which only acknowledges the Pope as a protector, not as a sovereign, had maintained for very many j-ears an independence, which con>- querors had spared either in contempt or in respect. It consists of a single mountain and a single town, and boasts about seven thousand inhabitants, go- verned by their own laws. Citizen Monge, the chief of the committee of collecting artists, was sent deputy to San Marino to knit the bands of amity between the two republics, — which might well re- semble a union between Lilliput and Brobdingnag. There were no pictures in the little republic, or they might have been a temptation to the citizen collector. The people of San Marino conducted themselves with much sagacity; and although more complimentary to Buonaparte than Diogenes to Alexander the Great, when he came to visit the philosopher in his tub, they showed the same judg- ment in eschewing too much courtesy.' They re- spectfully declined an accession of territory, which could but have involved them in subsequent quar- rels with the sovereign from whom it was to be wrested, and only accepted as an honorary gift the present of four field pieces, being a train of artil- lery upon the scale of their military force, and of which, it is to be hoped, the Captain Regents of the little contented state will never have any occa- sion to make use.^ Rome might, for the present at least, be con- sidered as completely subjugated. Naples was at peace, if the signature of a treaty can create peace. At any rate, so distant from Rome, and so control- Jed by the defeat of the Papal arms — by the fear that the English fleet might be driven from the Mediterranean — and by their distance from the scene of action — the King of the Two Sicilies, or rather his wife, the high-spirited daughter of Maria Theresa, dared not offer the least interference with the purposes of the French general. Tuscany had apparently consented to owe her political existence to any degree of clemency or contempt which Buo- naparte might extend to her ; and, entertaining hopes of some convention betwixt the French and English, by which the grand duke's port of Leg- horn might be restoi'ed to him, remained passive as the dead. The republic of Venice alone, feeling still the stimulus arising from her ancient importance, and yet painfully conscious of her present want of power, strained evei-y exertion to place herself in a respectable attitude. That city of lofty remem- brances, the Tyre of the middle ages, whose traders were princes, and her merchants the honourable of the earth, fallen as she W2.s from her former great- ness, still presented some appearance of vigour. Her oligarchical government, so long known and so dreaded, for jealous precautions, political sagacity, 1 Botta, torn, ii., p. 199; Thibaudeau, torn, ii., p. 239. 2 hoT an interesting sketch of the republic of San Marino, »ee Seward's Anecdoles of Distinguished Persons, vol. iii., p. 276. the impenetrability' of their plans, and the inflexi- bility of their rigour, still preserved the attitude of independence, and endeavoured, by raising addi- tional regiments of Sclavonians, disciplining their peasantry, who were of a very martial character, and forming military magazines of considerable extent, to maintain such an aspect as might make their friendship to be courted, and their enmity to be feared. It was already evident that the Aus- trians, notwithstanding all their recent defeats, were again about to make head on their Italo- German frontier ; and France, in opposing them, could not be indifferent to the neutrality of Ve- nice, upon whose territories, to all appearance, Buonaparte must have rested the flank of his ope- rations, in case of his advancing towards Friuli. So circumstanced, and when it was recollected that the mistress of the Adriatic had still fifty thousand men at her command, and those of a fierce and courageous description, chiefly consist- ing of Sclavonians, Venice, even yet, was an enemy not to be lightly provoked. ]3ut the inha- bitants were not unanimous, especially those of the Terra Firma, or mainland, who, not being enrolled in the golden book of the insular nobility of Venice, were discontented, and availed themselves of the encouragement and assistance of the new-created republics on the Po to throw off their allegiance. Brescia and Bergamo, in particular, were clamor- ous for independence. Napoleon saw, in this state of dissension, the means of playing an adroit game ; and while, on the one hand, he endeavoured to restrain, till a more favourable opportunity, the ardour of the patriots, he attempted on the other, to convince the Senate, that they had no safe policy but in embracing at once the alliance of France, offensive and defensive, and joining their forces to those of the army with which he was about to move against the Austrians. He offered, on these conditions, to guarantee the possessions of the republic, even without exacting any modification of their oligar- chical constitution. But Venice declared for an impartial neutrality .-'' It had been, they said, their ancient and sage policy, nor would they now depart from it. " Remain then neuter," said Napoleon ; " I consent to it. I march upon Vienna, yet will leave enough of French troops in Italy to control your republic. — But dismiss these new levies ; and remark, that if, while I am in Ger- many, my communication shall be interrupted, my detachments cut off, or my convoys intercepted in the Venetian territories, the date of your republic is terminated. She will have brought on herself annihilation." ■• Lest these threats should he forgotten while he was at a distance, he took the best precautions in his power, by garrisoning advantageous points on the line of the Adige ; and trusting partly to this defence, partly to the insurgents of Bergamo and Brescia, who, for their own sakes, would oppose any invasion of the main-land by their Venetian masters, whose yoke they had cast aside. Napoleon again unfurled his banners, and marched to new triumphs over yet untried opponents. 3 Botta, torn, ii., p. 252; Dam, Hist, de Vcnise, torn. v. p. 544. * .Montholon, toni. iv., p. 130. 3797.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 235 CHAPTER IX. Archduke Charles — Compared icith Napoleon — Fet- tered by the Aulio Council — Napoleon, by a strata(iem, passes the Tagliamento, and compels the Archduke to retreat — Gradisca carried by storm — Chusa-Veneta taken — Triest and Flume occupied — Venice breaks the Neutrality — Terri- fied on learning that an Armistice had taken place betwixt France and Austria — The Archduke retreats by hasty marches on Vienna — The Go- vernment irresolute — and the Treaty of Leoben signed — Venice makes humiliating submissions — Napoleon's Speech to Imr Envoys — He declares War against Venice, and evades obeying the orders of the Directory to spare it — The Great Council, on Z\st May, concede every thing to Buonaparte — Terms granted. The victories of the Archduke Charles on the Rhine, and his high credit with the soldiery, seemed to point him out as the commander falling most naturally to be employed against the young general of the French republic, who, like a gifted hero of romance, had borne down successively all opponents ■who had presented themselves in the field. The opinions of Europe were suspended concerning the probable issue of the contest. Both generals were young, ambitious, enthusiastic in the military pro- fession, and warmly beloved by their soldiers. The exploits of both had filled the trumpet of Fame ; and although Buonaparte's success had been less uninterrupted, yet it could not be denied, that if the Arcliduke's plans were not equally brilliant and original with those of his great adversary, they were just and sound, and had been attended repeat- edly with great results, and by the defeat of such men as Moreau and Joui-dan. But there were two particulars in which the Austrian prince fell far short of Napoleon, — first, in that ready, decided, and vigorous confidence, which seizes the favour- able instant for the execution of plans resolved upon, — and, secondly, in having the disadvantage to be subjected, notwithstanding his high rank, to the intei'ference of the Aulic Council ; who, sitting at Vienna, and ignorant of the changes and ^'icissi- tudes of the campaign, were yet, by the ancient and jealous laws of the Austrian empire, entitled to control his opinion, and prescribe beforehand the motions of the armies, while the generals, intrusted with the execution of their schemes, had often no choice left but that of adherence to their instruc- tions, however emerging circumstances might re- quire a deviation.' But although the encounter betwixt these two distinguished young generals be highly interesting, our space will not permit us to detail the campaigns of Austria at the same length as those of Italj'. The latter formed the commencement of Buona- parte's military career, and at no subsequent period of his life did he achieve the same wondrous vic- ' " The Aulic Council .nt Vienna, that jiernicious tribunal ■which, in the Seven Years' War, called Laudon to account for taking Schweidnitz without orders, has destroyed the schemes of many an Austrian ("enerai, for thouRli plans of offensive operations may succeed when concerted at liome, it is impos- sible to frame orders for every possible contingency."— Gentz, cm the Fall nf Prussia. - At Bassano, on the Oth of March, Buonaparte thus ad- dressed the troops—" Soldiers! the taking of Mantua has jiut an end to the war of Italy. You have been victorious in four- teen pitched battles and seventy actions; you have taken fories against such immense odds, or with such comparatively inadequate means. It was also neces- sary, in the outset of his military history, to show, in minute detail, the character of his tactics, and illustrate that spirit of energetic concentration, which, neglecting the extremities of an e.xtended line of operations, combined his whole strength, like a bold and skilful fencer, for one thrust at a vital part, which, if successful, must needs be fatal. The astonishing rapidity of his movements, the audacious vivacity of liis attack, having been so often described in individual cases, may now be passed over with general allusions ; nor will we embarrass ourselves and our readers with minute details of positions, or encumber our pages with the names of obscure villages, unless when there is some battle calling for a particular narrative, either from its importance or its singularity. By the direction of the Aulic Council, the Arch- duke Charles had taken up his position at Friuli, where it had been settled that the sixth Austrian army, designed to act against Buonaparte for the defence of the Italo-German frontier, should be assembled. This position was strangely preferred to the Tyrol, where the Archduke could have formed a junction ten days sooner with an addi- tional force of forty thousand men from the army of the Rhine, marching to reinforce his own troops, — men accustomed to fight and conquer under their leader's eye ; whilst those with whom he occupied Friuli, and the line of the Piave, belonged to the hapless Imperial forces, which, under Beaulieu, Wurmser, and Alvinzi, had never encountered Buonaparte without incurring some notable defeat. While the Archduke was yet expecting those reinforcements which were to form the strength of his army, his active adversary had been joined by more than twenty thousand men, sent from the French armies on the Rhine, and which gave him at the moment a numerical superiority over the Austrian general. Instead, therefore, of A>aiting, as on former occasions, until the Imperialists should commence the war by descending into Italy, Napo- leon resolved to anticipate the march of the suc- cours expected by the Archduke, drive him from his position on the Italian frontiers, and follow him into German}-, even up to the walls of Vienna. No scheme appeared too bold for the general's imagi- nation to form, or his genius to render practicable ; and his soldiers, with the view before them of plunging into the midst of an immense empire, and placing chains of mountains betwixt them and every possibility of reinforcement or communica- tion, were so confident in the talonts of their leader, as to follow him under the most undoubting expec- tation of victory. The Directory had induced Buonaparte to expect a co-operation by a similar advance on the part of the armies of the Rhine, as had been attempted in the former campaign. Buonaparte took the field in the beginning of March, advancing from Bassano.'^ The xVustriaus 1(10,0(10 prisoners, 5110 field-pieces, 20(l(» heavy cannon, and four pontoon trains. The contributions laid on the countries you have conquered have fed, maintained, and ))aid the army ; besides wliich you have sent thirty millions to the minister of finance for the use of the public treasury. You have enriched the .Museum of Paris with .TOO niaster])ieces of the arts of an- cient and modern Italy, which it had required thirty centuries to produce. You have conquered for the Rejiublic the finest countries in Europe. Tho Kings of Sardinia and Naples, the Pope, and the Duke of Parma, are separated from tiie coali- tion. You have expelled the English from Leghorn, Genoa. 236 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1797. had an army of observation under Lusignan on the bank of the Piave, but their jjiiucipal force was stationed upon tlie Tagliamento, a river whose course is nearly thirty miles more to the eastward, though collateral with the Piave. The plains on the Tagliamento afforded facilities to the Archduke to employ the noble cavalry who have always been the boast of the Austrian army ; and to dislodge him from the strong country which he occupied, and which covered the road that peuetrates between the mountains and the Adriatic, and forms the mode of communication in that quarter betwixt Vienna and Italy, through Carinthia, it was not only neces- sary tliat he should be pressed in front — a service which Buonaparte took upon himself— but also that a Fi'ench division, occupying the mountains on the Prince's right, should precipitate his retreat, by maintaining the perpetual threat of turning him on that wing. With this view, Massena had Buona- parte's orders, which he executed with equal skill and gallantry. He crossed the Piave about the eleventh March, and ascending that river, directed his course into the mountains towards Belluno, driving before him Lusignan's little corps of ob- servation, and finally compelling his rear-guard, to the number of five hundred men, to surrender. The Archduke Charles, in the mean time, con- tinued to maintain his position on the Tagliamento, and the French approached the right bank, with Napoleon at their head, determined apparently to force a passage. Artillery and sharpshooters were disposed in such a manner as to render this a ^■ery hazardous attempt, while two beautiful lines of cavalry were drawn up, prepared to charge any troops who might make their way to the left bank, while they were yet in the confusion of landing. A very simple stratagem disconcerted this fair display of resistance. After a distant cannonade, and some skirmishing, the French army drew oft', as if despairing to force their passage, moved to the rear, and took up apparently their bivouac for the night. The Archduke was deceived. He ima- gined that the French, who had marched all the preceding night, were fatigued, and he also with- di"ew from the bank of the river to his camp. But two hours afterwards, when all seemed profoundly quiet, the French army suddenly got under arms, and, forming in two lines, marched rapidly to the side of the river, ere the astonished Austrians were able to make the same dispositions as formerly for defence. Arrived on the margin, the first line instantly broke up into columns, which, throwing themselves boldly into the sti-eam, protected on the flanks by the cavalry, passed through and at- tained the opposite bank." They were I'epeatedly charged by the Austrian cavalry, but it was too late — they had gotten their footing, and kept it. The Archduke attempted to turn their flank, but was prevented by the second line of the French, and by their reserve of cavalry. He was compelled to retreat, leaving prisoners and cannon in the hands of the enemy. Such was the first disastrous meeting between the Archduke Charles and his future relative.^ and Corsica. Yet lii^her destinies await you! You will prove yourselves worthy of tliem ! Of all the foes who combined to stifle the Republic in its birth, the Emperor alone remains before you," ike ' " I'he river is pretty deep, and a bridge would have been dcsirnble ; but the eood-will of the soldiers supplied that de- The Austrian prince had the farther misfortune to learn, that Massena had, at the first sound of the canjionade, pushed across the Tag- liamento, higher up than his line of de- ^'^""''^ ^''• fence, and destroying what troops he found before him, had occupied the passes of the Julian Alps at the sources of that river, and thus intei^.osed him- self between the imperial right wing and the nearest communication with Vienna. Sensible of the im- portance of this obstacle, the Archduke hastened, if possible, to remove it. He brought up a fiua column of grenadiers from the Rhine, which had just arrived at Klagenfurt, in his rear, and joining them to other troops, attacked Massena with the utmost fur}', ^'enturing his own person like a pri- vate soldier, and once or twice narrowly escaping being made prisoner. It was in vain — all in vain. He charged successively and repeatedly, even with the reserve of the grenadiers, but no exertion could change the fortune of the day.-' Still the Archduke hoped to derive assistance from the natural or artificial defences of the strong country through which he was thus retreating, and in doing so was involuntarily introducing Buona- ])arte, after he should have surmounted the border frontier into the most fertile provinces of his bro- ther's empire. The Lisoiizo, usually a deep and furious torrent, closed in by a chain of impassable mountains, seemed to oppose an insurmountable barrier to his daring pursuers. But nature, as well as events, fought against the Austrians. The stream, reduced by frost, was fordable in several places. The river thus passed, the town of Gra- disca, which had been covered with field-works to protect the line of the Lisonzo, was sur- ,, ' ■ , 1 . T , , J ., March Vj. prised and carried by storm, and its gar- rison of two thousand five hundred men made prisoners, liy the divisions of Bernadotte and Ser- rurier. Pushed in every direction, the Austrians sus- tained every day additional and more severe losses. The strong fort of Chiusa-Veneta was occupied by Massena, who continued his active and indefatigable operations on the right of the retreating army. This success caused the envelopement, and disper- sion or surrender, of a whole division of Austrians, five thousand of whom remained prisoners, while their baggage, camion, colours, and all that constitu- ted them an army, fell into the hands of the French. Four generals were made prisoners on this occa- sion ; and many of the mountaineers of Carniola and Croatia, who had joined the Austrian army from their natural love of war, seeing that success appeared to have abandoned the imperial cause, be- came despondent, broke up their corps, and retired as stragglers to their villages. Buonaparte availed himself of their loss of cou- rage, and had recourse to proclamations, a species of arms which he valued himself as much upon using to advantage, as he did upon his military fame. He assured them that the French did not come into their country to innovate on their rights, religious customs, and manners. He exhorted them not to meddle in a war with which they had no ficiency. A druniruer was the only person jn danster, and he was saved by a woman who swam after him." — Mo.nthoi-on, torn, iv., p. 73. 2 Montholon, tora. iv., p. 72; Jomini, torn, x., p. S.T 3 Jomini, torn, x., p, 38; Montholon, torn. iv... p. 77 .1797.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 237 concern, but encouraged them to afford assistance and furnish supplies to the Frencli army, in pay- ment of wliich he proposed to assign the public taxes which tliey had been in the habit of paying to the Emperor.' His proposal seems to have re- conciled tlie Carinthians to the presence of the French, or, more properly speaking, they submitted to the military exactions which they had no means of resisting.^ In the mean while, the Fi-ench took possession of Trieste and Fiume, the only seaports belonging to Austria, where they seized much Eng- lish merchandise, which was always a welcome prize, and of the quicksilver mines of Idria, where they found a valuable deposit of that mineral. Napoleon repaired tlie fortifications of Klagen- furt, and converted it into a respectable place of arms, where he established his headquarters. In a space of scarce twenty days, he had defeated the Austrians in ten combats, in the course of which Prince Charles had lost at least one-fourth of his army. The French had surmounted the southern chain of the Julian Alps ; the northern line could, it was supposed, offer no obstacle sufficient to stop their irresistible general ; and the Archduke, the pride and hope of the Austrian armies, had retired behind the river Meuhr, and seemed to be totally without the means of covering Vienna. There were, however, circumstances less favour- able to the French, which require to be stated. When the campaign commenced, the French gene- ral Joubert was posted with his division in the gorge of the Tyrol above Trent, upon the same river Levisa, the line of which had been lost and won during the preceding winter. He was oppo- sed by the Austrian generals Kerpen and Laudon, who, besides some regular regiments, had collected around them a number of the Tyrolese militia,. wjio among their own mountains were at least equally formidable. They remained watching each other during the earlier part of the campaign ; but the gaining of the battle of the Ta^liamento was the signal for Joubert to commence the offensive. His directions were to push his way through the Tyrol to Brixen, at which place Napoleon expected he might hear news of the advance of the French armies from the Rhine, to co-operate in the march upon Vienna. But the Directory, fearing perhaps to trust nearly the whole force of the Republic in the hands of a general so successful and so ambi- tious as Napoleon, had not fulfilled their promises in this respect. The army of Moreau had not as yet crossed the Rhine. Joubert, thus disappointed of his promised ob- ject, began to find himself in an embarrassing situation. The whole country was in insurrection around him, and a retreat in the line by which he had advanced, might have exposed him to great loss,^ if not to destruction. He determined, there- fore, to elude the enemy, and by descending the river Drave, to achieve a junction with his com- mander-in-chief Napoleon. He accomplislied his difficult march by breaking down the bridges behind Iiim, and thus arresting the progress of the enemy ; but it was with difiiculty, and not without loss, that ' Montholon, tool, iv., p. 81 2 " No extraordinary contribation was levied, and the in- habitants fjavu no occ.ision for complaint of any kind. The English merchandise at Trieste was confiscated. Qiiicksilver, to the value of several millions, from the mine of Idria, was found in the imperial warehouses." — Montholon, torn, iv., p. 82. he effected his proposed union, and his retreat from the Tyrol gave infinite spirits not only to the mar- tial Tyrolese, but to all the favourers of Austria in the North of Italy. The Austrian general Laudon sallied from the Tyrol at the head of a considerable force, and compelled the slender body of Frencli under Balland, to shut themselves up in garrisons ; and their opponents were for the moment again lords of a part of Lombardy. They also re-occu- pied Trieste and Fiume, which Buonaparte had not been able sufficiently to garrison ; so that the rear of the French army seemed to be endangered.^ The Venetians, at this crisis, fatally for their ancient republic, if indeed its doom had not, as is most likely, been long before sealed, received with eager ears the accounts, exaggerated as they were by rumour, that the French were driven from the Tyrol, and the Austrians about to descend the Adige, and resume their ancient empire in Italy. The Senate were aware that neither their govern- ment nor their persons were acceptable to the French general, and that they had offended him irreconcilably liy declining the intimate alliance and contribution of troops which he had demanded. He had parted from them with such menaces as were not easily to be misunderstood. They be- lieved, if his vengeance might not be instant, it v.as only the more sure ; and conceiving him now deeply engaged in Germany, and surrounded by the Austrian levies en masse from the warlike countries of Hungary and Croatia, they imagined that throwing their own weight into the scale at so opportune a moment, must weigh it down for ever. To chastise their insurgent subjects of Bergamo and Brescia, was an additional temptation. Their mode of making war savoured of the an- cient vindictive temper ascribed to their country- men. An insurrection was secretly organized through all the territories which Venice still pos- sessed on the mainland, and broke out, like the celebrated Sicilian vespers, in blood and massacre. In Verona they assassinated more than a . hundred Frenchmen, many of them sick soldiers in the hospitals'* — an abominable cruelty which could not fail to bring a curse on their undertaking. Fioravante, a Venetian general, marched at the head of a body of Sclavonians to besiege the forts of Verona, into which the remain- ing French had made their retreat, and where they defended themselves. Laudon made his appear- ance with his Austrians and Tyrolese, and it seemed as if the fortunes of Buonaparte had at length found a check. But the awakening from this pleasing dream was equally sudden and di-eadful. News arrived that preliminaries of peace had been agreed upon, and an armistice signed between France and Austria. Laudon, therefore, and the auxiliaries on whom the Venetians had so much relied, retired from Verona. The Lombards sent an army to the assistance of the French. The Scravonians, under Fioravante, after fighting vigoroualy, were com- pelled to surrender. The insurgent towns of Vicenza, Treviso, and Padua, were again occupied 3 Jomini, torn, x., p. 5G; Montholon, torn, iv., p. 83. ■* See the report of the agents of the Venetian government. — Dabu, torn, v., p. 5f)4. Napoleon says, " the fury of the people carried them so far as to murder/oui- hundred sick in the hospitals."— MosTHOLOS, torn, iv., p. 133. 238 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1797. by the Republicans. Rumour pitjclaimed the ter- rible return of Napoleon and his army, and the ill-advised Senate of Venice were lost in stupor, and scarce had sense left to decide betwixt vinre- served suljmission and hopeless defence. It was one of the most artful rules in Buona- parte's policy, that when he had his enemy at de- cided advantage, by some point having been at- tained which seemed to give a complete turn to the campaign in his favour, he seldom failed to offer peace, and peace r.pon conditions much more favourable than perhaps the opposite party expected. By doijig this, he secured such immediate and un- disputed fruits of his victory, as the treaty of peace contained ; and he was sure of means to prosecute farther advantages at some future opportunity. He obtained, moreover, the character of generosity ; and, in the present instance, he avoided the great danger of urging to bay so formidable a power as Austria, whose despair might be capable of the most formidable efforts. With this purpose, and assuming for the first time that disregard for the usual ceremonial of courts, and etiquette of politics, which he after- ■ wards seemed to have pleasure in display- ing, he wrote a letter in person to the Archduke Cliarles on the subject of peace. This composition affects that abrupt laconic seve- rity of style, which cuts short argument, by laying down general maxims of philosophy of a trite cha- racter, and breaks through the usual laboiu'ed peri- phrastic introductions with which ordinary politi- cians preface their proposals, when desirous of entering upon a treaty. " It is the part of a brave soldier," he said, " to make war, but to wish for peace. The present strife has lasted six years. Have we not jet slain enough of men, and suffi- ciently outraged hiunanity ? Peace is demanded on all sides. Europe at large has laid down the arms assumed against the French Republic. Your nation remains alone in hostility, and yet blood flows faster tlian ever. This sixth campaign has commenced under ominous circumstances. — End how it will, some thousands of men more will be slain on either side ; and at length, after all, we must come to an agreement, for every thing must have an end at last, even the angry passions of men. The Executive Directory made known to the Em- peror their desire to put a pei'iod to the war which desolates both countries, but the intervention of the Court of London opposed it. Is there then no means of coming to an understanding, and must we continue to cut each other's throats for the inte- rests or passions of a nation, herself a stranger to the miseries of war 1 You, the genoral-in-chief, who approach by birth so near to the crown, and are above all those petty passions which agitate ministers, and the members of government, will you resolve to be the benefactor of mankind, and the true saviour of Germany? Do not suppose that I mean by that expression to intimate, tliat it is impossible for you to defend yourself by force of arms ; but under the supposition, that fortune were to become favourable to you, Germany would be equally exposed to ravage. With respect to my own feelings, general, if this proposition should be the means of saving one single man's life, I should prefer a civic crown so merited, to the melancholy glory attending military success." The whole tone of the letter is ingeniously calcu- lated to give the proposition the character of mode- ration, and at the same time to avoid the appearance of too ready an advance towards his object. The Archduke, after a space of two days, returned this brief answer, in which he stripped Buonaparte's proposal of its gilding, and treated it upon the foot- ing of an ordinai-y ]3roposal for a treaty of peace, made by a party, who finds it convenient for his interest : — " Unquestionably, sir, in making war, and in following the road prescribed by honour and duty, I desire as much as you the attainment of peace for the happiness of the peojile, and of hu- manity. Considering, however, that in the situa- tion wliioh I hold, it is no part of my business to enquire into and determine the quarrel of the belli- gerent powers ; and that I am not furnished on the part of the Emperor with any plenipotentiary powers for treating, you will excuse me, general, if I do not enter into negotiation with you touching a matter of tlie highest importance, but which does not lie within my department. Whatever shall happen, either respecting the future chances of the war, or the prospect of peace, I request you to be equally convinced of my distinguished esteem." ' The Archduke would willingly have made some advantage of this proposal, by obtaining an ai'mis- tice of five hours, sufficient to enable him to form a junction with the corps of Kerpen, which, having left the Tyrol to come to the assistance of the commander-in-chief, was now within a short dis- tance. But Buonaparte took care not to permit himself to be hampered by any such ill-timed en- gagement, and, after some sharp fighting, in wliich the French, as usual, were successful, he was able to interpose such a force as to prevent the junction taking place. Two encounters followed at Neumark and at Unzmark — both gave rise to fresh disasters, and the continued retreat of the Archduke Charles and the Imperial army. The French general then pressed forward oai the road to Vienn^ through mountain-passes and defiles, which could not have been opened otherwise than by turning them on the flank. But these natural fastnesses were no longer defences. Judenburg, the capital of Upper Styria, was abandoned to the French without a blow, and shortly after Buonaparte entered Gratz, the principal town of Lower Styria, with the same facility. The Archduke now totally changed his plan of warfare. He no longer disputed tlie ground foot by foot, but began to retreat by hasty marches to- wards Vienna, determined to collect the last and utmost strength which the extensive states of the Emperor could supply, and fight for the existence, it might be, of his In-other's throne, under the walls of his capital. However perilous this resolution might appear, it was worthy of the high-spirited prince by whom it was adopted ; and there were reasons, perhaps, besides those arising from sol- dierly pride and princely dignity, which seemed to recommend it. The army with which the enterprising French general was now about to debouche from the mountains, and enter the very centre of Germany, had suffered considerably since the commencement of the campaign, not only by the sword, but by severity of weather, and the excessive fatigue ' Montholon, torn, iv., p 91, 1797.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 239 which they endured in executing the rapid marches, by Nvhich their leader succeeded in securing vic- tory ; and the French armies on the Rhine had not, as the plan of the campaign dictated, made any movement in advance corresponding with the march of Buonaparte. Nor, in tlie country which they were ahout to enter with diminished forces, could Buonaparte trust to the influence of the same moral feeling in the people invaded, which had paved the way to so many victories on the Rhine. The citizens of Aus- tria, though living under a despotic government, are little sensible of its severities, and are sincerely attached to the Emperor, whose personal habits incline him to live with his people without much form, and mix in public amusements, or appear in the public walks, like a father in the midst of his family. The nobility were as ready as in former times to bring out their vassals, and a general knowledge of discipline is familiar to the German peasant as a part of his education. Hungary pos- sessed still the high spirited race of barons and cavaliers, who, in their great convocation in 1740, rose at once, and drawing their sabres, joined in the celebrated exclamation, " Moriamur ^jro rege nostra, Maria Ttresa!" The Tyrol was in pos- session of its own warlike inhabitants, all in arms, and so far successful, as to have driven Joubert out of their mountains. Trieste and Fiume were re- taken in the rear of the French army. Buonaparte had no line of communication when separated from Italy, and no means of obtaining supplies, but from a country which would probably be soon in insur- rection in his rear, as well as on his flanks. A battle lost, when there was neither support, re- serve, nor place of arms nearer than Klagenfurt, ■would have been anuiliilation. To add to these considerations, it was now known that the Vene- tian republic had assumed a formidable and hostile aspect in Italy ; by which, joined to a natural explosion of feeling; religious and national, the French cause was considerably endangered in that country. There were so many favourers of the old system, together with the general influence of the Catholic clergy, that it seemed not unlikely this insurrection might spread fast and far. Italy, in that case, would have been no eff'ectual place of refuge to Buonaparte or his army. The Archduke enumerated all these advantages to the Cabinet of Vienna, and exhorted them to stand the last cast of the bloody die. But the terror, grief, and confusion, natural in a great metropolis, whose peace for the first time for 80 many years was alarmed with the approach of the unconquered and apparently fated general, who liaving defeated and destroyed five of their choicest armies, was now driving under its walls the rem- nants of the last, though commanded by that prince whom they regarded as the hope and flower of Austrian warfare, opposed this daring resolution. The alarm was general, beginning with the court itself ; and the most valuable property and treasure were packed up to l;e carried into Hungary, where the royal family determined to take refuge. It is worthy of mention, that among the fugitives of the Imperial House was the Archduchess Maria Louisa, then beuveen five and six years old, whom our imagination may conceive agitated by every spe- cies of childish terror derived from the approach of the victorious general on whom she was, at a future and similar crisis, destined to bestow lier hand. The cries of the wealthy burglu^rs were of course for peace. The enemy were within fourteen or fifteen days' march of their walls ; nor had the city (perhaps fortunately) any fortifications, which in the modern state of war could have made it defen- sible even for a day. They were, moreover, se- conded by a party in the Cabinet ; and, in short, whether it chanced for good or for evil, the selfish principle of those who had much to lose, and \\ere timid in proportion, predommatcd against that, which desired at all risks the continuance of a de- termined and obstinate defence. It required many lessons to convince both sovereign and people, that it is better to put all on the hazard — better even to lose all, than to sanction the being pillaged at dif- ferent times, and by degrees, under pretence of friendship and amity. A bow which is forcibly strained back will regain its natui-a.l position ; but if supple enough to yield of itself to the counter direction, it will never recover its elasticity. The aff'airs, however, of the Austrians were in 'such a condition, that it could hardly be said whether the party who declared for peace, to obtain some respite from the distresses of the country, or those who wished to continue war with the chances of success which we have indicated, advised the least embarrassing course. The Court of Vienna finally adopted the alternative of treaty, and that of Leoben was set on foot. Generals Bellegarde and Merfield, on the part of the Emperor, presented themselves at the head- quarters of Buonaparte, 13th April, 1797, and announced the desire of their sovereign for peace. Buonaparte granted a suspension of arms, to endure for five days only ; which \\as afterwards extended, when the probability of the definitive treaty of peace was evident. It is afiirmed, that in the whole discussions re- specting this most important armistice. Napoleon — as a conqueror, whose victories had been in a certain degree his own, whose army had been sup- ported and paid from the resources of the country which he conquered, who had received reinforce- ments from France only late and reluctantly, and who had recruited his army by new levies among the republicanized Italians-^maintained an appear- ance of independence of the Government of France. He had, even at this period, assumed a freedom of thought and action, the tenth part of the suspicion attached to which would have cost the most popu- lar general his head in the times of Danton and Robespierre. But, though acquii-ed slowly, and in counteraction to the once ovci-powering, and still powerful, democratic influence, the authority of Buonaparte was great ; and, indeed, the power which a conquering general attains, by means of his successes, in the bosom of his soldiers, becomes soon formidable to any species of government, where the soldier is not intimately interested iu the liberties of the subject. Yet it must not be supposed that Napoleon ex- hibited publicly any of that spirit of independence which the Directory appear to have dreaded, and which, according to the opinion which ho himself intimates, seems to have delayed the promised co- operation, which was to be afforded by the eastern armies on the banks of the Rhine. Far from tes- tifying such a feeling, his assertion of the rights of 240 SCOTT'S liUSCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1707. Ihe Republic was decidedly striking, of which the following is a remarkable instance. The Austrian commissioner, in hopes to gain some credit for the admission, had stated in the preliminary articles of the convontion, as a concession of consequence, that his Imperial Majesty acknowledged the French Government in its present state. " Strike out that condition," said Buonaparte sternly, " the French Republic is like the sun in heaven. The misfor- tune lies wth those who are so blind as to be ig- norant of the existence of either." ' It was gal- lantly spoken ; but how strange to reflect, that the same individual, in three or four years afterwards, was able to place an extinguisher on one of those suns, without even an eclipse being the conse- quence.^ It is remarkable also, that while asserting to foreigners this supreme dignity' of the French Re- public, Buonaparte should have departed so far from the respect he owed its rulers. The preli- minaries of peace were proposed for signature on the 18th April. But General Clarke, to whom the Directory had committed full powei's to act in the matter, was still at Turin. He was understood to be the full confidant of his masters, and to have instructions to watch the motions of Buonaparte, nay, to place him under arrest, should he see cause to doubt his fealty to the French Government. Napoleon, nevertheless, did not hesitate to tender his individual signature and warrantry, and these were readily admitted by the Austrian plenipoten- tiaries ; — an ominous sign of the declension of the powers of the Directory, considering that a military general, without the support even of the commis- sioners from the government, or proconsuls, as they were called, was regarded as sufficient to ra- tify a treaty of such consequence. No doubt seems to have been entertained that he had the power to perform what he had guaranteed ; and the part which he acted was the more remarkable, consider- ing the high commission of General Clarke. ^ The articles in the treaty of Leoben remained long secret ; the cause of which appears to have been, that the high contracting parties were not willing comparisons should be made between the preliminaries as they were originally settled, and the strange and violent altercations which occurred in the definitive treaty of Campo Formio. These two treaties of pacification differed, the one from the other, in relation to the degree and manner how a meditated partition of the territory of Venice, of the Cisalpine republic, and other smaller powers was to be accomplished, for the mutual benefit of France and Austria. It is melancholy to observe, but it is nevertheless an important truth, that there is no moment during which inde- pendent states of the second class have more occa- sion to be alarmed for their security, than when more powerful nations in their vicinity are about to conclude peace. It is so easy to accommodate these differences of the strong at the expense of such weaker states, as, if they are injured, have 1 Moiitliolon, torn, iv., p. 101. 2 Buonaparte first mentions this circumstance as having taken place at Leoben, afterwards at the detinitive treaty of Campo Vormio. The effect is the same, wherever the words ■were spoken. — S. 3 " On the 27th of April, the Marquis de Gallo presented the preliminaries, ratified by the Emperor, to Napoleon at Grats. It was in one of these conferences, that one of the pUaipotentiaries, authorised by an autograph letter of the neither the power of making their complaints heard, nor of defending themselves by force, that, in the iron age in which it has been our fate to live, the injustice of such an arrangement has never been considered as offering any counterpoise to its great convenience, whatever the law of nations might teach to the contrary. It is unnecessary to enter upon the subject of the preliminaries of Leoben, until we notice the treaty of Campo Formio, under which they were finally modified, and by which tb.ey were adjusted and controlled. It may be, however, the moment to state, that Buonaparte was considerably blamed, by the Directory and others, for stopping sluu-t in the career of conquest, and allowing the House of Austria terms which left her still formidable to France, when, said the censors, it would have cost him but another victory to blot the most constant and powerful enemy of the French Republic out of the map of Europe ; or, at least, to confine her to her hereditary states in Germany. To such criticism he replied, in a despatch to the Directory from Leoben, during the progress of the treaty : " If, at the commencement of these Italian cam- paigns, I had made a point of going to Turin, I should never have passed the Po— had I insisted prematurely on advancing to Rome, I could never have secured Milan — and now, had I made an in- dispensable object of reaching Vienna, I might have destroyed the Republic."* Such was his able and judicious defence of a conduct, which, by stopping short of some ultimate and extreme point apparently within his grasp, extracted every advantage from fear, which des- pair perhaps might not liave yielded him, if the enemy had been driven to extremity. And it is remarkable, that the catastrophe of Napoleon him- self was a corollary of the doctrine which he now laid down ; for, had he not insisted upon penetrat- ing to Moscow, there is no judging how much longer he might have held the empire of France. The contents of the treaty of Leoben, so far as they were announced to the representatives of the French nation by the Directory, only made known, as part of the preliminaries, that the cession of the Belgic provinces, and of such a boundary as France might choose to demand upon the Rhine, had been admitted by Austria ; and that she had consented to recognise a single republic in Italy, to be com- posed out of those which had been provisionally established. But shortly afterwards it transpired, that ISIantua, the subject of so much and such bloody contest, and the very citadel of Italy, as had ap- peared from the events of these sanguinary cam- paigns, was to be resigned to Austria, from whose tenacious grasp it had been wrenched with so much difficulty. This measure was unpopular ; and it will be found that Buonaparte had the ingenuity, in the definitive treaty of peace, to substitute an indem- nification, which he ought not to have given, and which was certainly the last which the Austrians should have accepted. Emperor, offered Napoleon to procure him, on the conclusion of a peace, a sovereignty of 250,(KiO souls in Germany, for him- self and his family, in order to place him beyond the reach of rcjiublican ingratitude. 'Ihe general smiled; he desired the plenipotentiary to thank the Emperor for this proof of the interest he took in his welfare, and said, that he wished for no greatness or riches, unless conferred on him by the French people."— MoNTHOLoy, torn, iv., p. 103. ■* Correspondence In6ditc, torn, ii., p. 564. See also Jomini, torn, ix., Pieces Justificativcs, Nos. 1 and 2 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 1797.] It was now the time for Venice to tremble. She had declared against the French in their absence ; her vindictive population had murdered many of them ; the resentment of the French soldiers was excited to the utmost, and the Venetians had no right to reckon upon the forbcai-ance of their gene- ral. The treaty of Leoben left the Senate of that ancient state absolutely without sup{)ort; nay, as they afterwards learned, Austria, after pleading their cause for a certain time, had ended by stipu- lating for a share of their spoils, which had been assigned to her by a secret article of the treaty. The doom of the oligarchy was pronounced ere Buonaparte had yet traversed the Noric and Julian Alps, for the purpose of enforcing it. By a letter Anriig *" ^ ^°S^} dated from the capital of Upper Styria, Napoleon, bitterly^upbraid- ing the Senate for requiting his generosity with treachery and ingi-atitude, demanded that they should return by his aide-de-camp who bore the letter, their instant choice betwixt war and peace, and allowing them only four-and-twenty hours to disperse their insurgent peasantry, and submit to his clemency.' Junot, introduced into the Senate, made the threats of his master ring in the astounded ears of the members, and by the blunt and rough manner of a soldier, who had risen from the ranks, added to the dismay of the trembling nobles. The Senate returned a humble apology to Buonaparte, and despatched agents to deprecate his wrath. These envoys were doomed to experience one of those scenes of violence which were in some degree natural to this extraordinary man, but to which in certain cases he seems to have designedly given way, in order to strike consternation into those whom he addi-essed. " Are the prisoners at liber- ty ?" he said, with a stern voice, and without re- plying to tlie humble greetings of the teri'ified envoys. They answered with hesitation that they had libei-ated the Fi-ench, the Polish, and the Brescians, who had been made captive in the in- surrectionary war. " I will have them all — all !" exclaimed Buonaparte — '• all who are in prison on account of their political sentiments. I will go myself to destroy your dungeons on tlie Bridge of Tears — opinions shall be free — I will have no In- quisition. If all the prisoners are not set at in- stant liberty, the English envoy dismissed, the people disarmed, I declare instant war. I might have gone to Vienna if I had listed — I have con- cluded a peace with the Emperor — I have eighty thousand men, twenty gun-boats — I will hear of no Inquisition, and no Senate either — I will dictate the law to you — I will prove an Attila to Venice. If you cannot disarm your popvilation, I will do it in your stead — your government is antiquated — it must crumble to pieces." ^ While Buonaparte, in these disjointed yet signi- ficant threats, stood before the deputies like the Argantes of Italy's heroic poet, and gave them the choice of peace and war with the air of a superior being, capable at once to dictate their fate, he had not yet heard of the m.assacre of VeroJia, or of the 241 1 Daru, torn, v., p. 568; Montholon, torn, iv., p. 13.). 2 See, in Daru, torn, v., p. 605, the report of the two envoys, Dona and Justiniani. 3 " Non, noil, quand vous couvriez cctte plape d'or, tous vos trcsors, tout I'or du Perou, ne peuvcut payer le sang Fr.in9aiB." — Dauu, torn, v., p. 619. Vol. II. batteries of a Venetian fort on the Lido having firssd upon a French vessel, which had run into the port to escape the pursuit of two armed Austrian ships. The vessel was alleged to have been sunk, and the master and some of the crew to have been killed. The news of these fresh aggrt;ssions did not fail to aggravate his indignation to the highest pitch. The terrified deputies ventured to touch with delicacy on the subject of pecuniary atonement. Buonaparte's answer was worthy of a Roman " If you could proffer me," he said, " the treasures of Peru — if you could strew the whole district with gold, it could not atone for the French blood which has been treacherously spilt. "^ Accordingly, on the 3d of May, Buonaparte de- clared war against Venice, and ordered the French minister to leave the city ; the French j^^ g troops, and those of the new Italian re- publics, were at the same time commanded to ad- vance, and to destroy in their progress, wherever they found it displayed, the winged Lion of Saint Mark, the ancient emblem of Venetian sovereignty. The declaration is dated at Palma Nova.* It had been already acted upon by the French who were on the Venetian frontier, and by La Hotze, a remarkable character, who was then at the head of the army of the Italian republics of the new model, and the forces of the towns of Brescia and Bergamo, which aspired to the same indepen- dence. This commander was of Swiss extraction ; an excellent young officer, and at that time ena- moured of liberty on the French system, though he afterwards saw so much reason to change his opinions, that he lost his life, as we may have occasion to mention, fighting under the Austrian banners. The terrified Senate of Venice proved unworthy descendants of the Zenos, Dandolos, and Morosi- nis, as the defenders of Christendom, and the proud opposers of Papal oppression. The best resource they could imagine to themselves, was to employ at Paris those golden means of intercession which Buonaparte had so sturdily rejected. Napoleon assures us, that they fomid favour by means of these weighty arguments. The Directory, moved, we are informed, by the motives of ten millions of French francs, transmitted from Venice in bills of exchange, sent, to the general of Italy orders to spare the ancient senate and aristocracy. But the account of the transaction, with the manner in which the remittances were distributed, fell into the hands of Napoleon, by despatches intercepted at jMilan. The members of the French Govern- ment, whom these documents would have convict- ed of peculation and bribery, were compelled to be silent ; and Buonaparte, availing himself of some chicanery as to certain legal solemnities, took it on him totally to disregard the orders he had received. The Senate of Venice, rather stupified than sti- mulated by the excess of their danger, were holding on the 30th of April, a sort of privy council in the apartments of the doge, when a letter from the commandant of their flotilla informed them, that the French were erecting fortifications on the low 4 For a copy of this manifesto apainst Venice, see 3fnnltcur, No. 2.'K», May 16, and Annual Itiyislcr, vol. xxxiv., p. 337. As soon as it was made ))vibhc. the whole Terra Kirma revolted against the capital. Every town ])roclaimed its indeiicndence, and constituted a Rovernment for itself. Bergamo, Bres«;ia, Padua, Vicenza, Bassano. and Udine, fomicd so many sepv rate republics." — Mo.nthoi.on, tom. iv., ps 143. 242 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1797. grounds contiguous to the lagoons or shallow chan- nels which divide from the main-land and from each other the little isles on which the amphibious mistress of the Adriatic holds lier foundation ; and proposing, in the blunt style of a gallant sailor, to batter them to pieces about their ears before the works could be completed.' Indeed, nothing would have been more easy than to defend the lagoons against an enemy, who, notwithstanding Napo- leon's bravado, had not even a single boat. But the proposal, had it been made to an abbess and a convent of nuns, could scarce have appeared more extraordinary than it did to these degenerate nobles. Yet the sense of shame prevailed ; and though trembling for the consequences of the order which they issued, the Senate directed that the ad- miral should proceed to action."-* Immediately after the order was received, their deliberations were in- terrupted by the thunder of the cannon on either side — the Venetian gun-boats pouring their fire on the van of the French army, wliich had begun to an-ive at Fusini. To interrupt these ominous sounds, two pleni- potentiaries were despatched to make intercession with the French general ; and, to prevent delay, the doge himself undertook to report the result. The Grand Council was convoked on the 1st of May, when the doge, pale in countenance, and disconcerted in demeanour, proposed, as the only means of safety, the admission of some democratic modifications into their foi-ms, luider the direction of General Buonaparte ; or, in other words, to lay their institutions at the feet of the conqueror, to be remodelled at his pleasui-e. Of six huudi-ed and nineteen patricians, only twenty-one dissented from a vote which inferred the absolute surrender of their constitution. The conditions to be agreed on were, indeed, declared subject to the revision of the Council ; but this, in the circumstances, could only be considered as a clause intended to save appearances. The surrender must have been re- garded as unconditional and total.^ Amidst the dejection and confusion which pos- sessed the Government, some able intriguer (the secretary, it was said, of the French ambassador at Venice, whose principal had been recalled) contrived to induce the Venetian Government to commit an act of absolute suicide, so as to spare Buonaparte the trouble and small degree of scan- dal which might attach to totally destroying the existence of the republic. On the 9th of May, as the committee of the Great Council were in close deliberation with tlie doge, two strangers intruded upon those councils, which heretofore — such was the jealous severity of the oligarchy — were like those of supernatural beings ; those who looked on them died. But now, affliction, confusion, and fear, had withdrawn the guards from these secret and mysterious chambers, and laid open to the intrusion of strangers those stern haunts of a suspicious oligarchy, where, in other days, an official or lictor of the Government might have been punished with death even for too loud a foot-fall, far more for the fatal crime of having heard more than was designed to come to his knowledge. All this was now ended; and without check or rebuke the two strangers were ' Daru, torn, vi., p. 9. * Haru, torn, vi., p. 10. 2 Daru, torn, vi., p. 13. permitted to communicate with' the Senate by writ- ing. Their advice, which had the terms of a command, was, to anticipate the intended reforms of the French — to dissolve the present Government — throw open their prisons — disband their Sclavo- nian soldiers — plant the tree of liberty on the place of Saint Mark, and to take other popular measures of the same nature, the least of which, proposed but a few months before, would have been a signal of death to the individual who had dared to hint at it.* An English satirist has told us a story of a man persuaded by an eloquent friend, to hang himself, in order to preserve his life. The story of the fall of Venice vindicates the boldness of the satire. It does not appear that Buonaparte could have gone farther ; nay, it seems unlikely he would have gone so far, as was now recommended. As the friendly advisers had hinted that the ut- most speed was necessary, the committee scarce interposed an interval of three days, between recei- ving the advice and recommending it to the Great Council ; and began in the meanwhile to anticipate tlie destruction of theh' government and surrender of their city, by dismantling their fleet and disband- ing their soldiers. At length, the Great Council assembled on the 12th of May. The doge had commenced a pathe- tic discourse on the extremities to Avhich the country was reduced, when an iiTegular discharge of fire- arms took place under the very windows of the council-house. All started up in confusion. Some supposed the Sclavonians were plundering the citi- zens ; some that the lower orders had risen on the nobility ; others, that the French had entered Ve- nice, and were proceeding to sack and pillage it. The terrified and timid counsellors did not wait to inquire what was the real cause of the disturbance, but hurried forward, like sheep, in the path which had been indicated to them. They hastened to de- spoil their ancient government of all authority, to sign in a manner its sentence of civil death — added every thing which could render the sacrifice more agreeable to Buonaparte — and separated in confu- sion, but under the impression that they had taken the best measure in their power for quelling the tumult, by meeting the wishes of the predominant party. But this was by no means the case. On the contrary, they had the misfortune to find that the insurrection, of which the firing was the signal, was directed not against the aristocrats, but against those who proposed the surrender of the national independence. Armed bands shouted, " Long live Saint Mark, and perish foreign domination ! " Others indeed there were, who displayed in oppo- sition three-coloured banners, with the war-cry of " Liberty for ever !" The disbanded and mutinous soldiers mi.\ed among these hostile groups, and threatened the town with fire and pillage.'^ Amid this horrible confusion, and while the parties were firing on each other, a provisional go- vernment was hastily named. Boats were de- spatched to bring three thousand French soldiers into the city. Tiiese took possession of the place of Saint Mark,^ while some of the inhabitants shouted ; but the greater part, who were probably not the less sensible of the execrable tyranny of the old * Dam, torn, vi., p. 32. * Daru, torn, vi., p. 36. 6 Daru, torn, vi, p. 40. 1797.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPAKTE. ^4& Rnstocracy, saw it fall in mournful silence, because there fell, along with the ancient institutions of their country, however little some of these were to be regretted, the honour and independence of the state itself. The terms which the French granted, or rather imposed, appeared sufficiently moderate, so far as they were made public. They announced, that the foreign troops would remain so long, and no longer, than might be necessary to protect the peace of Venice • — they undertook to guarantee the public debt, and the payment of the pensions allowed to the impoverished gentry. They required, indeed, the continuance of the prosecution against the com- mander of that fort of Luco who had fired on the French vessel ; but all other offenders were par- doned, and Buonaparte afterwards suffered even this affair to pass into oblivion ; which excited doubt whether the transaction had ever been so Berious as had been alleged. Five secret and less palatable articles attended these avowed conditions. One provided for the various exchanges of territory which had been already settled at the Venetian expense betwixt Austria and France. The second and third stipu- lated the payment of three millions of francs in specie, and as many in naval stores. Another prescribed the cession of three ships of war, and of two frigates, armed and equipped. A fifth ratified the exaction, in the usual style of French cupidity, of twenty pictures and five hundred manuscripts. ^ It will be seen hereafter what advantages the Venetians purchased by all these unconscionable conditions. At the moment, they understood that the stipulations were to imply a guarantee of the independent existence of their country as a demo- cratical state. In the meanwhile, the necessity for raising the supplies to gratify the rapacity of the French, obliged the provisional government to have recourse to forced loans ; and in this manner they inhospitably plundered the Duke of Modena (who had lied to Venice for refuge when Buonaparte first entered Lombardy) of his remaining treasure, amounting to one hundred and ninety thousand fiequins. CHAPTER X. Napoleon's Amatory Correspondence with Josephine — His Court at Montehello — Negotiations and Pleasure mingled there — Genoa — Revolutionary spirit of tlie Genoese — They rise in insurrection , hut a/re quelled by the Government, and the French plundered and imprisoned — Buonaparte inter- feres, and appoints the Outlines of a new Govern- ment — Sardinia — Naples — The Cispadane, Transpadane, and Emilian Itepublics, united under the name of the Cisalpine liepuhlic — The Valteline — The Grisons — The Valteline united to Lombardy — Great improvement of Italy, and Hie Italian Character, from these changes — Diffi- culties in the way of Pacification betwixt France and Austria — The Directory and Napoleon take 1 " The French troops entered Venice on tlie 16th of May. The partisans of liberty immediately met in a popular assem- bly. The aristocracy was destroyed for ever; the democratic constitution of twelve hundred was proclaimed. Dandolo was placed at the head of all the city. The Lion of St. Mark and the Corinthian horBes were carried to Paris."— Mo.vthoi.o.v torn, iv., p. ]42. different Views — Treaty of Camj.o Formto— Buonaparte takes leave of the Army of Italy, to act as French Plenipotentiary at Pastadt. When peace returns, it brings back the domes- tic affections, and afl'ords the means of indulging them. Buonaparte was yet a bridegroom, though he had now been two years married, and upwards. A part of his correspondence with his bride has been preserved, and gives a curious picture of a temperament as fiery in love as in war. The lan- guage of the conqueror, who was disposing of states at his pleasure, and defeating the most celebrated commanders of the time, is as enthusiastic as that of an Arcadian. We cannot suppress the truth, that (in passages which we certainly shall not quote) it carries a tone of indelicacy, which, not- withstanding the intimacy of the married state, an English husband would not use, nor an English wife consider as the becoming expression of connu- bial affection. There seems no doubt, however, that the attachment which these letters indicate was perfectly sincere, and on one occasion at least, it was chivalrously expressed ; — " Wurmser shall buy dearly the tears which he makes you shed."^ It appears from this correspondence that Jose- phine had rejoined her husband, under the guar- dianship of Junot, when he returned from Paris, after having executed his mission of delivering to the Directory, and representatives of the French people, the banners and colours taken from Beau- lieu. In December, 1796, Josephine was at Genoa, where she was received with studied magnificence, by those in that ancient state who adhered to tlie French interest, and where, to the scandal of the rigid Catholics, the company continued assembled, at a ball given by M. de Serva, till a late hour on Friday morning, despite the presence of a senator having in his pocket, but not ventiu-ing to enforce, a decree of the senate for the better observation of the fast day upon the occasion. These, however, were probably only occasional visits ; but after the signature of the treaty of Leoben, and during the various negotiations which took place before it was finally adjusted, as ratified at Campo Formio, Jose- phine lived in domestic society with her husband, at the beautiful seat, or rather palace, of Montebello. This villa, celebrated from the important nego- tiations of which it was the scene, is situated a few leagues from Milan, on a gently sloping hill, which commands an extensive prospect over the fertile plains of Lombardy. The ladies of the highest rank, as well as those celebrated for beauty and accomplishments, — all, in short, who could add charms to society, — were daily paying their homage to Josephine, who received them with a felicity of address which seemed as if she had been born for exercising the high courtesies tnat devolved upon the wife of so distinguished a person as Napoleon. Negotiations proceeded amid gaiety and pleasure. The various ministers and envoys of Austria, of the Pope, of the Kings of Naples and Sardinia, of the Duke of Parma, of the Swiss Cantons, of several of the Princes of Germany, — the throng 2 " General Bernadotte carried the colours taken from the Venetian troops to Paris. These frequent pre6c;rtation3 of colours were, at this period, very useful to the fiovcrnment ; for the disatl'ected were silenced and overawed by this display of the s))irit of the armies."— l\lo^•THOLON, torn, iv., p. 145. 3 For some curious extracts tiom this Correspondence, K>e Appendix, No. IV 244 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WOEKS. [1797. of generals, of persons in authonty, of deputies of towns, — with the daily ai-rival and despatch of nu- merous couriei-s, the bustle of important business, mingled with fetes and entertainm(?nts, with balls anid with hunting parties, — gave the picture of a splendid court, and tlie assemblage was called accordingly, by the Italians, the Court of jNIonte- bello. It was such in point of importance ; for the deliberations agitated there were to regulate the political relations of Germany, and decide the fate of the King of Sardinia, of Switzerland, of Venice, of Genoa : all destined to hear from the voice of Napoleon, the terms on which their national exist- ence was to be prolonged or terminated. Montebello was not less the abode of pleasure. The sovereigns of this diplomatic and military court made excursions to the lago Maggiore, to lago di Como, to the Borromean islands, and occupied at pleasure the villas which surround those delicious regions. Every town, every village, desired to dis- tinguish itself by some peculiar mark of homage and respect to him, whom they then named the Libe- rator of Italy.' These expressions are in a great measure those of Napoleon himself, who seems to Have looked back on this period of his hfe with warmer recollections of pleasurable enjoyment than he had experienced on any other occasion. It was probably the liappiest time of his life. Honour, beyond that of a crowned head, was his owii, and had the full relish of novelty to a mind which two or three years before was pining in obscurity. Power was his, and he had not expe- rienced its cares and risks ; high hopes were formed of him by all around, and he had not yet disap- pointed them. He was in the flower of youth, and married to the woman of his heart. Above all, he had the glow of Hope, which was marshalling him even to more exalted dominion ; and he had not yet become aware that possession brings satiety, and that all earthly desires and wishes terminate, when fully attained, in vanity and vexation of spii-it. The various objects which occupied Buonaparte's mind during this busy yet pleasing interval, were the affairs of Genoa, of Sardinia, of Naples, of the Cisalpine republic, of the Grisons, and lastly, and by far the most important of them, the definitive treaty with Austria, which involved the annihila- tion of Venice as an independent state. Genoa, the proud rival of Venice, had never attained the same permanent importance with that sister republic ; but her nobility, who still admi- nistered her government according to the model assigned them by Andrew Doria, preserved more national spirit, and a more warlike disposition. The neighbourhood of France, and the prevalence of her opinions, had stirred up among the citizens of the middling class a party, taking the name of Morandists, from a club so termed,'^ whose object It was to break down the oligarchy, and revolu- tionize the government. The nobles were naturally opposed to this, and a large body of the populace, much employed by them, and strict Catholics, were ready to second them in their defence. ' Montholon, torn, iv., p. 147. * The club held their meetings at the house of an apothe- cary, named ilorando. Botta describes him as " un uomo precipitoso, e di estremi pensieri, e che credeva, che ocni cosa fosse licita per arriyare a quella liberta, ch'ei si figurava in jnente. —Slona, torn, ii., p. am. • Montholon, torn, iv., p. 152. The establishment of two Italian demoeraciea upon the Po, made the Genoese revolutionists con- ceive the time was arri\ed when their own state ought to pass through a similar ordeal of regene- ration. They mustered their strength, and peti- tioned the doge for the abolition of the government as it exist-ed, and the adoption of a democratic model. The doge condescended so far to their demand, as to name a committee of nine persons, five of them of j)lebeian Ijirth, to consider and report on the means of infusing a more popular spirit into the constitution.' The three chief Inquisitors of State, or Censors, as the actual rulers of the oligarchy were entitled, opposed the spirit of religious enthusiasm to tliat of democratic zeal. They employed the pulpit and the confessional as the means of warning good Catholics against the change demanded by the Morandists— they exposed the Holy Sacrament^ and made processions and public prayers, as if threatened with a descent of the Algermes. Meanw^hile, the Morandists took up arms, dis- played the French colours, and conceiving their enterprise was on the point of success, seized the gate of the arsenal and that May 22. of the harbour. But their triumph was short. Ten thousand armed labourers started as from out of the earth, under the command of their syndics, or municipal officers, with cries of " Viva Maria !" and declared for the aristocracy. The insurgents, totally defeated, were compelled to shut themselves up in their houses, where they were as- sailed by the stronger party, and finally routed. The French residing in Genoa were maltreated by the prevailing party, their houses pillaged, and they themselves dragged to prison. The last circumstance gave Buonaparte an osten- sible right to interfere, which he would probably have done even had no such violence been com- mitted. He sent his aide-de-camp La Valette to Genoa, with the threat of instantly moving against the city a division of his army, unless the prisoners were set at liberty, the aristocratic party disarmed, and such alterations, or rather such a complete change of government adopted, as should ])e agree- able to the French commander-in-chief. Against this there was no appeal. The inquisitors were laid uuder arrest, for having defended, with the assistance of their fellow-citizens, the existing in- stitutions of the state ; and the doge, with two other magistrates of the first rank, went to learn at Montebello, the headquarters of Napoleon, what was to be the future fate of the City, proudly called of Palaces.* They received the outlines of such a democracy as Napoleon conceived suitable for them ; and he appears to have been unusually favourable to the state, which, according to the French affectation of doing every thing upon a classical model, now underwent revolutionary bap- tism, and was called the Ligurian Republic. It was stipulated, that the French who had suffered should be indemnified ; but no contributions were exacted for the use of the French army, nor did * " On the 6th of June, the deputies from the Senate signed a convention at Montebello, which put an end to Doria's con- stitution, and established the democratical government 0/ Genoa. The yjcople burned the Golden Book, and broke the statue of Doria to pieces. This outrage on the memory of that great man displeased Napoleon, who required the provisional goverument to restore it." — Montholo.v, torn, iv., p. 137 1797.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 245 ihu collections and cabinets of Genoa pay any tri- bute to the Parisian JMuseuni.' Sliortly after, the democratic party having gone 60 far as to exclude the nobles from the govern- ment, and from all offices of trust, called down by doing so a severe admonition from Buo- Nov. 11. na parte. He discharged them to offend the prejudices, or insult the feelings of the more scrupulous Catholics, declaring farther, that to exclude those of noble birtli from piiblic functions, is a revolting piece of injustice, and, in fact, as criminal as the worst of the errors of the patricians.^ Buonaparte says, he felt a partiality for Genoa; and the comparative liberality with which he treated the state on this occasion, fur- nishes a good proof tliat he did so. The King of Sardinia had been prostrated at the feet of France by the armistice of Cherasco, which concluded Napoleon's first campaign ; and that sagacious leader had been long desirous that the Directory should raise the royal supplicant (for he could l>e termed little else) into some semblance of regal dignity, so as to make his power available as an ally. Nay, General Clarke had, 5th April, 1797, subscribed, with the representative of his Sardinian Majesty, a treaty offensive and defen- sive, by which Napoleon expected to add to the army under his command four thousand Sardinian or Piedmontese infantry, and five hundred cavalry ; and he reckoned much on this contingent, in case of the war being renewed with Austria. But the Directory shifted and evaded his solicitations, and declined confirming this treaty, probably because they considered the army imder his command as already sufficiently strong, being, as the soldiers were, so devoted to their leader. At length, how- ever, the treaty was ratified, but too late to serve Buonaparte's object. Naples, whose conduct had been vacillating and insincere, as events seemed to promise victory or threaten defeat to the French general, experienced, notwithstanding, when he was in the height of triumph, the benefit of his powerful intercession with the government, and retained the full advan- tage secured to her by the treaty of Paris of 10th October, 1796. A most important subject of consideration re- mained after the pacification of Italy, respecting tlie mode in which the new republics were to be governed, and the extent of territory which should be assigned to them. On this subject, there had been long discussions ; and as there was much ani- mosity and ancient grudge betwixt some of the Italian cities and provinces, it was no very easy matter to convince them, that their true interest lay in as many of them being united under one energetic and active government as should render them a power of some importance,' instead of being divided as heretofore into petty states, which could not offer effectual resistance even to invasion on the part of a power of the second class, much more if attacked by France or Austria. The formation of a compact and independent state in the north of Italy, was what Napoleon had much at heart. But the Cispadanc and Transpa- 1 Montholon, torn, iv., p. 155; Jomini, torn, x., p. 1G9; Botta. torn, ii., ]). 3/1. 2 " The Council of Five Hundred at Paris was at this time drbatingon a motion made by Sieves, tcndinp to expel all tlie nobles from France, on giving them tlic value of ttuir pro- perty. This advice, given b^ Napoleon to the Republic of dane republics were alike averse to a union, and that of Romagna had declined on its part a junc- tion with tlie Cispadane commonwealth, and set up for a puny and feeble independence, under the title of tiie Emilian Republic. Buonaparte was enabled to overcome these grudgings and heart- burnings, by pointing out to them the General Republic, which it was now his system to create, as being destined to form the kernel of a state which should be enlarged from time to time as opportunities offered, until it should include all Italy under one single government. This flatter- ing prospect, in assigning to Italy, though at some distant date, the probability of forming one great country, united in itself, and independent of the rest of Europe, instead of being, as now, parcelled out into petty states, naturally overcame all the local dislikes and predilections which might have prevented the union of the Cispadane, Transpadane, and Emilian republics into one, and that important measure was resolved upon accordingly. The Cisalpine republic was the name fixed upon to designate the united commonwealth. The French would more willingly have named it, with respect to Paris, the Transalpine republic ; but that would have been innovating upon the ancient title which Rome has to be the central point, with reference to which, all other parts of Italy assume their local description. It would have destroyed all classical propriety, and have confused historical recollec- tions, if, what had hitherto been called the Ultra- montane side of the Alps, had, to gratify Parisian vanity, been termed the Hither side of the same chain of mountains. The constitution assigned to the Cisalpine repub- lic, was the same which the French had last of all adopted, in what they called the year five, having a Directory of executive administrators, and two Councils. They were installed upon the 30th of June, 1797. Four members of the Directory were named by Buonaparte, and the addition of a fifth was promised with all convenient speed. On the 14th of July following, a review was made of thirty thousand national guards. The fortresses of Lombardy, and the other districts, were delivered up to the local authorities, and the French army, retiring from the territories of the new republic, took up cantonments in the Venetian states. Pro- clamation had already been made, that the states belonging to the Cisalpine republic having been acquired by France by the right of conquest, she had used her privilege to form them into their pi-esent free and independent government, which, already recognised by the Emperor and the Directory, could not fail to be acknowledged within a short time by all the other powers of Europe.^ Buonaparte soon after showed that he was serious in his design of enlarging the Cisalpine republic, 33 opportunity could be made to serve. There are three valleys, termed the Valteline districts, which run down from the Swiss mountains towards the lake of Como. The natives of the Valteline are about one hundred and sixty thousand souls. They speak Italian, and are chiefly of the Cathohc per- Gcnoa, aiipearid to be addressed, in fact, to the French Re- public, which at all events profited by it ; for this terrific plan was abandoned."— iloNTHOLON, torn, iv., p. 164. 3 Thibaudeau, torn. iii.,p. 121; Montholon, torn i' p. 179 Jomiui, torn, it., p. 3U4. 246 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1797. euasion. These valleys were at this period the subjects of the Swiss Cantons, called the Grisons, not being a part of their league, or enjoying any of their privileges, but standing towards the Swiss community, generally and individually, in the rajik of vassals to sovereigns. This situation of thraldom and dependence was hard to endure, and dishonour- able hi itself; and we cannot be sui-prised that, when the nations around them were called upon to enjoy liberty and independence, the inhabitants of the'Valteiine should have driven their Swiss garrisons out of their valleys, adopted the symbol of Italian freedom, and carried their complaints against the oppression of their German and Pro- testant masters to the feet of Buonaparte. The inhabitants of the Valteline unquestionably had a right to assert their natural liberty, which is mcapable of suifering prescription ; but it is not equally clear how the French could, according to the law of nations, claim any title to interfere be- tween them and the Grisons, with whom, as well as with the whole Swiss Union, they were in pro- found peace. This scruple seems to have struck Buonaparte's own mind.' He pretended, however, to assume that the Milanese government had a right to interfere, and his mediation was so far re- cognised, that the Grisons pleaded before him in answer to their contumacious vassals. Buonaparte gave his opinion, by advising the canton of the Grisons, which consists of three leagues, to admit their Valteline subjects to a shareof their fi-anchises, in the character of a fourth association. The mo- deration of the proposal may be admitted to excuse the irregularity of the interference. The representatives of the Grey League, were, notwithstanding, profoundly hurt at a proposal which went to make their vassals their brother- freemen, and to establish the equality of the Italian serf, who drank of the Adda, with the free-born Switzer, who quaffed the waters of the Rhine. As they turned a deaf ear to his proposal, deserted his tribunal, and endeavoured to find support at Bern, Paris, Vienna, and elsewhere. Napoleon re- solved to proceed against them in default of appear- ance ; and declaring, that as the Grisons had failed to appear before him, or to comply with his injunc- tions, by admitting the people of the Valteline to be parties to their league, he therefore adjudged the state, or district, of the Valteline, in time coming, to belong to, and be part of, the Cisalpine republic. The Grisons in vain humbled themselves when it was too late, and protested their readiness to plead before a mediator too powerful to be de- clined under any ground known in law ; and the Valteline territory was adjudged [October 10] in- alienably annexed to and united with Lombardy ; of which, doubtless, it forms, from manners and contiguity, a natural portion.'-^ The existence of a state havuig free institutions, however iccperfect, seemed to work an almost in- stant amelioration on the character of the people of the north of Italy. The effeminacy and trifling habits which resigned all the period of youth to ' Montholon, torn, iv., p. 187. 2 Montholon, torn, iv., p. 185; Botta, torn, ii., p. 4G1. 3 " Instead of passing their time at the feet of women, the youni; Italians now frequented the ridinR and fencing schools, and fields of exercise. In the comedies and street farces, there had always been an Italian, represented as a very cow- ardly though witty fellow, and a kind of bu'Wing captain,— intrigue and amusement, began to give place to firmer and more manly virtues — to the desire of honourable minds to distinguish themselves in arts and arms.^ Buonapai'te had himself said, that twenty years would be necessary to work a radical change on the national character of the Italians ; but even already those seeds were sown, among a people hitherto frivolous because excluded from public business, and timorous because they were not permitted the use of arms, which afterwards made the Italians of the north equal the French themselves in braving the tei-rors of war, besides producing several civil characters of eminence. Amid those subordinate discussions, as tliey might be termed, in comparison to the negotiations betwixt Austria and France, these two high con- tractmg parties found great difficulty in agreeing as to the pacific superstructure which they should build upon the foundation which had been laid by the preliminaries exchanged at Leoben. Nay, it seemed as if some of the principal stipulations, which had been there agreed upon as the corner- stones of their treaty, were even already beginning to be unsettled. It will be remembered, that, in exchange for the cession of Flanders, and of all the countries on the left side of the Rhine, including tlie strong city of Mayeuce, which she was to yield up to France in perpetuity, Austria stipulated an indemnification on some other frontier. The original project bore, that the Lombardic republic, since termed the Cisalpine, should have all the teri'itories extending from Piedmont to the river OgUo. Those to the eastward of that river were to be ceded to Austria as an equivalent for the cession of Belgium, and the left bank of the Rhine. The Oglio, rising in the Alps, descends through the fertile districts of Brescia and Cremasco, and falls into the Po near Borgo-forte, enclosing Mantua on its left bank, which strong fortress, the citadel of Italy, was, by this allocation, to be restored to Austria. There were farther compensations assigned to the Empe- ror, by the preliminaries of Leoben. Venice was to be deprived of her territories on the mainland, which w-ere to be confiscated to augment the indem- nity destined for the empire ; and this, although Venice, as far as Buonaparte yet knew, had been faithful to the neutrality she had adopted. To re- deem this piece of injustice, another was to be per- petrated. The state of Venice was to receive the legations of Bologna, Ferrara, and Romagna, in lieu of the dominions which she was to cede to Austria ; and these legations, it must not be forgotten, were the principal materials of the Cispadane republic, fomided by Buonaparte himself. These, however, with their population, which he had led to hope for a free popular government, he was now about to turn over to the dominion of Venice, the most jealous oligarchy in the world, which was not likely to forgive those who had been forward in expressing a desire of freedom. This was the first concoction of the treaty of Leoben, from which it appears that the negotiators of the two great powei-s regarded gometiraes a Frenchman, but more frequently a German — a very powerful, brave, and brutal character, who never failed to conclude with caning the Italian to the Rreat satisfaction of the applauding spectators. But such allusions were now no longer endured by the populace ; authors now brought brave Italians on the stage, putting foreigners to flight, and defending their honour and their rights."— Kapolkon. IUu» tholou, torn, ir., p. 185. 1797.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. U7 llie secondary and weaker states, whether ancient or of modern erection, merely as make-weights, to be thrown into either scale, as might be necessary to adjust the balance. It is true, the infant Cispadane repubhc escaped tlie fate to which its patron and founder was about to resign it ; for after this arrangement had been provisionally adjusted, news came of the insurrec- tion of Venice, the attack upon the French through her whole territory, and the massacre at Verona. This aggression placed the ancient republic, so far as France was concerned, in the light of a hostile power, and entitled Buonaparte to deal with her as a conquered one, perhaps to divide, or altogether to annihilate her. But, on the other hand, he had received their submission, ratified the establishment of their new popular constitution, and possessed himself of the city, under pretence of assigning it a free government, according to the general hope which he had held out to Italy at large. The right of conquest was limited by the terms on which sur- render had been accepted. Austria, on the other hand, was the moi-e deeply bound to have protected the ancient republic, for it was in her cause that Venice so rashly assumed arms ; but such is the gratitude of nations, such the faith of politicians, that she appears, from the beginning, to have had no scruple in profiting by the spoils of an ally, who had received a death-wound in her cause. By the time the negotiators met for finally dis- cussing the preliminaries, the Directory of France, either to thwart Buonaparte, whose superiority became too visible, or because they actually enter- tained the fears they expressed, were determined that Mantua, which liad Iseen taken with such diffi- culty, should remain the bulwark of the Cisalpine republic, instead of returning to be once more that of the Austrian ten-itories in Italy. The Imperial plenipotentiaries insisted, on the other hand, that Mantua was absolutely necessary to the safety of their Italian possessions, and became moi-e so from the peculiar character of their new neighbour, the Cisalpine republic, whose example was likely to be so perilous to the adjacent dependencies of an ancient monarchy. To get over this difficulty, the French general proposed that the remainuig domi- nions of Venice should be also divided betwixt Austria and France, the latter obtaining possession of the Albanian territories and the Ionian islands belonging to the republic, of which the high con- tracting powers signed the death-warrant ; while Istria, Dalmatia, Venice herself, and all her other dominions, should be appropriated to Austria. The latter power, through her minister, consented to this arrangement with as little scruple, as to the former appropriation of her forlorn ally's posses- sions on the Terra Firma. But as fast as obstacles were removed on one side, they appeared to start up on another, and a sort of pause ensued in the deliberations, which neither party seemed to wish to push to a close. In fact, both Napoleon, plenipotentiary for France, ' " Count Cobentzel was a native of Brussels ; a very agree- able man in company, and distinguislied by studied politeness ; but positive and intractable in business. There was a want of propriety and precision in his mode of expressing himself, of which he was sensible ; and he endeavoured to compensate for this by talking loud and using imperious gestures." — Napoleon, Monthulon, torn, iv., p. 239. » Montholon, torn, iv., p. 251. and Coimt Cobentzel,^ a man of great diplomatic skill and address, who took the principal manage- ment on the part of Austria, were sufficiently aware that the French government, long disunited, was in the act of approaching to a crisis. This accord- ingly took place, under circumstances to be here- after noticed, on the eighteenth of Fructidor, crea- ting, by a new revolutionary movement, a total change of administration. When this revolution was accomplished, the Directory, who accomplished it, feeling themselves more strong, appeared to lay aside the idea of peace, and showed a strong dis- position to push their advantages to the utmost. Buonaparte was opposed to this. He knew that if war was resumed, the difficulties of the campaign would be thrown on him, and the blame also, if the results were not happy. He was determined, there- fore, in virtue of his full powers, to bring the matter to a conclusion, whether the Directory would or not. For this pm-pose he confronted Cobentzel, who still saw his game in gaining delay, with the sternness of a military envoy. On the 16th Octo- ber, the conferences were renewed upon the former grounds, and Cobentzel went over the whole sub- ject of the mdemnifications — insisting that Mantua, and the line of the Adige, should be gi-anted to the Emperor ; threatening to bring down the Russians in case the war should be renewed ; and insinuating that Buonaparte sacrificed the desire of peace to his military fame, and desired a renewal of the war. Napoleon, with stern but restrained indignation, took from a bracket an ornamental piece of china, on which Cobentzel set some value, as being a pre- sent from the Empress Catherine. " The truce," he said, " is then ended, and war declared. But beware— before the end of autumn, I will break your empire into as many fragments as this pot- sherd."^ He dashed the piece of china against the hearth, and withdrew abruptly. Again we are reminded of the Argantes of Tasso.^ The Austrian plenipotentiaries no longer hesita- ted to submit to all Napoleon's demands, rather than again see him commence his tremendous career of irresistible invasion. The ti"eaty of Campo For- mio therefore was signed on the followmg day ; not the less promptly, perhaps, that the afi"airs at Paris appeared so doubtful as to invite an ambitious and aspiring man like Napoleon to approach the scene where honours and power were distributed, and where jarring factions seemed to await the influence of a character so distinguished and so determined. The fate of Venice, more from her ancient his- toi'y than either the value of her institutions, which were execrable, or the importance of her late exist- ence, still dwells somewhat on the memory. The ancient republic fell "as a fool dieth." The aris- tocrats cursed the selfishness of Austria, by whom they were swallowed up, though they had perilled themselves in her cause. The republicans hastened to escape from Austrian domination, grinding their teeth with rage, and cursing no less the egotistic 3 Si)icg6 quel crudo il senn, e"l manto scosse, Ed a guerra mortal, disse, vi sfido : E'l disse in atto si feroce cd eni])io Che parve aprir di CJiano il cliiuso tempin. Llaced with those of Bamevet and Sidney ; whether conducted to death or to banishment, I am certain of arriving at immor- tality!" He was condemned to the guillotine in May, 1797, but stabbed himself in his prison. 2 Montholon, tom. iv., p. 195. 3 A decree of the Directory, of the 25th January, 1797, fixed the current value of assignats at twenty sous for a hundred francs.— MoNTOAiLLARD, torn, v., p. 4. * " When Barras went out of the Directory, he had still a the paper money fell to a ruinous discount, till its depression threatenea, jnless remedied, altogether to stop the course of public business.' It perhaps arose from the difficulty of raising supplies, that the Directory assumed towards other countries a greedy, grasping, and rapacious character, which threw disgrace at once upon the individuals who indulged it, and the state whom they represented. They loaded with exactions the trade of the Bata- vian republic, whose freedom they had pretended to recognise, and treated with most haughty supe- riority the ambassadors of independent states. Some of these high officers, and Barras in particu- lar, were supposed accessible to gross con-uption, and believed to hold communication vith those agents and stock-brokers, who raised money by jobbing in the public funds — a more deservedly unpopular accusation than which can hardly be brought against a minister. It was, indeed, a great error in the constitution, that, though one hundred thousand livres were yearly allowed to each direc- tor while in office, yet he had no subsequent pro- vision after he had retired from his fractional share of sovereignty. This penury, on the part of the public, opened a way to temptation, though of a kind to wdiich mean minds only are obnoxious ; and such men as Barras* were tempted to make provision for futm-ity, by availing themselves of present opportunity. Their five majesties (sires) of the Luxembourg, as people called them in ridicule, had also their own individual partialities and favourite objects, which led them in turn to tease the French people with unnecessary legislation. La Reveillere-Lepaux was that inconsistent yet not uncommon character, an intolerant philosopher and an enthusiastic deist. He established a priesthood, and hymns and cere- monies for deism ; and, taking up the hopeful project of substituting a deistical worship for the Christian faith, just where Robespierre had laid it do-v\n, he harassed the nation with laws to oblige them to observe the decades of their new calendar as holidays, and to work at their ordinary trades on the Christian Sabbath.^ At La Reveillere's theory freethinkers laughed, and religious men shuddered ; but all were equally annoyed by the legislative measures adopted on a subject so ridi- culous as this new ritual of heathenism.^ Another cause of vexation was the philosophical arrange- ment of weights and measures upon a new princi- ple, which had, in the meantime, the inconvenience of introducing doubt and xmcertainty into all the arrangements of internal commerce, and deranging entirely such as France continued to hold with countries who were only acquainted with the ordi- nary standard.^ large fortune, and he did not attempt to conceal it. It was not, indeed, large enough to have contributed to the derange- ment of the finances, but the manner in which it had been acquired, by favouring the contractors, imjiaircd the morality of the nation."— Napoleon-, Montholon, tom. iv., p. 135. 5 Montholon, torn. iv.. p. 2(Wi. 6 " La Reveillere-Lepaux wa.s short, and his exterior was as unprepossessing as can well be imagined ; in his person he was a true Esop. He wrote tolerably well, but his intelligence was confined, and he had neither habits of business, nor know- ledge of mankind. The Jardin des Plantcs and the Tlicophi- lanthropy, a new sect of which he had the folly to become the founder, occupied all his time. He was an honest man — ])Oor when he became a member of the Directory, and poor when he left it." — Napolbon, 1ms Casis, tom. ii., p. l.'iC. 7 " The new system of wi ights and measures will be a source of embarrassmiiit and difficulties for several genera- tions ; and it is probable that the first learnetl '■gmmiiaioii 250 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1797. It might have been thought that the distin- guished success of the French arms under tlie auspices of tlie Directory would have dazzled the eyes of the French, attached as they have always been to military glory, and blinded them to other less agreeable measures of their government. But the public were well aware, that the most brilliant share of these laurels had been reaped by Buona- parte on his own account; that he had received but slender reinforcements from France — the mag- nitude of his achievements considered ; and that in regard to the instructions of government, much of his success was owing to his departure from them, and following his own course. It was also whis- pered, that iie was an object of suspicion to the directors, and on his part undervalued their talents, and despised their persons. On the Rhine, again, though nothing could have been more distinguished than the behaviour of the Republican armies, yet their successes had been checkered with many re- verses, and, conti-asted with the Italian campaigns, lost their impression on the imagination. While they were thus becoming unpopular in the public opinion, the Directory had the great mis- fortune to be at enmity among themselves. From the time that Letourneur^ retired from office in terms of the constitution, and Barthelemy was elected in his stead, there was a majority and an opposition in the Directory, the former consisting of Barras, Rewbel,^ and La Reveillere — the latter, of Carnot and Barthelemy. Of the two last, Carnot (who had been, it may be remembered, a member of the Committee of Public Safety under Robes- pierre) was a determined Republican, and Bar- thelemy a Royalist ; — so strangely do revolutionary changes, like the eddies and currents of a swoln river, bring together and sweep down side by side in the same direction, objects the most different and opposed. Bartlielemy of course dissented from the majority of the Directors, because secretly and warmly he desired the restoration of the Bourbons . — an event which must have been fraught with danger to his colleagues, all of whom had voted for the death of Louis XVI. Carnot also differed from the majority, certainly w'itli no such wish or view; but, his temper being as overbearing as his genius was extensive, he was impatient of opposition, especially in such cases where he knew he was acting wisely. He advised strongly, for example, the ratification of the articles of Leoben, instead of placing all which France had acquu-ed, and all ft'hich she might lose, on the last fatal cast with an enemy, strong in his very despair, and who might raise large armies, while that of Buonaparte could neither be reinforced nor supported in case of a reverse. Barras's anger on the occasion was so great, that he told Carnot at the council-board, it was to him they owed that infamous treaty of Leoben. While the Directory were thus disunited among themselves, the nation showed their dissatisfaction employed to verify the measure of the meridian, will find it necessary to make some corrections. Thus are nations tor- mented about trifles!"— Napoleon, Montholun, tom. iv., p. 203. ■ " Lotourneur de la Manche was born in Normandy. It Ig difticult to explain how he came to be appointed to the Directory ; it can only be from one of those unaccountable caprices of which larRC assemblies so often give an example. He was a man of narrow capacity, little learning, and of a weBK mind. He was, however, a man of strict probity, and openly, and particularly in the two bodies of repre- sentatives. The majority indeed of the Council of Elders adhered to the Directory, many of that body belonging to the old republican partisans. But in the more popularly composed Council of Five Hundred, the opposition to the government possessed a great majority, all of whom were decidedly against the Directory, and most of them impressed with the wish of restoring, upon terms previously to be adjusted, the ancient race of legi- timate monarchs. This body of persons so thinking, was much increased by the number of emigrants, who obtained, on various grounds, permission to return to their native country after the fall of Robespierre. The forms of civil life began now to be universally renewed ; and, as had been the case in France at all times, excepting during the bloody Reign of Terror, women of rank, beauty, talent, and accomplishments, began again to resume their places in society, and their saloons or boudoirs were often the scene of deep political discourse, of a sort which in Britain is generally confined to the cabinet, library, or dining-parlour. The wishes of many, or most of these coteries, were in favour of royalty ; the same feelings were entertained by the many thousands who saw no possible chance of settling the nation on any other model ; and there is Uttle doubt, that had France been permitted at that moment an uninfluenced choice, the Bourbon family would have been recalled to the throne by the great majority of the French people. But, for reasons mentioned elsewhere, the mili- tary were the decided opponents of the Bourbons, and the purchasers of national domains, through every successive sale which might have taken place, were deeply interested against their restoration. Numbers might be on the side of the Royalists ; but physical force, and the influence of wealth and of the monied interest, were decidedly against them. Pichegru might now be regarded as chief of the Royal party. He was an able and successful gene- ral, to whom France owed the conquest of Holland. Like La Fayette and Dumouriez, he had been dis- gusted with the conduct of the Revolution ; and like the last of the two generals named, had opened a communication with the Bourbons. He was accused of having suffered his army to be betrayed in a defeat by Clairfait; and the government, in 1796, removed him from the command of th.e army of the Sambre and Mouse, offering him in exchange the situation of ambassador to Sweden. He declined this species of honourable exile, and, retiring to Franche Compte, continued his correspondence with the Imperial generals.^ The Royalists ex- pected much from the countenance of a military man of a name so imposing ; but we have seen more than once in the course of these memoiirs, that a general without an army is like a hilt with- out the blade which it should wield and direct. An opportunity, however, offered Pichegru the left the Directory without any fortune." — Napoleon, Las Cases, tom. ii., p. 142. 2 " Rewbel, born in Alsace, was one of the best lawyers in the town of Colmar. He possessed that kind of intelligence which denotes a man skilled in the practice of the law, — his influence was always felt in deliberations— he was easily in- spired with prejudices, and had little faith in the existence of virtue. It is problematical whether he did or did not amass a fortune, during the time he was in the Directory." — Napo. i,EON, Las Cases, tom. ii., p. 1.38. 3 Montholou, tom. iv., p. 2Mt 1797.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 251 means of serving his party in a civil capacity, and that a most important one. Tlie elections of May, 1797, made to replace that proportion of the coun- cils which retired by rotation, terminated generally in favour of the Royalists, and served plainly to show on which side the balance of popular feeling now leaned. Pichegru, who had been returned as one of tlie deputies, was chosen by acclamation President of the Council of Five Hundred, and Barbe Alarbois, another Royahst, was elected to the same office by the Council of Ancients, while, us we have already said, Barthelemy, likewise friendly to monarchy, was introduced into the Directory. These elections were evil signs for the Directory, who did not fail soon to be attacked on every side, and upbraided with the continuance of the war and the financial distresses. Various jom-nals were at the disposal of the party opposed to the majority of the directors, and hostilities were commenced between the parties, both in the assemblies, where the Royalists had the advantage, and in the public papers, where they were also favourably listened to. The French are of an impatient temper, and could not be long brought to carry on their warfare within the limits assigned by the constitution. Each party, without much regard to the state of the law, looked about for the means of physical force with which they might arm themselves. The Directory, (that is, the majority of that body,) sensible of their unpopularity, and the predominance of the opposite party, which seemed for a time to have succeeded to the boldness and audacity of the revolutionary class, had, in their agony of extremity, recourse to the army, and threw themselves upon the succour of Hoche and of Buonaparte. We have elsewhere said, that Buonaparte at this period was esteemed a steady Republican. Piche- gru believed him to be such when he dissuaded the Royalists from any attempt to gain over the General of Italy ; and as he had known him at school at Brienne, declared him of too stubborn a character to afford the least hope of success. Au- gereau was of the same opinion, and mistook his man so much, that when Madame de Stael asked whether Buonaparte was not inchned to make him- self King of Lombardy, he replied, with great sim- plicity, " that he was a young man of too elevated a character." ^ Perhaps Buonapai'te himself felt the same for a moment, when, in a despatch to the Directory, he requests their leave to withdraw from the active service of the Republic, as one who had acquired more glory than was consistent with hap- piness. " Calumny," he said, " may torment herself in vain with ascribing to me treacherous designs. My civil, like my military career, shall be conform- ing to republican principles."^ The public papers also, those we mean on the side of the Directory, fell into a sort of rapture on the classical republican feelings by which Buona- parte was actuated, which they said rendered the hope of his return a pleasure pure and unmixed, and precluded the possibility of treachery or en- 1 " This singular answer was in exact conformity with the ideas of the moment. Tlie sincere Republicans would have regarded it as a degradation for a man, however distinguished he might be, to wish to turn the revolution to his personal advantage." — Mad. de Stael, torn, ii., p. 175. * Moniteur, No. 224, May 3, 1797.— S. » iM E^dacteur, May 1, 1/97. grossing ideas on his side. " The factious of every class," they said, " cannot have an enemy more steady, or the government a friend more faithful, than he who, invested with the military power of which he has made so glorious a use, sighs only to resign a situation so brilliant, prefers happiness to glory, and now that the Republic is graced ^\ith triumph and peace, desires for himself only a simple and retired life." ^ But though such were the ideas then entertained of Buonaparte's truly republican character, framed, doubtless, on the model of Cincinnatus in his clas- sical simplicity, we may be permitted to look a little closer into the ultimate views of him, who was admitted by his enemies and friends, avouched by himself, and sanctioned by the journals, as a pure and disinterested republican : and we thhik the following changes may be traced. Whetiier Buonaparte was ever at heart a real Jacobin even for the moment, may be greatly doubted, whatever ma.sk his situation obliged hira to wear. He himself always repelled the charge as an aspersion. His engagement in the affair of the Sections probably determined his opinions as Re- publican, or rather Thermidorien, at the time, as became him by whom the Republican army had been led and commanded on that day. Besides, at the head of an army zealously republican, even his power over their minds required to be strengthened, for some time at least, by an apparent correspond- ence in political sentiments betwixt the troops and the general. But in the practical doctrines of government which he recommended to the Italian Republics, his ideas were studiously moderate, and he expressed the strongest fear of, and aversion to, revolutionary doctrines. He recommended the grantmg equal rights and equal privileges to the nobles, as Avell as to the indignant vassals and ple- beians who had risen against them. In a word, he advocated a free set of institutions, without the intermediate purgatory of a revolution. He was, therefore, at this period, far from being a Jacobin. But though Buonaparte's wishes were thus wisely moderated by practical views, he was not the less likely to be sensible that he was the object of fear, of hatred, and of covirse of satire and misrepresen- tation, to that side of the opposed parties in France which favoured royalty. Unhappily for himself, he was peculiarly accessible to every wound of this nature, and, anxiously jealous of his fame, suffered as much under the puny attacks of the jom-nalists,* as a noble steer or a gallant horse does amid his rich pasture, under the persecutions of insects, which, in comparison to himself, are not only impo- tent, but nearly invisible. In several letters to the Directory, he exhibits feelings of this nature which would have been more gracefully concealed, and evinces an irritability against the opposition prints, which we think likely to have increased the zeal with which he came forward on the RepubUcan side at this important crisis.* Another circumstance, which, without determin- ing Buonaparte's conduct, may have operated in ■* " All the journalu were full of harangues against the General of the Army of Italy : They depreciated his successes, vilified his character, calurtiniated his administration, threw out suspicions respecting his fidelity to the Republic, and ac- cused him of ambitious designs."— Napoleo.v, Moutlwlon, torn, iv., p. 212. s See especially his Letter to the Directory, I'th July.-* Correspondence InMUe, torn, iv., p. 14. 252 SCOTT'S mSCELLANEOUS PROSE WOSKS. [1797. increasing his good-%vill to the cause which he em- braced, was his having obtained the clew of Piche- gru's coiTCspondence with tlie lioiise of Bourbon.' To have concealed this, would have been but a se- cond rate merit with the exiled family, whose first thanks must have been due to the partisan whom he protected. This was no part for Buonaparte to play ; not that we have a right to say he would have accepted the chief character had it been offered to him, but his ambition could never have stooped to any inferior place in the drama. In all probability, his ideas fluctuated betwixt the ex- ample of Cromwell and of Washington — to be the actual liberator, or the absolute governor of his country. His particular information respecting Pichegru's negotiations, was derived from an incident at the capture of Venice. When the degenerate Venetians, more under the impulse of vague terror than from any distinct plan, adopted in haste and tumult the measure of totally surrendering their constitution and rights, to be new modelled by the French general after his pleasure, they were guilty of a gross and aggravated breach of hospitality, in seizing the person and pa- pers of the Comte d'Entraigues,^ agent or envoy of the exiled Boui'bons, who was then residing under their protection. The envoy himself, as Buonaparte alleges, was not peculiarly faithful to his trust ; but, besides his information, his portfolio contained many proofs of Pichegru's correspondence with the allied generals, and with the Bourbons, which placed his secret absolutely in the power of the General of Italy, and might help to confirm the line of conduct which he had ah-eady meditated to adopt. Possessed of these documents, and sure that, in addressing a French army of the day, he would swim with the tide if he espoused the side of Re- publicanism, Buonaparte harangued his troops on the anniversary of the taking the Bastile, in a manner calculated to awake their ancient demo- cratic enthusiasm: — ^"Soldiers, this is the 14th July ! You see before you the names of our com- panions in arms, dead in the field of honour for the liberty of their country. They have set you an example ; you owe your lives to thirty millions of Frenchmen, and to the national name, which has received new splendour from your victories. Soldiers ! I am aware you are deeply affected by the dangers which threaten the country. But she can be subjected to none which are real. The same men who made France triumph over united Europe, still live. — Mountains separate us from France, but you would ti'averse them with the speed of eagles, were it necessary to maintain the constitution, defend liberty, protect the Government and the Republicans. Soldiers, the Government watches over the laws as a sacred deposit committed to them. The Royalists shall only show themselves to perish. Dismiss all inquietude, and let us swear by the manes of those heroes who have died by our sides for liberty — let us swear, too, on our standards — War to the enemies of the Republic, and of the Constitution of the year Three !"^ It is needless to remark, that, under the British constitution, or any other existing on fixed prin- ciples, the haranguing an armed body of soldiers, with the purpose of inducing them to interfere by force in any constitutional question, would be in one point of view mutiny, in another high treason. The hint so distinctly given by the general, was immediately adopted by the troops. Deep called to deep, and each division of the army, whatever its denomination, poured forth its menaces of mili- tary force and compulsion against the opposition party in the councils, who held opinions different from those of their military chief, but which they had, at least hitherto, only expressed and supported by those means of resistance which the constitution placed in their power. In other words, the sol- diers' idea of a republic was, that the sword was to decide the constitutional debates, which give so much trouble to ministers in a mixed or settled government. The Pretorian bands, the Strelitzes, the Janissaries, have all in their turn entertained this primitive and simple idea of reforming abuses in a state, and changing, by the application of mili- tary force, an unpopular dynasty, or an obnoxious ministry. It was not by distant menaces alone that Buona- parte served the Directory at this important crisis. He despatched Augereau to Paris, ostensibly for the purpose of presenting the standards taken at Mantua, but in reality to command the armed force which the majority of the Directoi'y had deter- mined to employ against their dissentient colleagues, and the opponents of their measures in the national councils. Augereau was a blunt, bold, stupid sol- dier, a devoted Jacobin, whose principles were suf- ficiently well known to warrant his standing upon no constitutional delicacies.* But in case the Di rectory failed, Buonaparte kept himself in readiness to march instantly to Lyons at the head of fifteen thousand men. There rallying the Republicans, and all who were attached to the Revolution, he would, according to his own well-chosen expression, like Cajsar, have crossed the Rubicon at the head of the popular party — and ended, doubtless, like Csesar, by himself usurping the supreme command, which he pretended to assert in behalf of the people.* But Buonaparte's presence was not so essentially necessary to the support of the Directory as he might have expected, or as he perhaps hoped. They had military aid nearer at hand. Disregard- ing a fundamental law of the Constitution, winch declared that armed troops should not be brought within a certain distance of the Legislative Bodies, they moved towards Paris a part of General Heche's army. The majority of the Councils becoming alarmed, prepared means of defence by summoning ' Montholon, torn, iv., pp. 1J8, 211. - This gentleman was one of the second emigration, who left France during Robespierre's ascendency. He was cm- plovL'd as a political agent by the Court of Russia, after the aflair of Venice, which proves that he was not at least con- Ticted of treachery to the Bourbon princes. In July, 1812, he was assassinated at his villa at Hacknev. near London, by an Italian domestic, who, having murdered both the Count and Countess, shot himself through the head, leaving no clew to dincover the motive of his villany. It was remarked that the tillain used Count d'Entraigues own pistols and dagger, which, apjirehensive of danger as a political intriguer, he had always ready prepared in his apartment. — S. 3 Moniteur, No. 305, Julv 2.3. ■* " The Directory requested General Buonaparte to send one of his generals of brigade to Paris, to await their ordejs. He chose General Augereau, a man very decided in action, and not very capable of reasoning — two qualities which ren- dered him an excellent instrument of despotism, provided the despotism assumed the name of revolution." — Mad. db Stakl, torn, ii., p. 18li. 6 Montholon, torn, iv., p. 213. 1797.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 253 the national guards to arms. But Augereau allowed them no time. He marched to their place ^ ■ ■ of meeting, at the head of a considerable armed force. > The guards stationed for their pro- tection, surprised or faithless, offered no resist- ance ; and, proceeding as men possessed of the superior strength, the Directory treated their poli- tical opponents as state prisoners, arrested Bar- tholemy — Caruot having fled to Geneva — and made prisoners, in the hall of the Assembly and else- where, Willot, President of the Council of Ancients, Pichegru, President of that of the Five Hundred,'^ and above one hundred and fifty deputies, jour- nalists, and other public characters. As an excuse for these arbitrary and illegal proceedings, the Directory made public the intercepted correspond- ence of Pichegru ; although few of the others in- volved in the same accusation were in the secret of the Royalist conspiracy. Indeed, though all who desired an absolute repose from the revolu- tionary altercations which tore the country to pieces, began to look that way, he must have been a vio- lent partisan of royalty indeed, that could have approved of the conduct of a general, who, like Pichegru, -commanding an army, had made it his business to sacrifice his troops to the sword of the enemy, by disappointing and deranging those plans which it was his duty to have carried into effect. Few would at first believe Pichegru's breach of faitli ; but it was suddenly confirmed by a pro- clamation of Moreau, who, in the course of the war, had intercepted a baggage waggon belonging to the Austrian general Klinglin, and became pos- sessed of the whole secret correspondence, which, nevertheless, he had never mentioned, until it came out by the seizure of the Comte d'Entraigues' portfolio. Then, indeed, fearing perhaps the con- sequences of having been so long silent, Moi'eau published what he knew. Regnier had observed the same suspicious silence ; which seems to infer, that if these generals did not precisely favour the royal cause, they were not disposed to be active in detecting the conspiracies formed in its behalf. The Directory made a tyrannical use of the power which they obtained by their victory of the 18th Fi-uctidor, as this epoch was called. They spilt, indeed, no blood, but otherwise their measures against the defeated party were of the most illegal and oppressive character. A law, passed in the heat of animosity, condemned two directors, fifty deputies, and a hundred and forty-eight individuals ■%{ different classes (most of whom were persons of some character and influence,) to be transported to the scorching and unhealthy deserts of Guiana, which, to many, was a sentence of lingering but certain death. They were barbarously treated, both on the passage to that dreadful place, and after 1 " I spent the night of the 17th in beholdin? the prepara- tions for the awful 5.cene which was to tal7-— S. ■1 Las C'uscs, tom. ii., p. 155. 254 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1797. likely to be made on any capital, but especially on that of Paris, by the appearance there of one who seemed to be the chosen favourite of Fortune, and to deserve her favours by the use which he made of them. The mediocrity of such men as Barras never gives them so much embarrassment, as when, being raised to an elevation above their desert, they find themselves placed in comparison with one to whom nature has given the talents which their situation requires in themselves. The higher their condition, their demeanour is the more awkward ; for the factious advantages which they possess cannot raise them to the natural dignity of charac- ter, unless in the sense in which a dwarf, by the assistance of crutches, may be said to be as tall as a giant. The Directory had already found Buona- parte, on several occasions, a spirit of the sort which would not be commanded. Undoubtedly they would have been well pleased had it been possible to have foimd him emplojTnent at a dis- tance ; but as that seemed difficult, they were obliged to look round for the means of employing him at home, or abide the tremendous risk of his finding occupation for himself. It is surprising that it did not occur to the Di- rectory to make at least the attempt of conciliating Buonaparte, by providing for his future fortune largely and liberally, at the expense of the public. He deserved that attention to his private affairs, for he had himself entirely neglected them. While he drew from the dominions which he conquered or overawed in Italy, immense sums in behalf of the French nation, which he applied in part to the support of the army, and in part remitted to the Directory, he kept no accounts, nor were any de- manded of him ; but according to his own account, he transmitted sixty millions of francs to Paris, and had not remaining of his own funds, when he returned from Italy, more than three hundred thousand.' It is no doubt true, that, to raise these sums, Buonaparte had pillaged the old states, thus selling to the newly-formed commonwealths their liberty and equality at a very handsome rate, and probably leaving them in very little danger of conniption from that wealth which is said to be the bane of republican virtue. But on the other hand, it must be acknowledged, that if the French general plun- dered the Italians as Cortez did the Mexicans, he did not reserve any considerable share of the spoil for his own use, though the opportunity was often in his power. The commissary Salicetti, his countrj'man, re- commended a less scrupulous line of conduct. Soon after the first successes in Italy, he acquainted Napoleon that the Chevalier d'Este, the Duke of Modeua's brother and envoy, had four millions of francs, in gold, contained in four chests, prepared for his acceptance. " The Directory and the Legis- lative Bodies will never," he said, " acknowledge your services — your circumstances require the money, and the duke will gain a pi'otector." " I thank you," said Buonaparte ; " but I will not for four millions place myself in the power of tjie Duke of Modena." 1 Montlinlon, torn, iv., p. 267. , Alontholon. torn, iv., p. 1('3. ° Monitcur, Nov. 8; Thibaudeau, torn, iii., p. 453. Un grenadier Fraii9ais avail fait nne action tr^s bril- «nte; son general lui offre trois louis. Plus noble, plus The Venetians, in the last agony of their terrors, offered the French general a present of seven mil- lions, which was refused in the same manner. Austria also had made her proffers ; and they were nothing less than a principality in the empire, to be established in Napoleon's favour, consisting of two hundred and fifty thousand inhabitants at least, a pro'S'ision which would have put him out of danger of suffering by the proverbial ingratitude of a republic. The general transmitted his thanks to the Emperor for this proof of the interest which he took in his fortune, but added, he could accept of no wealth or preferment which did not proceed from the French people, and that he should be always satisfied with the amount of revenue which they might be disposed to afford him.^ But however free from the wish to obtain wealth by any indirect means. Napoleon appears to have expected, tliat in return for public services of such an unusual magnitude, some provision ought to have been made for him. An attempt was made to procure a public gi*ant of the domain of Chambord, and a large hotel in Paris, as an acknowledgment of the national gratitude for his brilliant successes ; but the Directory thwarted the proposal. The proposition respecting Chambord was not the only one of the kind. Malibran, a member of the Council of Five Hundi-ed, made a motion that Buonapai-te should be endowed with a re- venue at the public charge, of fifty thou- sand livres annually, with a reversion to his wife of one half of that sum.^ It may be supposed that this motion had not been sufhciently considered and preconcerted, since it was very indifferently received, and was evaded by the swaggering decla- ration of a member,'* that such glorious deeds could not be rewarded by gold. So that the Assembly adopted the reasonable principle, that because the debt of gratitude was too great to be paid in money, therefore he to whom it was due was to be suffered to remain in comparative indigence- — an economi- cal mode of calculation, and not unlike that high- sounding doctrine of the civil law, which states, that a free man being seized on, and forcibly sold for a slave, shall obtain no damages on that ac- count, because the liberty of a citizen is too tran- scendently valuable to be put to estimation. Whatever might be the motives of the Directory; whether they hoped that poverty might depress Buonaparte's ambition, render him more dependent on the government, and oblige him to remain in a private condition for want of means to put himself at the head of a party ; or whether they acted with the indistinct and confused motives of little minds, who wish to injure those whom they fear, their conduct was alike ungracious and impolitic. They ought to have calculated, that a generous mind would have been attached by benefits, and that a selfish one might have been deterred from more doubtful and ambitious projects, by a prospect of sure and direct advantage ; but that marked ill- will and distrust must in every case render him dangerous, who has the power to be so. Their plan, instead of resting on an attempt to conciliate the ambitious conqueror, and soothe him e^n^reux, !c grenadier refuse, et lui dit : ' .Von general, on ne /nit pas res choses-ld pour de I'argent.' Iroz-vous oflFrir de Tor a un homme courbe sous le poids des lauriers? Non nou. Tame de Buonaparte est trop grande," &c. — Thibaudeau, torn, iii., p. 423. LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 1797.] to the repose of a tranquil indulgence of inclepend- ence and ease, seems to have been that of devising for him new labours, like the wife of Eurystheus for the juvenile Hercules. If he succeeded, they may have privately counted upon securing the advantages for themselves ; if he failed, they were rid of a troublesome rival in the race of power and popularity. It was with these views that they proposed to Napoleon to crown his military glories, by assuming the command of the preparations made for the conquest of England. 255 CHAPTER XII. Victc of the respectire Situations of Great Britain and France, at the Period of Napoleon's return from Italy — Negotiations at Lish — Broken off- — Army of Enfland decreed, and Buonaparte named to the Command — Ha takes %(p his Besi- dence in Paris — Public Honours — The real Vieics of the Directory discovered to be the Expe- dition to Egypt — Armies of Italy and the Bkine, compared and contrasted — Napoleon's Objects and Motires in heading the Egyptian Expedition — those of the Directory regarding it — Its actual Impiolicy — Curious Statement by Miot — The Ar- mament sails from Toidon, on 19?A IMay 1798 — Napoleon arrives before Malta on l<)th June — Proceeds on his course, and, esc Tliibaudcau, torn, iii., p. 413; Montholon, torn, iv., p. 266. » Mad. . 8 " The leaders of all parties called upon him ; kut he re^ fused to listen to them. The streets and squares through If APOL eon's _^^::^^i'i&^'%^ QTTAI CONTI 1797-98.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 257 the Directory found themselves oblifjed to i^endcr to him that semblance of homage which could not have been withheld without giving much oftence to general opinion, and injiu'ing those who omitted to pay it, much more than him who was entitled by the unanimous voice to receive it. On the 1 0th of December, the Directory received Buonaparte in public, with honours which the Republican go- vernment had not yet conferred on any subject, and which must have seemed incongruous to those who had any recollection of the liberty and equality, once so emphatically pronounced to be the talisman of French prosperity. The ceremony took place in the great court of the Luxembourg palace, where the Director^-, surrounded by all that was officially important or distinguished by talent, received from Buonaparte's hand the confirmed treaty of Campo Formio.' The delivery of this document was ac- companied by a speech from Buonaparte, in which he told the Directory, that, in order to establish a constitution founded on reason, it was necessary that eighteen centuries of prejudices should be conquered — " The constitution of the year three, and you, have triumphed over all these obstacles."'-^ Tlie triumph lasted exactly until the year eight, when the orator himself overthrew the constitution, destroyed the power of the rulers wlio had over- come the prejudices of eighteen centuries, and reigned in their stead. The French, who had banished religion from their thoughts, and from their system of domestic policy, yet usually preserved some perverted cere- mony connected with it, on public solemnities. They had disused the exercises of devotion, and expressly disowned the existence of an object of worship ; yet they could not do without altars, and hymns, and rites, upon such occasions as the present. The general, conducted by Barras, the president of the Directory, appi'oached an erection, termed the Altar of the Country, where they went through various appropriate ceremonies, and at length dismissed a numerous assembly, much edi- fied with what they had seen. The two Councils, or Representative Bodies, also gave a splendid ban- quet in honour of Buonaparte. And what he ap- peared to receive with more particular satisfaction than these marks of distinction, the Insti- tute admitted him a member of its body ^ in the room of his friend Carnot, (who was actually a fugitive, and believed at the time to be dead,) while the poet Chenier promulgated his praises, and foretold his future triumphs, and his approach- ing conquest of England.* ■which he was exijected to pass were constantly crowded, but Napoleon never showed himself. He had no habitual visiters, except a few men of science, such as Monge, Berthollet, Borda, Laplace, Prony, and Lagranije ; several generals, as Berthier, Desaix, Lefevbre, Caffareili, and Kleber ; and a very few dejiuties." — Montholon, torn, iv., p. 26S». 1 " Buona])arte arrived, dressed very simply, followed by his aides-de-camp, all taller than himself, but nearly bent by the respect which they displayed to him. M. de Talleyrand, in i)resenting Buonaparte to the Directory, called him ' the Liberator of Italy, and the Pacificator of the Continent.' He assured them, tliat ' General Buonaparte detested luxury and tplendour, the miserable ambition of vulgar soul.s, and that he loved the poems of Ossian particularly because they detach us from the earth.'" — Mad. de Stael, torn, ii., p. 203; MON-.TrAlLLARD, tum. V., p. 8.1. 2 Thibaudeau, torn, iii., p. 41(5. 3 For the class of arts and sciences. X'pon the occasion, fiuonaparto addressed this note to Camus, the president of the class. " The suffrage of the distinguished men who com- pose the Institute honours me. I feel sensibly, that before I can become their cnual, I must long be their pupil. If there VOL. 11. There Is nothing less philosophical than to attach ridicule to the customs of other nations, merely becau.se they difler from those of cur own ; yet it marks the difference between England and her continental neighbour, that the two Houses of Parliament never thought of giving a dinner to Marlborough, nor did the Royal Society choose his successor in the path of victory a member by accla- mation ; although the British nation in eitlier case acquitted themselves of the debt of gratitude which they owed their illustrious generals, in the humbler and more vulgar mode of conferring on both large and princely domains. Meantime, the threat of invasion was maintained with unabated earnestness. But it made no im- pression on the British, or rather it stimulated men of all ranks to bury temporary and party dissen- sions about politics, and bend themselves, with the whole energy of their national character, to confront and resist the preparations made against them. Their determination was animated by recollections of their own traditional gallantly, which had so often inflicted the deepest wounds upon France, and was not now likely to give up to any thing short of the most dire necessity. The benefits w-ere then seen of a free constitution, which per- mits the venom of party spirit to evaporate in open debate. Those who hacl differed on the question of peace or war, were unanimous in that of national defence, and resistance to the common enemy ; and those who appeared in the vulgar eye engaged in unappeasable contention, were the most eager to unite themselves together for these purposes, as men employed in fencing would throw down the foils and draw their united swords, if disturbed by the approach of robbers. Buonaparte in the meanwhile made a complete survey of the coast of the British channel, pausing at each remarkable point, and making those remarks and calculations which induced him to adopt, at an after period, the renewal of the project for a descent upon England.^ The result of his observations decided his opinion, that in the present case the undertaking ought to be abandoned. The immense preparations and violent threats of invasion were carried into no more serious effect than the landing of about twelve or fourteen hundred Frenchmen, under a General Tate, at Fishguard, in South Wales. They were without artillery, and behaved rather like men whom a shipwreck had cast on a hostile shore, than like an invading enemy, as they gave themselves up as prisoners without even a show of defence to Lord Cawdor, who had marched were a manner more expressive of conveying to them my sen- timents of respect, that 1 would employ. The only true con- quests, those which awaken no regret, are those we obtain over ignorance. The most honourable, as the most useful pursuit of nations, is that which contributes to the extension of liuman intellect. Tlie real greatness of the French republic ought henceforth to consist in not permitting the existence of one new idea which has not been added to the national stock." * Thibaudeau, tom. iii., p. 43-2; Mad. de Stael, toni. ii., p. 204; Montgaillard, torn, v., p. H2. 5 Buonaparte left Paris on the 8th of February, and re- turned thither on the 22d. He Y,as accompanied by General Lannes, his aide de-camp Salkowski, and Bourricnne, his private secretary. " He visited," savs the latter, " Etaplcs, Ambleteuse, Boulogne, Calais, Dunliirk, I'urnes, Newport, Ostend, and Walchcren ; making at these diB'erent ports the necessary surveys, with thai patience, presence of mind, knowledge, cxperlness, and perspicuity, which he possessed in so eminent a degree. Ho examined till midnight, sailors, pilots, smugglers, iishermen,— making jbjeetions, and listen- ing with attention lo their replies." 3 SCOTT'S mSCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. 258 against them at the head i)f a "body of the Welsh militia, hastily drawn togethei- on the alarm. The measure was probably only to be considered as ex- perimental, and as such must have been regarded as an entire failure.' The demonstrations of invasion, however, were ostensibly continued, and every thing seemed ar- ranged on either side for a desperate collision betwixt the two most powerful nations in Europe. But the proceedings of politicians resemble those of the Indian traders called Banians, who seem engaged in talking about ordinary and trifling affairs, while, with their hands concealed beneath a shawl that is spread between them, they are secretly debating and adjusting, by signs, bargains of the utmost importance. While all France and England had their eyes fixed on the fleets and armies destined against the latter country, the Directory and their general had no intention of using these preparations, except as a blind to cover their real object, which was the celebrated expe- dition to Egypt. While yet in Italy, Buonaparte had suggested to the Directory (IS'th September, 1797,) the ad- vantage which might be derived from seizing upon Malta, which he represented as an easy prize. The knights, he said, were odious to the Maltese inhabitants, and were almost starving; to augment which state of distress, and increase that incapacity of defence, he had already confiscated their Italian property. He then proceeded to intimate, that being possessed of Corfu and Malta, it was natural to take possession of Egypt. Twenty-five thousand men, with eight or ten ships of the line, would be sufficient for the expedition, which he suggested might depart from the coasts of Italy .^ Talleyrand, then minister for foreign affairs, (in his answer of 23d September,) saw the utmost ad- vantage in the design upon Egypt, which, as a colony, would attract the commerce of India to Europe, in preference to the circuitous route by the Cape of Good Hope. This correspondence proves, that even before Buonaparte left Italy he had conceived the idea of the Egyptian expedition, though probably only as one of the vast and vague schemes of ambition which success in so many pe- rilous enterprises had tended to foster. There was something of wild grandeur in the idea, calculated to please an ambitious imagination. He was to be placed far beyond the reach of any command supe- rior to his own, and left at his own discretion to the extending conquests, and perhaps founding an empire, in a country long considered as the cradle of knowledge, and celebrated in sacred and profane history, as having been the scene of ancient events and distant revolutions, which, through the re- moteness of ages, possess a gloomy and mysterious influence upon the fancy. The first specimens of early art also were to be found among the gigantic rains of Egypt, and its time-defying monuments of antiquity. This had its effect upon Buonaparte, who affected so particularly the species of fame which attaches to the protector and extender of science, philosophy, and the fine arts. On this sub- ject he had a ready and willing counsellor at hand. [1798. ' For some curious p.irticulara respecting the Descent of the French in South Wales, see Appendix, No. V. 2 Correspondence In(5dite, torn, iv., p. 176. So early as the lOtli of AuHust, Buonaparte had written to the Directory, — '■ Les te-nps ne sont pas liloignes oil uous sciitirons que, pour Monge, the artist and virtuoso, was Buonaparte's confidant on this occasion, and, there is no doubt, encouraged him to an undertaking which promised a rich harvest to the antiquarian, among the ruins of temples and palaces, hitherto imperfectly exa- mined. But, although the subject was mentioned betwixt the Directory and their ministers and Buonaparte, yet, before adopting the course which the project opened, the general was probably determined to see the issue of the revolution of the 18th Fructidor; doubting, not unreasonably, whether the conquerors in that struggle could so far avail themselves of the victory which they had obtained over the majority of the national representatives, as to consolidate and establish on a firm foundation their own au- thority. He knew the Directory themselves were popular with none. The numerous party who were now inclined to a monarchical government, regarded them with horror. The army, though supporting them, rather than coalesce with the Royalists, despised and disliked them ; the violent Republicans remembered their active share in Roiaespierre's downfall, and the condemnations which followed the detected conspiracy of Baboeuf, and were in no respect better disposed to their domination. Thus, despised by the army, dreaded by the Royalists, and detested by the Republicans, the Directorial government appeared to remain standing, only because the factions to whom it was unacceptable were afraid of each other's attaining a superiority in the struggle, which must attend its downfall.^ This crisis of public affairs Avas a tempting oppor- timity for such a character as Buonaparte ; whose almost incredible successes, unvaried by a single reverse which deserved that name, naturally fixed the eyes of the multitude, and indeed of the nation at large, upon him, as upon one who seemed des- tined to play the most distinguished part in any ol those new changes, which the mutable state of the French Government seemed rapidly preparing. The people, naturally partial to a victor, followed him every where with acclamations, and his sol- diers, in their camp-songs, spoke of pulling the attorneys out of the seat of government, and install- ing their victorious general. Even already, for tha first time since the commencement of the Revolu- tion, the French, losing their recent habits of think- ing and speaking of the nation as a body, began to interest themselves in Napoleon as an individual ; and that exclusive esteem of his person had already taken root in the public mind, which afterwards formed the foundation of his throne. Yet, in spite of these promising appearances. Napoleon, cautious as well as enterprising, saw that the time was not arrived when he could, without great risk, attempt to possess himself of the su- preme government in France. The soldiers of Italy were indeed at his devotion, but there was another great and rival army belonging to the Republic, that of the Rhine, which had never been under his command, never had partaken his triumphs, and which naturally looked rather to Moreau than to Buonaparte as their general and hero. d^truire v^ritahlement Angleterre, il faut nous cmparc? de I'EKypte."— Ibid., torn, iv., p. 77.— See also Jomini, torn. X., p. 512. 3 Montholon, torn, iv., p. 281. 1798.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPAETE. 259 Madame de Stael describes the soldiers from these two armies, as resembling each other in no- thing, save the valour which was common to both.' The troops of the Rhine, returning from hard- fought fields, which if followed by victory, had afforded but little plunder, exhibited still the severe simplicity which had been affected under the re- publican model ; whereas the a>'my of Italy had reaped richer spoils than barren laurels alone, and made a display of wealth and enjoyment which showed they had not neglected their own interest while advancing the banners of France. It was not likely, while such an army as that of the Rhine existed, opposed by rivalry and the jea- lousy of fame to the troops of Buonaparte, that the latter should have succeeded in placing himself at the head of affairs. Besides, the forces on which he could depend were distant. Fortune had not afforded him the necessary pretext for crossing, as he termed it, the Rubicon, and bringing twenty thousand men to Lyons. Moreau, Joiu-dan, Kleber, had all high reputations, scarce inferior to his own ; and the troops who had served under them were disposed to elevate them, even to an equality with the Conqueror of Italy. Buonaparte also knew that his popularity, though gi'eat, was not universal. He was disliked by the middle classes, from recollection of his commanding during the affair of the Sections of Paris ; and many of the Republicans exclaimed against him, for his surrendering Venice to the Austrians. In a word, he was too much elbowed and incommoded by others to permit his taking with full vigour the perilous spring necessary to place him in the seat of supreme authority, though there were not wanting those who would fain have persuaded him to venture on a course so daring.^ To such counsellors he answ-ered, that " the pear was not ripe," — a hint which implied that appetite was not wanting, though prudence forbade the banquet. Laying aside, therefore, the character of General of the Army of England, and adjourning to a future day the conquest of that hostile island ; silencing at the same time the internal wishes and the exterior temptations which urged him to seize the supreme power, which seemed escaping from those who held it. Napoleon turned his eyes and thoughts eastward, and meditated in the distant countries of the rising sun, a scene worthy his talents, his military skill, and his ambition.^ The Directory, on the other hand, eager to rid themselves of his perilous vicinity, hastened to accomplish the means of his expedition to Egypt, upon a scale far more formidable than any which had yet sailed from modern Europe, for the in- vasion and subjection of distant and peaceful realms. ' Considerations sur la Rev. Frany., torn, ii., p. 173. * Montholon, torn, iv., p. 284. 3 " Napoleon did not think himself popular enough to qo alone: he had ideas on the art of poveriiing ditl'erciit-lrom those of the men of the Revolution. He therefore determined to sail for Egypt, resolved, nevertheless, to ajipear again as soon as circumstances should render his presence necessary, as he already saw they -would do. To render him master of France, it was necessary that tlie Directory should experience disasters in his absence, and tliat his return should recall vic- tory to the colours of the nation." — Napoleon Sloiitltolon, torn, iv., p. 2J(4. * For a " List of the one hundred and two memhcrs of the Commission of the Arts and Sciences attached to the army of the East," see Thibaudtau, topi- iv., p. 41:4. It was soon whispered abroad, that the invasion of England was to be postponed, until the Conqueror of Italy, having attained a great and national ob- ject, by the success of a secret expedition fitted out on a scale of stupendous magnitude, should be at leisure to resume the conquest of Britain. But Buonaparte did not limit his views to those of armed conquest : he meant that these should bo softened, by mingling with them schemes of a lite- rary and scientific character, as if he had desired, as some one said, that Minerva should march at the head of his expedition, holding in one hand her dreadful lance, and with the other introducing the sciences and the muses. The various treasures of art which had been transferred to the capital by the influence of his arms, gave the general of the Ita- lian army a right to such distinctions as the French men of literature could confer ; and he was himself possessed of deep scientific knowledge as a mathe- matician. He became apparently much attached to learned pursuits, and wore the uniform of the Institute on all occasions, when he was out of mili- tary costume. This affectation of uniting the en- couragement of letters and science with his military tactics, led to a new and peculiar brauch of the intended expedition. The public observed with astonishment a de- tachment of no less than one hundred men,'' who had cultivated the arts and sciences, or, to use the French phrase, Savans, selected for the purpose of joining this mysterious expedition, of which the object still remained a secret ; while all classes of people asked each other what new quarter of th« world France had determined to colonize, since she seemed preparing at once to subdue it by her arms, and to enrich it with the treasures of her science and literature. This singular department of the expedition, the first of the kind which ever accom- panied an invading army, was liberally supplied with books, philosophical instruments, and all means of prosecuting the several departments of know- ledge.* Buonaparte did not, however, trust to the supe- riority of science to ensure the conquest of Egypt. He was fully provided with more effectual means. The land forces belonging to the expedition were of the most formidable description. Twenty-five thousand men, chiefly veterans selected from hig own Italian army, had in their list of generals subordinate to Buonaparte the names of Kleber,® Desaix,^ Berthier, Regnier, Murat, Lannes, An- dre'ossi, Menou,* Belliard, and others well known in the revolutionary wars. Four hundred trans- ports w^ere assembled for the conveyance of the troops. Thu-teen ships of the line, and four frigates, commanded by Admiral Brueyes, an experienofid and gallant officer, formed the escort of the expedi* 5 " The following list of books, for a camp library, I cop from a paper in his own hand. The volumes were in 18mo, and will show what he preferred in science and literature."— Bourhiknne, torn, ii., p. 4U. See the List in Appendix, No. VI. " " Napoleon offered to leave Dcsaix aud Kleber, whose talents might, he thought, prove serviceable to ^'rance. The Directory knew not their value, and refused them. ' The Republic," said they, 'is not reduced to these two generals.'" — Mo.VTHOLON, tom. iv., p. 2t)2. 7 " I have beheld, with deep interest, the fleet at Corfu. It ever it sails upon those great enterprises of which you have spokei), in pity do not forget me '"— De.saix to Bi'onapabte. 8 Menou, anxious to justify his. conduct at Paris on the 13th V'endemiairc, entreated to be allowed to join the army ot the East."— TiiiBAUDEAO, tom. iv., p. 42. 260 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1708 tion ; a finer and more formidable one tlian which never sailed on so bold an adventure. We have already touched upon the secret objects of this armament. The Directory were desirous to be rid of Buonaparte, who might become a dan- gerous competitor in the present unsettled state of the French Government. Buonaparte, on his side, accepted the command, because it opened a scene of conquest worthy of his ambition. A separate and uncontrolled command over so gallant an army seeraed to promise him the conquest and the sove- reignty, not of Egypt only, but of Syria, Turkey, perhaps Constantinople, the Queen of the East; and he himself afterwards more than hinted, that but for controlling circumstances, he would have bent his whole mind to the establishment of an Oriental dynasty, and left France to her own des- tinies. When a subaltern officer of artillery, he had nourished the hope of being King of Jerusalem. ' In his present situation of dignity and strength, the sovereignty of an Emperor of the universal East, or of a Caliph of Egypt at the least, was a more commensurate object of ambition. The private motives of the government and of the general are therefore easily estimated. But it is not so easy to justify the Egyptian expedition upon any views of sound national policy. On the contrary, the object to be gained by so much risk, and at the same time by an act of aggression upon the Ottoman Porte, the ancient ally of France, to whom Egypt belonged, was of very doubtful utility. The immense fertility of the alluvial provinces irrigated by the Nile, no doubt renders their so- vereignty a matter of great consequence to the Turkish empire, which, fi-om the oppressed state of their agriculture every where, and from the rocky and barren character of their Grecian provinces, are not in a condition to supply the capital with grain, did they not draw it from that never-failing land. But France herself, fully supplied from her own resources, liad no occasion to send her best general, and hazard her veteran army, for the pur- pose of seizing a distant province, merely to facili- tate her means of feeding her population. To erect that large country into a French colony, would have required a drain of population, of expense, and of supplies of all sorts, which France, just recovering from the convulsion of her Revolution, was by no means fit to encounter. The climate, too, is insalu- brious to strangers, and must I:iave been a constant cause of loss, until, in process of time, the colonists had become habituated to its peculiarities. It is farther to be considered, that the most perfect and absolute success in the undertaking must have ended, not in giving a province to the French Re- public, but a separate and independent kingdom to her victorious and ambitious general. Buonaparte had paid but slight attention to the commands of the Dii-ectory when in Italy. Had he realized his proposed conquests in the East, they would have been sent over the Mediterranean altogether in vain. Lastly, the state of war with England subjected this attempt to add Egypt to the French dominions, to the risk of defeat, either by the naval strength 1 Las Cases, torn. i. * Las Cases, torn, v., p. 58. 3 •' All that Sir Walter Scott says about the expedition to Jndia is not only exaggerated, but wide of the truth. It is not b«r the mere march of an army across Egypt and Arabia that British India is likely to be concjuered, but by establishing of Britain interposing between France and her new possessions, or by lier land forces from India and Europe, making a combined attack upon the French army which occupied Egypt ; both which events actually came to pass. It is true, that, so far from dreading the English forces which were likely to be employed against them, the French regarded as a recommendation to the conquest of Egypt, that it was to be the first step to the destruction of the British power in India ; and Napoleon continued to the last to con- sider the conquest of Egypt as the forerunner of that of miiversal Asia. His eye, which, like that of the eagle, saw far and wide, overlooking, however, obstacles which distance rendered diminutive, be- held little more necessary than the toilsome marches of a few weeks, to achieve the conquests of Alex- ander the Great. He had already counted the steps by which he w-as to ascend to Oriental Monarchy, and lias laid before the world a singular reverie on the probabilities of success. " If Saint John d' Acre had yielded to the French arms," said he, " a great revolution would have been accomplished in the East ; the general-in-chief would have founded au empire there, and the destinies of France would have undergone different combinations from those to which they were subjected."'-^ In this declaration we recognise one of the pecu- liarities of Buonaparte's disposition, which refused to allow of any difficulties or dangers save those, of which, having actually happened, the existence could not be disputed. The small British force before Acre was sufficient to destroy his whole plans of conquest ; but how many other means of destruction might Providence have employed for the same purpose ! The plague — the desert — mu- tiny among his soldiers — courage and enterprise, inspired by favourable circumstances into the tribes by whom his progress was opposed — the compu- tation of these, and other chances, ought to have taught him to acknowledge, that he had not been discomfited by the only hazard w'hich could have disconcerted his enterprise ; but that, had such been the will of God, the sands of Syria might have proved as fatal as the snows of Russia, and the scimitars of the Turks as the lances of the Cossacks. In words, a march from Egypt to India is easily described, and still more easily measured off with compasses upon the map of the world. But in practice, and with an army opposed, as the French would probably have been, at evei-y step, if it had been only from motives of religious antipathy, when the French general arrived at the skirts of British India, with forces thus diminished, he would have had in front the whole British army, commanded by officers accustomed to make war upon a scale almost as enlai'ged as he himself practised, and ac- customed to victories not less decisive.^ We should fall into the same error which we censure, did we anticipate what might have been the result of such a meeting. Even while we claim the probability of advantage for the army most nu- merous, and best pi-ovided with guns and stores, we allow the strife must have been dreadful and dubious. But, if Napoleon really thought he had and consolidating a French force in E^yj^t, by opening the ancient communications by Suez, by miiitiplying the relations between Egypt and India ; and, in fine, l>y so augmenting the French navy in the Mediterranean, that this sea shall become almost inaccessible to the English squadroiig." — Louis Bttv NAPARTE, p. 31. 1708.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 261 only to show himself in India, to ensure the de- struction of the British empire there, he had not calculated the opposing strength with tlie caution to have been expected from so great a general. He has been represented, indeed, as boasting of the additions which he would have made to his army, by the co-operation of natives trained after the Fi'ench discipline. But can it be supposed that these hasty levies could be brought into such com- plete order as to face the native troops of British India, so long and so justly distinguished for ap- proaching Europeans in courage and discipline, and excelling them, perhaps, in temperance and subordination ? In a word, the Egyptian expedition, unless con- sidered with reference to the private views of the Directory, and of their General, must have been regarded from the beginning, as promising no re- sults in the slightest degree worthy of the great risk incurred, by draining France of the flower of her army. Meanwhile, the moment of departure approach- ed. The blockading squadron, commanded by Nelson, was blown oft" the coast by a gale of wind, and so much damaged that they were obliged to run down to Sardinia. The first and most obvious obstacle to the expedition was thus i-emoved. The various squadrons from Genoa, Civita Vecchia, and Bastia, set sail and united with that which already lay at Toulon. Yet it is said, though upon slender authority, that even at this latest moment Buonaparte showed some inclination to abandon the command of so doubtful and almost desperate an expedition, and wished to take the advantage of a recent dispute between France and Austria, to remain in Europe. The misunderstanding arose from the conduct of Ber- nadotte, ambassador for the republic at Vienna, who incautiously displayed the national colours be- fore his hotel, in consequence of which a popular tumult arose, and the ambassador was insulted. In their first alarm, lest this incident should occasion a renewal of the war, the Directory hastily deter- mmed to suspend Buonaparte's departure, and de- spatch him to Rastadt, where the congress was still sitting, with full powers to adjust the difference. Buonaparte accepted the commission, and while he affected to deplore the delay or miscarriage of " the greatest enterprise which he had ever medi- tated," wrote in secret to Count Cobentzel, now minister of foreign affairs at Vienna, inviting him to a conference at Rastadt, and hinting at political changes, by which the difficulties attending the exe- cution of the treaty of Campio Formio might be taken away. The tenor of this letter having be- come known to the Directory, and it appearing to them that Buonaparte designed to make that mis- sion a pretext for interesting Cobentzel in some change of government in France, in which he deem- ed it advisable to obtain the concurrence of Austria, they instantly resolved, it is said, to compel him to set sail on the expedition to Egypt. Barras, charged ' M^moires pour sen-ir i I'Histoire des Expeditions en EfiTpte et en Svrie.— Introduction, p. 20. i •' It is an error to state, that the affair at Vienna inspired the idia of abandoning the expedition. The contrary is proved bv Buonaparte's letters to Barra'.;uay d'Hilliers. Desaix, and Admiral Brucyes; to whom on the 'iOlh of Ai)ril, he wrote: ' i^ume disturbances, which have just lu'ippened at Vienna, rcfNE, torn, ii., p. 6.5. 3 " During the whole voyage, Buonaparte passed the greater part of his time below, in his cabin, reclining upon a couch, which, by a ball-and-socket ioint at each foot, rendered the ship's pitching less perceptible, and consequently relieved the sickness from which he was scarcely ever free. His remark- able saying to the pupils of a school which he had one day visited, ' Voung people, every hour of time lost is a chance of misfortune for future life,' may be considered, in some mea- sure, as forming the rule of his own conduct. Perhaps no man ever better understood the value of time. If the activity of his mind found not wherewithal to exercise itself in reality, he supplied the defect by giving free scope to imagination, or in listening to the conversation of the learned men attached '" 'nee'tpedition. He delighted in discoursing with Monge and BerthoUet, when the discussion mostly ran upon chemis- fleets traversing the same narrow sea, without being able to attain any certain tidings of each other's movements. This was in part owing to the English admiral having no frigates with him, which might have been detached to cruise for intelli- gence ; partly to a continuance of thick misty weather, which at once concealed the French fleet from their adversaries, and, obliging them to keep close together, diminished the chance of discovery, which might otherwise have taken place by the occupation of a larger space. On the 26th, accord- ing to Denon, Nelson's fleet was actually seen by the French standing to the westward, although the haze prevented the English from observing their enemy, whose squadron held an opposite direction.' Escaped from the risk of an encounter so peril- ous, Buonaparte's greatest danger seemed to be over on the 1st July, when the French fleet came in sight of Alexandria, and saw before them the city of the Ptolemies and of Cleopatra, with itg double harbour, its Pharos, and its ancient and gigantic monuments of grandeur. Yet at this cri- tical moment, and while Buonaparte contemplated his meditated conquest, a signal announced the ap- pearance of a strange sail, which was construed to be an English frigate, the precursor of the British fleet. " What !" said Napoleon, " I ask but six hours — and. Fortune, wilt thou abandon me?"* The fickle goddess was then and for many a suc- ceeding year, true to her votary. The vessel proved friendly.* The disembarkation of the French army took place [July 2] about a league and a half from Alexandria, at an anchorage called Marabout. It was not accomplished without losing boats and men on the surf, though such risks were encountered with great joy by the troops, who had been so long confined on shipboard. As soon as five or six thousand men were landed, Buonaparte marched towards Alexandria, when the Turks, incensed at try, mathematics, and religion, as also with Caffarelli, whose conversation, rich in facts, was, at the same time, lively, in- tellectual, and cheerful. At other times, he conversed with the admiral, when the subject always related to naval ma- noeuvres, of which he showed great desire to obtain knowledge; and nothing more astonished Brueyes, than the sagacity ol his questions." — Bourrienne, torn, ii., p. 69. * Miot, p. 16. 5 " On the 3ere no fortified places to intimidate by such an example." — Bourbie.vxe, torn, ii., p. H9. ■* " The llameloucs are an invincible race, inhabiting a burning deserx, mounted on the fleetest horses in the world, and full of courage They live with their wives and children in flying camps, which are never pitched two nights together in the same place. They are horrible savages, and yet they have some notion of gold and silver! a small quantity of it •erves to excite their admiration. Yes, my dear brother, they love gold ; they pass their lives in extorting it from such Eu- ropeans as fall into their hands ;— and for what purpose ?— for rendered capable of succeeding to him at his death ; for these chiefs despised the ordinary connexions of blood, and their authority was, upon military prin- ciples, transferred at their death to him amongst the band who was accounted the best soldier. They fought always on horseback ; and in their peculiar mode of warfare, they might be termed, individually considered, the finest cavalry in the world. Completely armed, and unboimdedly con- fident in their own prowess, they were intrepid, skilful, and formidable in battle ; but with their military bravery began and ended the catalogue of their virtues. Their vices were, unpitying cruelty, habitual oppression, and the unlimited exercise of the most gross and disgusting sensuality. Such were the actual lords of Egypt.* Yet the right of sovereignty did not rest with the beys, but with the Pacha, or lieutenant, — a, great officer despatched from the Porte to repre- sent the Grand Signior in Egypt, where it was his duty to collect the tribute in money and grain, which Constantinople expected from that rich pro- vince, with the additional object of squeezing out of the country as much more as he could by any means secure, for the filling of his own coffers. The pacha maintained his authority sometimes by the assistance of Turkish troops, sometimes by ex- citing the jealousy of one bey against another. Thus this fertile country was subjected to the oppression of twenty-four praetors, who, whether they agreed among themselves, or with the jjacha, or declared war against the representative of the Sultan, and against each other, were alike the terror and the scotu-ge of the unhappy Arabs and Cophts, the right of oppressing whom, by every sjiecies of ex- action, these haughty slaves regarded as their no- blest and most undeniable privilege. From the moment that Buonaparte conceived the idea of invading Egypt, the destruction of the power of the Mamelukes must have been deter- mined upon as his first object; and he had no sooner taken Alexandria than he announced his purpose. He sent forth a proclamation,'' in which he professed his respect for God, the Prophet, and the Koran ; his friendship for the Sublime Porte, of which he affirmed the French to be the faithful allies ; and his determination to make war upon the Mamelukes. He commanded that the prayers should be continued in the mosques as usual, with some slight modifications, and that all true Mos- lems should exclaim, " Glory to the Sultan, and to the French army, his allies! — Accursed be the ^Mamelukes, and good fortune to the land of Egypt ! » 6 continuing the course of life which I have described, and for teaching it to their children. O, Jean Jacques I why was it not thy fate to see these men, whi>m thou call'st ' the men oj ruilure ? '—thou wouldst sink with shame, thou wouldst startle with horror at the thought of having once admired them ! Adieu, my dear brother. This climate kills me ; we shall bo so altered, that you will discover the change at a league's dis- tance. Remember me to the legislator Lucien. He might have sailed with us to advantage; we see more in two daY» than common travellers in two years."— Loris Buonapartk to his brother Joseph, dated Alexandria, July (ith ; Inter- cepteil Corrcspntiftence, part i., p. 8. 5 See it in the Appendix, No. VII. 6 " You will laugh outright, you witlings of Paris, at the Mahometan proclamation nf the commander-in-chief. Ho is proof, however, against all your raillery ; and the thing itself will certainly nroduce a most surprising effect. You recollect that j)roducea by the m.igic cry of 'Guerre aux chateaux, paix aux cabines! '"— Joubrrt oleon^s Humanity and Courage upon this occasion — Proceeds against Acre to attack Djezzar Pacha — Sir Sidney Smith — His Charac- ter — Captures a French Convoy, and throws him-- self into Acre — French arrive before Acre on \7th March, 1799, and effect a breach on the 28?A, but are driven back — Assaulted by an Army of Moslems assembled without the Walls of Acre, whom they defeat and disperse — Personal Mis- understanding and Hostility betwixt JSapoleorh and Sir Sidney Smith — Explained — Buonaparte is finally compelled to raise the Siege. When Buonaparte and his army were safely landed in Egypt, policy seemed to demand that the naval squadron, by which they had been escorted, should have been sent back to France as soon as possible. The French leader accordingly repeatedly asserts, that he had positively commanded Admiral Brueyes, an excellent ofiicer, for whom he himself entertained particular respect,* either to carry his squadron of men-of-war into the harbour of Alex- andria, or, that being found impossible, instantly " People of Cairo ! I am satisfied with your conduct. You have done right not to take any part against me : I am come to destroy the race of the Mamelukes, and to protect the trade and the natives of the country. Let all those who arc under any fear be composed ; and let those who have quitted their hoiises return to them. Let prayers be oflered up to-day, as usual, for I wish that they may be always continued. Enter- tain no fear for your families, your houses, your pioperty, and, above all, the religion of your Prophet, whom 1 love." ■* In a letter published in the MimiUur. Xo. PO, necembcr 20, \'t\fj, Buonaparte expresses the highest sense of Admiral Brueyes' firmness and talent, as well as of the high order in which he kept the squadron under his command; and con- cludes by saying, he had bestowed on him, in the name of the Directory, a spy-glass of the best construction which Italy afforded.— S. 2nG SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1798. to set sail for Corfu. The harbour, by report of tlie Turkish pilots, was greatly too shallow to admit without danger vessels of such a deep draught of water ; and it scarce can be questioned that Admi- ral Brueyes would have embraced the alternative of setting sail for Corfu, had such been in reality pernutted by his orders. But the assertion of Buonaparte is pointedly contradicted by the report of Vice- Admiral Gantheaume, who was himself in the battle of Aboukir, escaped from the slaughter with difficulty, and was intrusted by Buonaparte with drawing up the account of the disaster, which he transmitted to the minister of war. " Perhaps it may be said," so the despatch bears, "that it would have been advisable to have quitted the coast as soon as the disembarkation had taken place. But, considering the orders of the commander- in-chief, and the incalculable force afforded to the land-army by the presence of the squadron, the admiral thought it was his duty not to quit these seas." ' Looking at the matter more closely — considering the probability of Nelson's return, and the conse- quent danger of the fleet — considering, too, the especial interest which naval and military officers attach each to their peculiar service, and the rela- tive disregard with which they contemplate the other, we can see several reasons why Buonaparte might have wished, even at some risk, to detain the fleet on the coast of Egypt, but not one which could induce Brueyes to continue there, not only without the consent of the commander-in-chief, but, as Napoleon afterwards alleged, against his express orders. It is one of the cases in which no degree of liberality can enable us to receive the testimony of Buonaparte, contradicted at once by circumstances, and by the positive testimony of Gantheaume. We now approach one of the most brilliant actions of the English navy, achieved by the admiral whose exploits so indisputably asserted the right of Britain to the dominion of the ocean. Our limits require that we should state but briefly a tale, at which every heart in our islands will long glow ; and we are the more willingly concise that our readers possess it at length in one of the best written popu- lar histories in the English language.^ Although unable to enter the harbour of Alex- andria, the French admii-al believed liis squadron safely moored in the celebrated baj' of Aboukir. They formed a compact line of battle, of a semi- circular form, anchored so close to the shoal-water and surf, that it was thought impossible to get 1 Intercepted Letters, part i., p. 219. 2 Mr. Southey's "Life of Admiral Nelson ;" in -which one of the most distinguished men of genius and learning whom our age has produced, has recorded the actions of the greatest naval hero that ever existed.— S. 3 Buonaparte, on the UHh of August, addressed, from Cairo, t!ie following letter to the widow of the unfortunate admiral : "Your husband has been killed by a cannon-shot, while fighting on his deck. He died without pain, and by the best death, and that which is thought by soldiers most enviable. I am keenly sensible to your grief. The moment which severs us from the object we love is terrible ; it insulates us from all the earth ; it inflicts on the body the agonies of death ; the faculties of the soul are annihilated, and its relations with the universe subsist only through the medium of a horrible dream, which alters every thing. Mankind appear colder and more Belfish than they reallv are. In this situation we feel that, if nothing obligud us to live, it would be much best to die ; but when, after this first thought, we press our children to our hearts, tears and tender feelings revive the sentiments of our nature, and we live for our offspring; ves, madam, see in this vcrv moment, how they open vour heart to melancholy : you will weep with them, you will bring them up from infancy— between them and the land ; and they concluded, therefore, that they could be brought to action on the starboard side onlj'. On the 1st August, the British fleet appeared ; and Nelson had no sooner reconnoitred the French position, than he resolved to force it at every risk. Where the French ships could ride, he argued with instantaneous decision, there must be room for English vessels to anciior between them and the shore. He made signal for the attack accordingly. As the vessels approached the French anchorage, they received a heavy ai.d raking fire, to which they could make no retu' a ; but they kept their bows to the enemy, and con- tinued to near their line. The squadrons were nearly of the same numerical strength. The French had thirteen ships of the line, and four frigates. The English, thirteen ships of the line, and one fifty-gun ship. But the French had three eighty- gun ships, and L'Orient, a superb vessel of one hundi'ed and twenty guns. All the British were seventy-fours. The van of the English fleet, six in number, rounded successively the French line, and dropping anchor betwixt them and the shore, opened a tremendous fire. Nelson himself, and his other vessels, ranged along the same French ships on the outer side, and thus placed them betwixt two fires , while the rest of the French line remained for a time unable to take a share in the combat. The battle commenced with the utmost fury, and lasted till, the sun having set and the night fallen, there was no light by which the combat could be con- tinued, save the flashes of the continuous broad- sides. Already, however, some of the French vessels were taken, and the victors, advancing onwards, assailed those which had not yet been engaged. Meantime, a broad and dreadful light was thrown on the scene of action, by the breaking out of a conflagration on board the French admiral's flag- ship, L'Orient. Brueyes himself had by this time fallen by a cannon-shot.' The flames soon mastered the immense vessel, where the carnage was so ter- rible as to prevent all attempts to extinguish them ; and the L'Orient remained blazing like a volcano in the middle of the combat, rendering for a time the dreadful spectacle visible. At length, and while the battle continued as furious as ever, the burning vessel blew up with so tremendous an explosion, that for a while it silenced the fire on both sides, and made an awful pause in the midst of what had been but lately so homble a tumult.* The cannonade was at first slowly and you will talk to them of their father, of your sorrow, of this loss which you and the Republic have sustained. After hav- ing once more attached your mind to the world by filial and maternal love, set some value on the friendship and lively regard which I shall always feel for the wife of my friend. Believe that there are a few men who deserve to be the hope of the afflicted, because they understand the poignancy of mental sufferings." ■* " At ten o'clock a vessel which was burning, blew up with a tremendous noise, which was heard as plainly at Rosetta as the explosion of Grcnelle at Paris. This accident was suc- ceeded by a pitchy darkness, and a most profound silence, which continued for about ten minutes."— Pousslelque to hit Wife; Intercepted Letters, part i., p. 208. " L'Orient blew up about eleven in the evening. The whole horizon seemed on fire, the earth shook, and the smoke which proceeded from the vessel ascended heavily in a mass, like an immense black balloon. It then brightened up, and exhibited the objects of all descriptions, which had been pre- cipitated on the scene of conflict. What a terrible moment of fear and desolation for the French, who witnessed this awful catastrophe'"— Lotus Buonapartb 1 798.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 267 partially resumed, but ere midnight it raged with all its original fury. In the morning, the only two French ships who had their colours flying, cut their cables and put to sea, accompanied by two frigates ; being all that remained undestroyed and uncap- tured, of the gallant navy that so lately escorted Buonaparte and his fortunes in triumph across the Mediterranean. Such was the Victory of Aboukir, for which he who achieved it felt that word was inadequate. He called it a conquest. The advantages of the day, great as they were, might Imve been pushed much farther, if Nelson had been possessed of frigates and small craft. The store-ships and transports in the harbour of Alexandria would then have been infallibly destroyed. As it was, the results were of the utmost importance, and the destinies of the French army were altered in proportion. They had no longer any means of communicating with the mother-country, but became the inhabitants of an insulated province, obliged to rely exclusively on the resources which they had brought with them, joined to those which Egypt miglit afford. Buonaparte, however sm'prised by this reverse, exhibited great equanimity. Three thousand French seamen, the remainder of nearly six thou- sand engaged in that dreadful battle, were sent ashore by cartel, and formed a valuable addition to his forces. Nelson, more grieved almost at being frusti'ated of his complete purpose, than rejoiced at his victory, left the coast after establishing a blockade on the port of Alexandria. We are now to trace the means bj' which Napoleon proposed to establish and consoUdate his government in Egypt ; and in these we can recog- nise much that was good and excellent, mixed with such irregularity of imagination, as vindicates the term of Jupiter Scapin, by which the Abbe' de Pradt distinguished this extraordinary man.' His first care was to gather up the reins of government, such as they were, which had dropt from the hands of the defeated beys. With two classes of the Egyptian nation it was easy to esta- blish his authority. The Fellahs, or peasantry, sure to be squeezed to the last penny by one party or other, willingly submitted to the invaders as the strongest, and the most able to protect them. The Cophts, or men of business, were equally ready to serve the party which was in possession of the country. So that the French became the masters of both, as a natural consequence of the jjower which they had obtamed. But the Turks were to be attached to the con- queror by other means, since their haughty national character, and the intolerance of the Mahometan religion rendered them alike inaccessible to profit, the hope of which swayed the Cophts, and to fear, which was the prevailing argument with the Fel- lahs. To gratify their vanity, and soothe their prejudices, seemed the only mode by which Napo- leon could insinuate himself into the favour of this part of the population. With this view, Buona- parte was far from assuming a title of conquest in Egypt, though he left few of its rights unexercised. On the contrary, he wisely continued to admit the pacha to that ostensible share of authority which ' " I know not whether the Archbishop of Malines did or did not apply the term Jupiter Scapin to Napoleon ; but to me it appears incontestable, that the name of Scapin would tc much more aptly bestowed on the writer, a bishop and an was yielded to him by the beys, and spoke with as much seeming respect of the Sublime Porte, as if it had been his intention ever again to permit their having any effective power in Egypt. Their iniaums, or priests ; their ulemats, or men of law ; their cadis, or judges ; their sheiks, or chiefs ; their Janissaries, or privileged soldiers, were all treated by Napoleon with a certain degree of attention, and the Sultan Kebir, as they called him, affected to govern, like the Grand Signior, by the interven- tion of a divan. This general council consisted of about forty sheiks, or Moslems of distinction by birth or office, who held their regular meetings at Cairo, and from which body emanated the authority of provincial divans, established in the various departments of Egypt. Napoleon affected to consult the superior council, and act in many cases according to their report of the law of the Prophet. On one occasion, he gave them a moral lesson which it would be great injustice to suppress. A tribe of roving Arabs had slain a peasant, and Buonaparte had given directions to search out and punish the mur- derers. One of his Oriental counsellors laughed at the zeal which the general manifested on so slight a cause. " What have you to do with the death of this Fellah, Sultan Kebir 1" said he, ironically; " was he your kinsman?" " He was more," said Napoleon ; " he was one for whose safety I am accountable to God, who placed him under my government." " He speaks like an inspired person !" exclaimed the sheiks ; who can admire the beauty of a just sentiment, though incapable, from the scope they allow their passions, to act up to the precepts of moral rectitude. Thus far the conduct of Buonaparte was admir- able. He protected the people who were placed under his power, he respected their religious opi- nions, he administered justice to them according to their own laws, until they should be supplied with a better system of legislation. Unquestionably, his good administration did not amend the radical de- ficiency of his title ; it was still chargeable against him, that he had invaded the dominions of the most ancient ally of France, at a time when there was the most profound peace between the countries. Yet in delivering Egypt from the tyrannical sway of the Mamelukes, aiid administering the govern- ment of the covmtry with wisdom and comparative humanity, the mode in which he used the power which he had acquired, might be admitted in some measure to atone for his usurpation. Not contented with directing his soldiers to hold in respect the religious observances of the country, he showed equal justice and policy in collecting and protecting the scattered remains of the great caravan of the Mecca pilgrimage, which had been plundered by the Mamelukes on their retreat. So satisfactory was his conduct to the Moslem divines, that he contrived to obtain from the clergy of the Mosque an opinion, declaring that it was lawful to pay tribute to the French, though such a doctrine is diametrically inconsistent with the Koran. Thus far Napoleon's measures had proved rational and ambassador, who could be capable of such impertinence to- wards the sovereign he represented."— Louis Bionapabts. p. 32. 268 SCOXrS mSCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1798. Buccessful. But with this laudable course of con- duct was mixed a species of artifice, wliich, wliile we are compelled to term it impious, has in it, at the same time, something ludicrous, and almost childish. Buonaparte entertained the strange idea of per- suading the Moslems that he himself pertained in some sort to their religion, being an envoy of the Deity, sent on earth, not to take away, but to con- firm and complete, the doctrines of the Koran, and the mission of Mahomet.' He used, in executing this purpose, the inflated language of the East, the more easily that it corresponded, in its allegorical and amplified style, with his own natural tone of composition ; and he hesitated not to join in the external ceremonial of the Mahometan religion, that his actions might seem to confirm his words. The French general celebrated the feast of the prophet as it recurred, with some sheik of emi- nence, and joined in the litanies and worship en- joined by the Koran. He affected, too, the lan- guage of an inspired follower of the faith of Mecca, of which the following is a curious example. On entering the sepulchral chamber in the pyi'a- inid of Cheops, " Glory be to Allah," said Buona- parte, " There is no God but God, and Mahomet is his prophet." A confession of faith which is in itself a declaration of Islamism. " Thou hast spoken like the most learned of the prophets," said the mufti, who accompanied him. " I can command a car of fire to descend from heaven," continued the French general, " and I can guide and direct its course upon earth." " Thou art the great chief to whom Mahomet gives power and victory," said the mufti. Napoleon closed the conversation with this not very pertinent Oriental proverb, " The bread which the wicked seizes upon by force, shall be turned to dust in his mouth." ^ Though the mufti played his part in the above scene with becoming gravity, Buonaparte over-esti- mated his own theatrical powers, and did too little justice to the shrewdness of the Turks, if he sup- posed them really edified by his pretended pro- selytism. With them as with us, a renegade from the religious faith in which he was brought up, is like a deserter from the standard of his country ; and though the services of either may be accepted and used, they remain objects of disregard and contempt, as well with those to whose service they have deserted, as with the party whom they have abandoned. The Turks and Arabs of Cairo soon afterwards showed Buonaparte, by a general and unexpected insurrection, [October 22,] in which many French- ' " It is not true that in Egypt Napoleon showed himself almost persuaded of the truth of the mission of Mahomet. Doubtless, deceit and falsehood should be banished from the language of true policy, since as government ought to be, as much as is in the power of men, the image of God upon earth, its language ought to be that of truth and justice. This, how- tver, does not preclude the riglit of respecting the religious ■worship and opinions of a conquered nation, and it was in this sense that the proclamations addressed by mv brother to the Mussulmen should ke regarded. They would not have been understood bv these people, if thev had not spoken their lan- guage. Whilst I was in Holland,'! rejected at first the title of Emperor given to the King of Holland by the Sublime Porte ; but ujjon expressing my astonishment I was assured that the Porte gave this title to the sovereigns of other coun- tries, and that that of king would not be understood."— Louis lilTO.VAPARTE, p. 34. - Tliis conversation appeared officially in the Moniteur. Bourrienne, notwithstanding, asserts that Buonaparte never men were slain, how little they were moved by his pretended attachment to their faith, and how cor* dially they considered him as their enemy. Yet, when the insurgents had been quelled by force, and the blood of five thousand Moslems had atoned for that of three hundred Frenchmen, Napoleon, in an address to the inhabitants of Cairo, new-modelling the general council or divan, held still the same language as before of himself and his destinies. " Sheriffs," he said, " Ulemats, Orators of the Mosque, teach the people that those who become my enemies shall have no refuge in this world or the next. Is there any one blind enough not to see, that I am the agent of Destiny, or incredulous enough to call in question the power of Destiny over human aff'airs ? Make the people understand, that since the world was a world, it was ordained, that having destroyed the enemies of Islamism, anci broken down the Cross,^ I should come from the West to accomplish the task designed for me — show them, that in more than twenty passages of the Koran my coming is foretold. I could demand a reckoning from each of you for the most secret thoughts of his soul, since to me everything is known ; but the day will come when all shall know from whom I have my commission, and that human efforts cannot prevail against me." It is plain from this strange proclamation, that Buonaparte was willing to be worshipped as a supe- rior being, as soon as altars could be built, and worshippers collected together. But the Turks and Arabs were wiser than the Pei'sians in the case of young Ammon. The Sheik of Alexandria, who affected much devotion to Buonaparte's per- son, came roundly to the point with him. He re- marked the French observed no religious worship. " Why not, therefore," he said, " declare yourself Moslem at once, and remove the only obstacle be- twixt you and the throne of the East ? " Buona- parte objected the prohibition of wine, and the external rite which Mahomet adopted from the Jewish religion. The officious sheik proposed to call a council of the Moslem sages, and procure for the new proselytes some relaxation of these funda- mental laws of the Prophet's faith. According to this hopeful plan, the Moslems must have ceased to be such in two principal articles of their ritual, in order to induce the French to become a kind of imperfect renegades, rejecting, in the prohibition of wine, the only peculiar guard which Mahomet assigned to the moral virtue of his followers, while they embraced the degrading doctrine of fatality, the licentious practice of polygamy, and the absurd chimeras of the Koran. Napoleon appears to have believed the sheik set foot in the pyramid. He acknowledges, indeed, that " with the heads of the Mahometan priesthood he held fre- quent conversations on these subjects;" but adds, " in all this tliere was nothing serious; it was rather an amusement. If he ever spoke as a Mussulman, he did so in the cajiacity of a military and political chief in a Mahometan country. Oil this depended his success, the safety of the armv, and conse- quently his glory. It is true, he had a Turkish dress made ior him, but only as a joke. One morning he desired me to begin breakfast without waiting; a quarter of an hour after, he entered in his new costume. Scarcely was he recognised, when we received liim with bursts of laughter He took his place with a gravity which heightened the eilect, but found himself so ill at ease as an Oriental, that he soon went to un- dress, and never gave a second exhibition of this masquerade." — 13oi"KRiENNE, torn, ii., p. lf)4. 3 Alluding to the capture of the island of Malta, and sub- jection of the Pope, on which he was wont to found as services rendered to the religion of Mahomet. — S. 1799.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 269 serious, which is very doubtful, and to have con- templated with eagei' ambition the extent of views which his conversion to Islamism appeared to open. His own belief in predestination recom- mended the ci'ecd of Mahomet, and for the Pro- phet of Mecca himself he had a high respect, as one of those who had wrought a great and endur- ing change on the face of the world. ' Perhaps he envied the power which Mahomet possessed, of ruling over men's souls as well as their bodies, and might thence have been led into the idea of play- ing a part, to which time and circumstances, the character of his army and his own, were alike op- posed. No man ever succeeded in imposing him- self on the public as a supernatural personage, who was not, to a certain degree, the dupe of his own imposture ; and Napoleon's calculating and reflect- ing mind was totally devoid of the enthusiasm which enables a man to cheat himself into at least a partial belief of the deceit which he would im- pose on others. The French soldiers, on the other hand, bred in scorn of religion of every description, would have seen notliing but ridicule in the preten- sions of their leader to a supernatural mission ; and in playing the cliaraeter which Alexander ven- tured to personate, Buonaparte would have found in his own army many a Clitus, who would have considered his pretensions as being only ludicrous. He himself, indeed, expressed himself satisfied that his authority over his soldiers was so absolute, that it would have cost but giving it out in the order of the day to have made them all become Mahometans ; but, at the same time, he has ac- quainted us, that the French troops were at times so much discontented with their condition in Egypt, that they formed schemes of seizing on their stan- dards, and returning to France by force. What reply, it may be reasonably asked, were they likely to make to a proposal, which would have deprived them of their European and French character, and levelled them with Africans and Asiatics, whose persons they despised, and whose country they de- sired to leave ? It is likely, that reflections on the probable consequences prevented his going farther than the vague pretensions which he announced in his proclamations, and in his language to the sheiks. He had gone far enough, however, to show, that the considerations of conscience would have been no hinderance ; and that, notwithstanding the strength of his understanding, common sense had less influence than might have been expected, in checking his assertion of claims so ludicrous as well as so profane. Indeed, his disputes with the Ottoman Porte speedily assumed a character, which his taking the turban and professing himself a Mos- lem in all the foi-ms, could not have altered to his advantage. It had been promised to Buonaparte, that the abilities of Talleyrand, as minister of foreign affairs, should be employed to reconcile the Grand Siguier and his counsellors to the occujtation of Egypt.^ But the efforts of that able negotiator had totally failed in a case so evidently hopeless ; and if Tal- ' Gourpaud, torn, ii., p. 2fil. 2 Gaurgaud. torn, ii., p. 'Jl>3. 3 " The nifjiit overtook us, the waters hccati to rise around ns, when the horsemen a-hcad cried out that their horses were swimmiiip. General Buonaparte rescued the whole party by one oft hose simnle expedients which occur to an iniperturliahle mind. Piacin;; nimself in the centre, he bade all the rest form ji circle round him, and then ride out each man in a separate leyrand had even proceeded to Constantinople, as Napoleon alleged the Directory had promised, it could only have been to be confined in the Seven Towers. The Porte had long since declared, that any attack upon Egypt, the road to the holy cities of Mecca and Medina, would be considered as a declaration of war, whatever pretexts might be alleged. They regarded, therefore, Buonaparte's invasion as an injui'y equally unprovoked and un- justifiable. They declared war against France, called upon every follower of the Prophet to take the part of his vicegerent upon earth, collected forces, and threatened an immediate expedition, for the purpose of expelling the infidels from Egypt. The success of the British at Aboukir increased their confidence. Nelson was loaded with every mark of honour which the Sultan could bestow, and the most active preparations were made to act against Buonaparte, equally considered as enemy to the Porte, whether he professed himself Chris- tian, infidel, or renegade. Meantime, that adventurous and active chief was busied in augmenting his means of defence or con- quest, and in acquiring the information necessary to protect what he had gained, and to extend his dominions. For the former purpose, corps were raised from among the Egyptians, and some were mounted upon dromedaries, the better to encoun- ter the perils of the desert. For the latter, Buona- parte undertook a journey to the Isthmus of Suez, the well-known interval which connects Asia with Africa. He subscribed the chai"ter, or pi-otection, gi'anted to the Maronite Monks of Sinai, with the greater pleasure, that the signature of Mahomet had already sanctioned that ancient document. He visited the celebrated fountains of Moses, and, misled by a guide, had nearly been drowned in the advancing tides of the Red Sea.' This, he observes, would have furnished a splendid text to all the preachers in Europe.* But the same Deity, who had rendered the gulf fatal to Pharaoh, had reserved for one, who equally defied and disowned his power, the rocks of an island in the midst of the Atlantic. When Napoleon was engaged in this expedi- tion, or speedily on his return, he learned that two Turkish armies had assembled, one at Rhodes, and the other in Syria, with the purpose of recovering Egj'pt. The daring genius, which always desired to anticipate the attempts of the enemy, determined him to march with a strong force for the occupation of Syria, and thus at once to alarm the Turks by the progress which he expected to make in that province, and to avoid being attacked in Egypt by two Turkish armies at the same time. His com- mencement was as successful as his enterprise was daring. A body of Mamelukes was dispersed by a night attack. The fort of El Arish, considered as one of the keys of Egypt, fell easily into his hands. Finally, at the head of about '' ten thousand men, he traversed the desert, so famous in biblical history, which .separates Africa from Asia, and entered Palestine without much direction, and each to halt as soon as he found his horse swim • ming. The man whose horse continued to march the last, was sure, he said, to be in the rijjht direction; him, accord- ingly we all followed, and reached Suez, at midnight, in safety; though so rapidly had the tide advanced, that the horses were more than breast-high in the water." — Jlcmvirs of Savary, vol. i., j>. '.t~. < Las Cases, torn, i., p. 211. 270 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1799. loss, but not without experiencing the privations to ^vhich the wanderers in those sandy wastes have been uniformly subjected. While the soldiers looked with fear on the howling wilderness which thej' saw around,' there was something in the ex- tent and loneliness of the scene that corresponded with the swelling soul of Napoleon, and accommo- dated itself to his ideas of immense and boundless space. He was pleased with the flattery, which derived his Christian name from two Greek words, signifying the Lion of the Desert. Upon his entering the Holy Land, Buonaparte again drove before him a body of the Mameluk(?s, belonging to those who, after the battles of the Pyi-amids and of Salahieh, had retreated into Syria ; and his army occupied without resistance Gaza, anciently a city of the Philistines, in which they found supplies of provisions. Jaffa, a cele- brated city during the time of the Crusades, was the next object of attack. It was bravely assaulted, and fiercely defended. But the Fi-ench valour and discipline prevailed — the place was carried by storm — three thousand Turks were put to the sword, and the town was abandoned to the license of the soldiery, which, by Buonaparte's own admission, never assumed a shape more frightful.^ Such, it may be said, is the stern rule of war ; and if so, most of our readers will acquiesce in the natural exclamation of the Mare'chal de Montluc, *' Cer- tes, we soldiers stand in more need of the Divine mercy than other men, seeing that our profession compels us to command and to witness deeds of such cruelty." It was not, however, to the ordi- nary horrors attending the storm of a town, that the charge against Buonaparte is on this occasion limited. He is accused of having been guilty of an action of great injustice, as well as of especial bar- barity. Concerning this we shall endeavour to state, stripped of colouring and exaggeration, first the charge, and then the reply, of Napoleon him- self. After the breach had been stormed, a large part of the garrison, estimated by Buonaparte himself at twelve hundred men, which Miot^ raises to betwixt two and three thousand, and others exag- gerate still more, remained on the defensive, and held out in the mosques, and a sort of citadel to which they had retreated, till, at length, despairing of succour, they surrendered their arms, and were in appearance admitted to quarter. Of this body, the Egyptians were carefully separated from the Turks, Maugrabins, and Arnaouts ; and while the first were restored to liberty, and sent back to their country, these last were placed under a strong guard. Provisions were distributed to them, and they were permitted to go by detachments in quest of water. According to all appearance they were considered and treated as prisoners of war. This was on the 7th of March. On the 9th, two days ' " While the army was passing through Syria, there was scarcely a soldier but was heard to repeat these lines from Zaire : — ' Les Fran9ai3 sont las de chcrcher desormais Des climalB que pour eux lo destin n'a point faits, lis n'abaiidonnent point leur fertile patrie Pour languir aux deserts de I'aride Arabie.' When the men found themselves in the midst of the Desert, surrounded by the boundless ocean of sand, they began to question the generosity of their general ; they thought he had observed singular moderation in having promised each of tlicm only seven acres — ' The rogue,' said they, 'might with safely give us as much as he pleases ; we should not abuse his ij-iod -nature.' "—Las Cases, torn, i., p. 2](). afterwards, this body of prisoners were marched out of Jaffa, in the centre of a large square batta- lion, commanded by General Bon. Moit assures us, that he himself mounted his horse, accompanied the melancholy column, and witnessed the event. The Turks foresaw their fate, but used neither en- treaties nor complaints to avert it. They marched on, silent and composed. Some of them, of higher rank, seemed to exhort the others to submit, like servants of the Prophet, to the decree, which, ac- cording to their belief, was written on their fore- head. They were escorted to the sand-hills to the south-east of Jaffa, divided there into small bodies, and put to death by musketry. The execution lasted a considerable time, and the wounded, as in the fusillades of the Revolution, were despatched with the bayonet. Their bodies were heaped to- gether, and formed a pyramid which is still visible, consisting now of human bones as originally oif bloody corpses. The cruelty of this execution occasioned the fact itself to be doubted, though coming with strong evidence, and never denied by the French them- selves. Napoleon, however, frankly admitted the truth of the statement both to Lord Ebrington and to Dr. O'Meara.* Well might the author of this cruelty write to the Directory, that the storming of Jaffa was marked by horrors which he had never elsewhere witnessed. Buonaparte's defence was, that the massacre was justified by the laws of war — that the head of his messenger had been cut off by the governor of Jaffa, when sent to summon him to surrender — that these Turks were a part of the garrison of El Arish, who had engaged not to serve against the French, and were found imme- diately afterwards defending Jaffa, in breach of the terms of their capitulation. They had incurred the doom of death, therefore, by the rules of war — Wellington, he said, would have, in his place, acted in the same manner. To this plea the following obvious answers ap- ply. If the Turkish governor had behaved like a barbarian, for which his country, and the religion which Napoleon meditated to embrace, might be some excuse, the French general had avenged himself by the storm and plunder of the town, with which his revenge ought, in all reason, to have been satisfied. If some of these unhappy Turks had broken their faith to Buonaparte, and were found again in the ranks which they had sworn to abandon, it could not, according to the most severe construction of the rules of war, authorize the dreadful retaliation of indiscriminate massacre upon a multitude of prisoners, without inquiring whether they had been all equally guilty. Lastly, and admitting them all to stand in the same degree of criminality, although their breach of faith might have entitled Buonaparte to refuse these men quar- ter while they had arms in their hands, that right 2 See his despatch to the Directory, on the Syrian campaign. — GouRGAi'D, tom. ii., p. 374. 3 Expedition en Egvpte et Syrie, p. 148. ■* " I asked him about the massacre of the Turks at Jaffa: he answered, 'C'estvrai; J'en fis fusilier a peu pres deux mille.'" — Memcrandum of Two Conversations between the Emperor Napoleon and Viscount Ebrington at Porto-Ferraio, p. V2. " I observed, that Miot asserted that he (Napoleon) had caused between three and four thousand Turks to be shot, some days after the capture of Jaffa. He answered, ' It is not true that there were so many; I ordered about a thousand or twelve hundred to be shot, which was done." — O'Mkaka, vol. i., p. liJii. 1799.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 271 was ended when the French general received their submission, and when they had given up tlie means of defence, on condition of safety for life at least." This bloody deed must always remain a deep stain on tlie character of Napoleon. Yet we do not view it as the indulgence of an innate love of cruelty for nothing in Buonaparte's history shows tlie existence of that vice, and there are many things which intimate his disposition to liave been naturally humane. But he was ambitious, aimed at immense and gigantic undertakings, and easily learned to overlook tlie waste of human life, which the exe- cution of his projects necessarily involved. He seems to have argued, not on the character of the action, but solely on the effect which it was to pro- duce upon his own combinations. His army was small ; it was his business to strike terror into his numerous enemies, and the measure to be adopted seemed capable of making a deep impression on all who should hear of it. Besides, these men, if dis- missed, would immediately rejoin his enemies. He had experienced their courage, and to disarm them would have been almost an unavailing precaution, where their national weapon, the sabre, was so easily attained. To detain them prisoners would have required a stronger force than Napoleon could afford, would liave added difficulty and delay to the movement of his ti'oops, and tended to exhaust his supplies. That sort of necessity, therefore, which men fancy to themselves when they are unwilling to forego a favourite object for the sake of obeying a moral precept — that necessity which might be more properly termed a temptation difficult to be resisted — that necessity which has been called the tyrant's plea, was the cause of the massacre at Jaffa, and must remain its sole apology. It might almost seem that Heaven set its vin- dictive brand upon this deed of butchery ; for about the time it was committed the plague broke out in the army, Buonaparte, with a moral courage deserving as much praise as his late cruelty de- served reprobation, went into the hospitals in per- son, and while exposing himself, without hesitation, to the infection, diminished the terror of the disease in the opinion of the soldiers generally, and even of the patients themselves, who were thus enabled to keep up their spirits, and gained by doing so the fairest chance of recovery.'-' Meanwhile, determined to prosecute the con- quest of Syria, Buonaparte resolved to advance to Saint Jean d'Acre, so celebrated in the wars of Palestine. The Turkish Pacha, or governor of Syria, who, like others in his situation, accounted himself almost an independent sovereign, was Ach- met ; who, by his uni-elenting cruelties and execu- tions, had procured the terrible distinction of Djez- zar, or the Butcher. Buonaparte addressed this formidable chief in two letters, offering his alliance, and threatening him with his vengeance if it should be rejected.' To neither did the pacha return any answer ; in the second instance he put to death the messenger. The French general advanced against Acre, vowing revenge. There were, however, ob- ' See Jomini, torn, xi., p. 403 ; Tliibaudeau, torn, ii., p. 173; Savaiy, torn, i., p. lUO; Bourrienne, torn, ii., p. 226; Martin, Hut. de rExp(;'dition d'Egypte, torn, i., p. 2ii. 323. 3 " Brave Desaix! He would have conquered any wherr» He was skilful, vigilant, daring— little regarding fatigue, ar.a death still less. He would have gone to the cud of tiie world in quest of victory." — Nai'oleo.v, Aittuiiimarcki, vol. i., p. .-i?!!. * Jomini, tom. xi., p. 420; Thibaudoau, tom. :i, p 2{*7 Goiiigaud, tom. ii , p. 320. •' Gourgaud, tom. iii., p. 328. 276 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1799. points within a short distance of the Turkish camp, and was employed late in the night making prepa- rations for the battle on the next morning. Murat was alone with Buonaparte, when the last suddenly made the oracular declaration, "Go how it will, this battle will decide the fate of the world." « The fate of this army, at least," replied Murat, •who did not comprehend Buonaparte's secret mean- ing. " But the Turks are without horse, and if ever Jifantry were charged to the teeth by cavalry, they shall be so charged to-morrow by mine."' Napoleon's meaning, however, referred not to Egj-pt alone, but to Europe ; to which he probably ah-eady meditated an unexpected return, which must have been prevented had he not succeeded in obtaining the most complete triumph over the Turks. The leaving his Egyptian army, a dubious step at best, would liave been altogether indefen- sible had there remained an enemy in their front. Next morning, being the 25th July, Buonaparte commenced an attack on the advanced posts of the enemy, and succeeded in driving them in upon the main body, which was commanded by Seid Mus- tapha Pacha. In their first attack the French were eminently successful, and pursued the fugi- tive Turks to their intreuchments, doing great execution. But when the batteries opened upon them from the trenches, while they were at the same time exposed to the fire from the gun-boats in the bay, their impetuosity was checked, and the Turks sallying out upon them with their muskets slung at their backs, made such havoc among the French with their sabres, poniards, and pistols, as compelled them to retreat in their turn.^ The advantage was lost by the eagerness of the barba- rians to possess themselves of the heads of tlieir fallen enemies, for which they received a certain reward. They threw themselves confusedly out of the intreuchments to obtain these bloody testimo- nials, and were in considerable disorder, when the French suddenly rallied, charged them with gi-eat fury, drove them back into the works, and scaled the ramparts along with them. Murat had made good his promise of the preced- ing evening, and had been ever in the front of the battle. When the French had surmounted the in- trenchments, he formed a column which reversed the position of the Turks, and pressing them with the bayonet, threw them into utter and inextricable confusion. Fired upon and attacked on every point, they became, instead of an army, a confused rabble, who, in the impetuosity of animal ten-or, threw themselves by hundreds and by thousands into the sea, which at once seemed covered with turbans.-' It was no longer a battle, but a massacre ; and it was only when wearied with slaughter that quarter was given to about six thousand men ; the rest of the Turkish army, originally consisting of eighteen thousand, perished on the field or in the waves. Mustapha Pacha was taken, and can-ied in triumph before Buonaparte. The haughty Turk had not lost his pride with his fortunes. " I will take care to inform the Sultan," said the victor, meaning to 1 Miot, p. 240. ^ " Les Turcs maintenaient le combat avec succ^s ; mais Murat, par un mouvemcnt rajjide comme lapenxee, dirigea sa paiiclie sur les derriferes de leur droit," &c.— Buonaparte to till' Directory. 3 Gourgaud state*, that from three to four thousand Turks were driven into the sea. Berthier calculates the number at Un thousand : " L'ennemi ne croit avoir de ressource que be courteous, " cf the courage yoii displayed in thia battle, though it has been your mishap to lose it." " Thou mayest save thyself the trouble," answered the prisoner haughtily ; " my master knows me better than thou canst." Buonaparte returned in triumph to Cairo on the 9th August ; having, however, as he continued to represent himself friendly to the Porte, previously set on foot a negotiation for liberation of the TurR« ish prisoners. This splendid and most decisive A"ictory of Abou- kir* concluded Napoleon's career in the East. It was imperiously necessary, ere he could have ven- tured to quit the command of his army, with the hope of preserving his credit with the public ; and it enabled him to plead that he left Egypt for the time in absolute security. His military views had, indeed, been uniformly successful ; and Egypt was under the dominion of France as completely as the sword could subject it. For two years afterwards, hke the strong man in the parable, they kept the house which they had won, until in there came a stronger, by whom they were finally and forcibly expelled. But, though the victory over the Turks afiForded the French for the time undisturbed possession of Egypt, the situation of Buonaparte no longer per- mitted him those brilliant and immense prospects, in wliich his imagination loved to luxuriate. His troops were considerably weakened, and the mis- carriage at Acre dwelt on the recollection of the survivors. The march upon Constantinople was now an impossibility,— that to India an empty dream. To establish a French colony in Egypt, of which Buonaparte sometimes talked, and to restore the Indian traffic to the shores of the Red Sea, thus sapping the soiu-ces of British prosperity in India, was a work for the time of peace, when the necessary communication was not impeded by the naval superiority of England. The French general had established, indeed, a chamber of com- merce ; but what commerce could take place from a closely blockaded harbour ? Indeed, even in a more propitious season, the establishment of a pa- cific colony was no task for the ardent and warlike Napoleon ; who, although his active spirit was prompt in striking out commercial schemes, was not possessed of the patience or steadiness neces- sary to carry them to success. It follows, that if he remained in Egypt, his residence there must have resembled the situation of a governor in a large city, threatened indeed, but as yet in no dan- ger of being besieged, where the only fame which can be acquired is that due to prudent and patient vigilance. This would be a post which no young or ambitious soldier would covet, pi'oviding he had the choice of being engaged in more active service. On the other hand, from events which we shall endeavoxrrto trace in the next chapter, there opened a scene of ambition in France, which permitted an almost boundless extent of hopes and wishes. Thus, Napoleon had the choice either of becoming a can- didate for one of the greatest prizes which the dans la mer; dix mille hommes s'y precipitent ; ils y sont fusili^s et mitrailles. Jamais spectacle aussi terrible ne s'cst present^" 4 " This is probably the only instance, in the history of war- fare, in which an army has been entirely destroyed. It was upon this occasion that Kleber, claspinR Buonaparte round the waist, exclaimed, ' General, vous Ms grcuui comme It monde! '" — Thiers, tom. x., p. 3^3. 1799.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 277 world afforded — the supreme authority in that fine country — or of remaining the governor of a defen- sive army in Egypt, waiting the arrival of some new invaders — English, Russians, or Turks, to dis- pute his conquest with him. Had he chosen this latter line of conduct, he might have soon found himself the vassal of Moreau, or some other mili- tary adventurer, (perhaps from his own Italian army,) who, venturing on the course from which he had himself withdrawn, had attained to the go- vernment of France, and might soon have been issuing orders from the Luxembourg or the Tui- leries to General Buonaparte, in the style of a sovereign to his subject. There remained to be separated those strong ties, winch were formed betwixt Napoleon and the ai-my which he had so often led to victory, and who un- questionably thought he had cast his lot to live or die with them. But, undoubtedly, he might palliate his departure by the consideration, that he left them victorious over their boastful enemy, and without the chance of being speedily summoned to the field ; and we can see no reason for supposing, as has been alleged, that any thing like fear had an influence in inducing Napoleon's desertion, as it has been termed, of Ins army. We cannot, in- deed, give him credit for the absolute and pure desire of serving and saving France, which is claimed by his more devoted adherents, as the sole motive of his return to Europe ; but we have no doubt that some feelings of this kind — to which, as we are powerful in deceiving ourselves, he him- self might afford more weight than they deserved — mingled with his more selfish hopes, and that he took this important step with the desire of serving his country, as well as of advancing his own inte- rest. Nor should it be forgotten, that the welfare even of the Egyptian army, as well as his own ambitious views, required that he should try his fortune at Paris. If he did not personally exert himself there, it seemed highly probable some re- volution might take place, in which one of the con- sequences might be, that the victors of Egypt, de- serted by their countrymen, should be compelled to lay down their arms. The cii-cumstanees in which Buonaparte's reso- lution is said to have originated, as related by him- self, were singularly fortuitous. Some intercourse took place with the Turkish fleet, in consequence of his sending the wounded Turks on board, and Sir Sidney Smith,^ by way of taunting the Fi-ench general with the successes of the Russians in Italy, sent him a set of newspapers containing an account of Suwarrow's victories, and a deplorable view of the French affaii"s on the continent.^ If we may trust other authorities, however, to be quoted in their proper place, lie already knew the state of affaire, both in Italy and France, by liis own secret correspondence with Paris,^ informing liim, not only of the military reverses which the armies of • " Xct withstanding his unheard-of destiny, Napoleon has often been heard to say, in speaking of Sir Sidney Smith, ' Cut hommc m'a fait raancjuer ma fortune.' " — Thiers, tom. X , p. 314. 2 See Las Cases, vol. iii., p. 11 ; Savary's Memoirs, toI. i., p. 11-2 ; and Miot, p. 265. 3 " There existed no secret correspondence, whether private 3r official. Ten months ha/1 already elapsed, and we were still without news from Egypt."— Bouisrik.v.ve, tom. ii., p. 309. ■• Intercepted Letters, part iii., p. 38. * Ctneral Menou was the last person to whom Napoleon the latter country had sustained, but of the state of parties, and of the public mind, — intelligence of greater utility and accuracy than could have been commimicated by the English newspapers. However his information was derived, Buona- parte lost no time in acting upon it, with all the secrecy which a matter of such importance re- quired. Admiral Gantheaume, who had been with the army e^'er since the destruction of the fleet, received the general's orders to make ready for sea, with all possible despatch, two frigates then lying in the harbour of Alexandria. Meantime, determined to preserve his credit with the Institute, and to bring evidence of what he had done for the cause of science, Buonaparte commanded Monge, who is said to have suggested the expedition, and the accomplished Denon, who became its historian, with Berthollet, to prepai'e to accompany him to Alexandria, Of military chiefs, he selected the Generals Berthier, Murat, Lannes, Maraiont, Desaix, Andreossy, and Bessieres, the best and most attached of his oSicers, He left Cairo as soon as he heard the frigates were ready and the sea open, making a visit to the Delta the pretext of his tour. Kleber and Menou, whom he meant to leave first and second in command, were appointed to meet him at Alexandria. But he had an interview with the latter only. Kleber, an excellent soldier, and a man of con- siderable parts, was much displeased at the hasty and disordered manner in which the command of an important province and a diminished army were thrust upon him, and remonstrated in a letter to the Directory, upon tlie several points of the public service, which, by his conduct on this occasion, Buonaparte had neglected or endangered.* Napo- leon afterwards laboured hard to answer the accu- sations which these remonstrances implied, and to prove, that, in leaving the Egyptian army, he had no intention of abandoning it ; on the contrary, that he intended either to return in person, or to send powerful succours. He blamed Gantheaume, at a later period, for not having made his way from Toulon to Alexandria, with reinforcements and supplies. But Buonaparte, slow to see what con- tradicted a favourite project, could never be made to believe, unless when in the very act of experienc- ing it, that the superiority of the British naval power depends upon circumstances totally different from those which can be removed by equal courage, or even equal skill, on the part of the French naval officers ; and that, until it be removed, it will be at great hazard that France shall ever attempt to re- tain a province so distant as Egypt.'^ Napoleon left behind him a short proclamation," apprising the army, that news of importance from France had recalled him to Europe, but that they should soon hear tidings of him. He exhorted them, in the meantime, to have confidence in their new commander ; who possessed, he said, his good spoke on shore. He said to him, " My dear general, yon must take care of yourselves here. If I have the happiness to reach France, the reign of ranting shall be at an end."— Las Cases, tom. iii., p. 13. 6 " In consequence of the news from Europe, I have deter, mined to return to France. I leave the command of the army to General Kkber. The army will soon hear news of me: I cannot explain more fully. It grieves me to the heart to so- I)arate myself from the soldiers, to whom I am so tenderly attached: but the separation shall be but for a moment ; anj the general whom I leave at your head i)0»bcsses tl'e con£» dence of the government, and mint." 278 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1799: opinion, and that of the government ; and in these terms he bade them farewell. Two frigates, La Muiron and La Caru're, being ready for sea, the general embarked, from an unfrequented part of the beach, on the 2-2d August. Menou, who had met him there, came to Denon and others, who had attended the rendezvous without knowing exactly its purpose, as they were gazing in surprise at the unusual sight of two Fren»h frigates ready to put to sea, and informed them with agitation, that Buo- naparte waited for them. They followed, as in a dream ; but Denon had already secured that mass of measurements, drawings, manuscripts, and ob- jects of antiquarian and scientific curiosity, which afterwards enabled him to complete the splendid work, which now contains almost the only perma- nent or useful fruits of the memorable expedition to Egypt. Ere the frigates were far from land, they were reconnoitred by an English corvette — a circum- stance which seemed of evil augury. Buonaparte assured his companions, by his usual allusions to his own destiny. " We will arrive safe," he said ; " Fortune will never abandon us — we will arrive safe in despite of the enemy." To avoid the English cruizers,tlie vessels coasted the shores of Africa, and the wind was so contrary, that they made but a hundred leagues in twenty days. During this time, Buonaparte studied alter- nately the Bible and the Koran ;i more solicitous, it seemed, about the history of the countries which he had left behind, than the part which he was to play in that to which he was hastening. At length, they ventured to stand northward, and on the 30th September, they entered, by singular chance, the port of Ajaccio in Corsica, and Buonaparte found himself in his native citj-.^ On the 7th October, they again put to sea, but, upon approaching the French coast, they found themselves in the neigh- bourhood of a squadron of English men-of-war. The admiral would have tacked about, to return to Corsica. " To do so," said Buonaparte, " would be to take the road to England — I am seeking that to France." He probably meant that the manoeuvre would attract the attention of the English. They kept on their course ; but the peril of being cap- tured seemed so imminent, that, though still several leagues from the shore, Gantheaume proposed to man his long-boat, in order that the general might attempt his escape in her. Buonaparte observed, that that measure might be deferred till the case was more desperate.^ At length, they passed, unsuspected and unques- tioned, through the hostile squadron, and on the 9th October, at ten in the morning, he on whose fate the world so long seemed to depend, landed at St. Rapheau, near Frejus. He had departed at the head of a powerful fleet, and a victorious army, on an expedition designed to alter the destinies of the most ancient nations of the world. The result had been far from commensurate to the means em- ployed. The fleet had perished — the army was blockaded in a distant province, when their arms were most necessary at home. He returned clan- destinely, and almost alone ; yet Providence de- signed that, in this apparently deserted condition, ' Las Cases, torn, iii., p. 13. 2 " Gantheaume informed me, that he saw, at Ajaccio, the house that was occupied by Napoleon's family, the patrimonial abode. The arrival of their celebrated countryman iraracdi- lie should be the instrument of more extensive and more astonishing changes, than the efforts of the greatest conquerors had ever before been able to effect upon the civilized world. CHAPTER XV. lletrosspect of Public Events since the Departure of Napoleon for Eg ijpt— Invasion and Conquest of Switzerland — Seizure of Turin — Expulsion of the Pope — The Neapolitans declare War against France — The French enter Naples — Disgraceful Avarice exhibited by the Directory — Partictdarly ill their Negotiations with the United States of America — Russia comes forward in the general Cause — Her Strength and Resources — Reverses of the French in Italy, and on the Rhine — Insur- rections in Belgium and Holland against the French — Anglo-Russian Exp>edition sent to Hol- land — The Chouans again in the Field — Great and Universal Unpopidarity of the Directory — ■ State of Parties in France — Laic of Hostages — Abbe Sltyes becomes one of the Directory — His Character and Genius — Description of the Con- stitution piroposed by him for the Year Three — Ducos, Gohier, and Moidins, also introduced into the Directory — Family of Napoleon strive to keep him in the Recollection of the People — Favourable Change in the French Affairs — Holland Eva- cuated by the Anglo-Russian Army — Korsakow defeated by Massena — and Suwarrow retreats before Lecourbe. When Napoleon accepted what was to be coii' sidered as a doom of honourable banishment, in the command of the Egyptian expedition, he an- swered to those friends who advised him rather to stay and assert a pre-eminent station in the govern- ment at home, " that the fruit was not ripe." The seventeen months, or thereabouts, of his absence, had done much to complete the maturity which was formerly imperfect. The French Government had ceased to be invariably victorious, and at times had suffered internal changes, which, instead of restoring the national confidence, had only induced a general expectation of some fartlier and decisive revolution, that should for ever overthrow the Di- rectorial system. When Buonaparte sailed for Egypt, he left France at peace with Austria, and those negotia- tions proceeding at Radstadt, which no one then doubted would settle on a pacific footing the affairs of Germany. England alone remained hostile to France ; but the former being victorious on thoi sea, and the latter upon the land, it seemed as if the war must languish and die of itself, unless there had been a third element, of which the rivals might have disputed the possession. But though the interests of France, as well as of human'ty, peremptorily demanded peace, her rulers, feeling that their own tottering condition would be ren- dered still more precarious by the disbanding their numerous armies, resolved to continue the war in a new quarter. Under the most flimsy and injurious pretexts, ately set all the inhabitants of the island in motion. A crr-w of cousins came to welcome him, and the streets were thronged with peojile."— Las Cases, torn, iii., p. 14. 3 Bounionue, torn, iii., p. 4; Miot, p. 289. 1799.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 279 they attacked the neutral States of Switzerland, so emiueut for their moderation ; and the French troops, levied in the name of Freedom, were sent to assail that country which had been so long her mountain fortress. The ancient valour of the Switzei-s was unable to defend them against the new discoveries in the art of war, by which the strongest defiles can be turned, and therefore ren- dered indefensible. They fought with their ancient courage, particularly the natives of the mountain cantons, and only gave way before numbers and discipline. But these gallant mountaineers sacri- ficed more than thrice their own amount, ere they fell in their ranks, as became the countrymen of William Tell. The French affected to give the Swiss a constitution on the model of their own, but this was a mere farce. The arsenals, fortresses, and treasures of the cantons, were seized without scruple or apology, and the Swiss were ti'eated in all respects like a conquered nation. The fate of this ancient and unoffending people excited deep and general fear and detestation, and tended more perhaps than any other event to raise the animosity of Europe in general against France, as a country which had now plainly sho'wn, that her ambition could be bounded by no consideration of justice or international law.^ The King of Sardinia, who had first acknow- ledged the superiority of Buonaparte, and pur- chased his existence as a continental sovereign, by suiTendering all his fortresses to France, and per- mitting her troops to march through his country as their own, had surely some claim to forbearance ; but now, without even a pretext for such violence, the French seized upon Turin, the capital of this their vassal monarch, and upon all his continental dominions, sending him and his family to the island of Sardinia.^ Another victim there was of the French grasp- ing ambition, in whose fate the Catholic world was deeply interested. We have seen already that Buonaparte, though he despoiled the Pope of power and treasure, judged it more prudent to permit him to subsist as a petty prince, than by depriving him of all temporal authority, to drive him to desperation, and oblige him to use against the Republic those spiritual weapons, to which the public opinion of Catliolic countries still assigned strength. But the Directory were of a diflfei'ent opinion ; and though the Pope had submitted pas- sively to every demand which had been made by the French ambassador, however inconsistent with the treaty of Tolentino, the Directory, with the usual policy of their nation, privately encouraged a party in Rome which desired a revolution. These conspirators arose in arms, and, when dispersed by the guards, fled towards the hotel of Joseph Buona- parte, then the ambassador of the French to the Pope. In the scuffle which ensued, the ambassador was insulted, his life endangered, and General Duphot actually killed by his side. This outrage of course sealed the fall of the Pope, which had probably long been determined on. Expelled fi-om his dominions, the aged Pius VI. retired to Sienira, more the object of respect and veneration in his condition of a dethroned exile, tlian when holding ' Lacretelle, torn, xiv., p. 230; Madame de Stael, torn, ii., p. L>n. - Lacretelle, torn, xiv., p. 176; Montgailkird, torn, v., p. Jili ; J -jinini, torn, xi, d. 38u. the semblance of authority by permission of Fiance. In place of the Pontiff's government arose the shadow of a mighty name. The Roman Republic. But the Gauls were in possession of the Capitol, nor did the ancient recollections, connected with the title of the new commonwealth, procure for the Romans more independent authority than wae pos- sessed by any of the other ephemeral republican governments.'' In the fall of the Pope, and the occupation of the Roman territories by a French ani.y, the King of Naples saw the nation whom he feared and hated, and by whom he knew he was considered as a desu-able subject of plunder, approach his fron- tiers, and become his neighbours. War he per- ceived was unavoidable ; and he formed the resolu- tion to be the first in declaring it. The victory of Nelson, and the interest which that distinguished hero acquired at what might be called a female court, with the laurels of the Nile fresh upon his brow, confirmed the Neapohtan government in the resolution. Mack, an Austrian general, who had got the reputation of a great tactician, and a gallant soldier, was sent by the emperor to discipline and command the Neapolitan army. Nelson's falcon eye measured the man's worth at once. " General ilack," said he, " cannot move without five car- riages — I have foiTued my opinion — I heartily pray I may be mistaken." He was not mistaken. The Neapolitan army marched to Rome, was encoun- tered by the French, fought just long enough to lose about forty men, then fled, abandoning guns, baggage, arms, and every thing besides, " The Neapohtan officers did not lose much honour," said Nelson, " for God knows they had little to lose — but they lost what they had."* The prescient eye, which was as accurate by land as by sea, had also foi-eseen the instant advance of the French to Naples. It took place accordingly, but not imre- sisted. The naked rabble, called Lazzaroni, showed the most desperate courage. They attacked the French ere they came to the city ; and notwith- standing a murderous defeat, they held out Naples for two days with their irregular musketry only, against regular forces amply supplied with artillery. What can we say of a country, where the rabble are eoui-ageous and the soldiers cowards'? what, unless that the higher classes, from whom the officers are chosen, must be the parties to be cen- sured.5 The royal family fled to Sicily ; and in Naples a new classical-sounding government was created at the command of the French general — The Par- thenopean Republic. The French were now pos- sessed of all Italy, excepting Tuscany, and that was exempted from their authority in name only, and not in effect. The French people, notwithstanding the success of these several undertakings, were not deceived or flattered by them in a degree equal to what probably their rulers expected. Their vanity was alarmed at the meanness of the motives which the Directory exhibited on almost every occasion. Even the dazzling pride of conquest was sullied by the mercenary views with which war was under» taken. On one occasion the veil was raised, and 3 Botta, torn, ii., p. 571; Lacretelle, torn, xiv., p. 145; Thiers, torn, x., p. 2fi ; Annual Ktgister, vol. il., p. 3b. ■• See Southcy s Life of Nelson. * Jomini, torn, xiv., p. 316; Lacretelle, torn, xiv., p. 241 280 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1799. all Frenchmen who had feelings of decency, not to say of probity or honour, remaining, must have held themselves disgraced by the venal character of their government. Some disputes existing between France and the United States of America, commissioners were sent by the latter country to Paris, to endeavour to restore a good understanding. They were not publicly acknowledged by France in the character of ambassadors ; but were distinctly given to under- stand, that they could only be permitted to treat, on condition that the States of America sliould lend to the Republic the sum of a million sterling ; to which was added, the unblushing demand of fifty thousand pounds, as a douceur for the private pocket of the directors. The astonishment of the envoys was extreme at this curious diplomatic pro- posal, and they could hardly credit their ears when they heard it repeatedly and grossly urged. " The essential part of the treaty," said one of the French agents, " is, (7 faut de Panjent — U faiit heaiicouj) d' argent;" and to render the matter palatable, he told the Americans of other countries which had paid large sums to obtain peace, and reminded them of the irresistible power of France. The Transatlantic Republicans, vmmoved by these argu- ments, stoutly answered, " That it belonged only to petty states to purchase independence by pay- ment of tribute — that America was willing and able to protect herself by arms, and would not purchase with money what she possessed by her powerful means of self-defence." They added, " that they had no power whatever to enter into any engagements concerning a loan." The agents of France lowered their tone so far as to say, that if the commissioners would pay something in the way of fees, they might be per- mitted to remain in Paris, whilst one of their num- ber returned to America to obtain instructions from their government ; but not even to that mo- dification of bribery would the Americans listen. They would not, according to the expression used in incendiary letters, " put five pounds in a certain place." The treaty became public, to the scandal alike of France and of Europe, which joined in regarding a government that made war on such base principles, as standing, in comparison to those who warred in tlie spirit of conquest, in the rela- tion of footpads to highwaymen. The only attempt made by Talleyrand towards explanation of this singular transaction, was a shuffling denial of the fact, which he strengthened by an insinuation, that the statement of the American envoys was a weak invention, suggested to them by the English.* Not to multiply instances, tlie rapacity and do- mineering insolence with which the Directory con- ducted themselves towards the new republics, who were at every moment madesensibleof their total de- pendence on the Great Nation — the merciless exac- tions which they imposed, together with the rapaci- ous peculationsof ma«y of their generals and agents, made them lose interest almost as fast as they could acquire territory. Their fair pretexts of ex- tending freedom, and the benefits of a liberal go- ' Anuual Kegistcr, vol. x]., p. 244. * " Suwarrow is a most extraordinary man. He dines every mornini! about nine. He sleeps almost naked: lie afi'ects a perfect indifference to heat and cold ; and quits his chamber, winch approaches to suffocation, in order to review his troops, 111 a thin iinen jacket, while the thermometer is at ten de- vernment, to states which had been oppressed by the old feudal institutions, were now valued at no more than their worth ; and it was seen, that the only equality which republican France extended to the conquered countries, was to render all classes alike degraded and impoverished. Thus, the suc- cesses which we have hastily enumerated rather endangered than strengthened the empire of France, as they rendered her ambition the object of fear and suspicion to all Europe. The Catholic nations beheld the degradation of the supremo Pontiff with abhorrence — every king in Europe feared a similar fate with the sovereigns of Sardi- nia and Naples — and, after the fate of Switzerland, no people could rely upon a peaceful, unofiending, and strictly neutral character, as ground sufficient to exempt them from French aggression. Thus a general dread and dislike prepared for a new co- alition against France, in which Russia, for the first time, was to become an active co-operator. The troops of this powerful empire were emi- nentlj' qualified for encountering with the French ; for, added to their hardihood, courage, and disci- pline, they had a national character — a distinction less known to the Germans, whose subdivision into different states, often at war with each other, has in some degree diminished their natural spu-it of patriotism. Accustomed also to warfare on a great scale, and to encounter such an enemy as the Turk, the Russians, while they understood the modern system of tactics, were less servilely bigoted to it than the Austrians. Their ideas more readily went back to the natural and primitive character of war, and they Avere better prepared either to depart from strict technical rules themselves, or to see them departed from, and calculate the results. These new enemies of France, moreover, were full of confidence in their own character, and un- checked in their military enthusiasm by the fre- quent recollections of defeat, which clouded the spirit of the Austrians. Above all, the Russians had the advantage of being commanded by Suwar- row, one of the most extraordinary men of his time, who, possessed of the most profound military sagacity, assumed the external appearance of fana- tical enthusiasm, as in society he often concealed his perfect knowledge of good-breeding under tlie show of extravagant buffoonery. These peculiari- ties, which would not have succeeded with a French or English army, gained for him an un- bounded confidence among his countrymen, who considered his eccentric conduct, followed, as it almost always was, by brilliant success, as the re- sult of something which approached to inspiration.^ The united forces of Austria and Russia, chiefly under the command of this singular character, succeeded, in a long train of bloody battles, to re- take and re-occupy those states in the north of Italy, which had been conquered in Buonaparte's first campaigns. It was in vain that Macdonald, whose name stood as high among the Republican generals, as his character for honour and rectitude among French statesmen, marched from Naples, traversing the whole length of Itah', to arrest the grees below freezing. A great deal of his vrhimsical manner is affected : He finds that it suits his troops, and the peojile he has to deal with. 1 dined with him this morning Ho cried to me across the table, ' Tweddell, the French ha>9 taken Portsmouth. 1 have just received a courier from Eng land. The king is in the tower, and Sheridan protector'"' Tweddell's licinaiits, p. I'So. 1799.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 281 victorious progress of the allies. After a train of Btubbom fighting, it was only by displaying great military talent tliat he could extricate the remains of his army. At length the decisive and desperate battle of Novi seemed to exclude the Fi-ench from the possession of those fair Italian provinces, which had been acquired by such expense of life.' On the Rhine, though her defeats were not of such a decided character, France also lost reputa- tion and territory. Jourdan proved no match for the Archduke Charles, who having no longer Buo- naparte to encounter, asserted his former superi- ority over inferior French generals. His royal highness finally compelled the French to recross the Rhine, while the Austrian genei-als Bellegarde and Hotze, supported by a Russian division under Korsakow, advanced to the Ime of the Limmat, near Zurich, and waited the junction of Suwarrow to occupy Switzerland, and even to menace France, who, in a great measure despoiled of her foreign conquests, had now reason to apprehend the inva- sion of her own territory. In the Netherlands, the French interest seemed equally insecure. Insurrections had already taken place in what they called Belgium, and it seemed that the natives of these populous districts desii-ed but opportunity and encouragement for a general revolt. Holland, through all its provinces, was equally disaffected ; and the reports from that country encouraged England to send to the coast an expedition, consisting of British and Russian forces, to which two divisions of the Dutch fleet delivered up their vessels, hoisting at the same time the colours of the Stadtholder. Here was another risk of an imminent and pressing descrip- tion, which menaced France and its Dh-ectorial government. It remains to be added to the tale of these fo- reign calamities, that the Chouans, or Royalists of Bretagne, were again in the field with a number of bands, amounting, it is said, to forty thousand men in all. They had gained several successes, and, though falling short of the chivalrous spirit of the Vende'ans, and having no general equal in ta- lents to Charette, were nevertheless sufficiently brave and well commanded, to become extremely formidable, and threaten a renewal of all the evils which had been occasioned by the former civil war. Amidst these louring appearances, the dislike and disrespect with which the directors were re- garded, occasioned their being loaded with every species of accusation by the public. It was not forgotten that it was the jealousy of Barras, Rew- bel, and the other directors, which had banished from France the most successful of her generals, at the head of a gallant army, who were now needed to defend the provinces which their valour had gained. The battle of Aboukir, while it anni- hilated their fleet, had insulated the land forces, who, now cut off from all communication with their mother country, and shut up in an insalubrious province, daily wasted in encounters with the bar- barous tribes that valour, and those lives, which, hazarded on the frontiers of France, might have restored victory to their standards. To these upbraiding complaints, and general ac- ' Jomini, torn, xi., p. 275 ; Thiers, torn, x., p. 07f. * The term, it is scarcely necessary to say, is derived from u childish amusement, where two boya swing at the opposite cusations of incapacity, as well as of peculation, the directors had little to answer. What was a still greater deficiency, they had no party to appeal to, by whom their cause, right or wrong, might have been advocated with the stanch adherence of par- tisans. They had undergone, as we shall presently show, various changes in their own body, but with- out any alteration in their principles of administra- tion, which still rested on the principle of Bascule, or see-saw,2 as it is called in English ; the attempt, in short, to govern two contending factions in the state, by balancing the one against the other, with- out adhering to either. In consequence of this mean and temporizing policy, which is always that of weak minds, the measures of the government j were considered, not with reference to the general welfare of the state, but as they should have effect upon one or other of the parties by which it was I divided. It followed also, that having no certain path and plan, but regulating their movements upon the wish to maintain an equality between the factions, in order that they might preserve their authority over both, the directors had no personal followers or supporters, save that most sordid class, who regulate their politics on their interest, and who, though faithful adherents of every settled administration, perceive, by instinctive sagacity, the moment that their patrons are about to lose their offices, and desert their cause on such occa- sions with all convenient speed. Yet the directors, had they been men of talent, integrity, and character — above all, had they been united among themselves, and agreed on one steady course of policy, might have governed France with Httle difficulty. The great body of the nation were exhausted by the previous fury of the revolutionary movements, had supped full with poHtics, and were much disposed to sit down contented under any government which promised protection for life and property. Even the factions had lost their energy. Those who inclined to a monarchical form, were many of them become indifferent by whom the sceptre was wielded, providing that species of government, supposed by them most suitable to the habits and character of the French, should be again adopted. Many who were of this opinion saw great objection to the restoration of the Bour- bons, for fear that, along with their right, might revive all those oppressive feudal claims which the Revolution had swept away, as well as the preten- sions of the emigrants to resume their property Those who entertained such sentiments were called j\IodereS. The ancient blood-red Jacobins could hardly be said to exist. The nation had had a sur- feit of blood, and all parties looked back with dis- gust on the days of Robespierre. But there existecj a kind of white Jacobins ; men who were desirous to retain a large proportion of democratical prin- ciple in the constitution, either that they might not renounce the classical name of a Republic, or because they confided in their own talents, to "wield at will the fierce democracy;" or because they really believed that a potent infusion of sucb a spirit in the forms of government was necessary for the preservation of liberty. This party was greatly inferior in numbers to the others ; and they had lost their authority over the populace, by ends of a plank, movinfj np and dovfn, in what Dr. Johnson calls "a reciprocating motion," wliilc a third urchin, placed in the centre of motion, regulates their movements. -S. ?82 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1799. means of which they had achieved such changes during the early periods of the Revohition. But they were hold, enterprising, active ; and their chiefs, assuming at first the name of the Pantheon, afterwards of the Manege Club, formed a party in the state which, from the character of the leaders, gave great subject of jealousy to the Directory.* The rapacity and insolent "bearing of the French Government having, as we have seen, provoked a new war with Austria and Russia, the means to which the directors had recourse for maintaining it were a forced loan imposed on the wealthy, which gave alarm to property, and a conscription of two hun- dred thousand men, which was alike distressing to poor and rich. Both measures had been submitted to during the Reign of Terror ; but then a murmur cost the complainer his head. The Dh-ectory had no such summary mode of setthng grievances. These two last ijiflictions greatly inflamed the public discontent. To meet the general tendency to insm-rection, they Iiad recourse to a measure equally harsh and unpopular. It was called the Law of Hostages, by which the unoffending rela- tives of emigrants, or royalists, supposed to be in arms, were thrown into prison, and rendered responsible for the acts of their connexions. This unjust law filled the prisons with women, old men, and children, — victims of a government which, because it was not strong enough to subdue insur- rection by direct force, visited the consequences of its own weakness on age, childliood, and helpless females.^ Meantime, the dissensions among the directors themselves, which continued to increase, led to various changes within their own body. When Buonaparte left Europe, the Directory consisted of Barras, Rewbel, Treilhard, Merlin, Reveilliere- Lepaux. The opposition attacked them with so much fury in the Legislative Assemblies, Boulay de la Meurthe, Lucien Buonaparte, Franyois, and other men of talent leading the way, that at length the directors appear to have become afraid of being made personally responsible, by impeachment, for the peculations of their agents, as well as for the result of the msolences by which they had exaspe- rated the friends and allies of France. Rewbel, he whose character for talent and integrity stood most fair with the public, was removed from office by the lot which announced liim as the director who was to retire. It has been said, some art was used to guide fortune on this occasion. His name in the list was succeeded by one celebrated in the Revo- lution ; that of the Abbd Sieyes. This remarkable statesman had acquired a high reputation, not only by the acuteness of his meta- physical talent, but by a species of mystery in which he involved himself and his opinions. He was cer- tainly possessed of great knowledge and experience in the affairs of France, was an adept in the com- position of new constitutions of all kinds, and had got a high character, as possessed of secrets pecu- liarly his own, for conducting the vessel of the state amidst the storms of revolution. The Abbe, in fact, managed his political reputation as a pru- dent trader does his stock ; and, by shunning to venture on any thing which could, in any great degree, peril his credit, he extended it in the pubUc ' Gourijaud, torn, i., p. 5R. ^ Thiers, torn, i , p. -^eO: Lacretelle, torn, xiv., p. 397. opinion, perhaps much farther than his parts jus- tified. A temper less daring in action than bold in metaphysical speculation, and a considerable regard for his own personal safety, accorded well with his affected air of mystery and reserve. In the National Assembly he had made a great impres- sion, by his pamphlet explaining the nature of the Third Estate ;^ and he had the principal part in procuring the union of the three separate Estates into the National Assembly. A flaming patriot in 1792-3, he voted for the death of the unfortunate Louis ; and, as was reported, with brutal le\ity, using the celebrated expression, " Mort sati.i phrase." He was no less distinguished for bring- ing forward the important measure for dividing France into departments, and thus blending toge- ther and confounding all the ancient distinctions of provinces.* After this period he became pas- sive, and was little heard of during the Reign of Terror ; for he followed the maxim of Pythagoras, and worshipped the Echo (only found in secret and solitary places) when he heard the tempest blow hard. After the revolution of 9th Thermidor, Sieyes came in with the moderate party, and had the merit to propose the recall of the members who had been forcibly expelled by the Jacobin faction on the fall of the Girondists. He was one of the committee of eleven, to whom was given the charge of forming the new constitution, afterwards called that of the year Three. This great metaphysical philosopher and politician showed little desire to share with any colleagues the toil and honour of a task to which he esteemed himself exclusively com- petent ; and he produced, accordingly, a model entirely of his own composition, very ingenious, and evincing a wonderfully intimate acquaintance with political doctrines, together with a multitude of nice balances, capacities, and disqualifications, so constituted as to be checks on each other. As strongly characteristic of the genius of the man, we shall here give an account of his great work. His plan provided that the constitution, with its powers of judicature and of administration, should emanate from the people ; but lest, like that unna- tural parent the sow, the people should devour their own nine farrow, the functionaries thus invested with power were to be placed, when created, out of the reach of the parents who had given them birth. The mode in which it was proposed to effect this, was both singular and ingenious. The ofiice-bearers were thus to be selected out of three orders of the state, forming a triple hierarchy. I. The citizens of each commune were to name one-tenth of their number, to be called the Communal Notables. From these were to be selected the magistrates of the commmies, and the justices of peace. 2. The Communal Notables were again to choose a tenth part of their number, who were called the Depart- mental Notables. The prefects, judges, and provin- cial administrators, were selected from this second body. 3. The Departmental Notables, in hke man- ner, were to elect a tenth of their number, compu- ted to amount to about six thousand persons ; and from this highest class of citizens were to be filled the most dignified and important situations in the state, — the ministers and members of government, 3 See niite, p. 97- * Gourgaud, torn, i , p. 61, 1799.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 283 ine legislature, the senate, or grand jury, the prin- cipal judges, ambassadoi-s, and the like. By this system it will be perceived,, that instead of equality, three ranks of privileged citizens were to be esta- blished, from whose ranks alone certain offices could be filled. But this species of nobility, or, as it was called. Notability, was dependent not on birth, but on the choice of the people, from whom, though more or less directly, all officers without exception received their commissions. The elections were to take place every five years. To represent the national dignity, power, and glory, there was to be an officer called the Grand Elector, who was to have guards, a revenue, and all the external appendages of royalty ; all acts of government, laws, and judicial pi'oceedings, were to run in his name. This species of Hoi-fain saiit was to possess no part of the royal authority, ex- cept the right of naming two consuls, one for peace, and the other for war ; and the farther right of selecting, from lists of candidates to be supplied by the three ranks of the hierarchy, the individuals who were to fiU official situations as they should become vacant. But having exercised this privi- lege, the grand elector, or proclaimer general, was functus officio, and had no active duties to perform, or power to exercise. The two consuls, altogether uncontrolled bj- him or each other, were to act each in their own exclusive department of peace or war ; and the other functionaries were ahke independent of the grand proclaimer, or elector, so soon as ho had appointed them. He was to resemble no sove- reign ever heard of but the queen bee, who has nothing to do but to repose m idleness and luxury, and give being to the active insects by whose in- dustry the business of the hive is carried on. The government being thus provided for, the Abbe Sieyes's system of legislature was something like tliat of France in the time of the ParUament. There was to be a Legislative Body of two hundi'ed and fifty deputies ; but they were to form rather a tribunal of judges, than a popular and deliberative assembly. Two other bodies, a Council of State on the part of the Government, and a Tribunate of one hundred deputies, on the part of the people, were to propose and discuss measures in presence of this Legislative Council, who then proceeded to adopt or reject them upon scrutiny and by vote, but without any oral delivery of opinions. The Tribunate was invested with the riglit of guarding the freedom of the subject, and denouncing to the Convocative Senate such misconduct of office-bear- ers, or ill-chosen measures, or ill-advised laws, as should appear to them worthy of reprobation. But, above all. Abbe' Sieyes piqued himself upon the device of what he determined a Conservative Senate, which, possessing in itself no power of ac- tion or legislation of any kind, was to have in charge the preservation of the constitution. To this Se- nate was given the singular power, of calling in to become a member of their own body, and reducing of course to their own state of incapacity, any indi- vidual occupying another situation in the constitu- tion, whose talents, ambition, or popularity, should render him a subject of jealousy. Even the grand elector himself was liable to this fate of absorjAion, ' " Ducos was a man of narrow mind, and easy disposition. AFoulins, a general of division, liad never served in war: lie was originallv in tlie I-'rcnch guards, and had been advanced ill the aruiy'of the interior. He was a worthy man, and a as it was called, although he held his crown o! Cocaign in the common case for life. Any exer- tion on his part of what might seem to the Senate an act of arbitrary authority, entitled them to adopt him a member of their own body. He was thus removed from his palace, guards, and income, and made for ever incapable of any other office than that of a senator. This high point of policy was carrying the system of checks and balances as far as it could well go. The first glance of this curious model must have convmced a practical politician that it was greatly too complicated and technical to be carried into effect. The utility of laws consists in their being of a character which compels the respect and obe- dience of those to whom they relate. The very delicacy of such an ingenious scheme rendered it incapable of obtaining general regard, since it was too refined to be understood save by profound phi- losophers. To the rest of the nation it must have been like a watch to a savage, who, being com- manded to regulate his time by it, will probably prefer to make the machine correspond with his inclinations, by putting backward and forward the index at pleasure. A man of ordinary talent and honest disposition might have been disqualified for public life by this doctrine of absorption, just as a man ignorant of swimming would perish if flung into a lake. But a stout swimmer would easily gain the shore, and an individual like Buonaparte would set at defiance the new species of ostracism, and decline to be neutralized by the absorption of the Senate. Above all, the plan of the abbe' de- stroyed the true principle of national representa- tion, by introducing a metaphysical election of members of legislation, instead of one immediately derived from the direct vote of the people them- selves. In the abbe"s alembic, the real and inva- luable principle of popular representation was sub- tilized into smoke. For these, or other reasons, the commissioners of the year Three did not approve of the plan pro- posed by Sieyes ; and, equally dissatisfied with the constitution which they adopted, he withdi-ew him- self from their deliberations, and accepted the situ- ation of ambassador to Prussia, where he discharged with great ability the task of a diplomatist. In 1799, Sieyes returned from Berlin to Paris, full of hope to establish his own favourite model on the ruins of the Directorial Constitution, and, as a preliminary, obtained, as we have said, RewbeFs seat in the Directory. Merlin and Lepaux, me- naced with impeachments, were induced to send in their resignation. Treilhard had been previoiisly displaced, on pretext of an informality in the choice Instead of them w ere introduced into the Dii-ectory Roger Ducos, a Mude'r^, or rather a Royahst, with Gohier and Moulins, men of talents too ordinary to throw any opposition in the path of Sieyes.' Barras, by his expenses and his luxurious mode of life, his connexion with stock-jobbers, and encou- ragement of peculation, was too much in danger of impeachment, to permit him to play a manly part. He truckled to circumstances, and allied himself with, or rather subjected himself to, Sieyes, who saw the time approaching when the constitution of warm and upright palrii)t. Goliicr was an advocate of consi- derable reputation, and exalted patriotism— an eminent law. yer, and a man of great integrity and candour."— Napoi-ej:'!, Gouryauii, torn, i., p. (iO. 284 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1799. tiie year Three must fall, and hoped to establish his own rejected model in its stead. But the revo- lution which he meditated could only be executed by force. The change in the Directory had destroyed the government by bascule, or balance, and that inter- mediate and trimming influence being removed, the two parties of the Modere's and the Republicans Btood full opposed to each other, and ready to try their strength in a severe struggle. Sieyes, though no Royalist, or at least certainly no adherent of the House of Bourbon, stood, nevertheless, at the head of the Modere's, and taxed his sagacity for means of ensuring their victory. The Mode're's possessed a majority in the Council of the Ancients ; but the Society of the Manege, Republicans if not Jacobins, had obtained, at the last election, a great superi- ority of numbers in the Council of Five Hundred. They were sure to be in decided opposition to any change of the constitution of the year Three ; and such being the case, those who plotted the new re- volution, could not attempt it without some external support. To call upon the people was no longer the order of the day. Indeed it may be supposed that the ancient revolutionary columns would rather have risen against Sieyes, and in behalf of the Society of the Manege. The proposers of a new change had access, however, to the army, and to that they determined to appeal. The assistance of some military chief of the first reputation was necessary. Sieyes cast his eyes upon Joubert, an officer of high reputation, and one of the most dis- tinguished among Buonaparte's generals. He was named by the Directors to the command of the department of Paris, but shortly after was sent to Italy with hopes that, acquiring a new fund of glory by checking the progress of Suwarrow, he might be yet more fitted to fill the public eye, and infiu- ence the general mind, in the crisis when Sieyes looked for his assistance. Joubert lost his life, how- ever, at the gi-eat battle of Novi, fought betwixt him and Suwarrow ; and so opportunely did his death make room for the pretensions of Buonaparte, that it has been rumoured, certainly without the least probability, that he did not fall by the fire of the Austrians, but by that of assassins hired by the family of Napoleon, to take out of the way a power- ful competitor of their brother. This would have been a gi-atuitous crime, since they could neither reckon with certainty on the arrival of Buonaparte, nor upon his being adopted by Sieyes in place of Joubert. Meanwhile, the family of Napoleon omitted no mode of keeping his merits in public remembrance. Reports from time to time appeared in the papers to this purpose, as when, to give him consequence doubtless, they pretended that the Tower guns of London were fired, and public rejoicings made, upon a report that Napoleon had been assassinated. JIadame Buonaparte, in the meanwhile, lived at great expense, and with much elegance, collecting around her whoever was remai'kable for talent and accomplishment, and many of the women of Paris who were best accustomed to the management of political intrigue. Lucien Buonaparte distinguish- ed himself as an orator in the Council of Five Hun- dred, and although he had hitherto aff'ected Re- publican zeal, he now opposed, with much ability, the reviving influence of the democrats. Joseph Buonaparte, also a man of talent, and of an excel- lent eliaracter, though much aspersed afterwai-ds, in consequence of the part in Spain assigned hira by his brother, lived hospitably, saw much com- pany, and maintained an ascendance in Parisian society. We cannot doubt tha,t these near relatives of Buonaparte found means of communicating to him the state of affairs in Paris, and the opening which it afforded for the exercise of his distin- guished talents. The communication betwixt Toulon and Alex- andria was, indeed, interrupted, but not altogether broken off, and we have no doubt that the struggle of parties in the interior, as well as the great dis- asters on the frontier, had their full influence in determining Buonaparte to his sudden return. Miot, though in no very positive strain, has named a Greek called Bambuki, as the bearer of a letter from Joseph to his brother, conveying this import- ant intelligence. The private memoirs of Fouche pretend that that minister purchased the secret of Napoleon's return being expected, from Josephine herself, for the sum of a thousand louis, and that the landing at Frejus was no surprise to him. Both these pieces of private history may be safely doubted ; but it would be difficult to convince us that Buonaparte took the step of quitting Egypt on the vague intelligence afforded by the journals, and without confideutial communication with his own family. To return to the state of the French Govern- ment. The death of Joubert not only disconcerted the schemes of Sieyes, but exposed him and his party to retaliation. Bernadotte was minister of wai', and he, with Jourdan and Augereau, were all warm in the cause of Republicanism. Any of these distinguished generals was capable of leading the military force to compel such an alteration in the constitution as might suit the purpose of their party, and thus reversing the project of Sieyes, who, without Joubert, was like the head without the arm that should execute. Already Jourdan had made in the Council of Five Hundred a speech on the dangers of the country, which, in point of vehemence, might have been pronounced in the ancient hall of the Jacobins. He in plain terms threatened tlxe Mode'res with such a general insur- rection as had taken place in the year 1792, and proposed to declare the country in danger. He was answered by Lucien Buonaparte, Chenier, and Boulay, who had great difficulty to parry the im- petuosity with which the motion was urged forward. Though they succeeded in eluding the danger, it was still far from being over, and the democrats would probably have dared some desperate move- ment, if any additional reverse had been sustained on the frontier. But as if the calamities of France, which of late had followed each other in quick succession, had attained their height of tide, the affaii's of that country began all of a sudden to assume a more favourable aspect. The success of General Brune in Holland against the Anglo-Russian army, had obliged the mvaders of Holland to retreat, and enter into a convention for evacuation of the coun- try on which they had made their descent. A dispute, or misunderstanding, having occurred be- tween the Emperors of Austria and Russia, the Archduke Charles, in order, it was alleged, to repel an incursion of the French into the countries on the Maine, withdrew a great part of his army from 1799.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 285 the line of the Limmat, whicli was taken up by the Russians under Korsakow. Massena took the ad- vantage of this imprudent step, crossed the Limmat, surprised the Russians, and defeated Korsakow, whilst the formidable Suwarrow, who had already advanced to communicate with that general, found his right flank uncovered by his defeat, and had the greatest difficulty in executing a retrograde movement before General Lecourbe. The news of these successes induced the Repu- licans to defer their attack upon the moderate party ; and on so nice a point do the greatest events hang, that had a longer period intervened between these victories and the arrival of Buonaparte, it is most probable that he would have found the situa- tion of military chief of theapproacliing revolution, which became vacant on the death of Joubert, filled up by some one of those generals, of whom success had extended the fame. But he landed at the happy crisis, when the presence of a chief of first- rate talents was indispensable, and when no fa- vourite name had yet been found, to fill the public voice with half such loud acclaim as his own. CHAPTER XVI. General rejoicing on the return of Buonaparte — Advances made to him on all sides — Napoleon coalesces with Sieyes — Revolution of the I8tli Bru- maire (Nov. 9) — Clashing Views of the Coun- cils of Ancients, and the Fire Hundred — Barras and his Colleagues resign — Proceedings of the Councils on the \dth — and \^th — Sittings removed from Paris to St. Cloud — Commotion in the Coun- cil of Fire Hundred — Napoleon menaced and assaulted, and finally, extricated hy his Grena- diers — Lmcien Buonaparte, the President, retires from the Hall — Declares the Council dissolved — Provisional Consular Government of Buonaparte, Siiyes, and Ducos. BcoxAPARTE had caused himself to be preceded by an account of his campaigns in Africa and Asia, in which the splendid victory over the Turks at Aboukir enabled him to gloss over his bad success in Syria, the total loss of his fleet, and the danger of Malta, which was closely besieged by the Eng- lish. Still, however, these despatches could never have led any one to expect the sudden return of a general engaged on a foreign service of the utmost importance, who, without liaving a better reason to allege, than his own opinion that his talents were more essential to his country in France than in Egypt, left his army to its fate, and came, without either order or permission from his government, to volunteer his services where they were not expect- ed, or perhaps wished for. Another in the same circumstances, or perhaps the same general at an- other period of the Revolution, would have been received by the public with alienated favour, and 1 Thiers, torn, x., p 346; Gourgaud, torn, i., p. 56; Lacre- telle, torn, xiv., ]>. 3Uj. 2 " It -nas not like the return of a citizen to his country, or a general at the head of a victorious army, but like the tri- umph of a sovereign restored to his people." — GotiRQAUD, torn, i., p. 57. 3 " The news of his return caused a general delirium. Baudin, the deputy from Ardennes, who was really a worthy man, struck with the idea that Providence had at length sent the man for whom he and his party had so long searched in by the government with severe inquiry, if not with denunciation. On the contrary, such was the general reliance on the talents of Buonaparte, that, delighted to see him arrive, no one thought of asking wherefore, or by whose auUiority he had returned. He was re- ceived like a victorious monarch re-entering his dominions at his own time and pleasure. Bells were everywhere rung, illuminations made, a de- lirium of joy agitated the public mind, and the messenger who carried the news of his disembark* ation to Paris, was received as if he had brought news of a battle gained^* The hall of the Comieil of Five Hundred re-echo- ed with cries of victory, while the orator, announ- cing the victories of I3rune over the English, and Massena over the Russians, dwelt upon the simple fact of Buonaparte's return, as of interest equal to all these successes. He was heard with shouts of " Long live the Republic !" which, as the event proved, was an exclamation hut very indifferently adapted to the occasion. Josephine, and Joseph Buonaparte, apprised by the government of the arrival of Napoleon, has- tened to meet him on the road ; and his progre.ss towards Paris was everywhere attended by the same general acclamations which had received him at landing.^ The members of Government, it must be suppo- sed, felt alarm and anxiety, which they endeavoured to conceal under the appeai-ance of sharing in the general joy.^ The arrival of a person so influential by his fame, so decided in his character, engaged with no faction, and pledged to no political sy.stem, was likely to give victory to one or the other party who were contending for superiority, as he should himself determine. The eyes of all men were upon Napoleon, while his reserved and retired mode, of Ufe prevented any accurate anticipation being formed of the part which he was likely to take in the approaching convulsions of the state.* While both parties might hope for his participation and succour, neither ventured to call into question his purpose, or the autiiority by which he had left his army m Egypt, and appeared thus unexpectedly in the capital. On the contrary, they courted him on either hand as the arbiter, whose decision was likely to have most influence on the state of the nation.^ Napoleon, meanwliile, seemed to give his exclu- sive attention to literature, and, having exchanged the usual visits of form with the ministers of the Republic, he was more frequently to be found at the Institute, or discussing with the traveller Vol- ney, and other men of letters, the information which he had acquired in Egypt on science and antiquities, than in the haunts of politicians, or the society of the leaders of either )iarty in the state. Neither was he to be seen at the places of popular resort : he went into no general company, seldom attended the theatres, and, when he did, took his seat in a private box.*" vain, died the very same nSght from excess of joy." — Gour- gaud, torn, i., p. 59; FoucHE, tom. i., p. 107. ■4 " Having tnus arrived in Paris quite unexpectedly, ho was in his own house, in the Rue Chantereine, before any one knew of his being in the capital. Two hours afterwards, ha presented himself to the Directory, and, being recognised by the soldiers on guard, was announced by shouts of gladness. All the members of the Directory appeared to share in th« public jov."— Gourgaud, tom. i., p. 60. 6 See Memoires de Gohier, tom.i., pp. 198-212. Gourgaud, tom. i., p. 63. 286 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WOEKS. [1' A public entertainment was given in honom* of the general in the church of St. Sulpice, which was attended by both the Legislative Bodies. Moreau shai-ed the same honour, perhaps on that account not the moTe agreeable to Buonaparte. Jourdan a'.id Augereau did not appear— a cloud seemed to hang over the festival— Is'apoleon only presented himself for a very short time, and the whole was ever in the course of an hour.i To the military, his conduct seemed equally re- served — he held no levees, and attended no re- views. While all ranks contended in offei-ing their tribute of applause, he turned in silence from re- ceiving them.''' In all tliis there was deep policy. No one knew better how much popular applause depends on the gloss of novelty, and how great is the difference in public estimation, betwixt him who appears to hunt and court acclamations, and the wiser and more dignified favourite of the multitude, whose popu- larity follows after him and seeks him out, instead of being the object of his pursuit and ambition. Yet under this still and apparently indifferent de- meanour, Napoleon was in secret employed in col- lecting all the information necessary concerning the purposes and the powers of the various parties in the state ; and as each was eager to obtain his countenance, he had no difficvilty iu obtaining full explanations on these points. The violent Republicans, who possessed the majority in the Council of Five Hundred, made advances to him ; and the generals Jourdan, Auge- reau, and Bernadotte, offered to filace him at the head of that party, provided he would maintain the democratical constitution of the year Three.' In uniting with this active and violent party, Buonaparte saw every chance of instant and im- mediate success ; but, by succeeding in the outset, he would probably have marred the farther pro- jects of ambition which he already nourished. Military leaders, such as Jourdan and Bernadotte, at the head of a party so furious as the Republi- cans, could not have been thrown aside without both danger and difficulty : and it being unques- tionably the ultimate intention of Buonaparte to usurp the supreme power, it was most natural for him to seek adherents among those, who, though differing concerning the kind of government which should be finally established, concurred m desiring a change from the republican model. Barras, too, endeavoured to sound the purposes of the general of the army of Egypt. He hinted to him a plan of placing at the head of the Directory Hedouville,^ a man of ordinary talent, then general of what was still termed the Army of England, of retiring himself from power, and of conferring on Napoleon the general command of the Republican forces on the frontiers, which he vainly supposed preferment sufficient to gratify his ambition. * Buo- 1 " Covers were laid for seven hundred. Napoleon re- mained at table but a short time: he appeared to be uneasy, and much preoccupied."— Goi'RGAUd, torn, i., p. 63. * " Every one of the ministers wished to give him an enter- tainment, but lie only accepted a dinner from the Minister of Justice (Cambaceres.) He requested that the princi])al law- yers of the Republic might be there. He was very cheerful at this dinner, conversed at large on the criminal code, to the great astonishment of Tronchet, Treilhard, Merlin, and Tar- get, and expressed his desire to see persons and property filaced under the guard of a simple code, suitable to an en- i*;htened age."— Gourgai'd, torn, i., p. Ui. ^ Gourgaud, torn, i., p. 67. * Hedouville was born at Laon in 17J5. In 1801, Buona- naparte would not listen to a hint which went to remove him from the capital, and the supreme ad- ministration of affairs — he knew also that Bar- ras's character was contemptible, and his resources diminished — that his subsequent conduct had can- celled the merit which he had acquired by the over- throw of Robespierre, and that to unite with him in any degree would be to adopt, in the public opi- nion, the very worst and most unpopular portion of the Directorial Government. He rejected the al- liance of Barras, therefore, even when, abandoning his own plan, the director offered to concur in any which Napoleon might dictate. A union with Sieyes, and the party whom he influenced, promised greater advantages. Under this speculative politician were united for the time all who, though differing in other points, joined in desiring a final change from a revolutionary to a moderate and efficient goverimient, bearing some- thing of a monarchical character. Their number rendered this party powerful. In the Directory it was espoused by Sieyes and Ducos ; it possessed a large majority in the Council of Ancients, and a respectable minority in that of the Five Hvmdred. The greater part of the middling classes throughout France, embraced with more or less zeal the prin- ciples of moderation ; and agreed, that an executive government of some strength was necessary to save them from the evils of combined revolutionary movements. Though the power of the Moderates was great, yet their subsequent objects, in case of success, were various. Thus Buonaparte saw him- self encouraged to hope for victory over the ex- isting government and the Republicans by the united strength of the Moderates of every class, whilst their difference in opinion concerning the ultimate measures to be adopted, afforded him the best opportunity of advancing, during the competi- tion, his own pretensions to the larger share of the spoil.^ Napoleon communicated accordingly with Sieyes, upon the understanding that he was to be raised to the principal administration of affairs ; that the con- stitution of the year Three, which he himself had once pronounced '•' the masterpiece of legislation, which had abolished the errors of eighteen centu- ries," was entirely to be done away ; and that a constitution was to be adopted in its stead, Oi which he knew nothing more, than that it was ready drawn up, and lay in the portfolio of Sieyes. No doubt, the general mentally reserved the right of altering and adjusting it as it should best suit his own views, — a right which he failed not to exercise to a serious extent. When these great preliminaries had been adjusted, it was agreed that it should be executed between the 15th and 20th Brumaire. In the interim, several men of influence of bolL councils were admitted into the secret. Talleyrand, parte appointed him ambassador to Petersburg!!. On the restoration of the Bourbons he was made a peer of France, and died in 182.5. 5 " On the 8th Brumaire (30th October,) Napoleon dined with Barras: a conversation took place after dinner. ' The Republic is falling,' said the director; ' things cannot go on ; a change must take ])lace, and Hedouville must be named president. As to you, general, you intend to rejoin the army; and, for my part, ill as I am, unpopular, and worn out, I am only fit to return to private life. Napoleon looked steadfastly at him without replying a word. Barras cast down his eyes, and remained silent. Thus the conversation ended."— GouR- GAUD, torn, i., p. 72; Thiers, torn, x., p. '.W. Thiers, torn, x., p. 303. 1799.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 287 who had been deprived of office by the influence of the Republicans, brought his talents to the aid of Buonaparte.^ FoucIkS, according to Napoleon, was not consulted- -the Memoirs which bear his name aver the contrary — it is certain, tliat in his import- ant capacity of minister of police, he acted in Buonaparte's favour during the revolution.^ Some leading members of both legislative bodies were cautiously intrusted with what was going forward, and others were generally advised to hold them- selves in readiness for a great movement. A sufficient military force was next to be pro- A ided ; and this was not difficult, for the reputation of Buonaparte ensured the conspirators unlimited influence among the soldiery. Three regiments of dragoons were enthusiastically petitioning the ho- nour of being reviewed by Napoleon. The adher- ence of these troops might be counted upon. The officers of the garrison of Paris were desirous to pay their respects to him ; so were the forty adju- tants of the national guard, whom he himself had appointed when general of the troops in the inte- rior. Many other officers, as well reduced as holding commissions, desired to see the celebrated genei'al, that they might express their devotion to his person, and adherence to his fortunes. All these introductions had been artfully postponed.^ Two men of more renowned name, Moreau and Macdonald,* had made tenders of service to Buo- naparte. These both favoured the moderate party, and had no suspicion of the ultimate design of Na- poleon or the final result of his undertaking. A final resolution on 15th Brumaire determined the 18th (9th November) for the great attempt — ■ an interval was necessary, but the risk of discovery and anticipation made it desii-able that it should be as short as possible. Tlie secret was well kept ; yet being unavoidably intrusted to many persons, some floating and vague rumours did get abroad, and gave an alarm to the parties concerned. Meanwhile, all the generals and oflicers whom we have named, wei'e invited to repair to Napo- leon's house at six o'clock on the morning of the 18th Brumaire, and the three regiments of cavalry already mentioned were apjiointed to be ready and mounted in the Champs Elyse'es, to receive the honour of being reviewed by Buonaparte, accord- ing to their petition. As an excuse for assigning so unusual an hour of rendezvous, it is said that the general was obliged to set out upon a journey. Many officers, however, imderstood or guessed what was to be done, and came armed with pistols as weU as with swords. Some were without such information or presentiment. Lefebvre, the com- mandant of the guard of the Representative Bodies, supposed to be devoted to the Directory, had only received an invitation to attend this military as- ' " Talleyrand availed himself of all the resources of a Bupple and insinuating address, in order to conciliate a person whose sutfrage it was important to liim to secure." — Goim- GAUD, tom. i., p. 6^.— " It was he who disclosed to Buona- parte's views all the weak points of the government, and made nim acquainted with the state of parties, and the bearings of each character. " — Fouche, tom. i., p. SJ6. 2 " Napoleon effected the ^iJth of Brumaire without admit- ting Fouch6 into the secre. — Go( rgaud, tom. i., p. (!(>.— ' Buonaparte was too cunning to let me into the secret of liis mean!) of execution, and to place himself at the mercy of a single man ; but he said enough to me to win my confidence, • nd so persuade mo that the destinies of Franco were in his Hands." — Fouche, tom. i., p. 98. 3 Gourgaud, tom. i., p. 74. sembly on the preceding midnight. Bemadotte, unacquainted with the project, and attached to tiie Republican faction, was, however, brought to Buo- naparte's house by his brother Joseph.* The surprise of some, and the anxious curiosity of all, may be supposed, when they found a mili- tary levee so numerous and so brilliant assembled at a house incapable of containing half of them. Buonaparte was obliged to receive them in the open air. Leaving them thus assembled, and wait- ing their cue to enter on the stage, let us trace the political manoeuvres from which the military were to take the signal for action. Early as Buonaparte's levee had taken place, the Council of Ancients, secretly and hastily assembled, had met still earlier. The ears of all were filled by a report, generally circulated, that the Repub- lican party had formed a daring plan for giving a new popular impulse to the government. It was said, that the resolution was taken at the Hotel de Salm, amongst the party who still adopted the principles of the old Jacobins, to connect the two representative bodies into one National Assembly, and invest the powers of government in a Commit- tee of Public Safety, after the model of what was called the Reign of Terror. Circulated hastily, and with such addition to the tale as rumours speedily acquire, the mind of the Council of An- cients was agitated with much fear and anxiety. Cornudet, Lebrun,^ and Fai-gues, made glowing speeches to the Assembly, in which the terror that their language inspired was rendered greater by the mysterious and indefinite manner in which they expressed themselves. They spoke of per- sonal danger — of being overawed in their delibera- tions^ — of the fall of liberty, and of the approaching destruction of the Republic. " You have but an instant to save France," said Cornudet ; " permit it to pass away, and the country will be a mere carcass, disputed by the vultures, whose prey it must become." Though the charge of conspiracy was not distinctly defined, the measures recom- mended to defeat it were sufficiently decisive. By the 102d, 103d, and 104th articles of the Constitution, it was provided, that the Council of Ancients might, if they saw it expedient, alter the place where the legislative bodies met, and con- voke them elsewhere ; a provision designed, doubt- less, to prevent the exercise of that compulsion, which the Parisians had at one time assumed over the National Assembly and Convention. This power the Council of Ancients now exercised. By one edict the sittings of the two councils were re- moved to St. Cloud ; by another, the Council dele- gated to General Buonaparte full power to see this measure carried into effect, and vested him for that purpose with the military command of the depart- * " Moreau, who had been .it the dinner of the Legislative Body, and with whom Napoleon had there, for the first time, become acquainted, having learned from public report that a change was in preparation, assured Napoleon that he placed himself at his disposal, that he had no wish to be admitted into any secret, and that he required but one hour's notice to prepare himself. Macdonald, who hui)pened then to be at Paris, had made the same tenders of tervice." — Gourgaud, tom. i., p. 77. 5 Gourgaud, tom. i., p. 78- For some curious historical notes on the 18th Brumaire, furnished to Sir Walter Scott by a distinguished authority, and of which great, although unac- knowledged, use has since been made by M. Bourrienne, see Ai>peiidix, No. Vlll. •J Afterwards Third ConsiU, Arch-Trcasnrer, and Ilul.o cl Placeutia. 288 SCOTT'S mSCELLANEOUS PEOSE WORKS. [1799. inent. A state messenger, the deputy Cornet,' was sent to communicate to the general these important measures, and require his presence in the Council of Ancients ; and this was the crisis which he had so anxiously expected.* A few words determined the numerous body of officers, by whom the messenger found him sur- rounded, to concur with him without scruple. Even General Lefebvre, who commanded the guard of the legislative bodies, declared his adhesion to Buonaparte.' The Directory had not even yet taken the alarm. Two of them, indeed, Sieyes and Duces, being in the secret of the conspiracy, were already at the Tuileries, to second the movement which was pre- paring. It is said that Barras had seen them pass in the morning, and as they were both mounted, had been much amused with the awkward horseman- ship of Sieyes.* He little guessed on what expe- dition he was bound. When Buonaparte sallied forth on horseback, and at tlie head of such a gallant cavalcade of offi- cers, his first movement was to assume the com- mand of the three regiments of cavalry, already drawn up in the Champs Elyse'es, and to lead them to the Tuileries, where the Council of Ancients expected him. He entered their hall surroimded by his military staff, and by those other generals, whose name carried the memory of so many vic- tories. " You are the wisdom of the nation," he said to the Council : " At this crisis it belongs to you to point out the measures which may save the country. I come, surrounded by the generals of the Republic, to promise you their support. I name Lefebvre my lieutenant. Let us not lose time in looking for precedents. Nothing in his- tory ever resembled the end of the eighteenth cen- tury — nothing in the eighteenth century resembled this moment. Your wisdom has devised the ne- cessary measure, our arms shall put it into execu- tion."^ He announced to the military the will of the Council, and the command with which they had intrusted him ; and it was received with loud shouts. In the meanwhile the three directors, Barras, Gohier, and Moulins, who were not in the secret of the morning, began too late to take the alarm. Moulins proposed to send a battalion to surround the house of Buonaparte, and make prisoner the general, and whomsoever else they found there. But they had no longer the least influence over the soldiery, and had the moi'tification to see their own personal guai-d, when summoned by an aide-de-camp of Buonaparte, march away to join the forces which he commanded, and leave them defenceless.^ Barras sent his secretary, Bottot, to expostulate with Buonaparte. The general received him with ' Buonaparte afterwards made Cornet a member of the Conservative Senate and grand officer of the Legion of Honour. On the restoration of the Bourbons, he became a peer of France. — See his "Notice Historique," published in 1819. 2 Gourgaud, torn, i., p. 78. 3 ' The messenger found the avenues filled with officers : Napoleon had the folding doors opened ; and his house being too small t<} contain so many persons, he came forward on the steps in front of it, received the compliments of the ofh- cers, harangued them, and told them that he relied upon them all lor the salvation of France. Enthusiasm was at its height : all the officers drew their swords, and promised their services and fidelity."— Gourgaud. torn, i., p. tiO. ■* Gourgaud, torn, i., p. 85. 6 Lacretelle, tom. xiv., p. 413; Thiers, tom. x., p. 370; Montgaillard, tom, t., p. 264; Gourgaud, tom. i., p. 82. 6 Lacretelle, torn, xiv., p. 415. great haughtiness, and publicly before a large group of officers and soldiers, upbraided him with the reverses of the country ; not in the tone of an or- dinary citizen, possessing but his own individual interest in the fate of a great nation, but like a prince, who, returning from a distant expedition, finds that in his absence his deputies have abused their trust, and misruled his dominions. " What have you done," he said, " for that fine France, which I left you in such a brilliant condition ? I left you peace, I have found war — I left you the wealth of Italy, I have found taxation and misery. Where are the hundred thousand Frenchmen whom I have known ? — all of them my companions in glory? — They are dead."^ It was plain, that even now, when his enterprise was but commenced, Buonaparte had already assumed that tone, which seemed to account every one answerable to him for deficiencies in the public service, and he him- self responsible to no one. Barras, overwhelmed and stunned, and afraid, perhaps, of impeachment for his alleged peculations, belied the courage which he was once supposed to possess, and submitted, in the most abject terms, to the will of the victor. He sent in his resignation, in which he states, " that the weal of the Republic, and his zeal for liberty alone, could have ever induced him to undertake the burden of a public office ; and that, seeing the destinies of the Republic were now in the custody of her youthful and invin- cible general, he gladly resigned his authority."* He left Paris for his country seat, accompanied by a guard of cavalry, which Buonaparte ordered to attend him, as much, perhaps, to watch his motions as to do him honour, though the last was the osten- sible reason. His colleagues, Gohier and Moulins, also resigned their office ; Sieyes and Duces had already set the example ; and thus, the whole Constitutional Executive Council was dissolved, while the real power was vested in Buonaparte's single person. Cambace'res, minister of justice, Fouche, minister of police,^ with all the rest of the administration, acknowledged his authority ac- cordingly ; and he was thus placed in full posses- sion as well of the civil as of the military power.'** The Council of Five Hundred, or ratlier the Republican majority of that body, showed a more stubborn temper ; and if, instead of resigning, Barras, Gohier, and Moulins, had united them- selves to its leaders, they might perhaps have given trouble to Buonaparte, successful as he had hitherto been. This hostile Council only met at ten o'clock on that memorable day, when they received, to their surprise, the message intimating that the Council of Ancients had changed the place of meeting from Paris to St. Cloud ; and thus removed their debates 7 " Then all at once concluding his harangue, in a calm tone he added, 'This state of things cannot last; it would lead us in three years to despotism.'" — Mad. de Stael, torn ii., p. 224; Thiers, tom. x., p. 376; Montgaillard, tom. v., p. 2f)5. 8 Letter to the Directory.— See Gourgaud, tom. i.. Appen- dix, p. Xi6. 9 '• Fouche made great professions of attachment and de votion. He had given directions for closing the barriers, and preventing the departure of couriers and coaches. ' Why, good God ? ' said the general to him, ' wherefore all these pre- cautions? We go with the nation, and by its strength alone: let no citizen be disturbed, and let the triumph of opinion have nothing in common with the transactions of days in which a factious minority prevailed.'" — Goubgaud, tom. i., p. 87. 10 Gourgaud, tom. i., p. 86. 1799.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 2S9 from tlie neiglibourhood of the populace, over whom the old Jacoi)inical principles might have retained influence. The laws as they stood afforded the young Council no means of evading compliance, and the}' accordingly adjourned to meet the next day at St. Cloud, with unabated resolution to main- tain the democratical part of the constitution. They separated amid shouts of " Long live the Republic and the Constitution ! " which were echoed by the galleries. The tricoteuses,^ and other more zealous attendants on their debates, resolved to transfer themselves to St. Cloud also, and appeared there in considerable numbers on the ensuing day, when it was evident the enterprise of Sieves and of Buo- naparte must be either perfected or abandoned. The contending parties held counsel all the even- ing, and deep into the night, to prepare for the final contest on the morrow. Sieyes advised, that forty leaders of the opposition should be aiTested ;''^ but Buonaparte esteemed himself strong eriough to obtain a decisive victory, without resorting to any such obnoxious violence. They adjusted their plan of operations in both Councils, and agreed that the government to be established should be provisionally intrusted to three Consuls, Buonaparte, Sieyes, and Ducos. Proper arrangements were made of the armed force at St. Cloud ; and the command was confided to the zeal and fidelity of Murat. Buona- parte used some interest to prevent Bemadotte, Jourdan, and Augereau, from attending at St. Cloud the next day, as he did not expect them to take his part in the approaching crisis. The last of these seemed rather hurt at the want of confi- dence which this caution implied, and said, " What, general ! dare you not trust your own little Auge- reau?"^ He went to St. Cloud accordingly. Some preparations were necessary to put the palace of St. Cloud in order, to receive the two Councils ; the Orangerie being assigned to the Council of Five Hundred ; the Gallery of Mars to tliat of the Ancients. In the Council of Ancients, the Mode're's, having the majorit}', were prepared to carry forward and complete their measures for a cliange of govern- ment and constitution. But the minority, having rallied after the surprise of the preceding day, were neither silent nor passive. The Commission of In- spectors, whose duty it was to convene the Council, were inculpated severely for having omitted to give information to sevei'al leading members of the mi- nority, of the extraordinary convocation which took place at such an unwonted hour on the morning preceding. The propriety, nay the legality, of the transference of the legislative bodies to St. Cloud, was also challenged. A sharp debate took place, which was terminated by the appearance of Napo- leon, who entered the hall, and harangued the members by permission of the president. " Citizen representatives," said he, " you are placed upon a Volcano. Let me tell you the truth with the frank- • The women of lower rank who attended the debates of the Council, plying the task of knitting while they listened to po- litics, were bo denominated. They were always zealous demo- crats, and might claim in one sense Shakspeare's description of " The free maids who weave their thread with bones." S. * " The recommendation was a wise one ; but Napoleon thought himself too strong to need any such precaution. " I swore in the morning,' said he, 'to protect the national itpve- tcntation ; I will not this evening violate my oath.'"— GotiR- GAi'D, torn. i. p. 87. vol.. II. ness of a soldier. I was remaining tranquil with my family, wlien the commands of the Council ol Ancients called me to arms. I collected my brave military companions, and brought forward the arms of the country in obedience to you who are the head. We are rewarded with calumny- — they compare me to Csesar — to Cromwell. Had I de- sired to usurp the supreme authority, I have had opportunities to do so before now. But I swear to you the country has not a more disinterested pa- triot. We are surrounded by dangers and by civil M'Hr. Let us not hazard the loss of those advan- tages for which we have made such sacrifices — Li- berty and EquaUty." "And the Constitution!" exclaimed Linglet, a democratic member, interrupting a speech which seemed to be designedly vague and inexplicit. " The Constitution !" answered Buonaparte, giving way to a more natural expression of his feelings, and avowing his object more clearly than he had yet dared to do — " It was violated on the eighteenth Fructidor — violated on the twenty- second Floreal — violated on the thirtieth Prai- rial. All parties have invoked it — all have disre- garded it in turn. It can be no longer a means of safety to any one, since it obtains the respect of no one. Since we cannot preserve the Constitution, let us at least save Liberty and Equality, the foun- dations on which it is erected." He went on in the same strain to assure them, that for the safety of the Republic he relied only on the wisdom and power of the Council of Ancients, since in the Council of Five Hundred were found those men who desired to bring back the Convention, with its revolutionary committees, its scaflblds, its popular in.surrections. " But I," he said, " will save you from such horrors — I and my brave comrades at arms, whose swords and caps I see at the door of the hall ; and if any hired orator shall talk of out- lawry, I will appeal to the valour of my comrades, with whom I have fought and conquered for liberty."* The Assembly invited the general to detail the particulars of the conspiracy to which he had allu- ded, but he confined himself to a reference to the tetimony of Sieyes and Ducos ; and again reitera- ting that the Constitution could not save the coun- try, and inviting the Council of Ancients to adopt some course which might enable them to do so, he left them, amid ci'ies of" Vive Buonaparte !" loud- ly echoed by the military in the courtyard, to try the effect of his eloquence on the more unmanage- able Council of Five Hundred, The deputies of the younger Council having found the place designed for their meeting filled with workmen,* were for some time in a situation which seemed to resemble the predicament of the National Assembly at Versailles, when they took refuge in a tennis-court. The recollection was of such a nature as inflamed and animated their reso- 3 Gourgaud, torn, i., p. 8?. * Thibaudcau, tom. i., p. 3H ; Montgnillard, torn, v., p. 2fi7; Tliicrs, tom. x., p. 380; Lacretelle, tom. xiv., p. 424; Gour- gaud, tom. i., p. 92. 5 " So late as two o'clock in the afternoon, the place as- signed to the Council of Five Hundred was not ready. This delay of a few hours was verj- unfortunate. The deputies form- ed themselves into groups in the garden : their minds grew heated ; they sounded one another, interchanged declarations of the state of their feelings, and organized their opposition," — Goi noAiD, torn, i., p. fift. 290 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1700, lutioii, anil tliey entered the Orangerie, wlien at length admitted, in no good luinionr with tlie Coun- cil of Ancients, or with Buonajiarte. Proposals of accommodation had been circulated among them ineffectually. They would have admitted Buona- parte into the Directory, but refused to consent to any radical change in the constitution of the year Tiiree. The debate of the day, remarkable as the last in which the Republican party enjoyed the full free- dom of speech in France, was opened on nineteenth Bruniaire, at two o'clock, Lucicn Buonaparte being president. Gaudin, a member of the mode- rate party, b' gan by moving, that a committee of seven members should be formed, to report upon the state of ' the Republic ; and that measures should be taken for opening a correspondence with the Council of Ancients. He was interrupted by exclamations and clamoiu" on the part of the majority. " The Constitution ! The Constitution or Death ! " was echoed and re-echoed on every side. " Bayo- nets frighten us not," said Delbrel ; " we are free men." — " Down with the Dictatorship — no Dicta- tors !" cried other memberp. Lucien in vain endeavoured to restore order. Gaudin w-as dragged from the tribune ; the voice of other Moderates was overpowered by clamour — never had the party of democracy shown itself fiercer or more tenacious than when about to re- ceive the death-blow. " Let us swear to preserve the Constitution of the year Three!" exclaimed Delbrel; and the applause which followed the proposition was so genei'al, that it silenced all resistance. Even the members of the moderate party — nay, Lucien Buonaparte himself — were compelled to take the oath of fidelity to the Constitution, which he and they were leagued to destroy. " The oath you have just taken," said Bigonnet, " will occupy a place in the annals of history, be- side the celebrated vow taken in the tennis-court. The one was the foundation of liberty, the other shall consolidate the structure." In the midst of this fermentation, the letter containing the resig- nation of Barras was read, and received with marks of contempt, as the act of a soldier deserting his post in the time of danger. The moderate party seemed silenced, overpowered, and on the point of coalescing with the great majority of the Council, wh.en the clash of arms was heard at the entrance of the apartment. All eyes were turned to that quarter. Bayonets, drawn sabres, the plumed hats of general officers and aides-de-camp, and the caps of grenadiers, were visible without, while Napo- leon entered the Orangerie, attended by four gre- nadiers belonging to the constitutional guai'd of the Councils. The soldiers remained at the bottom of the hall, while he advanced with a measured step and micovered, about one-third up the room. ' " The Corsican Arena approached the Reneral, and shook him violently by the collar of liis coat. It h;is been supposed, but without reason, that he had a poniard to kill him. "—Mad. I)K Stael, torn, ii., p. 23!). '■^ "In the confusion, one of them, named Thom(5, was shshtly wounded by the thrust of a dagger, and the clothes of another were cut through."— GouROArD, torn, i., p. !)5. ° Lacretclle, torn, xiv., p. 428; Gourgaud, torn, i,, ]>. 91. * The Momtevr is anxious to exculpate Augercau from hav- ing taken any part m favour of the routed jiartv on the nine- teenth Brumaire. That officer, it says, did not joiu in the ge- aeral oath of fidelity to the Constitiition of the year Three. He was received with loud mtirmurs. " What ! drawn weapons, armed men, soldiers in the sanc- tuary of the laws !" exclaimed tlie members, whose courage seemed to rise against the display of force with which they were menaced. All the deputies arose, some rushed on Buonaparte, and seized him by the collar ; others called out — " Outlawry — outlawry — let him be proclaimed a traitor?" It is said that Arena, a native of Corsica like him- self, aimed a dagger at his breast, which was only averted by the interposition of one of the grena- diers.' The fact seems extremely doubtful, though it is certain that Buonaparte was seized by two or three members, while others exclaimed, " Was it for this you gained so many victories?" and loaded him with reproaches. At this crisis a party of grenadiers rushed into the hall with drawn swords, and extricating Buonaparte from the deputies, bore him off in their anns breathless with the scuffle.* It was probably at this crisis that Augereau's faith in his ancient general's fortune began to totter, and his revolutionary principles to gain an ascen- dence over his military devotion. " A fine situation you have brought yourself into," he said to Buona- parte, who answered sternly, " Augercau, things were worse at Areola — Take my advice — remain quiet, in a short time all this will change."^ Auge- reau, whose active assistance and co-operation might have been at this critical period of the greatest consequence to the Council, took the hint, and C'-.n- tinued passive.* Jourdan and Bernadotte, who were ready to act on the popular side, had the sol- diers shown tie least hesitation in yielding obe- dience to Buonaparte, perceived no oj)ening of which to avail themselves. The Council remained in the highest state of commotion, the general voice accusing Buonaparte of having usurped the supreme authority, calling for a sentence of outlawry, or demanding that he should be brought to the bar. " Can you ask me to put the outlawry of my own brotlier to the vote ?" said Lucien. But this appeal to his per.sonal situa- tion and feelings made no impression upon the As- sembly, who continued clamorously to demand the question. At length Lucien flung on the desk his hat, scai'f, and other parts of his official dress. " Let me be rather h.eard," he said, " as the advo- cate of him whom you falsely and rashly accuse." But his request only added to the tumult. At this moment a small body of grenadiers, sent by Najio- leon to his brother's assistance, marched mto the hall. They were at first received with applause ; for the Council, accustomed to see the triamph of de- mocratical opinions among the military, did not doubt that they were deserting their general to range themselves on the side of the depvities. Their appearance was but momentary. — they instantly left the hall, carrying Lucien in the centre of the detachment. The teenth dem same official pajier adds, that on the evening of the nine th, being invited by some of the leading persons of the ueiiiocratic faction, to take the military command of their partisans, he had asked them by way of reply, " Whether tlicy supposed he would tarnish the rei)utation he had acquired in the army, by taking command of wretches like them ? " Au- gercau, it may be remembered, was the general who was sent by Buonaparte to Paris to act as military chief on the part oi the Directory in the revolution of the 18tn Fructidor, in wliich the soldiery had willingly followed him. Buonaparte was probably well pleased to keep a man of his military reputation and resolved ciiaracter out of the combat if possible.— S. 1790.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 201 Matters were now come to extremity on either Bide. Tiie Council, thrown into the greatest dis- order by tliese repeated mihtary incursions, re- mained in violent agitation, furious against Buona- parte, but without the calmness necessai'y to adopt decisive measures. Meantime, the sight of Napoleon, almost breath- less, and bearing marks of personal violence, ex- cited to the highest the indignation of the military. In broken words he told them, that when he wished to show them the road to lead the country to vic- tory and fame, " they had answered him with dag- gers." Cries of resentment arose from the soldiery, augmented when the party sent to extricate the president brought him to the ranks as to a sanc- tuary. Lueien, who seconded his brother admira- bly, or rather who led the way in this perilous adventure, mounted on horseback instantly, and called out, in a voice naturally deep and sonorous, " General, and you, soldiers ! the President of the Council of Five Hundred proclaims to you, that factious men, with drawn daggers, have interrupted the deliberations of the Assembly. He authorises you to employ force against these disturbers — The Assembly of Five Hundred is dissolved !" Murat, deputed by Buonaparte to execute the commands of Lueien, entered the Orangerie with drums beating, at the head of a detachment with fixed bayonets. He summoned the deputies to disperse on their peril, while an officer of the con- stitutional guard called out, he could be no longer answerable for their safety. Cries of fear became now mingled with vocifei-ations of rage, execrations of abhoi-rence, and shouts of Vite la Rij^ublique. An officer then mounted the president's seat, and summoned the representatives to retii'e. " The General." said he, " has given orders." Some of the deputies and spectators began now to leave the hall ; the greater part continued firm, and sustained the shouts by which they reprobated this military intrusion. The drums at length struck up and drowned further remonstrance. " Forward, grenadiers," said the officer who commanded the party. They levelled their mus- kets, and advanced as if to the charge. The deputies seem hitherto to have retained a lingering hope that their persons would be regarded as in- violable. They now fled on all sides, most of them jumping from the windows of the Orangerie, and leaving behind them their official caps, scai'fs, and gowns. In a very few minutes the apartments were entirely clear ; and thus, furnishing, at its conclusion, a striking parallel to the scene which ended the long Parliament of Charles the First's time, termiuated the last democratical assembly of France.* Buonaparte affirms, that one of the general offi- cers in his suite offered to take the command of fifty men, and place them iu ambush to fire on the ' Xhibaudcau, toni. i., |). 50; Lacretelle, torn, xv., p. 430; Tliiers, toiii. x., p. ,'JK5 ; Alontgaillard, torn, v., p. 271. 2 GourKaud, torn, i., p. 97- 3 •' I have hoard some of Arena's countrymen declare that he was incapable of attempting so rash an act. The contraiy opinion was, liowever, so prevalent, that he was obliged to re- tire to Legliorn, where he made an appeal to the justice of t lie first consul ; who gave him no reply : but I never heard him say that he had noticed the attitude attributed to Arena." — SaVary, torn, i., p. 154. * " Metaphysicians have disput<^d, and will long dispute, deputies in their flight, which he wisely declmcij as a useless and gratuitous cruelty.''^ The result of these violent and extraordinary measures was intimated to the Council of Ancients ; the immediate cause of the expulsion of the Five Hunilred being referred to the alleged violence on the jerson of Buonaparte, which was said by one member to have been committed by Arena, while another exaggerated the charge, by asserting that it was offered in consequence cf Buonaparte's hav- ing made disclosure of some mal-practices of the Corsican deputy while in Italy. The Moniteur soon after improved this story of Arena and his single poniard, into a party consisting of Arena, Marquezzi, and other deputies, armed with pistols and daggers. At other times, Buonaparte was said to have been wounded, which certainly was not the case. The effect of the example of Brutus upon a republican, and an Italian to boot, might render the conduct ascribed to Arena credible enough ; but the existence of a party armed with pocket- pistols and daggers, for the purpose of opposing re- gular troops, is too ridiculous to be believed. Arena published a denial of the attempt ;' and among the numbers \yho witnessed the scene no proof was ever appealed to, save the real evidence of a dagger found on the floor, and the torn sleeve of a grenadier's coat, circumstances which might bo accounted for many ways. But having served at the time as a popular apology for the strong measures which had been adopted, the mmour was not allowed to fall asleep. Thome, the grenadier, ^vas declared to have merited well of his country by the Legislative Body, entertained at dinner by the general, and rewarded with a salute and a valuable jewel by Josephine. Other reports were put in circulation concerning the violent purposes of the Jacobins. It was said the ancient revolu- tionist, Sauterre, was setting a popular movement on foot, in the Fauxbourg Saint Antoine, and that Buonaparte, through the ex-Director Moulins, had cautioned him against proceeding in his purpose, declaring, that if he did, he would have him shot by martial law. But the truth is, tliat although there can be no doubt that the popular party entertained a full purpose of revolutionizing the government anew, and restoring its republican character, yet they were anticipated and surprised by the movement of the 18tli and 19tli Brumaire, which could not, tlierefore, in strict language, be justified as a de- fensive measiu'e. Its excuse inu.st rest oit the pro- position which seems undoubted, that affairs were come to such extremity that a contest was una- voidable, and that therefore it was necessary for the moderate party to take the advantage of the first blow, though they exposed themselves in doing so to the reproach of being called the aggressors in the contest.' The Council of Ancients had expressed some whether we did not violate the laws, and whether we were not criminal ; but these are mere abstractions, at best fit for books and tribunes, and which ought to disappear before imperious necessity : one might as well blame a sailor for waste and de- struction, when he cuts away his masts to avoid being overset. The fact is, that had it not been for us the country must have been lost ; and we saved it. The authors and chief agents of that memorable state transaction may, and ought, instead o( denials or justifications, to answer their accusers proudly, like the Konians, ' We protest that we have saved our country, come with us and return thanks to the gods.' "— Napoi.eo.v Iji.i Cases, toni, iv., ji. ;i.'ll. 292 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1799. alarm and anxiety about the employment of mili- tary force against the other brandi of the consti- tutional representation. But Lucien Buonaparte, having succeeded in rallying around him about a hundred of the council of the juniors, assumed the character and office of that legislative body, now effectually purged of all the dissidents, and, as President of the Five Hundred, gave to tlie Coun- cil of Ancients such an explanation, as they, nothing loth to be convinced, admitted to be sa- tisfactory. Both councils then adjourned till the 19th February, 1 800, after each had devolved their powers upon a committee of twenty-five persons, who were instructed to prepare a civil code against the meeting of the legislative bodies. A provi- sional consular government was appointed, consist- ing of Buonaparte, Sieyes,' and Roger Ducos. The victory, therefore, of the eighteenth and nineteenth Brumaire, was, by dint of sword and bayonet, completely secured. It remained for the conquerors to consider the uses which were to be made of it. CHAPTER XVII. Clemency of the New Consulate — Beneficial change in the Finances — Law of Hostages repealed — l\e- ligious liberty ulloiced — Improvenients in the }Var Department — Pacification of La Vendee — Ascendancy of Napoleon — Disappointment of Sieyes — Committee formed to consider Sieyes' Plan of a Constitution — Reject.ed as to essentials — A. new one adopted, monarchical in every thing but form — Sit yes retires from public life- — Gene- ral view of the new Government — Despotic Power of the First Consul. The victory obtained over the Directory and the democrats, upon the 18th and 19th Brumaire, was generally acceptable to the French nation. The feverish desire of liberty, which had been the characteristic of all desci'iptions of persons in the year 1792, was quenched by the blood shed during the Reign of Terror ; and even just and liberal ideas of freedom had so far fallen into disrepute, from their resemblance to those which had been used as a pi-etext for the disgusting cruelties per- petrated at that terrible period, that they excited from association a kind of loathing as well as dread. The great mass of the nation sought no longer guarantees for metaphysical rights, but, broken down by suffering, desired repose, and were willing to submit to any government which promised to secure to them the ordinary benefits of civilisation. Buonaparte and Sieyes — for, though only during a brief space, they may still be regarded as joint authorities — were enabled to profit by this general acquiescence, in many important particulars. It put in their power to dispense with the necessity of pureuing and crushing their scattered adversaries ; and the French saw a revolution effected in their system, and that by military force, in which not a drop of blood was spilt. Yet, as had been the ter- mination of most recent revolutions, lists of pro- , ' Sieyes, during the most critical moments, had remained In his carriage at the gate of St. Cloud, ready to follow tlie march of the troops. His conduct during the danger was he- coming : he evinced coolness, resolution, and iulrepidity."— tiOVROAUD, torn, i., ]l. 100. * Gourgaud, torn, i., p 120. scription were prepared ; and without previous trial or legal sentence, fifty-nine of those who had chiefly opposed the new Consulate on the 18th and IPtii Brumaire were condemned to deportation by the sole fiat of the consuls. Sieyes is said to have sug- gested this unjust and arbitrary measure, which, bearing a colour of revenge and persecution, was highly impopular. It was not carried into execu- tion. Exceptions were at first made in favour of such of the condemned persons as showed them- selves disposed to be tractable ; and at length the sentence was altogether dispensed with, and the more obnoxious partisans of democracy were only placed under the superintendence of the police.'' This conduct showed at once conscious strength, and a spirit of clemency, than which no attributes can contribute more to the popularity of a new government ; since the spirit of the opposition, de- prived of hope of success, and yet not urged on by despair of personal safety, gradually becomes dis- posed to sink into acquiescence. The democrats, or, as they were now termed, the anarchists, be- came intimidated, or cooled in their zeal ; and only a few of the more enthusiastic continued yet to avow those principles, to breathe the least doubt of which had been, within but a few months, a crime worthy of death. Other and most important decrees were adopted by the consuls, tending to lighten the burdens which their predecessors had imposed on the na- tion, and which had rendered their government so unpopular. Two of the most oppressive measures of the directors were repealed without delay. The first referred to the finances, which were found in a state of ruinous exhaustion, and were only maintained by a system of compulsory and progressive loans, according to rates of assessment on the property of the citizens. The new minister of finance, Gaudin,^ would not even go to bed, or sleep a single night, until he had produced a sub- stitute for this I'uinous resource, for which he le- vied antadditional rise of twenty-five per cent, on all contributions, direct and indirect, which pro- duced a large sum. He carried order and regu- larity into all the departments of finance, improved the collection and income of the funds of the Re- public, and inspired so much confidence by the moderation and success of his measures, that credit began to revive, and several loans were attained on easy terms. The repeal of the law of hostages was a measure equally popular. This cruel and unreasonable enactment, which rendered the aged and weak, unprotected females, and helpless children of emi- grants, or armed royalists, responsible for the actions of their relatives, was immediately miti- gated. Couriers were despatched to open the prisons; and this act of justice and humanity was hailed as a pledge of returning moderation and liberality. Important measures were also taken for tran- quillizing the religious discord by which the coun- try had been so long agitated. Buonaparte, who had lately professed himself more than half per- 3 Subsequently Duke of GaSta, who had long occupied the place of chief clerk of finance. " He was a man of mild man ners, and of inflexible probity ; proceeding slowly, but surely. He never had to withdraw any of his measures, because liil knowledge was pratt-cal and the fruit of long experience."— Napoleon, Gourgaud ton), i., p. H<9. 1 1 79!J.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 293 3uaded of the truth of Mahommed's mission, be- came now — sucli was the decree of Providence — the means of restoring to France the free exercise of the Christian faith. The mummery of Reveil- liere Lepaux's heathenism was by general consent abandoned. Tlie clmrches were restored to pubhc worship ; pensions were allowed to such religious persons as took an oath of fidelity to the govern- ment ; and more than twenty thousand clergymen, with whom the prisons had been filled, in conse- (juence of intolerant laws, were set at liberty upon taking the same vow. Public and domestic rites of worship in every form were tolerated and pro- tected ; and the law of the decades, or Theoplii- lanthropic festivals, was abolished. Even the earthly relics of Pope Pius VI., who had died at Valence, and in exile, were not neglected, but received, singular to relate, the rites of sepulture with the solemnity due to his high office, by com- mand of Buonaparte,' who had first shaken the Papal authority ; and in doing so, as he boasted in his Egyptian proclamations, had destroyed the em- blem of Christian worship. The part taken by Cambac^res, the minister of justice, in the revolution of Brumaire, had been agreeable to Buonaparte ; and his moderation now aided him in the lenient measures which he liad determined to adopt. He was a good lawyer, and a man of sense and information, and under his administration means were taken to relax the op- pressive severity of the laws against the emigrants. Nine of them, noblemen of the most ancient fami- lies in France, had been thrown on the coast near Calais by shipwreck, and the directors had medi- tated bringing to trial those whom the winds and waves had spared, as fallen under the class of emi- gi'ants returned to France without permission, against whom the laws denounced the penalty of death. Buonaparte more liberally considered their being found within the prohibited territory, as an act, not of violation, but of inevitable necessity, and they were dismissed accordingly.^ From the same spirit of politic clemency. La Fayette, Latour Maubourg, and others, who, al- though revolutionists, had been expelled from France for not carrying their principles of freedom sufficiently high and far, were permitted to return to their native country. It may be easily believed that the military de- partment of the state underwent a complete reform under the authority of Buonaparte. Dubois de Ci-ance', the minister at war under the directors, was replaced by Berthier ; and Napoleon gives a strange picture of the incapacity of the former functionary. He declares he could not furnish a single report of the state of the army — that he had obtained no regular returns of the eftective strength of the different regiments — that many corps had been formed in the departments, whose very exist- ence was unknown to the minister at war ; and, finally, that when pressed for reports of the pay, of the victualling, and of the clothing of the troops, he had replied, that the war department neither paid, clothed, nor victualled them. This may be cxag- ' " In returning from Egypt, Napoleon had conversed a few minutes at Valence with .Sjuna, the Pope's almoner : be then Itarnt that no funeral honours had been paid to the Pope, and that his corpse was laid in the sacristy of the cathedral. A (lirree of tfie contuls ordered that the customaiy honours iliould be rendered lo his reniains, and that a nionunitnl of gerated, for Napoleon disliked Dubois de Craned' as his personal opponent ; but the improvident and corrupt character of the directorial government renders the charge very probable. By the exer- tions of Berthier, accustomed to Buonaparte's mode of arrangements, the war department soon adopted a very different face of activity.* The same department received yet additional vigour when the consuls called to be its head the celebrated Carnot, who had returned from exil'.-, in consequence of the fall of tlie directors. He remained in office but a short time ; for, being a democrat in principle, he disapproved of the per- sonal elevation of Buonaparte ; but during the period that he continued in administration, his services in restoring order in the military depart- ment and combining the plans of the campaign with Moreau and Buonaparte, were of the highest importance. Napoleon showed no less talent in closing the wounds of internal war, than in his other arrange- ments. The Chouans, under various chiefs, had disturbed the western provinces ; but the despair of pardon, which drove so many malecontents to their standard, began to subside, and the liberal and accommodating measures adopted by the new Consular government, induced most to make peace with Buonaparte. This they did the more readily, that many of them believed the chief consul in- tended by degrees, and when the opportunity offered, to accomplish the restoration of the Bour- bons. Many of the chiefs of the Chouans submit ted to him, and afterwards supported his govern- ment. Chatillon, Snzannet, D'Autichamp, nobles and chiefs of the Royalist army, submitted at Montlufon, and their reconciliation with the go- vernment, being admitted on liberal terms, was sincerely observed by them. Bernier, rector of St. Lo, who had great influence in La Vendee, also made his peace, and was afterwards made Bishop of Orleans by Buonaparte, and employed in nego- tiating the Concordat with the Pope. Count Louis de Frotte', an enterprising and high-spirited young nobleman, refused for a long time to enter into terms with Buonaparte ; so did another chief of the Cliouans, called George Ca- doudal, a peasant of the district of Morbihan, raised to the command of his countrymen, because, with great strength and dauntless eourage, he combined the qualities of enterprise and sagacity. Frotte was betrayed and made prisoner in the house of Guidal, commandant at Alcufon, who had pretended friendship to him, and had promised to negotiate a favourable treaty on his behalf. He and eight or nine of his officers were tried by a military commission, and condemned to be shot. They marched hand in hand to the place of exe- cution, remained to the last in the same attitude, expressive of their partaking the same sentiments of devotion to the cause in which they suffered, and died with the utmost courage. George Ca- doudal, left alone, became unable to support the civil war, and laid down his arms for a time. Buonaparte, whose policy it was to unite in the marble should be raised upon his tomb-"— GauRQAUO, torn, i p. I .'4. - GriurRaud, torn, i., p. 125. 3 After the IDih Brumaire, Dubois dt Crance withdrew into CliampaRnc. He died in .Iiine Kill. •• (juuigaud, toni. i., p. IdU. 294 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1799 new order of things as many and as various clia- racters as possible, not regarding what parts they had formerly played, provided they now attached themselves to his person, took great pains to gain over a man so resolute as this daring Breton, He had a personal interview with him, which he says George Cadoudal solicited; yet why he should have done so it is hard to guess, unless it wei-e to learn whether Buonaparte had any ultimate pur- pose of serving the Bourbon interest. He cer- tainly did not request the favour in order to drive any bargain for himself, since Buonaparte frankly admits, that all his promises and arguments failed to make any impression upon him ; and that he parted with George, professing still to entertain opinions for which he had fought so often and so desperately.' In another instance which happened at this pe- riod, Buonaparte boasts of having vindicated the insulted rights of nations. The Senate of Ham- burgh had delivered up to England Napper Tandy, Blackwell, and other Irishmen, concerned in the rebeUion which had lately wasted Ireland. Buona- parte took this up in a threatening tone, and ex- pounded to their trembling envoy the rights of a neutral territory, in language, upon which the sub- sequent tragedy of the Duke d'Enghein formed a singular commentary.^ While Buonaparte was thus busied in adopting measures for composing internal discord, and re- newing the wasted resources of the country, those discussions were at the same time privately carry- ing forward, which were to determine by whom and in what way it should be governed. There is little doubt, that when Sieyes undertook the revo- lution of Brumaire, he would have desired for his military assistant a very different character from Buonaparte. Some general would have best suited .him who possessed no knowledge beyond that of his profession, and whose ambition would have been contented to accept such share of power as cor- responded to his limited views and capacity. The wily priest, however, saw that no other coadjutor save Buonaparte covdd have availed him, after the return of the latter from Egypt, and was not long of experiencing that Napoleon would not be satis- fied with any thing short of the lion's share of the spoil. At the very first meeting of the consuls, the de- j^ ., fection of Roger Ducos to the side of Buonaparte convinced Sieyes, that he would be unable to support those pretensions to the first place in the government, to which his friends had expected to see him elevated. He had reck- oned on Ducos's vote for giving him the situation of first consul ; but Ducos saw better where the force and talent of the Consulate must be consider- ' Gourgaud, torn, i., p. 137. 2 The Senate of Hamburgh lost no time in addressing a long letter to Napoleon, to testify their repentance. He replied to them thus: — " I have received your letter, gentlemen ; it does not justify you. Courage and virtue are the preservers of states ; cowardice and crime are their ruin. You have violated the laws of hospitality, a thing which never happened among the most savage hordes of the Desert. Your fellow-citizens will for ever reproach you with it. The two unfortunate men whom you have given up, die with glory ; but their blood will bring more evil upon their persecutors than it would be in the power of an army to do." A solemn deputation from the Senate ar- rived at the Tuileries to make public apologies to Napoleon. He again testified his indignation, and when the envoys urged their weakness, he said to them, " Well ! and had you not the tesouitc of '.vcak states? was it not in your power to let tlicm ed as reposed. " General," said ne to Napoleon, at the first meeting of the Consular body, " the presidency belongs to you as a matter of right." Buonaparte took the chair accordingly as a thing of course. In the course of the deliberations, Sieyea had hoped to find that the general's opinions and interference would have been limited to mihtary affairs ; whereas, on the contrary, he heard him express distinctly, and support firmly, propositions on policy and finance, religion and jurisprudence. He showed, in short, so little occasion for an inde- pendent coadjutor, that Sieyes appears from this, the very first interview, to have given up all hopes of establishing a sepai'ato interest of his own, and to have seen that the Revolution was from that moment ended. On his return liome, he said to those statesmen with whom he had consulted and acted preceding the eighteenth Brumaire, as Tal- leyrand, Boulay, Roederer, Cabanis, &c. — " Gen- tlemen, you have a Master — give yourself no far- ther concern about the affairs of tlie state — Buona- parte can and will manage them all at his own plea- sure."^ This declaration must have announced to those who heard it, that the direct and immediate advan- tages proposed by the revolution were lost ; that the government no longer rested on the popular basis, but that, in a much greater degree than could have been said to have been the case during the reign of the Bourbons, the whole measures of state must in future rest upon the arbitrary pleasure of one man. It was, in the meantime, necessary that some form of government should be established without delay, were it only to prevent the meeting of the two Councils, who must have resumed their autho- rity, unless superseded by a new constitution pre- vious to the 19th February, 1800, to which day they had been prorogued. As a previous measure, the oath taken by official persons was altered from a direct acknowledgment of the constitution of the year Three, so as to express a more general pro- fession of adherence to the cause of the French nation. How to salve the wounded consciences of those who had previously taken the oath in its pri- miti\e form, no care was used, nor does any appear to have been thought necessary.* The three consuls, and the legislative commit- tees, formed themselves into a General Committee, for the purpose of organizing a constitution ;^ and Sieyes was invited to submit to them that model, on the preparation of which he used to pique himself, and had been accustomed to receive the fiattery of his friends. He appears to have obeyed the call slowly, and to have produ- ced his plan partiall}', and by fragments ;S probably beca'ise he was aware, that the offspring of his ta- escape?" — Gourgaud, torn, i., p. 128; Thibaudeau, torn, i, p. 169. 3 Gourgaud, torn, i., p. 107; Fouchd, tom. i., p. 128. •* Gourg.tud, tom. i., p. 140. 5 The committee met in Napoleon's apartment, from nine in the evening until three in the morning.— Goiirgaud, tom. i., p. 141. G " Sieves affected silence. I was commissioned to pene- trate his inystery. I employed Real, who, using much address with an appearance of great good-nature, discovered the basis of Sieyes's project, by getting Chenicr, one of his confidants, to chatter, upon rising from dinner, at which wines and other intoxicating liquors had not been spared. Upon this infor- mation, a secret council was held, at which the conduct to bo pursued by Buonaparte in tlie general conferences was dii- cussed." — Foimnc, torn, i., \>. 13 The constitution of tlieyear VIII, so impatiently expected bv all lanks of citizens, was )iublislied and submitted to the snnction of the people on the l.'itli of December, and pro- ehiinitd on tlie iMlhof tlie same ; llic pruvisioiial fiovernmciit we must forget the bad, and only remember the good. Time, habits of business, and experience have formed many able men, and modified many characters."''' These words may be regarded aa the key-note of his whole system. Buonaparte did not care what men had been formerly, so that they were now disposed to become that which was suit- able for his interest, and for which he was willing to reward them liberally. The former conduct of persons of talent, whether in politics or morality was of no consequence, providing they were willing, now, faithfully to further and adhere to the new order of things. This prospect of immunity for the past, and reward for the future, was singularly well calculated to act upon the public mind, desir- ous as it was of repose, and upon that of indivi- duals, agitated by so many hopes and fears as the Revolution had set afloat. The consular govern- ment seemed a general place of refuge and sanctu- ary to persons of all various opinions, and in all various predicaments. It was only required of them, in return for the safety which it afforded, that they should pay homage to the presiding deity. So artfully was the system of Buonaparte con- trived, that each of the numerous classes of French- men found something in it congenial to his liabits, his feelings, or his circumstances, providing only he was willing to sacrifice to it the essential part of his political principles. To the Royalist, it re- stored monarchical forms, a court, and a sovereign — but he must acknowledge that sovereign in Buo- naparte. To the churchman, it opened the gates of the temples, removed the tyranny of the perse- cuting philosophers — promised in course of time a national church — but by the altar must be placed the image of Buonaparte. The Jacobin, dyed double red in murder and massacre, was welcome to safety and security from the aristocratic ven- geance which he had so lately dreaded. The regi- cide was guaranteed against the return of the Bour- bons — they who had profited by the Revolution as purchasers of national domains, were ensured against their being resumed. But it was under the implied condition, that not a word was to be men- tioned by those ci-devant democrats, of liberty or equality : the principles for which forfeitures had been made, and revolutionary tribunals erected, were henceforth never to be named. To all these pai'ties, as to others, Buonaparte held out the same liopes imder the same conditions. — " All these things will I give you, if you will kneel down and woi-ship me." Shortly afterwards, he was enabled to place before those to whom the choice was sub- mitted, the original temptation in its full extent — a display of the kingdoms of the earth, over w hich he off"ered to extend the empire of France, providing always he was himself acknowledged as the object of general obedience, and almost adoration. The system of Buonaparte, as it combined great art with an apparent generosity and libei-ality, proved eminently successful among the people oi France, when subjected to the semblance of a po- pular vote. The national spirit was exhausted by the changes and the sufferings, the wars and the crimes, of so many years ; and in France, as in all other countries, parties, exhausted by the exer- havini; lasted forty-three days. The LcRislative Body and the Tribunate entered on theii functions the 1st day of January Ifdili. - (Innrgaud, torn, i., p. liy. 300 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1800 tions and vicLssitudes of civil war, are in the very situation wliei"e military tyranny becomes the next crisis. The rich favoured Buonaparte for the sake of protection, — the poor for that of relief, — the emigrants, in many cases, because tliey desired to return to France, — the men of the Revolution, because they were afraid of being banished from it; — the sanguine and courageous crowded round his standard in hope of victory, — the timid cowered behind it in the desire of safety. Add to these the vast nmltitude who follow the opinions of others, and take the road which lies most obvious, and is most trodden, and it is no wonder that the 1 8th Brumaire, and its consequences, received the gene- ral sanction of the people. The constitution of the year Eight, or Consular Government, was approved by the suffrages of nearly four millions of citizens,' — a more general approbation than any preceding system had been received with. The vote was doubtless a farce in itself, considering how many constitutions had been adopted and sworn to with- in so short a space ; but still the numbers who expressed assent, more than doubling those votes which were obtained by the constitution of 1792 and of the year Three, indicate the superior popu- larity of Buonaparte's system. To the four millions who expressly declared their adherence to the new Consular constitution, must be added the many hundreds of thousands and millions more, who were either totally indif- ferent upon the form of government, providing they enjoyed peace and protection under it, or who, though abstractedly preferring other rulers, were practically disposed to submit to the party in possession of the power. Such and so extended being the principles on which Buonaparte selected the members of his go- vernment, he manifested, in choosing individuals, that wonderful penetration, by which, more per- liaps than any man who ever lived, he was enabled at once to discover the person most capable of serv- ing him, and the means of securing his attach- ment. Former crimes or errors made no cause of exclusion; and in several cases the alliance between the first consul and his ministers might have been compared to the marriages between the settlers on the Spanish mainland, and the unhappy females, the refuse of great cities, sent out to recruit the colony. — " I ask thee not," said the bucanier to the wife he had selected from the cargo of vice, " what has been thy former conduct ; but, hence- forth, see thou continue faithful to me, or this," striking his hand on his musket, " shall punish thy want of fidelity." For second and third consuls, Buonaparte chose Cambaceres,''' a lawyer, and a member of the mode- rate party, with Lebrun,' who had formerly co-ope- rated with the Chancellor Maupeou. The former was employed by the chief consul as his organ of communication with the Revolutionists, while Le- brun rendered him the same service with the Royal party ; and although, as Madame de Stael observes, they preached very different sermons on 1 Out of 3.012,569 votes, 1562 rejected the new constitu- tion ; .■i,()ll,(i(i7acceiitedit.— SeeTHiBAijDEAU, torn. i.,p. 117. - " Cambacdrfes was of an honourable family in Languedoc ; he was tifiy years old ; he had been a member of the Conven- tion, and had conducted himselt with moderation : he was ge- nerally esteemed, and had ajustclaini to the reputation which he enjoyed of being one of the ablest lawyers otthc rei)ublic." -Napoleon, Gvunjaud, torn i., p. 153. the same texts,* yet they were both eminently suc- cessful in detaching from their original factions many of either class, and uniting them with this third, or government party, which was thus com- posed of deserters from both. The last soon be- came so numerous, that Buonaparte was enabled to dispense with the bascule, or trimming system, by which alone his predecessors, the directoi^s, had been enabled to support their power. In the ministry, Buonaparte acted upon the same principle, selecting and making his own the men whose talents were most distinguished, without reference to their former conduct. Two were par- ticularly distinguished, as men of the most eminent talents, and extensive experience. These were Talleyrand and Fouche. The former, noble by birth, and Bishop of Autun, notwithstanding his high rank in church and state, had been deeply engaged in the Revolution. He had been placed on the list of emigrants, from which his name was erased on the establishment of the Directorial government, under which he became minister of foreign affairs. He resigned that office in the summer preceding 18th Brumaire; and Buona- parte finding him at variance with the Directory, readily passed over some personal grounds of com- plaint which he had against him, and enlisted in his service a supple and dexterous politician, and an experienced minister ; fond, it is said, of plea- sure, not insensible to views of self-interest, noi too closely fettered by principle, but perhaps un- equalled in ingenuity. Talleyrand was replaced in the situation of minister for foreign affairs, after a short interval, assigned for the purpose of suffer- ing the public to forget his prominent share in the scandalous treaty with the American commissioners, and continued for a long tract of time one of the closest sharers of Buona])arte's councils.* If the character of Talleyrand bore no strong traces of public virtue or inflexible morality, that of Fouche' was marked with still darker shades. He had been dipt in some of the worst transactions of the Reign of Terror, and his name is found among the agents of the dreadful crimes of that unhappy period. In the days of the Directory, he is stated to have profited by the universal pecula- tion which was then practised, and to have amassed large sums by shares in contracts and brokerage iu the public funds. To atone for the imperfections of a character stained with perfidy, venality, and indifference to human suffering, Fouche brought to Buonaparte's service a devotion, never like to fail the first consul imless his fortunes should hap- pen to change ; and a perfect experience with all the weapons of revolutionary war, and knowledge of those who were best able to wield them. He had managed under Barras's administration the department of police ; and, in the course of his agency, had become better acquainted perhaps thai» any man in France with all the various parties in that distracted country, the points which they were desirous of reaching, the modes by which the- hoped to attain them, the character of their indi- 3 " Lebrun was sixty years of age, and came from Norman- dy. He was one of the best writers in France, a man of in- flexible integrity ; and he approved of the changes of the Re- volution only in consideration of the advantages which resulted from them to the mass of the people, for his own family wer« all of the class of peasantry." — Ibid., p. 153. * Consid. sur la R<5v. Fran9aise. torn, ii., p. 2.15. 5 Thibaudeau, torn, i., p. 115; Gourgaud, torn, i., p. 115^ !S00.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 301 viilual leaders, and tlic means to gain them over or 10 intimidate them. Formidable by his extensive Knowledge of the revolutionary springs, and the address with which he could either put them into motion, or prevent them from operating, Fonche, in the latter part of >"s life, displayed a species of wisdom which came in place of morality and bene- volence. Loving wealth and power, he was neither a man of ardent passions, nor of a vengeful disposition ; and though there was no scruple in his nature to withhold him from becoming an agent in the great crimes which state policy, under an arbitrary go- vernment, must often require, yet he had a pru- dential and constitutional aversion to unnecessary evil, and was always wont to characterise his own principle of action, by saying, that he did as little harm as he possibly could. In his mysterious and terrible office of head of the police, he had often means of granting favours, or interposing lenity in belialf of individuals, of which he gained the full credit, while the harsh measures of which he was the agent, were set down to the necessity of his situation. By adhering to these principles of moderation, he established for himself at length a character totally inconsistent with that belonging to a member of the revolutionary committee, and rcsembhng rather that of a timid but well-disposed servant, who, in executing his master's commands, is desirous to mitigate as much as possible their effect on individuals. It is, upon the whole, no wonder, that although Sieyes objected to Fouche', from his want of principle, and Talleyrand was averse to him from jealousy, interference, and per- sonal enmity. Napoleon chose, nevertheless, to retain in the confidential situation of minister of police, the person by whom that formidable offise had been first placed on an eff'ectual footing.* Of the other ministers, it is not necessary to speak in detail. Cambaceres retained the situation of minister of justice,^ for which he was well quali- fied ; and the celebrated mathematician, Laplace, was preferred to that of the Interior, for which he was not, according to Buonaparte's report, qualified at all.-' Berthier, as we have already seen, filled the war department, and shortly afterwards Carnot ; and Gaudin administered the finances with credit to himself. Forfait, a naval architect of eminence,* replaced Bourdon in the helpless and hopeless de- partment of the French Admiralty. A new constitution having been thus formed, and the various branches of duty distributed with much address among those best capable of dis- charging them, other changes were at the same time made, which were designed to mark that a new era was commenced, in which all former prejudices were to be abandoned and done away. We have noticed that one of the first acts of the Provisional Government had been to new-modify the national oath, and generalize its terms, so that they should be no longer confined to the constitu- 1 Gourgaud, torn, i., p. 116. 2 " Wlien Cambaceres afterwards v.icated the office, Buona- parte appointed M. d'Abrial, who died in 1828, a Tieer of France. On remitting the folio to the new minister, the First Consul ad- dressed him thus : "M. d'Abnal, I know you not, but am in- formed you are the most upright man in the magistracy ; it is on that account I name you minister of justice.'" — Bourri- KNNE, torn, ii., p. 118. a " Laplace, a geometrician of the first rank, soon proved himself below mediocrity as a minister. On his very first es.say, the consuls found that they had been mistaken ; not a tion of the year Three, but should apply to that which was about to be framed, or to any other which might be produced by the same authority.-^ Two subsequent alterations ••«i the constitution, which pa.ssed without much notice, so much was the revolutionary or republican spirit abated, tended to show that farther changes were impending, and that the Consular Republic was speedily to adopt the name, as it already had the essence, of a mo • narchy. It was scarcely three months since tho President of the Directory had said to the people, on the anniversary of the taking of the Bastile, — " Royalty shall never raise its head again. We shall no more behold individuals boasting a title from Heaven, to oppress the earth with more ease and security, and who considered France as their private patrimony, Frenchmen as their subjects, and the laws as the expression of their good-will and pleasure." Yet now, in contradiction to this sounding declamation, the national oath, express- ing hatred to royalty, was annulled, under the pretext that the Republic, being universally ac- knowledged, had no occasion for the guard of such disclamations. In like manner, the public observance of the day on which Louis XVI. had suffered decapitation, was formally abolished. Buonaparte, declining to pass a judgment on the action as just, politic, or useful, pronounced that, in any event, it could only be regarded as a national calamity, and was therefore in a moral, as well as a political sense, an unfit epoch for festive celebration. An expression of the first consul to Sieyes was also current at the same time, which, although Buonaparte may not have used it, has been generally supposed to express his senti- ments. Sieyes had spoken of Louis under the estabhshed phrase of the Tyrant. " He was no tyrant," Buonaparte replied ; " had he been such, I should have been a subaltern officer of artillery, and you, Monsiem* I'Abbe', would have been still saying mass."^ A third sign of approaching change, or rather of the approaching return to the ancient system of government under a different chief, was the remo- val of the first consul from the apartments in the Luxembourg palace, occupied by the director.s, to the royal residence of the Tuileries. Madame do Stael beheld the entrance of this fortunate soldier into the princely residence of the Bourbons. He was already surrounded by a vas-sal crowd, eager to pay him the homage which the inhabitants of those 'splendid halls had so long claimed as their due, that it seemed to be consistent with the place, and to become the right of this new inhabitant. The doors were thrown open with a bustle and violence, expressive of the importance of the occasion. But the hero of the scene, in ascending the magnificent staircase, up which a throng of courtiers followed him, seemed totally indifferent to all around, hia features bearing only a general expression of indif- ference to events, and contempt for mankind.^ question did Laplace seize in its true point of view : he souglit lor subtleties in everything; had none but problematical ideas, and carried the doctrine of infinite littleness into the business of administration." — Natoleon, (iuurfjdud.lom. i., p. lUJ. * " Forfait, a native of Normandy, had the reputation oi being a naval architect of first-rate talent, but he was a mere [)rojector, and did not answer the expectations formed of nim "— Napoleo.m, Guurijaud, torn, i., p. 115. 5 ./!/c/)i/Vfur,3l8t Dec. l'7y!». ^ Las Cases, torn, iv., p. 337. 7 " The choice of this residence was a stroke of policy. II 302 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1600 'Die first measures of Buonaparte's new govern- ment, and tlie expectation attached to his name, had already gone some length in restoring domestic quiet ; but he was well aware that much more niust be done to render that quiet permanent ; that the external relations of France with Europe must be attended to without delay ; and that the French expected from him either the conclusion of an honourable peace, or the restoration of victory to their national banners. It was necessary, too, that advances towards peace should in the first place be made, in order, if they were unsuccessful, that a national spirit should be excited, which might re- concile the French to the renewal of the war with fresh energy. Hitherto, in diplomacy, it had been usual to sound the way for opening treaties of peace by ob- scure and almost unaccredited agents, in order that tlie party willing to make propositions might not subject themselves to a haughty and insulting answer, or have their desire of peace interpreted as a confession of weakness. Buonaparte went into the opposite extreme, and addressed the King of England in a personal epistle. This Letter,' like that to the Archduke Charles, during the campaign of 1797, intimates Buonaparte's affectation of su- periority to the usual forms of diplomacy, and his pretence to a chai'acter determined to emancipate itself from rules only designed for mere ordinary men. But the manner of the address was in bad taste, and ill calculated to obtain credit for his being sincere in the proposal of peace. He was bound to know so much of the constitutional autho- rity of the monarch whom he addressed, as to be aware that George III. would not, and could not, contract any treaty personally, but must act by the advice of those ministers whose responsibility was his guarantee to the nation at large. The terms of the letter set forth, as usual, the blessings of peace, and urged the propriety of its being restored ; propositions which could not admit of dispute ia the abstract, but which admit much discussion when coupled with unreasonable or inadmissible conditions. The answer transmitted by Lord Grenville, in the forms of diplomacy, to the Minister for Foreign Affairs, dwelt on the aggressions of France, de- clared that the restoration of the Bourbons would liave been the best security for their sincerity, but disavowed all right to dictate to France in her in- ternal concerns. Some advances were made to a pacific treaty ; and it is probable that England might at that period have obtained the same or better terms than she afterwards got by the treaty yras there that the Kin<» of France ^Yas accustomed to be seen ; circumstances connected with that monarchy were there pre- sented to every eye ; and tlie very intiuence of the walls on the minds of spectators was, if we may say so, sufficient for the restoration of regal power." — Mad. de Stael, torn, ii., p. 256. ' " French Republic— Sovereignty of the People — Liberty —Equality. " Buonaparte, Firot Consul of the Republic, to his Majesty tie King of Great Britain ar.d Ireland. " Paris, 5th Nivose, 8th year of the Republic, (25th Dec. 1799.) " Called by the wishes of the French nation to occupy the first magistracy of the Republic, I think it proper, on entering into office, to make a direct communication of it to your Ma- jesty. The war, which for eight years has ravaged the four quarters of the world, must it be eternal ? Are there no means of coming to an understanding ? How can the two most enlightened nations of Europe, jjowerful and strong be- yond what their safely and indejiendence require, sacrifice to of Amiens. It may be added, that the moderate principles expressed by the consular government, might, in the infancy of his power, and in a moment of considerable doubt, have induced Buonaparte to make sacrifices, to which, triumphant and esta- blished, he would not condescend. But the posses- sion of Egypt, which Buonaparte must have insisted on, were it only for his own reputation, was likely to be an insuperable difficulty. The conjuncture also appeared to the English ministers propitiou-s for carrying on the war. Italy had been reco- vered, and the Austrian army, to the number of 140,000, were menacing Savoy, and mustering on the Rhine. Buonaparte, in the check received before Acre, had been found not absolutely invin- cible. The exploits of Suwarrow over the French were recent, and had been decisive. The state o^ the interior of France was well known ; and it was conceived, that though this successful general had climbed into the seat of supreme power which he found unoccupied, yet that two strong parties, ol which the Royalists objected to his person, the Republicans to his form of government, could not fail, the one or other, to deprive him of lus influ- ence. The treaty was finally broken off, on the score that there was great reason to doubt Buonaparte's sincerity ; and supposing that were granted, there was at least equal room to doubt the stability of a power so hastily acknowledged, and seeming to contain in itself the principles of decay. There may be a difference of opinion in regard to Buo- naparte's sincerity in the negotiation, but there can be none as to the reality of his joy at its being de- feated. The voice which summoned him to war was that which sounded sweetest in his ears, since it was always followed by exertion and by victory. He had been personally offended, too, by the allu- sion to the legitimate rights of the Bourbons, and indulged his resentment by pasquinades in the Moniteur. A supposed letter from the last de- scendant of the Stuart family appeared there, con- gratulating the King of Britain on his acceding to the doctrine of legitimacy, and summoning him to make good his principles, by an abdication of his crown in favour of the lineal heir.^ The external situation of France had, as we be- fore remarked, been considerably improved by tlie consequences of the battle of Zurich, and the vic- tories of Moroau. But the Republic derived yet greater advantages from the breach between the Emperors of Austria and Russia. Paul, naturally of an uncertain temper, and offended by the ma- nagement of the last campaign, in which Korsakow ideas of vain greatness the benefits of commerce, internal prosperity, and the happiness of families? How is it that they do not feel that peace is the first necessity as well as the first glory ? These sentiments cannot be foreign to the heart of your Majesty, who reign over a free nation, and with the sole view of rendering it haiipy. Your Majesty will only see, in this overture, my sincere desire to contribute efficacionsly, for the second time, to a general pacification, by a proceeding prompt, entirely confidential, and disengaged from those forms which, necessary perhaps to disguise the dependence of weak States, prove only in the case of the strong the mutual desire of deceiving each other. France and England, by the abuse of their strength, may still, for a long time, for the misfortune of all n.ations, retard the period of their being exhausted. But 1 will venture to say, the fate of all civilized nations is attached to the termination of a war which involves the whole world. " BlTO.NAPARTK." 2 See Momtem: S.T PInviose, ICtli February IfiOO ; and Tlii- baudeau, toni. i., p. 1:M. 1800.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 303 had been defeated, and Su'vvarrow clieelied, in c onsequenee of their being unsupported by tlie Austrian .army, had witlidi-awn liis troops, so dis- tinguished for their own bravery as well as for the talents of their leader, from the seat of war. But the Austrians, possessing a firmness of character undismayed by defeat, and encouraged by the late success of their arms under the veteran Melas, had made such gigantic exertions as to counterbalance the loss of their Russian confederates.' Their principal force was in Italy, and it was on the Italian frontier that they meditated a grand effort, by which, supported by the British fleet, they proposed to reduce Genoa, and penetrate across the Var into Provence, where existed a strong body of Royalists ready to take arms, under the command of General Willot, an emigrant ofh- cer. It was said the celebrated Pichegru, who, escaped from Guiana, had taken refuge in England, was also with his army, and was proposed as a chief leader of the expected insurrection. To execute this plan, Melas was placed at the head of an army of 140,000 men. This army was quartered for the winter in the plains of Piedmont, and waited but the approach of spring to commence operations. Opposed to them, and occupying the country betwixt Genoa and the Var, lay a French army of 40,000 men ; the relics of those who had been re- peatedly defeated in Italy by Suwarrow. Tliey were quartered in a poor country, and the English squadron, which blockaded the coast, was vigilant in preventing any supplies from being sent to them. Distress was therefore considerable, and the troops were in proportion dispirited and disorganized. Whole corps abandoned their position, contraiy to oi'ders ; and, with drums beating, and colours fly- ing, returned into France. A proclamation from Napoleon was almost alone sufficient to remedy these disorders. He called on the soldiers, and particularly those corps who had formerly distin- guished themselves under his command in his Italian campaigns, to remember the confidence he had once placed in them.''^ The scattered troops returned to their d\ity, as war-horses when dis- persed are said to rally and form ranks at the mere sound of the tmmpet. Massena, an officer eminent for his acquaintance with the mode of carrying on war in a mountainous country, full of passes and strong positions, was intinisted with the command of the Italian army, which Buonoparte^ resolved at support in person with the army of reserve. The French army upon the Rhine possessed as great a superioi-ity over the Austrians, as Melas, on the Italian frontier, enjoyed over Massena. Moreau was ])laced in the command of a large army, augmented by a strong detachment from that of General Brune, now no longer necessary ' Thibaudean. torn, i., p. 182; Jomini, torn, xiii., p. 16, 24. * These disorders gave rise to many Reneral orders from Napoleon ; in one of them he said—" The first quality of a Bnldicr is patient endurance of fatii^e and privation ; vahnir is but a secondary virtue. Several corps have quitted tlieir positions; they have been deaf to the voice of their otlicers. Are, then, the heroes of Casti'.;lionc, of Kivoli, of Neumark no more ? They would rather have perished than have deserted tlieir colours. Soldiers, do you complain that your rations have not been regularly distributed?. What would you have done.if, like the fnurtli and twenty second light demi-brigades, vou had found yourselves in the midst of tlie desert, without bread or water, subsisting on horses and camels? yicUiry iiil/piveiixbreml, said they ; and you— you desert your colours ! i^oldiersof Italy, a new generiil commands you ; lie was always for the protection of Holland, and by the army oi Helvetia, which, after the defeat of Korsakow, was not farther required for the defence of Switzeiland. In bestowing this great charge on Moreau, the first consul showed himself superior to the jealousy which might have dissuaded meaner minds from intrusting a rival, whose military skill was often compared with his own, with such an opportunity of distinguishing himself.* But Buonaparte, in this and other cases, preferred the employing and pi'ofiting by the public service of men of talents, and especially men of military eminence, to any risk which he could run from their rivahy. He had the just confidence in his own powers, never to doubt his supremacy, and trusted to the influence of discipline, and the love of tlieir profession, which induces generals to accept of command even under the administrations of which they di.sapprove. In this manner he rendered dependant upon himself even those officers, who, averse to the consular form of government, inclined to republican princi- ples. Such were Massena, Brune, Jourdan, Le- courbe, and Championuet. He took care, at the same time, by changing the commands intrusted to them, to break off all combinations or connexions which they might have formed for a new alteration of the govei-nment. General Moreau was much superiorin numbers to Kray, the Austrian who commanded on the Rhine, and received orders to resume the offensive. He was cautious in his tactics, though a most excellent officer, and was startled at the plan sent him by Buonaparte, which directed him to cross the Rhine at Schaffhausen, and, marching on Ulm with his whole force, place himself m the rear of the greater part of the Austrian army. This was one of those schemes, fraught with great victories or great re- verses, which Buonaparte delighted to form, and which often requiring much sacrifice of men, oc- casioned his being called by those who loved him not, a general at the rate of ten thousand men per day. Such enterprises resemble desperate passes in fencing, and must be executed with the same decisive resolution with which they are formed. Few even of Buonaparte's best generals could be trusted with the execution of his master-strokes in tactics, unless under his own immediate super- intendence. Moi'eau invaded Gennany on a more modified plan ; and a series of marches, coimter-marches, and desperate battles ensued, in which General Kray, admirably supported by the Archduke Fer- dinand, made a gallant defence against superior numbers. In Buonaparte's account of this campaign,* he blames Moreau for hesitation and timidity in fol- lowing up the advantages which he obtained.^ Yet to a less severe, perhaps to a more impartial judge, in the foremost ranks, in the moments of your brightest glorv-; )ihice your confidence in him ; he will bring back victory to your colours."— Goi'ROAUD, torn, i., p. IfiO. 3 In a proclamation issued to the armies, he said- "Sol- diers! it is no longer the frontiers that you are called on to defend, the countries of your enemies arc to be invaded. At a fit season I will be in tlic midst of you, and Europe shall be made to remember that you belong to a valiant race." — Gouft- gai;d, torn, i., p. 162. ■• Jomini, tom. xiii., p. .35, 43; Thibaudcau, torn. i.,p. 182 — C; Goufgaud, tom. i., p. 163. 5 Gourgaud, tom. i., p. 1(>7. « " Moreau did not know the value of time; he always passed the day after abattle in total indecision."— Nai'dlkon, (lounjattd, tons, i., p. 174. 304 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1800, Moreau'6 success might seem satisfactory, since, crossing the Rhine in the end of April, he had his headquarters at Augsburg upon the 15th July, ready either to co-operate with the Italian army, or to march into the heart of the Austrian territory. Nor can it be denied that, during this whole cam- paign, Moreau kept in view, as a principal object, the protecting the operations of Buonaparte in Italy, and saving that chief, in his dauntless and desperate invasion of the Milanese territory, from the danger which might have ensued, had Kray found an opportunity of opening a communication with the Austrian anny in Italy, and despatching troops to its support. It may be remarked of these two great generals, that, as enterprise was the characteristic of Buona- parte's movements, prudence was that of Moreau's ; and it is not unusual, even when there occur no other motives for rivals undervaluing each other, that the enterprising judge the pi-udent to be timid, and the prudent account the enterprising rash. It is not ours to decide upon professional ques- tions between men of such superior talents ; and, having barely alluded to the topic, we leave Mo- reau at Augsburg, whei'e he finally con- " ^' eluded an armistice ' with General Kray, as a consequence of that which Buonaparte had established in Italy after the battle of Marengo. Thus much, therefore, is due in justice to Moreau. His campaign was, on the whole, crowned in its results with distinguished success.^ And when it is considered, that he was to manoeuvre both with reference to the safety of the first consul's opera- tions and his own, it may be doubted whether Buo- naparte would, at the time, have thanked him for venturing on more hazardous measures ; the result of which might have been either to obtain more brilliant victory for the army of the Rhine, in the event of success, or should they have miscarried, to have ensured the ruin of the army of Italy, as well as of that commanded by Moreau himself. There must have been a wide difference between the part which ]\Ioreau ought to act as subsidiary to Buonaparte, (to whom it will presently be seen he despatched a reinforcement of from fifteen to twenty thousand men,) and that which Buonaparte, in obedience to his daring genius, might have him- self thought it right to perform. The commander- in-chief may venture much on his own responsibi- lity, which must not be hazarded by a subordinate general, whose motions ought to be regulated upon the general plan of the campaign. We return to the operations of Napoleon during one of the most important campaigns of his life, and in which he added — if that were still possible — to the high military reputation he had acquired. In committing the charge of the campaign upon the Rhine to Moreau, the first consul had reserved for himself the task of bringing back victory to the French standards, on the fields in which he won his earliest laurels. His plan of victory again included a passage of the Alps, as boldly and unexpectedly as in 1 795, but in a diffei-ent direction. That earlier period had this resemblance to the present, that, on both occasions, the Austrians menaced Genoa ; but in 1800, it was only from the Italian frontier ' For the terms ofthe armistice, see Gourgaud, torn. i.,p. I!i5. * Jomini, torn, xiii., p. 355, 369 ; Thibaudcau, torn, i., \>. 343. • OourRaud, torn, i , p. 2C1. < '■ £iuope woi full of caricatures. One of them repre- and tlie Col dl Tende, whereas, in 1705, the enemy were in possession of the mountains of Savoy, above Genoa. Switzerland, too, formerly neutral, and allowing no passage for armies, was now as open to the march of French troops as any of their own provinces, and of this Buonaparte determined to avail h'mself. He was aware of the Austrian plan of taking Genoa and entering Provence ; and he formed the daring resolution to put himself Xt the head of the army of reserve, surmount the line of the Alps, even where they are most difficult of ac- cess, and, descending into Italy, place himself in the rear of the Austrian army, interrupt their communications, carry off" their magazines, parks, and hospitals, coop them up betwixt his own army and that of Massena, which was in their front, and compel them to battle, in a situation where defeat must be destruction. But to accomplish this daring movement, it was necessary to march a whole army over the highest chain of mountains in Eu- rope, by roads which afford but a dangerous passage to the solitary traveller, and through passes where one man can do more to defend, than ten to force their way. Artillery was to be carried through sheep-paths and over precipices impracticable to w^heel-carriages ; ammunition and baggage were to be transported at the same disadvantages ; and provisions were to be conveyed through a country poor in itself, and inhabited by a nation which had every cause to be hostile to France, and might therefore be expected prompt to avail themselves of any opportunity which should occur of revenging themselves for her late aggressions.^ The strictest secrecy was necessary, to procure even the opportunity of attempting this audacious plan of operations ; and to ensure this secrecy, Buo- naparte had recourse to a singular mode of deceiv- ing the enemy. It was made as public as possible, by orders, decrees, proclamations, and the like, that the first consul was to place himself at the head of the army of reserve, and that it was to assemble at Dijon. Accordinglj', a numerous staff" was sent, and much apparent bustle took place in assembling there six or seven thousand men with great pomp and fracas. These, as the spies of Austria truly reported to their employers, were either conscripts, or veterans unfit for service ; and caricatures were published of the first consul reviewing troops com- posed of children and disabled soldiers, which was ironically termed his army of reserve.* When an army so composed was reviewed by the first consul himself witli great ceremony, it impressed a general belief that Buonaparte was only endeavouring, by making a show of force, to divert the Austrians from their design upon Genoa, and thus his real purpose was eff'ectually concealed. Bulletins, too, were privately circulated by the agents of police, as if scattered by the Royalists, in which specious arguments were used to prove that the Fi-ench army of reserve neither did, nor could exist — and these also were designed to withdraw attention from the various points on which it was at the very moment collecting.'^ The pacification of the west of France had placed many good troops at Buonaparte's disposal, which had previously been engaged against the Chouans ; gented a boy of twelve years of asc, and an invalid with a wooden lc{» ; underneath which was written 'Buonaparte's army of reserve." " — Napoleon, Goiiryauil, torn, i., p. 262. ^ Gourgaud, tom. i., p. 2C3. 1800.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 305 tlie quiet state of Paris iierniitted several rcgirnents ti> be detached from the capital. New levies were made with tlie utmost celerity ; and the divisions of the army of refierve were ox-tjanizcd separately, and at diti'erent places of rendezvous, but ready to form a junction when they should receive the sig- nal for comuioncing oj)eratious. CHAPTER XIX. 'J lie Chief Consul leaves Paris on Gth May, 1800 — JIas an Interrieic icith Necker at Genera on 8th — Arrives at Lausanne on the \3th — Various Corps put in tnodon to cross the Alps — Napoleon, at the head of the Main Army, marches on the \hth, and ascends Mont {ft. Bernard — On the lGth,the Vau'iuard takes possession of Aosta — I'^ortress and Toxcn of Bard threaten to bajfle the whole plan — 2'he Toicn is captured — and Napo- leon contrives to send his Artillery through it, un- der the f re of the Fort, his Infantry and Cavalry 2>assinij over the Alhai edo — Lannes carries Irrea — Recapitulation — Operations of the Austrian General Melas — At the commencement of the Campaign, Melas advances totcards Genoa — Ac- tions betiridt him and Massena — In March, Lord Keith blockades Genoa — Melas compelled to re- treat — Enters Nice — Recalled from thence by the neivs of Napoleon's having crossed Mont St. Ber- nard — Genoa surrenders — Buonaparte enters Milan — Battle of Montebello — The Chief Consul is joined by Desaix — Battle of Marengo on the 14/iA — Death of Desaix — Capitulation on the \5lh, by which Genoa, cjc, are yielded — Napoleon ■'•cturns to Paris on the 2d July. On the 6tli of May 1800, seeking to renew the fortunes of Franco, now united with his own, the chief consul left Paris, and, having reviewed the . pretended army of reserve at Dijon on the 7th, arrived on tlie otii at Geneva. Here he liad an interview with the celebrated financier Necker. There was always doomed to be some misunder- standing between Buonaparte and this accom- plished f;xmily. Madame de Stael believed that Buonaparte spoke to her father with confidence on his future prospects ; while the first consul affirms that Necker seemed to expect to be intrusted with the management of the French finances, and that they parted with mutual indifference, if not dis- like.' Napoleon had a more interesting conversa- tion with General Marescot, despatched to survey Mont Bernard, and who. had, with great difficulty, Ascended as far as the convent of the Chartreux. " Is the route practicjible ? " said Buonaparte. — " It is barely possible to pass," replied the engi- neer. — " Let us set forward tlien," said Napoleon, and the extraordinary march was commenced.'-' On the 1 3th, arriving at Lausanne, Buonapai-te joined the van of his real anny of reserve, which consisted of six effective regiments, commanded by the celebrated Lannes. These corps, together with the rest of the troops intended for the cxpcdi- ' " The famous Necker solicited the honour of Ijeiiis pre- BCiitcd to the first consul. In all he said he suflVred i: t.i ap (.oar, that he wislied and hoped to have the managi ii:iiit ( f the finances. The first consul was but indifferently pleund with iiiiti."— NAPor.Ko.v. (iiiiDjitiid, torn. i.. p. i'(i4. " Durinj; \)iis conversation, the first cousul made a rather asieeahle VOL. II. tion, liad been assembled from their several jiosi- tions by forced marches. Carnot, the minister at war, attended the first consid at Lau.^anne, to report to liim that 15,000, or from that to the number of "20,000 men, detached from ^loreau"s army, were in the act of descending on Italy by St. Gothard, in order to form the left wing of his army. 3 The whole army, in its various divisions, was now united under the command of Berthier nominally, as general-iu-chief, though in reality under that of the first consul himself. This was in compliance with a regulation of the Constitution, which rendered it inconsistent for the first consul to command in person.^ It was a form which Buonaparte at present evaded, and afterwards laid aside ; thinking truly, that the name, as well as office of generalissimo, was most fittingly vested in his own person, since, though it might not be the loftiest of his titles, it was that which best expressed his power. The ai-my might amount to 60,000 men, but oue-thii-d of the number were conscripts. During the interval between the loth and 18th of May, all the columns of the French army were put into motion to cross the Alps. Thurreau, at the head of 5000 men, directed his "march by ^lont Ceuis, on Exilles and Susa. A similar divi.sion, commanded by Cliabran, took the route of the Little St. Bernard. Buonaparte himself, on the loth, at the head of the main body of his army, consisting of 30,000 men and upwards, marched from Lausanne to the little village called St. Pierre, at which point there ended every thing resembling a practicable road. An immense, and apparently inaccessible mountain, reared its head among ge- neral desolation and eternal frost ; while precipices, glaciers, ravines, and a boundless extent of faith- less snows, which the slightest concussion of the air converts into avalanches capable of burying armies in their descent, appeared to forbid access to all living things but the chamois, and his scarce less wild pur.suer. Yet foot by foot, and man by man, did the French soldiers proceed to ascend this formidable barrier, which nature had erected in vain to limit human ambition. The view of the valley, emphatically called " of Desolation," where nothing is to be seen but snow and sky, had no terrors for the first consul and his army. They advanced up paths hitherto only practised by hun- ters, or here and there a hardy pedestrian, the infantry loaded with their arms, and in full mili- tary equipment, tlie cavalry leading their horses. The musical bands played from time to time at the head of the regiments, and, in places of unusual dif- ficulty, the drums beat a charge, as if to encourage tlie soldiers to encounter the opposition of Nature herself. The artillery, without which they could not have done service, were deposited in trunks of trees hollowed out for the purpose. Each was dragged by a hundred men, and the troops, makinjj it a point of honour to bring forward their guns, accomplished this severe duty, not with cheerful- ness only, but with enthusiasm. The carriages were taken to pieces, and harnessed on the backs impression on my father, bv the confidential xay in which ho spoke to him of fiis future plans."— M.4D. i>E Staki., toni. li. p. i'iil. - 'ihibaude.TU, torn, vi., p. £0); .Touiini, torn, im., p. WO. 3 Ji'inini, toni. Niii., p. 177- 4 i;our!;aud, torn, i., p. -W. 306 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1800. of miiliis, or committed to the soldiers, who rcheved each other in tlie task of bearing them with levers ; and the amTiiiinition was transported in the same manner. While one half of the soldiers were thus engaged, the others were obliged to carry the mus- kets, cartridge-boxes, knapsacks, and provisions of their comrades, as well as their own. Each man, so loaded, was calculated to carry from sixty to seventy pounds weight, up icy precipices, where a man totally without encumbrance could ascend but slowly. Probably no troops save the French could have endured the fatigue of such a march ; and no other general than Buonaparte would have ventured to require it at their hand.' He set out a considerable time after the march had begun, alone, excepting his guide. He is de- scribed by the Swiss peasant who attended him in that cajiacity, as wearing his usual simple dress, a grey surtout, and three-cornered hat. He travel- led in silence, save a few short and hasty questions about the country, addressed to his guide from time to time. When these were answered, he relapsed into silence. There was a gloom on his brow, cor- responding with the weather, which was wet and dis- mal. His countenance had acquired, during his Eastern campaigns, a swart complexion, which added to his natural severe gravity, and the Swiss peasant who guided hira felt fear as he looked on him.''' Occasionally his route was stopt by some temporary obstacle occasioned by a halt in the ai'tillery or baggage ; his commands on such occa- sions wei'e peremptorily given, and instantly obeyed, his very look seeming enough to silence all objec- tion, and remove every difficulty. The army now arrived at that singular convent, where, with courage equal to their own, but flowing from a much higher source, the monks of St. Ber- nard have fixed their dwellings among the ever- lasting snows, that they may afford succour and liospitality to the forlorn travellers in those dread- ful wastes. Hitherto the soldiers had had no re- freshment, save when they dipt a morsel of biscuit amongst the snow. The good fathers of the con- vent, who possess considerable magazines of pro- visions, distributed bread and cheese, and a cup of wine, to each soldier as he passed, which was more acceptable in their situation, than, according to one who shared their fatigues,' would have been the gold of Mexico.'* The descent on the other side of Mont St. Ber- nard was as difficult to the infanti-y as the ascent had been, and still more so to the cavalry. It was, however, accomplished without any material loss, and the army took up their quarters for the night, after having marched fom-teen French leagues. The next morning, 16th May, the vanguard took possession of Aosta, a village of Piedmont, from which extends the valley of the same name, watered by the river Dorca, a country pleasant in itself, 1 Jomini, torn, xiii , yi. 104 ; Thil)audenu, torn, vi., p. 264 ; Gourf;aiid, torn, i., p. 2G7 ; Dumas, torn. ii. 2 Apparently tlie guide who conducted liim from the Grand Chartreux found the Chief Consul in better humour, for Buona- parte says, he conversed freely with him, and expressed some ■wislics with respect to a liltle'farm, &c. which he was able to Rratify. [Gourgaud, torn, i., p. 2(i«.] To his guide from Marti^'ny to St. Pierre, he was also liberal ; but the only specimen of his conversation which the latter remembered, was, when shaking the rain water from his hat, he exclaimed, " There ! see what I liaTe done in your mountains— spoiled my new hat. Pshaw, 1 will find another on the other side." For these and other Interesting anecdotes, see Mr. Tcnnant's "Tour through the Netherlands, Holland, Germany, Switzerland," ic— S. but rendered delightful by its contrast vith the horrors which had been left behind. Thus was achieved the celebrated passage of Mont St. Bernard, on the particulars of whicli we have dwelt the more willingly, because, although a military operation of importance, they do not in- volve the unwearied details of human slaughter, to which our narrative must now return. Where the opposition of Nature to Napoleon's march appeared to cease, that of man conmienced. A body of Austrians at Chatillon were overpowered and defeated by Lannes ; but the strong fortress of Bard offered more serious opposition. This little citadel is situated upon an almost per])endicu]ar rock, rising out of the river Dorea, at a place where the valley of Aosta is rendered so very narrow by the approach of two mountains to each other, that the fort and walled town of Bard entirely close up the entrance. This formidable obstacle threatened for the moment to shut up the F'rench in a valley, where their means of subsistence must have been speedily exliausted. General Lannes made a des- perate effort to carry the fort by assault ; but the advanced guard of the attacking party were de- stroyed by stones, mtisketry, and hand-grenades, and the attempt was relinquished. Buonaparte in person went now to reconnoitre, and for that purpose ascended a huge rock called Albaredo, being a precipice on the side of one of the mountains which form the pass, from the sum- mit of which he could look down into the town, and into the fortress. He detected a possibility of taking the town by storm, though he judged the fort was too strong to be obtained by a coup- de- main. The town was accordingly carried by esca- lade ; but the French who obtained possession of it had little cover from the artillery of the fort, which fired furiously on the houses where they endeavoured to shelter themselves, and which the Austrians might have entirely demolished but for respect to the iidiabitants. Meanwhile, Buona- parte availed himself of the diversion to convey a great part of his army in single files, horse as well as foot, by a precarious path formed by the pioneers over the tremendous Albaredo, and so down on the other side, in this manner avoiding the cannon of fort Bard.* Still a most important difficulty remained. It was impossible, at least without great loss of time, to carry the French artillery over the Albaredo, while, without artillery, it was impossible to move against the Austrians, and evei'y hope of the cam- paign must be given up. In the meantime, the astonished commandant of the fort, to whom the apparition of this large army was like enchantment, despatched messenger after messenger to warn Melas, then opposed to Suchet, on the Var, that a French army of 30,000 men and upwards, descending from the Alps by ways hither- 3 Joseph Petit, Fourrier des grenadiers de la cardc, author of " Marengo, ou Campagne d'Ualie," livo, an. ix. — S. 4 " Never did greater regularity preside at a distribution. Fach one api.reciafed the foresight of wl icli he had been the object. Not a soldier left the ranks ; not a straggler was to be seen. The first consul expressed his ijiatitudc to the Com- munity, and ordered llH.),llli(i francs to he delivered to the mo- nastery, in reniemhiance of the service it had rendered him." — Mcmuirs iif Savary, vol. i., |). 10 j. 5 " The infantry and cavalry passed one by one, np the path of the mountain, which the tirsl consul iiad climbed, and where no horse had ever stepped ; it was a way kuo^yn to none but goatherds." — Gourgaud, torn, i , p. 2/1. 1800.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 307 to aeemed impracticable for military movements, had occupied the valley of Aosta, and were endea- vouring to del)ouche by a path of steps cut in the Albaredo. But he pledged himself to his com- mander-in-chief, that not a single gun or ammuni- tion-waggon should pass through the town ; and as it was impossible to drag these along tlie Alljarodo, he concluded, that, being without his artillery, Buonaparte would not venture to descend into the plain. But, while the commandant of Bard thus ar- gued, he was mistaken in his premises, though right in his inference. The artillery of the French army had already passed through the town of Bard, and under the guns of the citadel, without being disco- vered to have done so. This important manoeuvre was accomplished by previously laying the street with dung and earth, over which the pieces of can- non, concealed under straw and branches of trees, were dragged by men in profound silence. The garrison, though they did not suspect what was going on, fired nevertheless upon some vague sus- picion, and killed and wounded artillerymen in sufHeient number to show it would have been im- possible to pass under a severe and sustained dis- charge from the ramparts.' It seems singular that the commandant had kept up no intelligence with the town. Any signal previously agreed upon — a light shown in a ^^■indow, for example — would have detected such a stratagem. A division of conscripts, under General Chabran, was left to reduce fort Bard, which continued to hold out, until, at the expense of great labour, batteries were established on the top of the Alba- redo, by which it was commanded, and a heavy gun placed on the steeple of the church, when it was comjielled to surrender. It is not fruitless to ob- serve, that the resistance of this small place, which had been overlooked or undervalued in the plan of the campaign, was very near rendering the march over Mont St. Bernard worse than useless, and might have occasioned the destruction of all the chief consul's army.''' So little are even the most distinguished generals able to calculate with cer- tainty upon all the chances of war. From this dangerous pass, the vanguard of Buo- naparte now advanced down the valley to Ivrea, where Lanncs carried the town by storm, and a second time combated and defeated the Austrian division which had defended it, when reinforced and situated on a strong position at Romano. The roads to Turin and Milan were now alike open to Buonaparte — he had only to decide which he chose to take. Meanwhile, he made a halt of four days at Ivrea, to refresh the troops after their fatigues, and to prepai'e them for future enterprises.^ During this space, the other columns of his army were advancing to form a junction with that of the main body, according to the plan of the campaign. TImrreau, who had passed the Alps by the route of Mont Cenis, had taken the forts of Susa and La Brunette. On the other hand, the large corps detached by Carnot from Moreau's army, were ad- vancing by Mont St. Gothard and the Simplon, to support the operations of the first consul, of ' Gournaud, torn, i., p. 271 ; Jomiiii, torn, xiii., p. lf!.5. 2 Supposing it had proved quite iinpossible to pass tlie artil- lery through tlic town of Bard, would the French army have repassed the Great Saint Bernard? No: it wouhl have de- buuchcdiis far as Ivrea— a movement whicti would nettssaiilv whose army they were to form the left wing. But ere we prosecute the account of Buonaparte's move- ments during this momentous campaign, it is neces- sary to trace the previous operations of Melas, and the situation in which that Austrian general now found himself. It has been already stated, that, at the com- mencement of this campaign of 1800, the Austrians entertained the highest hopes that their Italian army, having taken Genoa and Nice, might pene- trate into Provence by crossing the frontier at the Var, and perhaps make themselves masters of Toulon and Marseilles. To realize tliese hopes, Melas, having left in Piedmont a sufficient force, as he deemed it, to guard the passes of the Alps, had advanced towards Genoa, which ISIassena prepared to cover and defend. A number of severe aud desperate actions took place between these gene- rals ; but being a war of posts, and fought in a very mountainous and difficult country, it was impossiljle by any skill of combination to ensure on any occa- sion more than partial success, since co-operation of movements upon a great and extensive scale was prohibited by the character of the ground. There was much hard fighting, however, in which, though more of the Austrians were slain, yet the loss was most severely felt by the French, whose numbers were inferior. In the month of March, the English fleet, under Lord Keith, appeared, as we have already hinted, before Genoa, and commenced a blockade, which strictly prevented access to the port to all vessels loaded with provisions, or other necessaries, for the besieged city. On the 6th of April, Melas, by a grand move- ment, took Vado, and intersected the French line. Suchet, who commanded Massena's left wing, was cut off from that general, and thrown back on France. Marches, manoeuvres, and bloody com- bats, followed each other in close detail ; but the French, though obtaining advantages in several of the actions, could never succeed in restoring the communication between Suchet and Massena. Fi- nally, while the former retreated towards France, and took up a line on Borghetta, the latter was compelled to convert his army into a garrison, and to shut himself up in Genoa, or at least encamp in a position close under its ramparts. Melas, in the meantime, approached the city more closely, when Massena, in a desperate sally, drove the Austrians from their advanced posts, forced them to retreat, made prisoners twelve hundred men, and carried off some warlike trophies. But the French were exhausted by their very success, and obliged to renviin within, or under the walls of the city, where the apjiroach of famine began to be felt. Alen were already compelled to have recoui'se to the flesh of horses, dogs, and other unclean animals, and it was seen that the place must soon be necessarily ob liged to surrender.* Satisfied with the approaching fall of Genoa, Melas, in the beginning of May, left the prosecu- tion of the blockade to General Ott, and moved himself against Suchet, whom he drove before him ill disorder, and who, overborne by numbers, re- have recalled Melas from Nice."— Napoleon, GoitrgmuU torn, i., p. -/i-l. 3 Jomini, toin. xiii., p 18fl; Gourgaud, toni. i., p. 274- < Gourgaud, turn, i , p. 1^)2 ; Tliihaudtau f-)m. vi., p. 21(6. SOS SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1800. IroateJ towards tIiL> Frcnuli frontier. On the 1 1 tli of May, Melas entered Niee, and thus comr.Kiieed the purposed invasion of the French frontipr. On tlie 14tli, the Austrians again attacked Suclict, who now had concentrated his forces upon the Var, in hopes to protect the French territory. Finding tliis a more difficult task than he expected, Melas next jjrepared to pass the Var higlier up, and thus to turn the position occupied hy Sachet. But on the 2 1st, the Austrian veteran received intelligence which put a stop to all his operations against Suchet, and recalled him to Italy to face a much more formidable antagonist. Tidings arrived that the first consul of France had crossed St. Ber- nard, had extricated himself from the valley of Aosta, and was threatening to overrun Piedmont and the ]MiIanese territory. These tidings were as unexpected as embarrassing. The artillery, the equipage, the provisions of Melas, together wth his communications with Italy, were all at the mercy of this unexpected invader, who, though his force was not accurately known, must have brought with liim an army more than adequate to destroy the troops left to guard the frontier ; who, besides, were necessarily divided, and exposed to be beaten in detail. Yet, if Melas marched back into Pied- mont against Buonaparte, he must abandon the attack upon Suchet,and raise the blockade of Genoa, wlien that important city was just on the eve of surrender. Persevering in the belief that the French army of reserve could not exceed twenty thousand men, or thereabouts, in number, and supposing that the principal, if not the sole object of the first consul's daring irruption, was to raise the siege of Genoa, and disconcert the invasion of Provence, Melas resolved on marching himself against Buona]jarte with such forces, as, united with those he had left in Italy, might be of power to face the French army, according to his computation of its probable strength. At the same time, he determined to leave before Genoa an army sufficient to ensure its fall, and a corps of observation in front of Suchet, by means of which he might easily resume his plans against that general, so soon as the chief consul should be defeated or driven back. The corps of observation already mentioned was under the command of General lillsnitz, strongly posted upon the Rove, and secured by intrench- ments. It served at once to watch Suchet, and to cover the siege of Genoa from any attempts to re- lieve the city, which might be made in the direction of France.' Tdassena, in the meantime, no sooner perceived the besieging army weakened by the aepartu);e of Melas, than he conceived the daring plan of a gene- ral attack on the forces of Ott, who was left to carry on the siege. The attempt was unfortunate. The French were defeated, and Soult, who had joined Massena, was wounded and made prisoner. Yet Genoa still held out. An officer had found his way into the place, brought intelligence of Buonaparte's descent upon Piedmont, and inspired ' Jomini, torn, xiii., p. 101). - Napoleon says, that Massena proposed to General Ott to send in provisions to feed these unhappy men, pledging his honour they should be used to no other purpose, and that General Ott was displeased witli Lord Keitli for declining to comply with a projiosal so utterly unknown in the usages of war.— S. [Oourgaud, torn i., p. 227 ] It i.s Jifhcult to give crudit to this storv. all with a nev,' sjiirit of resistance. Still, however extreme want j)revailed in the city, and the hojie of delivery seemed di.stant. The soldiers received little food, the inhabitants less, the Austrian pri- soners, of whom they had about 8000 in Genoa, almost none.- At length, the situation of thing.s seemed desperate. The numerous population of Genoa I'ose in the extremity of their desjjair, and called for a surrender. Buonaparte, they said, was not wont to march so slowly ; he would have been before the walls sooner, if he was to appear i.t all ; ho must have been defeated or driven back by the superior force of Melas. They demanded tlie sur- render of the place, therefore, which Massena no longer found himself in a condition to oppose.^ Yet could that brave general have suspended this measure a few hours longer, he would have been s])ared the necessity of making it at all. General Ott had just received commands from Melas to raise the blockade with all despatch, and to fall back upon the Po, in order to withstand Buonaparte, who, in unexpected strength, was marching upon Milan. The Austrian staff-officer who brought the order, had just received his au- dience of General Ott, when General Andrieux, presenting himself on the part of ]\Iassena, an- nounced the French general's desire to surrender the place, if his troops were permitted to march out with their arms. There was no time to debate upon terms ; and those granted to Massena by Melas were so imusually favourable, that perhaps they should have made him aware of the preca- rious state of the besieging army.'' He was per- mitted to evacuate Genoa without laying down his arms, and the convention was signed 5tli June, 1800. Meantime, at this agitating and interesting period, events of still greater importance than those which concerned the fate of the once princely Gp- noa, were taking place with frightful rapidity. Melas, with about one half of his army, had re- tired from his operations in the Genoese territory, and retreated on Turin by the way of Coni, where he fixed his headquarters, expecting that Buona- parte would either advance to jiossess himself of the capital of Piedmont, or that he would make an effort to relieve Genoa. In the first instance, Melas deemed himself strong enough to receive the first consul ; in the second, to pursue him, and in either, to assemble such numerous forces as might harass and eml)arrass either his advance or his retreat. But Buonaparte's ])lan of the cam- paign was different from what ftlelas had antici- l)ated. He had formed the resolution to pass tlie rivers Sesia and Ticino, and thus leaving Turin and Melas behind him, to push straight for Milan, and form a junction with the division of about 'J0,000 men, detached from the right wing o{ Moreau's army, which, commanded by Moncey, were on their road to join him, hav-.ng crossed the mountains by the route of St. Gotnard. It ^^•as necessary, however, to di.sguise his purpose from the sagacious veteran. With this view, ere Buonaparte broke up from 3 Jnniini. torn. .\iii., p. 2.31 : Gnurgaud. torn. i.. p. 228. S-ie also Thiebaut, Journal Historiorie du Siege de Genes. * " Massena ought to have broken off, upon tlie certijnjjr that within four or five daysliie blockade would be raised ; ia fai-t, it would have been raided twelve hours after," — Kak>» LEON, Guai-(jaud, toiu. i., p. 241. IROliJ LIFF. OF NAPOLEON BUONAPArvTR. ?>00 Ivrca, LaiiuoR, uno iiad comiiiaiulod liis vanc^iard with so niiicli gallantry, victDrious at Romano, eecincd aljout to improve Iiis advantage. He had inarched on Chiavaso, and seizing on a number of boats and small vessels, a]ipearod desirous to con- struct a bridge over the Vo at tiiat place. This attracted the attention of Welas. It might bo equally a preliminary to an attack on Turin, or a movement towards Genoa. But as the Austi^ian general was at the same time alarmed by the de- tcent of General ThuiTeau's division from Mont Cenis, and their capture of Susa and La Brunette, Turin seemed ascertained to be the object of the French ; and Melas acted on this idea. He sent H strong force to oppose the establishment of the bridge, and while his attention was thus occupied, Buonaparte was left to take the road to ISlilan unmolested. Vercclli was occupied by the cavalry under Murat, and the Sesia was crossed without obstacle. The Ticino, a broad and rapid river, offered more serious op])osition ; but the French found four or five small boats, in which they pushed across an advanced party under General Gerard. The Austrians, who opposed the passage, were in a great measure cavalry, who could not act on account of the woody and impracticable character of the bank of the river. The passage was accom- plished ; and, upon the 2d of June, Buonaparte entered Milan,' where he was I'eceivcd with accla- mations by a numei'ous class of citizens, who look- ed for the re-establishment of the Cisalpine Re- pulilic. The Austrians were totally unprepared for this movement. Pavia fell into the hands of the French ; Lodi and Ci-emona were occupied, and Pizzighitone was invested.''^ Meanwhile, Buonaiiarte, fixing his residence in the ducal palace of Milan, emplo^'cd himself in receiving the deputations of various public bodies, and in re-organizing the Cisalpine government, while he waited impatiently to be joined by Mon- cey and his division, from Mont Saint Gothai'd. They arrived at length, but marcliing more .slowdy than accorded with the fiery promptitude of the first consul, who was impatient to relieve the blockade of Genoa, which place he concluded still held out. lie now issued a proclamation to his troops, in which he described, as the result of the efforts he expected from them, " Cloudless glory and solid peace." ^ On the 9th of June his armies were again in motion. Melas, an excellent officer, had at the same time some of the slowness imputed to his countrymen, or of the irresolution incident to the advanced age of eighty years, — for so old was the opponent of Bnonai)arte, then in the very prime of human life, - — or, as others suspect, it may have been orders from Vienna which detained the Austrian general so loug at Turin, where he lay in a great measure inactive. It is true, that on receiving notice of Buonaparte's march on Milan, he instantly de- Bpatched orders to General Ott, as we have already stated, to raise the siege of Genoa, and join him with all possible speed ; but it seemed, that in the meantime, he might have disquieted Buonajiarte's 1 Jnmini, toci. xiii., p. 210; Gourgaiid, torn, i., p. 270. * " One of the first persons wlio presented themselves to the eves of tlic Milanese, wlioni entliusiasm aiul curiosity leil by all the by roads to meet the French army, was General Isuonaiinrtc. Thepeiii)leof Milan would not believe it: it had bceii reported that he had died in the Iltd Sea, and that it was lines of communication, by acting upon the rivei Dorea, attacking Ivrea, in which the French had left much baggage and artillery, and relieving the fort of Bard. Accordingly, he made an attempt of this kind, by detaching 0000 men to Chiavaso, who were successful in delivering some Austrian pri- soners at that place; but Ivrea proved .strong enough to resist them, and the French retaining possession of that place, the Austrians could not occupy the valley of the Dorea, or relieve the be- sieged fortress of Bard."* The situation of Melas now became critical. His communications with the left, or north bank of the Po, were entirely cut otf, and by a line stretching from Fort Bard to Placentia, the French occupied the best and fairest share of the north of Italy, while he found himself confined to Piedmont. The Austrian army, besides, was divided into two parts, — one under Ott, which was still near Genoa, that had so lately surrendered to them, — one with Melas himself, which was at Turin. Neither were agreeably situated. That of Genoa was observed on its right by Suchet, whose army, reinforced with the g.arrison which, retaining their arms, eva- cuated that city under !Massena, might soon be expected to renew the offensive. There was, there- fore, the greatest risk, that Buonaparte, pushing a strong force across the Po, might attack and de- stroy either the division of Ott, or that of Melas him.self, before they were able to form a junction. To prevent such a catastrophe, Ott received orders to march forward on the Ticino, while ]\Ielas, moving towards Alexandria, prepared to resume his communications with his lieutenant-general. Buonaparte, on his parr, was anxious to relieve Genoa ; news of the fall of which had not reached him. With this view he resolved to force his pas- sage over the Po, and move against the Austrians, wl o were found to occupy in strength the villages of Casteggio and Montebello. These troops proved to be the greater part of the very army which he expected to find before Genoa, and which was com- manded by Ott, but which had moved westward, in conformity to the orders of Melas. General Lannes, who led the vanguard of the French, as usual, was attacked early in „,, . ,, ' . , ' ■ /• i' • 1 ilth June, the morning, by a superior lorce, which he had much difficulty in resisting. The nature of the ground gave advantage to the Austrian cavalry, and the French were barely able to support their charges. At length the division of Victor came up to support Lannes, and the victory became no longer doubtful, though the Austrians fought most obsti- nately. Tlie fields being covered with tall crop.s of grain, and especially of rye, the difi'erent bodies were frequently hid until they fotind themselves at the bayonet's point, w ithout having had any pre- vious opportunity to estimate each other's force ; a circumstance which led to much close fighting, and necessarily to much slaughter. At length the Austrians retreated, leaving the field of battle co- vered with their dead, and above 5000 prisoners in the hands of their enemies.* General Ott rallied the remains of his army one of his brothers who now commanded the French «nny." — Nai'olkon, Ooinydidl, torn, i., p. 'MK 3 Gourmand, torn, i., p. 2H2. 4 Gourgaud, loni. i., p. Sd."}. ^ Coui;;aud, tuni. i., p.L'tJJ ; I'hibaudean, torn, vi., p 330 A; rao SCOTT'S ]\rrSCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1800. under the walls of Tortona. From the prisoners taken at the battle of Montebello, as this action was called, Buonaparte learned, for the first time, the surrender of Genoa, which apprised him that he was too late for the enterprise which he had meditated. Ho therefore halted his army for three days in the position of Stradclla, unwilling to ad- vance into the open plain of Marengo, and trusting tliat Melas would find himself compelled to give him battle ir the position which he had chosen, as most unfavouiable for the Austrian cavalry. He despatched messengers to Suchet, commanding him to cross the mountains by the Col di Cadibona, and march on the river Scrivia, which would place him in the rear of the Austrians. Even during the very battle of Montebello, the chief consul was joined by Desaix, who had just arrived from Egypt. Landed at Frejus, after a hundred interi-uptions, that seemed as if intended to withhold him from the fate he was about to meet, he had received letters from Buonaparte, inviting him to come to him without delay. The tone of the letters expressed discontent and em- barrassment. " He has gained all," said Desaix, who was much attached to Buonaparte, " and jet lie is not happy." Immediately afterwards, on reading the account of his march over St. Bernard, he added, " He will leave us nothing to do." He immediately set out post to place himself under the conmiand of his ancient general, and, as it eventually proved, to encounter an early death. They had an interesting conversation on the sub- ject of Egypt, to which Buonaparte continued to cling, as to a matter in which his own fame was intimately and inseparately concerned. Desaix immediately received the command of the division hitherto under that of Boudet.^ In the meanwhile, the headquarters of Melas liad been removed from Turin, and fixed at Alex- andria for the space of two days ; yet he did not, as Buonaparte had expected, attempt to move for- ward on the French position at Stradella, in order to force his way to ]\Iantua ; so that the first con- sul was obliged to advance towards Alexandria, apprehensive lest the Austrians should escape from him, and either, by a march to the left flank, move for the Ticino, ci-oss that river, and, by seizing Milan, open a communication with Austria in that direction ; or, by marching to the right, and falling back on Genoa, ovorwiielm Suchet, and take a position, the right of which might be covered by that city, while the sea was open for supplies and provisions, and their flank protected by the British squadron. Either of these movements might have been at- tended with alarming consequences ; and Napoleon, impatient lest his enemy should give him the slip, advanced his headquarters on the lith to Voghera, and on the 1 3th to St. Juliano, in the midst of the great plain of Marengo. As he still saw nothing of the enemy, the chief consul concluded that Melas had actually retreated from Alexandria, liaving, not- withstanding the temptation afl"orded by the level ground around him, preferred withdrawing, most probably to Genoa, to the hazard of a battle. He was still more confirmed in this belief, when, push- ing forward as far as the village of Marengo, he Mil' battle of MMiitcljelln, wliicli aftcrwanis f^ave him his title, jc-m-ra'. I.aniR's a;Ulcd to his already lii^h repiitatioii. lii found it occupied only by an Austrian rear-guard, which offered no persevering defence against the French, but retreated from the village without much opposition. The chief consul could no longer doubt that Melas had eluded him, by marching off by one of his flanks, and probably by his right. He gave orders to De?aix, whom he had intrusted with the command of the reserve, to march towards Rivolta with a view to observe the communications with Genoa ; and in this manner the reserve was removed half a day's march from the rest of the army, which had like to have produced most sinis- ter effects upon the event of the great battle that followed. Contrary to what Buonaparte had anticipated, the Austrian general, finding the first consul in his front, and knowing that Suchet was in his rear, had adopted, with the consent of a council of war, the resolution of trying the fate of arms in a genera, battle. It was a bold, but not a rash resolution. The Austrians were more numerous than the French in infantry and artillery ; much superior in cavalry, both in point of numbers and of discip- line ; and it has been already said, that the exten- sive plain of Marengo was favourable for the use of that description of force. Melas, therefore, on the evening of the 13th, concentrated his forces in front of Alexandria, divided by the river Bormida from the purposed field of fight ; and Napoleon, undeceived concerning the intentions of his enemy, made with all haste the necessary preparations to receive battle, and failed not to send orders to Desaix to return as speedily as possible and join the army. Tliat general was so far advanced on his way towards Rivolta before these counter orders reached him, that his utmost haste only brought him back after the battle had lasted seve- ral hours. Buonaparte's disposition was as follows : — The village of Marengo was occupied by the divisions of Gardanne and Chambarlhac. Victor, with other two divisions, and commanding the whole, was prepared to support them. He extended his left as far as Castel-Ceriolo, a small village which lies almost parallel with Marengo. Behind this first line was placed a brigade of cavalry, under Keller- mann, ready to protect the flanks of the line, or to debouche through the intervals, if opportunity served, and attack the enemy. About a thousand yards in the rear of the first line was stationed the second, under Lannes, supported by Champeaux'a brigade of cavalry. At the same distance, in the rear of Lannes, was placed a strong reserve, or third line, consisting of the division of Carra St. Cyr, and the consular guard at the head of whom was Buonaparte himself. Thus the French were drawn up on this memorable da V in three t.,„„ h ,. . -|. . . 1 * 1 p June 14. distinct divisions, each composed oi a corps (Varmee, distant about three-quarters of a mile in the rear of each other. The force which the French had in the field in the commencement of the day, was above twenty thousand men ; tlie reserve, under Desaix, upon its arrival, might make the whole amount to thirty thousand. The Austrians attacked with nearly forty thousand troops. Both armies were in high spirits, determined to figlit, and each confident in describing the desperate conflict — " bones," he said, " craslitd ill mv division, like hailstones against windjws " 1 Gonrgaud, torn, i , i>. ilCl. 1800.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 311 tlieir general — tlic Austrians in the bravery and experience of Melas, the French in the genius and talents of Buonaparte. The immediate stake was the possession of Italy, but it was impossible to guess how many yet more important consequences the event of the day might involve. Tluis much seemed certain, that the battle must be decisive, and that defeat must prove destruction to the party who should sustain it. Buonaparte, if routed, could hardly have accomplished his retreat upon Milan ; and Melas, if defeated, had Suchet in his rear. The fine plain on which the French were drawn up, seemed lists formed by nature for such an encounter, when the fate of kingdoms was at issue. . Early in the morning the Austrians crossed the Boi-mida, in three columns, by three military bridges, and advanced in the same order. The right and the centre columns, consisting of in- fantry, were commanded by Generals Haddick and Kaine ; the left, composed entirely of light troops and cavalry, made a detour round Castel- Ceriolo, the village mentioned as forming the ex- treme right of the French position. About seven in the morning, Haddick attacked Marengo with fury, and Gardanne's division, after fighting brave- ly, proved inadequate to its defence. Victor sup- j)orted Gardanne, and endeavoured to cover the village by an oblicjue movement. Melas, who com- mandel in person the centra! column of the Aus- Uians, moved to support Haddick ; and by their united efforts, the village of ilarengo, after having bsen ouv-e or twice lost and won, was finally carried. The broken divisions of Victor and Gardanne, driven out of Marengo, endeavoured to rally on the second line, commanded by Lannes. This was about nine o'clock. While one Austrian column manoeuvred to turn Lannes's flank, in which they could not succeed, another, with better fortune, broke through the centre of Victor's division, in a considerable degree disordered them, and thus uncovering Lannes's left wing, compelled him to retreat. He was able to do so in tolerably good order ; but not so the broken troops of Victor on the left, who fled to the rear in great confusion. The column of Austrian cavalry who had come round Castel-Ceriolo, now api)eared on the field, and threatened the right of Lannes, which alone remained standing firm. Napoleon detached two battalions of the consular guard from the third line, or reserve, which, foiTning squares behind the right wing of Lannes, supported its resistance, and with- drew from it in part the attention of the enemy's cavalry. The chief consul himself, whose post was distinguished by the furred caps of a guard of two liundred gi'enadiers, brought up Monnier's division, which had but now ent'jred the field at the moment of extreme need, being the advance of L'esaix's reserve, returned from their half day's march towards Rivolta. These were, with the guards, directed to support Lannes's right wing, and a bri- gade detached from them was thrown into Castel- Ceriolo, which now became the point of support on Buonaparte's extreme right, and which the Aus- trians, somewhat unaccountably, had omitted to occupy in force when their left column passed it in tlie beginning of the engagement. Buonaparte, meantime, by several desperate charges of cavalry, endeavoin-ed in vain to aiTcst the progress of the enemy. His left wing was put completely to flight ; his centre was in great disorder, and it wa and simicj >:< a few days."— Cjoi;b- (iAi:r), tom. ii., p. 2. See also TliibiUideau, tom. vi., )>. ;Ui4; Jomini, torn, xiv., ji. !). ^ For co])ies of the ]iapeis relative to the commencement of negotiations for peace with l-'rance, thriuii;h the medium ot M. Otti), see Annual lU;;ister, vol. .\lii.', p. Sill). See also .loiuini, tom. \jv. \> li) ; and (iourgaud, torn, ii., p. 4. 314 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1800. Iiopos of snecess against Franee for a considerable period. " Fold up the map,"' he said, poiiitinn; to tliat of Europe ; " it need not be again opened for iliese twenty years." Yet, unwilling to resign the contest, even while a spark of hope remained, it was resolved upon in the British councils to encourage Austria to farther prosecution of the war. Perhaps, in recommend- ing such a measure to her ally, at a period when she had sustained such great losses, and was in the state of dejection to whicli they gave rise, Great Britain too much resembled an eager and over- zealous second, who urges ])is principal to continue a combat after his strength is exhausted. Austria, a great and powerful nation, if left to repose, would have in time recruited her strength, and constituted onct again a balance against the power of France on the continent ; but if urged to farther exertions in the hour of her extremity, she was likely to sus- tain such additional losses, as might render her comparatively insignificant for a number of years. Such at least is the conclusion which we, who have the advantage of considering the measure with re- ference to its consequences, are now enabled to form. At the emergency, things were viewed in a different light. The victories of Suwarrow and of the Archduke Chai'les were remembered, as well Rs the recent defeats sustained by France in the year 1799, which had greatly tarnished the fame of her arms. The character of Buonaparte was not yet sufficiently estimated. His failure before Acre had made an impression in England, which was not erased by the victory of Marengo ; the ex- ti-eme prudence which usually tempered his most venturous undertakings was not yet generally known ; and the belief and hoj^e were received, that one who ventured on such now and daring manoeu- vres as Napoleon employed, was likely to behold them miscarry at length, and thus to fall as rapidly as he had risen. Influenced by such motives, it was determined in the British cabinet to encourage the Emperor, by a loan of two millions, to place himself and his brother, the Archduke John, in command of the principal army, raise the whole national force of his miglity empire, and at the head of the nume- rous forces which he could summon into the field, either command a more equal peace, or try the for- tunes of the most desperate war. The money was paid, and the Emperor joined the army ; but the negotiations for jjeace were not l)r()ken off. On the contrary, they were carried on much on the terms which Saint Julien had sub- scribed to, with this additional and disci-editable cn-cumstance, that the first consul, as a pledge of the Austrian sincerity, required that the three for- tified towns of Ingoldstadt, Ulm, and Philipstadt, should be placed tenij)orarily in the hands of the French ; a condition to which the Austrians were compelled to submit. But the only advantage purchased by this surrender, which greatly exposed the hereditary dominions of Austria, was an armis- tice of forty-five days, at the end of whicli hostilities were agani i-enewed.' In the action of Haag, the Archduke John, wliose ' GourKaiul, torr.. ii. ; Thibaudeau, torn, vi., p. 38G; Annual Resi3ter, vol. xiu., p. 2()U. * " The nnaiioeuvre nf the Aiistii;in aniiv was a vorv fine sno, Hinl tl.is Hist suufcss aviyuita utiuis ul niLixl iiiipoilancc ; credit in the army almost rivalled that of his bro- ther Charles, obtained considerable advantages ;3 and, encouraged by them, he ventured on the 3d of December, 1 800, two days afterwards, a great and decisive encounter with Moreau. This was the occasion on which that general gained over the Austrians the bloody and most important victory of Hohenlinden, — an achievement wliich did much to keep his reputation for military talents abreast with that of the first consul himself. Moreau pur- sued his victory, and obtained possession of Salz- burg. At the same time Augereau, at the head of the Gallo-Batavian army, pressed forward into Bohemia ; and Macdonald, passing from tlie coun- try of the Grisons into the Valteline, forced a divi- sion of his army across the Mincio, and communi- cated with Massena and the French army in Italy. The Austrian affairs seemed utterly desperate. The Archduke Charles was again placed at the head of her forces, but they were so totally discou- raged, that a retreat on all points was the only measure which could be executed. Another and a final cessation of arms was now tlie only resource of the Austrians ; and, in order to obtain it, the Emperor was com]ielled to agree to make a peace separate from his allies. Britain, in consideration of the extremity to which her ally was reduced, voluntarily relieved him from the en- gagement by whicli he was restrained from doing so without her participation. An armistice shortly afterwards took place, and tlie Austrians being now sufficiently humbled, it was speedily followed by a peace. Joseph Buonaparte, for this purpose, met with the Austrian minister. Count Cobentzel, at Luneville, where the negotiations were carried on. There were two conditions of tlie treaty, which were peculiarly galling to the Emperor. Buona- parte peremptorily exacted the cession of Tuscany, the hereditary dominions of the brother of Francis, which were to be given up to a prince of the House of Parma, while the archduke was to obtain an in- demnity in Germany. The French Consul demand- ed, with no less pertinacity, that Francis (though not em|)owered to do so by the Germanic constitu- tion) should confirm the peace, as well in his capa- city of Emperor of Germany, as in that of sovereign of his own hereditary dominions. This demand, from which Buonaparte would on no account de- part, involved a point of great difficulty and deli- cacy. One of the princii^al clauses of the treaty included the cession of the whole territories on the left bank of the Rhine to the French Republic ; thereby depriving not only Austria, but Prussia, and various other princes of the German empire, of their possessions in the districts, which were now made over to France. It was provided that the princes who should suffer such deprivations, were to be remunerated by indemnities, as they were termed, to be allotted to them at the expense of the Germanic body in general. Now, the Em- peror had no power to authorise the alienation of these fiefs of the empire, without consent of the Diet, and this was strongly urged by his envoy. Buonaparte was, however, determined to make peace on no other terms than those of the Enipe- but the archduke tlici not know how to profit by circumstances, but gave tlic Frencli armv time to rally and recover from its first sur])rise. He paid dearly for this error, which was the jiiiiicijial cause of the catastrophe of the following day."— iNai'olkon, iJuurffaud, toni. xiv., \i.'.V2. 1800.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 315 ror's giving away Avliat was not his to bestow. Francis was conipelleJ to submit, and, as the ne- cessity of the case pleaded its apology, the act of die Emperor was afterwards ratified by the Diet. Except in these mortifying claims, the submission to which plainly intimated the want of power to resist compulsion, the treaty of Luneville' was not much more advantageous to France than that of Campo Formio ; and the moderation of the first consul indicated at once his desire of peace upon the continent, and considerable respect for the bra- very and strength of Austria, though enfeebled by such losses as those of Marengo and Hohenlinden. We have already noticed the disputes betwixt France and America, and the scandalous turn of the negotiations, by which the French Directory attempted to bully or wheedle the United States ■jut of a sum of money, which, in part at least, was to be dedicated to their own private use. Since that time the aggressions committed by the French on the American navy had been so numerous, that the two re]niblics seemed about to go to war, and the United States actually issued letters of marque for making reprisals on the French. New com- munications and negotiations, however, were open- ed, which Buonaparte studied to bring to maturity. His brother Joseph acted as negotiator, and on the 30th of September, 1800, a convention '■* was enter- ed into, to subsist for the space of eight years, agreeing on certain modifications of the right of search, declaring that commerce should be free between the countries, and that the captures on either side, excepting such as were contraband, and destined for an enemy's harbour, should bo mutu- ally restored. Thus Buonaparte established peace between France and the United States, and pre- vented the latter, in all probability, from throwing themselves into a closer union with Britain, to which their common descent, with the similarity of manners, language, and laws, overcoming the recollection of recent hostilities, might have other- wise strongly inclined them. Still more important results were derived by Napoleon, from the address and political sagacity, with which, in accommodating matters with the cin«- Paul c-oniplaiiied bitterly of liavmi; lost tliL- flower of his troops, who had ncitlicr been Eceondtd by tlie Austrians nor the English. He reproached •'i> "',""''' "^ Austria with havins refused, after the conijutst ot 1 ledmont. to ie|ilace the KiiiH of Sardinia on his throne, and with beiiiR destitute of grand and generous ideas, and wholly governed by calculation and interested motives. The hrst consul did every thin;,' in his power to cherish tjiese seeds ot discontent, and to make them productive."— Napolko.v, 0'iiirr,ntiil, torn, ii., p. 1;!1. - -I had hit upon the bent of Paul's character. I seized time by the forelock; 1 colleeled the Russians; I clollied .belli, and sent tl.em buck to bim Hiib.iut an,- evpensc. I'loiii jpcts of complaint against tlie Austi'ian govprn- ment, and complained of their having neglected to provide lor some Russian prisoners,^ under a ca]ii- tulation which they made in behalf of their own, at the surrender of Ancona to the French. The Austrians could not afibrd to lose so power- ful and efficient an ally in the day of their adver- sity. Tliey endeavoured to explain, that the niove» mcnt of the Archduke Charles was i!ievitiib;y necessary, in consequence of an invasion of the Austrian territory — they laid the blame of the omission of the Russians in the capitulation ujioii the commandant Froelicli, and offered to place liiii. under arrest. The Emperor of Austria even jiro- posed, in despite of the natural pride which is pro- per to his distingulslied house, to place Suwarrow at the head of the Austrian armies, — a profler, which, if it had been accepted, might have given rise to an extraordinary struggle betwixt the ex- perience, determination, and warlike skill of tho veteran Scythian, and the formidable talents of Buonaparte, and which perhaps contained the only chance which Europe possessed at the time, of op- posing to tlie latter a rival worthy of himself ; for Suwarrow- had never yet been conquered, and pos- .sessed an irresistible influence over the minds of his soldiers. These great generals, however, were not destined ever to decide the fate of the world by their meeting. Suwarrow, a Russian in all his feelings, broke his heart, and died under the iinmerited displea- .sure of his Emperor, whom he had served with so much fidelity. 3 If the memory of his unfortunate sovereign were to be judged of according to oi'di- nary rules, his conduct towards his distinguished subject would have left on it an indelible stigma. As it is, the event must pass as another proof, that the Emperor Paul was not amenable, from the con- struction of his understanding and temperament, to the ordinary rules of censure. Meanwhile, the proposals of Austria were in vain. The Czar was not to be brought back to his former sentiments. He was like a spoiled child, who, tired of his favourite toy, seems bent to break asunder and destroy \\hat was lately the dearest object of his affection. When such a character as Paul clianges his opinion of his friends, he generally runs into the o])poshe extreme, and alters also his thoughts of his enemies. Like liis father, and others whose imagination is indift'erontly I'egulated, the Czar had need of some one of whom to make Ids idol. The extravagant admiration which the Emperor Peter felt for Frederick of Prussia, could not well be en- tertained for any one now alive, unless it wei-e the fii'st consul of France ; and on liim, therefore, Paul was now disposed to turn his eyes with a mixture of wonder, and of a wish to imitate what he won- • dered at.* This extravagance of admiration is a that instant that generous heart was devoted to me." — Napo- leon, Lns C'liSiS, torn, v., ]i. I74. . ■> Suwarrow died at Petersburgh, in May, IJlfiO, of that ac- cumulated chagrin, that proud and sullen rescntnieiit which is familiarly called .1 broken heart; he expired in a small wooden house, under the displpasure of his master, at a dis- tance from his family, and abandoned by bis friends. — S. ■* " Paul, attacked in so many diflereut directions, gave way to bis enthusiastic temjier, and attached himself to Franco witli all the ardour of his character. Ke despatched a letter to Najiokon, in which he said, ' Citizen first consul, 1 do not write to you to discuss the rights ot men or citizens ; every country governs itself as it pleases. Wherever I see at the head ii( :i nalioii a man who knows liow to rule and how tr 1800-1.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON EUONAPAKT 317 passion natural to some iiiiiul-i, (never strong:; ones,) and may be compared to that tendency whicli otUers have to be in love all their lives, in dellance of advancinj^ age and otiier obstacles. When Paul was beginning to entertain this hu- mour, tlic arrival of the Queen of Sicily at his court gave him a graceful and even dignified opportunity to approach towards a connexion with Napoleon Buonaparte. His pride, too, must have been gra- tified by seeing the daughter of the renowned Maria Theresa, the sister of the Emperor of Aus- tria, at his court of St. Petersburg]!, soliciting from the Czar of Russia the protection which her brother was totally miable to afford her ; and a successful interference in her behalf would be a kind of insult to the misfortunes of tliat brother, against whom, as we have noticed, Paul nourished resentful feel- ings. He tlierefore resolved to open a conununi- eation with France, in behalf of the royal family of Naples. Lewinshoff, grand huntsman of Russia, was despatched to make the overtures of mediation. He was received with the utmost distinction at Paris, and Buonajiarte made an instant and grace- ful concession to the request of the Emperor Paul. The first consul agreed to suspend his military operations against Naples, and to leave the royal family in possession of their sovereignty ; reserving to himself, however, the right of dictating the terms under which he was to grant them such an amnesty. It was time that some effectual interposition .should take jilace in defence of the King of Naples, who, though he had around him a nation indivi- dually brave and enthusiastic, was so ill-served, that his regular army was in the worst and most imperfect state of discipline. Murat, to whom Buonaparte had committed the task of executing liis vengeance on Naples, had already crossed the Alps, and placed himself at the head of an army of ten thousand chosen men ; a force tlien judged sufficient not only to drive the Neapolitan general Damas out of the Ecclesiastical States, but to pur- sue him as far as Naples, and occupy that beauti- ful capital of a prince, whose regular army con- sisted of more than thirty thousand soldiers, and whose irregular forces might have been increased to an}' number by the mountaineers of Calabi'ia, who form excellent light troops, and by the lumie- rous Lazzaroni of Naples, who had displayed their valour against Championet, upon the first invasion of the French. But the zeal of a nation avails little when the spirit of the government bears no proportion to it. The government of Naples dreaded the approach of Murat as that of the An- gel of Death ; and they received the news that Lewinshoff had joined the French general at Flo- rence, as a condemned criminal might have heard the news of a reprieve. The Russian envoy was received with distinguished honours at Florence. Murat appeared at the theatre with Lewinshoff, where the Italians, who had so lately seen the Russian and French banners placed in bloody op- position to each other, now beheld them formally fifiht, my licart is attrnctcd towards liini. I write to inform you of 111? dissatistactiou witli tlie English government, wliicli violates every article of the law of nations, and lias no guide but base self interest. I wi>ih to unite with you to put an end to the unjust proceedings ;f that goveriunent.' " — GouiiGAUU, torn, ii., \>. in. ' Jiotta, toni. iv., p. 117; Joniiiii, torn, xiv., p. '2]<>. 2 .Count T'':'.-"r Jlaiua-s, on the reitoratiuii of the Bnnrbons. united in presence of these dignitaries; in sign, it w a3 said, that the two nations were combined fur the peace of the world, and general benefit of humanity.' Untimely augury I How often after that j^ci-ind did these standards meet in the bloodiest fields his- tory ever recorded ; and what a long and despertile struggle was yet in reserve ere the general peace so boldly i)rodicted was at length restored ! The respect paid by the first consul to the wishes of Paul, saved for the present the royal family of Naples; but Murat, nevertheless, made them ex- perience a full portion of the bitter cup which the vanquislied are generally doomed to swallow. Ge- neral Damas ^ was commanded in the haughtiest terms to evacuate the Roman States, and not to presume to claim any benefit from the armistice which had been extended to the Austrians. At the same time, while the Neapolitans were thus compel- led hastily to evacuate the Roman territories, gene- ral surprise was exhibited, when, instead of march- ing to Rome, and re-establishing the authority of the Roman republic, Murat, according to the orders which he had received from the first consul, care- ftdly respected the territory of the Church, and re-installed the officers of the Pope in what had been long termed the patrimony of St Peter.^ This unexpected turn of circumstances originated in high policy on the part of Buonaparte.* We certainly do Napoleon no injustice in sup- posing, that i>ersonally he had little or no influen- tial sense of religion. Some obscure yet rooted doctrines of fatality, seem, so far as we can judge, to have formed the extent of his metaphysical creed. We can scarce term him even a deist ; and he was an absolute stranger to every modification of Christian belief and worship. But he saw and valued the use of a national religion as an engine of state policy. In Egypt, he was desirous of being thought" an envoy of Heaven ; and though uncircumcised, drinking wine and eating pork, still claimed to be accounted a follower of the law of the Prophet. He had pathetically exiK>stulated with the Turks on their hostility towards him. The Fi-ench, he said, had ceased to bo followers of Jesus ; and now that they were almast, if not alto- gether, Moslemah, would the true believers make war on those who had overthrown the cross, de- throned the Pope, and extirpated the order of Malta, the sworn persecutors of the Moslem faith ? On his return to France, all this was to lie forgot- ten, or only remembered as a trick played upon the infidels. He was, as we have said, aware of the necessity of a national faith to support the civil government ; and as, while in Egypt, he aftectcd to have destroyed the Catholic religion i:i honour of that of Mahomed, so, returned to Euroiie, he was now desirous to become tlie restorer of the temporal territories of the Pope, in order to obtain such a .settlement of church afi'airs in France, as might procure for his own government the counte- nance of the Sovereign Pontiff, and for himself an admission into the pale of Chribtian princes. This re was appointed first pentJem.Tri (.f the King's cTiamlicr, aid Governor of the !)th military divi.sion. He died in 1»25. 3 .Tomini. torn, xiv., ji. 2iil. 4 ■' Thisco Hiuct excited tlio gratitude of the I'oTilifr, v.-l;c iinincdiatel caused Cardinil Gonsalvi to wiite to Gwura.' Murat, on the 31st of January, to express to him ' the live!) regard \vli 'li he felt for tb'' ;::st consul;' ou whom, saio lie, ' drpend-i ihc tranquillity ■ :' leligion, as well as the havpinevj of Jiuropc.' '— GouiiuAliD, till- Ji.jji- Ui. 318 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1801, stitutidii was in some measure consistent with his po- licy in 1798, when he had spared tlie temporalities ol tiie Holy Sec. Totally indifferent as Napoleon was to reliirion in his personal capacity, his whole conduct shows his sense of its importance to the existence of a settled and peaceful state of society. Besides evacuating the Ecclesiastical States, the Neapolitans were compelled by Murat to restore various paintings, statues, and other objects of art, wliich they had, in imitation of Buonaparte, taken forcibly from the Romans, — so captivating is the influence of bad example. A French army of about eighteen thousand men was to be quartered in Calabria, less for the purpose of enfoi'cing the conditions of peace, than to save France the ex- pense of supporting the troops, and to have them stationed where they might be embarked for Egypt at the shortest notice. The harbours of the Nea- politan dominions were of course to be closed against the English. A cession of part of the isle of Elba, and the relinquishment of all pretensions upon Tuscany, summed up the sacrifices of the King of Naples, who, considering how often he had braved Napoleon, had great reason to thank the Emperor of Russia for his effectual mediation in liis favour.' These various measures respecting foreign rela- tions, the treaty of Luneville, the acquisition of the good-will of the Emperor Paul, the restoration of Rome to the Pope's authority, and the mildness of the penalty inflicted on the King of Naples, seemed all to spring from a sound and moderate system, the object of which was rather the conso- lidation of Napoleon's govei'nment, than any wish to extend its influence or its conquests. His plans, in after times, often exhibited a mixtui'e of the greatest good sense and prudence, with rash and splenetic explosions of an over-eager ambition, or a temper irritated by opposition ; but it is to be remembered that Buonaparte was not yet so firm in the authority which he had but just acquired, as to encourage any display of the infirmities of his mind and temper. His behaviour towards Portugal was, however, of a character deviating from the moderation he had in general displayed. Portugal, the ancient and faithful ally of England, was on that account the especial object of the first consul's displeasui'e. He, therefore, demanded of the King of Spain, who, since the peace between the countries, had been the submissive vassal of France, to declare war on the Prince Regent of Portugal, although the husband of his daughtei-. War accordingly was declared, in obedience to the mandate of the first consul, and the Spanish armies, together with an auxiliary army of French under Leclerc, en- tered Portugal, took Olivenza and Almeida, and compelled the prince regent, 6th of June, 1801, to sign a treaty, engaging to shut his ports against the English, and surrendering to Spain, Olivenza, and other places on the frontier of the Gnadiana. Buonaparte was highly discontented with this treaty, to which he would not accede ; and he re- fused, at the same time, to withdraw from Spain the army of Leclerc. On the 29th September, he condescended to grant Portugal peace under some additional terms,"'' which were not in themselves of ' G()ur(,Mud, torn, ii., p. fi3. 2 See tliu Treaty, Aiuiual Register, vol .\liii., p. C'M. I much consequence, although the overbearing ar.d peremptory conduct which he exhibited towards the Peninsular powers, was a sign of the dictatorial spirit which he was prepared to assume in the af- fairs of Europe. [ The same disposition was manifested in tiie mode by which Buonaparte was pleased to show his sense of the King of Spain's complaisance. He chose for that purpose to create a kingdom and a king — a king, too, of the house of Bourbon. An infant of Spain obtained the throne of Tuscany^ under the name of Etruria, rent from the house of Austria.^ Madame de Stael terms this the com- mencement of the great masquerade of Euro]ie ; but it was more properly the second act. The stage, during the first, was occupied by a quadrille of republics, who were now to be replaced by an anti-mask of kings. This display of power pleased the national vanity, and an uproar of apjilause en- sued, while the audience at the theatre applied to Buonaparte the well-known line — " J'ai fait des rois, madame, et n'ai jias voulu I'etrc." While all the continent appeared thus willing to submit to one so ready to avail himself of their sub- jection, Britain alone remained at war ; without allies, without, it might seem, a direct object ; yet on the grand and unalterable principle, that no partial distress should induce her to submit to the system of degradation, which seemed preparing for all nations under the yoke of France, and which had placed France herself, with all her affected zeal for liberty, under the government of an arbi- trai'y ruler. On every point the English squadrons annihilated the commerce of France, crippled her revenues, blockaded her ports, and prevented those combinations which would have crowned the total conquest of Europe, could the master, as he might now be called, of the land, have enjoyed, at the same time, the facilities which can only be afforded in communication by sea. It was in vain that Buonaparte, who, besides his natural hardiness of perseverance, connected a part of his own glory with the preservation of Egypt, endeavoured by various means to send supplies to that distant province. His convoys were driven back into harbour by the English fleets ; and he directed against his admirals, who could not achieve impossibilities, the unavailing resentment natural to one who was so little accustomed to disappointment. The chance of relieving Egypt was rendered yet more precarious by the loss of Malta, which, after a distressing blockade of two }ears, was obliged to submit to the English arms on the 5th of Septem- ber, 1800. The English were thus in possession of a strong, and almost impregnable citadel, in the midst of the Mediterranean, with an excellent har- bour, and every thing required for a naval station of the first importance ; above all, they had obtained the very spot which Buonaparte had fixed upon for maintaining the communication with Egypt, which was now in greater danger than ever. The capture of Malta was, however, by its con- sequences, favourable to Napoleon's views in one important respect. The Empei'or Paul imagined he had rights upon that island, in consequence of his having declared himself Gi'and Master of the Order of Saint John ; and although, by his desert- 3 Rotta, torn, iv., p. 83; Gourgaud, torn, ii., p. 04; Moiit- gaillard, torn, v., p. A'M. 1800.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 3:9 iiig the coalition, and abaiuloning the common cause, lie had lost all right to expect that Great Britain should surrender to him an important acquisition made by her own arms, yet, with his usual intem- ]>erate indulgence of passion, he conceived himself deeply injured by its being withheld,' and nourished from that time an implacable resentment against England and her govei-nment, the effects of which are afterwards to be traced. CHAPTER XXI. Internal Gorernment of France — General Attach- ment to the Chief Consul — Plot to remove him by As:sassination — Defeated — Vain hopes of the lioyalists, that Najioleon would restore the Bour- bons — 1 nfernal Mach ine — It fa ils — Suspicion frst falls on the Republicans — The actual Con- spirators executed — Use made by Buonaparte of the Conspiracy to consolidate Despotism — System of Police — Foiiche — His Skill, Influence, and Fotccr — Apprehension entertained by the Chief Consul of the ejfects of Literature — Persecution of Madame de Stai'l — The Concordat — Plan for a general System of Jurisprudence — Anuifsty grant- ed to the Emigrants — Plans of Public Education — Iloj^es of a General Peace. We return to the internal government of France under the chief consul. The events subsequent to the revolution of the 18th Bruniaire, seemed to work a miraculous change oil the French nation. The superior talents of Napo- leon, with the policy exercised by Talleyrand and Fouche, and the other statesmen of ability whom he had called into administration, and who desired at all events to put an end to further revolutionary movements — but, above all, the victory of Marengo, jiad at once created and attached to the person of the chief consul an immense party, which might be said to comprehend all those, who, being neither decided Royalists nor determined Republicans, were indifferent about the form of the government, so they found ease and protection while living under it.^ But, on the other hand, the heads of the two factions continueil to exist ; and, as the power of the first consul became at once more absolute and more consolidated, it gi-ew doubly hateful and formidable to them. His political existence was a total obstruction to the syt-tem of both parties, and yet cue which it was impossible to remove. There ' " Paul had been promised Malta, the moment it was taken possession of, and accordin'.'ly he was in creat liaste to Ret himself nominated Grand- Master. But when .Malta had fallen, the Enslish ministers denied that thcv had promised it to him. It is confidently stated, that Paul felt so indif;nant, that seizing the desj)atch, in full council, he ran his sword through it, and ordered it to be sent hack in that condition, by way of answer."— Napolko.n, Lus Cases, torn, v., p. 17-1. - " The first consul restored order to all the branches of the administration, and ]irohity in the deahngs of private in- dividuals with the povernment. He caused a strict examina- tion to be made of the accounts of all i)ersons ])rcsentin!; themselves as creditors of the state, and took a detailed cog- nizance of all the fr.iuds and peculations to whicli the public purse had been a prey during the administration of the Dircc- torr. He had had some misgivings on the subject previously to liis coming to power ; but he was soon convinced that he h.ad not suspected one half of the disorder which actually existed. Accordingly, from that moment he never could feel either esteem for or confidence in certain individuals, ni>t- withstanding their great wealth. Hi- often said, that he th<-u{;ht better of a highwayman, who at least exposes his was no national council left, in wliich the authority of the first con.sul could be disputed, or his mea- sures im])cachcd. The strength of his military ]iower bid defiance alike to popular commotions, il the Democrats had yet possessed the means of exert- ing them, and to the scattered bands of the Royalist insurgents. What chance remained for ridding themselves of the autocrat, in whom the Reinibli- cans saw a dictator, the Royalists an usurjier ? None, save that, being mortal, NajXileon was sub- ject to be taken off by assassination. The Democrats were naturally the first to medi- tate an enterprise of this nature. The right of taking off a tyrant was, according to their creed, as projier to any private citizen as to those who opposed him armed in the field. The act of Har- modius and Aristogiton — the noble deed of Brutus and his associates — were consecrated in history, and esteemed so congenial to the nature of a free constitution, that the Convention, on the motion of Jean de Brie,' had at one time dttermined to raise a legion of assassins, armed with poniards, who should devote themselves to the piotis task of exterminating all foreign princes, statesmen, and ministers — in short, all who were accounted the foes of freedom, without pity or distinction. In a party entertaining such principles, there could be no scruple on the score of morality ; and where they had been so lately professed by thousands, it se /med natural that, amid the multitude, they must have made a deep impression on some enthusiastic and gloomy disposition, which might be easily pro- voked to act upon them. It is no wonder, therefore, that some obscure Jacobins should have early nourished the purpose of assassinating Napoleon, as the enemy of his country's freedom, and the destroyer of her liber- ties ; but it is singular, that most of the conspirators against his person were Italians. Arena, brother of the deputy* who was said to have aimed a dagger at Buonaparte in the Council of Five Hiuulred, was at the head of the conspiracy. He was a Corsican.^ With him, Cerac-hi^ and Diana, two Italian refu- gees ; a j)ainter called Topino-Lebrun ;■' and two or three enthus'astics of low condition, formed a plot for the purpose of assassinating the chief consul at the Upera-house. Their intention was detected by the police ; Ceracchi and Diana were arrested in the lobby,* armed, it was said, and prepared for the attempt, and Napo- leon was congratulated by most of the constittited authorities upon having escaped a great danger.^ life, than he did of those leeches, who carry off every thins without running any risk."— S.avabv, torn, i., p. I'M. 3 August 26, 17l'2. See Biograjilne Modcrnc, torn, i., p. .338 ; and Montgaillard, torn, iii., \>. 115. ^ See ante, p. 2!MI. 5 In l/lt", Arena was appointed one of the deputies from Corsica to the Council of Five Hundred. s Giuse])pe Ceracchi was born at Rome in \~Cii\. Jle was a sculptor, had been a pupil of Canova, and had modelled the bust of Napoleon. — " When he entered into the plot, he en- deavoured to procure another sitting, under pretence of mak- ing an essential inii)rovenient on tlie bust. P'ortunately, at that lime, the consul had not a .single moment"* leisure: and thinking that want was the real cause of the urgent solicita- tions of the sculptor, he sent him six thousand francs." — Napoleov, Tms Cases, tom. iii., p. 10. 7 I'opino-l.ebrun. an historical painter, and pupil of David, was born at .Marseilles in I7<)!>. 8 •' The first consul's box was in the first tier in front : his access to it was by the public entrance. In this attemiit ori- ginated the idea of a private entrance." — Savarv, tom. i., p. 22!». 9 " An indi- idual named H;rel. one of the accomplices, ia 820 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1800-L Orassous, president of the Tribunate, made a singular speech on the occasion, wliich would almost bear a double interpretation. " Tliere had been so many conspiracies," he said, " at so many dif- ferent "periods, and under so many different pre- texts, which had never been followed up either by inquii-y or punishment, that a great nimiber of good citizens had become sceptical on the subject of tlieir existence. This incredulity was danger- ous," he argued ; " it was time it should be ended." With this view. Monsieur Crassous recommended, that tlie pei-soiis guilty on the present occasion should be prosecuted and punished with all the solemnity and rigour of the laws. Buonaparte replied, with militai-y indifference, that lie had been in no real danger. " The con- temptible wretches," he said, in something like a renewal of his Egyptian vein, " had no power to commit the crime they meditated. Besides the a-ssistance of the whole audience, I had with me a piquet of my brave guard, from whom the wretches eould not have borne a look."' So ended this sin- gular discourse ;'and it is remarkable that neither were the circumstances of the plot made public, nor the conspirators punished, till the moi-e memo- rable attempt on Napoleon's life liy the Royalists. The Royalists, as a party, had far more interest with Buonaparte than the Democrats. The former approved of tlie principles and form of his govern- ment, — it was only necessary for their conversion, that they should learn to endure his person ; where- as the Jacobins being equally averse to the office to which he aspired, to his powei-, and to himself, thei-e were no hopes of tlieir being brought to tolerate either the monarch or the man. Of the latter, therefore, Napoleon entertained equal dis- like and distrust; while, from obvious causes, his feelings towai-ds the former were in some measure friendly. The Royalists, too, for some time entertained a good opinion of Buonaparte, and conceived that he intended, in his own time and in his own way, to act in behalf of the exiled royal family. The en- thusiastic of the party were at a loss to conceive that the throne of Frpnce should be again erected, and that any one but a Bourbon should dare to ascend it. It seemed to them impossible that the monarchy should revive without the restoration of the legitimate monarch, and they could not believe thai a Corsicau soldier of fortune would meditate ;■ a clsurpation, or tliat France would be for a mo- Uifcut tolei-ant of his pretensions. The word liberty l:ad, indeed, misled the people of France for a time, butj that illusion being dissipated, their natu- ral love to the royal race would return like a re- viving spring, and again run in its old channel. So general was the belief among this class, tliat Buonaparte meditated the restoration of the Bour- bons, that several agents of the family made their way so far as to sound his own rr.ind upon the sub- ject. Louis himself, afterwards XV III., addressi-d to the first consul a letter of the following tenor : — " You cannot achieve the happiness of France without my restoration, any more than I can ascend the throne which is my right, without your co-ojie- ration. Hasten then to complete the good work, which none but you can accomplish, and name the rewards which you claim for your friends." '•* Buonaparte answered the letter with cold civility. He esteemed the person, he said, and pitied the misfortunes, of his Royal Highness the Comte de Provence, and should be glad to assist him, did an opportunity peimiit. But as his royal highness could not be restored to France, save at the ex- pense of an hundred thousand lives, it was an enter- prise in which he, Buonaparte, must decline to aid iiim.^ A less direct, and more artful course, is said to have been attempted, by tlie mission of the Duchesse de Guiche, one of the most beautiful and pleasing women of the time, who, obtaining permission to come to Paris under pretext of her private afl'airs, was introduced at the Tuileries, and delighted j' Josephine with the elegance of her manners.'* 1 Napoleon did not escape the fascination, but the I instant she touched on the subject of politics, the interesting duchesse I'eceived an order to quit Paris. As soon as the Royalists discovered, by the failure of these and similar applications, as well as by the gradual tendency of Buonaparte's measures, that the restoration of the Bourbons was the thing farthest from his purpose, their disappointment exasperated them against the audacious individual, whose single person seemed now the only obstacle to that event. IMonarchical power was restored, in s])irit at least, if not in form ; was it to be endured, the more zealous followers of the Bourbons de- manded of each other, that it should become tlu prize of a military usurper ? This party, as well as that of the Jacobins, contained doubtless many adherents, whom the enthusiasm of their political principles disposed to serve their cause, even at the expense of their great crimes. The sentiments of the princes of the royal family npon such a sub- ject, were becoming their high ranks.^ They were resolved to combat Buonaparte's pretensions with open force, such as befitted their pretensions as the hope of laT^e lemnneration, mado some disclosures to floiuriennc, secictary of the first consul. Hard l)ein;; brousht t'orwiird, corroborate'! his first information, and designated the conspirators."— FoL'CHK, torn, i., p. 17ll- — " After dinner, iiuonapavte tlno'.v a Rreat-coat over his little green uniform, 1 m! sot into his er.rriHf,e, accon panied by Duroc and r.iysclf. ,•■0 arrived and enteied his .box without interruption. In : 'iout half an l-.oar lie desired i:.e to s,y into tlic corridor, and r taerve what passed. Searciiy had I kft tlie box, when, hearing a RreaL noise, I learned tliat a number of persons had heen arrested. I returned to inform the tir>t consul, and v.-e lU'ive instantly back to the Tuileries."— Bouiibie.vne. 1 Memoires de l'o;x-lie, torn, i., p. 1/^. - " The letter was lorwiirded to the Consul Lcbrun, thrnuf;h the Abb6 de Montesquinu. Lcbrun was reinimanikd for i.aving received a letter from the king through an underhand .■hannel."~FoiciiE, tom. i., p. LO."}. 3 l.a» Ca>LS, tom. i., p. 271 ; O'Mcara's Napoleon in K.xile, 'ol. i., p. 411(1; Fouch^, torn, i., p. l.M. •» " Tht. Jiichcss bieakfabtr.'ni;th.— S. ' 1800.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 321 Iiead of the chivalry of Fi-ance, but to leave to Jacobins the schemes of private assassination. Still there must have been many, among those characters which are found during the miseries and crimes of civil war, who conceived that the assassination of the chief consul would be received as good service when accomplished, although it might not be authorised beforehand. Nay, there may have been partizans zealous enough to take the crime and punishment on themselves, without looking farther than the advantage which their party would receive by tlie action. A horrible invention, first hatched, it is said, by the Jacobins,' was adopted by certain Royalists of a low description, remarkable as actors in the wars of tlie Chouans, of whom the leaders were named Carbon and St. Regent. It was a machine consist- ing of a barrel of gunpowder, placed on a cart to which it was strongly secured, and charged with grape-shot so disposed around the barrel, as to be dispersed in every direction by the explosion. The fire was to be communicated by a slow match. It was the purpose of the conspirators, undeterred by the indiscriminate slaughter which such a discharge must occasion, to place the machine in the street through which the first consul was to go to the opern, having contrived that it should explode, exactly as his carriage should pass the spot ; and, strange to say, this stratagem, which seemed as uncertain as it was atrocious, was within a hair's- breadth of success. On the evening of the 24th December, 1800, Buonaparte has informed us, that though he him- self felt a strong desire to remain at home, his wife and one or two intimate friends insisted that he should go to the opera. He was slumbering under. a canopy when they awaked him. One brought his hat, another his sword. He was in a manner forced into his carriage, where he again slumbered, and was dreaming of the danger which he had escaped in an attempt to pass the river Taglia- mento some j'ears before. On a sudden he awaked amidst thunder and flame,''' The cart bearing the engine, wliich was placed n the street St. Nicaise, intercepted tlie progress of the chief consul's coach, which passed it with some difficulty. St. Regent had fired the match at the appointed instant ; but the coachman, who cha.iced to be somewhat intoxicated, driving unu- sually fast, the carriage had passed the machine two seconds before the explosion took place ; and that almost imperceptible fraction of time was enough to save the life which was aimed at. The explosion was terrible. Two or three houses were greatly damaged — twenty persons killed, and about fifty-three wounded ; among the latter was the incendiary St. Regent. The report was heard several leagues from Paris. Buonaparte instantly exclaimed to Lannes and Bessieres, who were in the cai-riage, " We are blown up 1" The attendants would have stopped the coach, but with more pre- ' It is said in the Memoirs of Fouch^ P'ol. i., p. IHO,) that the infernal machine was the invention originally of a Jacobin namcri Chevalier, assisted by Veycer, one of the same party ; that they even made an experiment of its power, by exploding an engine of the kind behind the Convent de la Saltp^triere; that this circumstance drew on them the attention of the police, and that they were arrested. It does not appear by what means the Kuyalists became privy to the Jacobin plot, nor 19 the story in all its parts very probable; yet it would seem it must be partly true, since the Jittompt by means of Ihe infernal machine was at first charged upon the Jacobins, VOL. II. sence of mind he commanded them to drive osi, and aiTived in safety at the opera ;' his coachman during the whole time never discovering what had happened, but conceiving the consul had only re- ceived a salute of artillery.* A public officer, escaped from such a peril, be- came an object of yet deeper interest than formerly to the citizens in general ; and the reception of the consul at the opera, and elsewhere, was more enthusiastic than ever. Relief was ostentatiously distributed amongst the wounded, and the relatives ot tlie slain ; and every one, shocked with the wild atrocity of such a reckless plot, became, while they execrated the perpetrators, attached in proportion to the object of their cruelty. A disappointed con- spiracy always adds strength to the government against which it is directed ; and Buonaparte did not fail to push this advantage to the uttermost. Notwithstanding that the infernal machine (for so it was not unappropriately termed) had in fact been managed by the hands of Royalists, the fir.'^t suspicion fell on the Republicans ; and Buonaparte took the opportunity, before the public were un- deceived on the subject, of dealing that party a blow, from the eff'ects of which they did not recover during his reign. An arbitrary decree of the Senate was asked and readily obtained for the transportation beyond seas of nearly one hundred and thirty of the chiefs of the broken faction of the Jacobins, among whom were several names which belonged to the celebrated Reign of Terror, and had figured in the rolls of the National Conven- tion. The.se men were so generally hated, as con- nected with the atrocious scenes during the reign of Robespierre, that the unpopularity of their cha- racters excused the irregularity of the proceedings against them, and their fate was viewed with com- jilacency by many, and with indifference by all. In the end, the first consul became so persuaded of the political insignificance of these relics of Jacobinism, (who, in fact, were as harmless as the fragments of a bombshell after its explosion.) that the decree of deportation was never enforced against them ; and Felix Lepelletier Chaudieu, Talot, and their companions, were allowed to live obscurely in France, watched closely by the police, and under the condition that they should not ven- ture to approach Paris.^ The actual conspirators were pi-oceeded against with severity. Chevalier and Veycer, Jacobins, said to have constructed the original model of the infernal machine, were tried before a military com- mission, condemned to be shot, and suffered death accordingly. Arena, Ceracchi, Topino-Lebrun, and Demer- ville, were tried before the ordinary court ot criminal judicatin-e, and condemned by the voice of a jury ; although there was little evidence against them, save that of their accomplice Hare), by whom they had been betrayed. They also were executed. in consequence of Chevalier's being known to have had somo scheme in agitation, to be executed by similar means in tli« course of the previous year. — S. - Las Cases, torn, i., p. 374. 3 " I was in the house when the first consul arrived. On entering his box, as usual, he took the front seat ; and as all eyes were fixed upon him, he afiectcd the greatest calm." — BOURRIE.N.N'E. * Las Cases, torn, i., p. 374 ; Fouchd, tom. i., p. Iil4 ; Sa\ary torn, i., p. 227. ^ Muntgaillard, tom. v., p. 414; Fouch^ torn. i.. i>. I!)I I Y 322 SCOTTS MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1801 At a later pcrioc?, Carbon and St. Regent, Roy- alists, the agents in the actual attempt of 24th December, were also tried, condemned, and put to death. Some persons ti"icd for the same offence were acquitted ; and justice seems to have been distributed with an impartiality unusual in France since the Revolution. But Buonaparte did not design that the conse- quences of these plots should end with the deaths of the wretches engaged in them. It afforded an opportunity not to be neglected to advance his principal object, which was the erection of France into a despotic kingdom, and the possessing him- self of uncontrolled power over the lives, proper- ties, thoughts, and opinions, of those who were born his fellow-subjects, and of whom the very meanest but lately boasted himself his equal. He has himself expressed his purpose respecting the Constitution of the year Eight, or Consular Go- vernment, in words dictated to General Gour- gaud : — " The ideas of Napoleon were fixed ; but the aid of time and events were necessary for their realization. The organization of the Consulate had presented nothing in contradiction to them ; it taught unanimity, and that was the first step. This point gained. Napoleon was quite indifferent as to the form and denominations of the several consti- tuted bodies. He was a stranger to the Revolu- tion. It was natural that the will of these men, who had followed it through all its phases, should prevail in questions as difficult as they were ab- stract. The wisest plan was to go on from day to day — by the polar star by which Napoleon meant to guide the Revolution to the haven he desired."' If there is any thing obscure in this passage, it received but too luminous a commentary from the course of Buonaparte's actions ; all of which tend to show that he embraced the Consular govern- ment as a mere temporary arrangement, calculated to prepare the minds of the French nation for his ulterior views of ambition, as young colts are ridden with a light bridle until they are taught by degrees to endure the curb and bit, or as water-fowl taiien in a decoy are first introduced within a wider circuit of nets, in order to their being gradually brought within that strict enclosure where they are made absolute prisoners. He tells us in plain terms, he let the revolutionary sages take their own way in arranging the constitution ; determined, without regarding the rules they laid down on the chart, to steer his course by one fixed point to one de- sired haven. That polar star was his own selfish interest — that haven was despotic power. What he considered as most for his own interest, he was determined to consider as the government most suited for France also. Perhaps he may have persuaded himself that he was actually serving his country as well as himself ; and, indeed, justly considered, he was in both instances equally griev- ously mistaken. With the views which he entertained, the chief consul regarded the conspiracies against his life as affording a pretext for extending his power too favourable to be neglected. These repeated attacks on the Head of the state made it desirable that some mode should be introduced of trying such offences, briefer and more arbitrary than the slow ' Gourgaud torn, i., p. 154. forms required by ordinary jurisprudence. The prompt and speedy justice to be expected from a tribunal freed from the ordinary restraint of for- malities and justice, was stated to be more necessary on account of the state of the public roads, infested by bands called Chauffeurs, who stopped the public carriages, intercepted the communications of com- merce, and became so formidable, that no public coach was permitted to leave Paris without a mili- tary guard of at least four soldiers on the roof. This was used as a strong additional reason for constituting a special court of judicature. Buonaparte could be at no loss for models of such an institution. As hero of the Revolution, he had succeeded to the whole arsenal of revolu- tionary weapons forged in the name of Liberty, to oppress the dearest rights of humanity. He had but to select that which best suited him, and to mould it to the temper of the times. The country which had so long endured the Revolutionary Tri- bunal, was not likely to wince under any less stern judicature. The court which Government now proposed to establish, was to consist of eight members thus qualified. 1. The president and two judges of the ordinary criminal tribunal. 2. Three military men, bearing at least the rank of a captain. 3. Two citi; zens, to be suggested by Government, who should be selected from such as were by the constitution qualified to act as judges. Thus five out of eight judges were directly named by the Government for the occasion. The court was to decide without jury, without appeal, and without revision of any kind. As a boon to the accused, the court were to have at least six members present, and there was to be no casting vote ; so that the party would have his acquittal, unless six membei"s out of eight, or four members out of six, should unite in finding him guilty ; whereas in other courts, a bare ma- jority is sufficient for condemnation. With this poor boon to public opinion, the spe- cial Commission Court was to be the jurisdiction before whom armed insurgents, conspirators, and in general men guilty of crimes against the social compact, were to undergo their trial. The counsellor of state, Portalis, laid this plan before the Legislative Body, "by whom it was, ac- cording to constitutional form, refeiTed to the con- sideration of the Tribunate. It was in this body, the only existing branch of the constitution where was preserved some shadow of popular forms and of free debate, that those who continued to enter- tain free sentiments could have any opportunity of expressing them. Benjamin Constant, Daunon, Chenier, and others, the gleanings as it were of the liberal party, made an honourable but unavaihng defence against this invasion of the constitution, studying at the same time to express their opposi- tion in language and by arguments least likely to give offence to the Government. To the honour of the Tribunate, which was the frail but sole re- maining barrier of liberty, the project had nearly made shipwreck, and was only passed by a small majority of forty-nine over forty one. In the Le- gislative Body there was also a strong minority.*'' It seemed as if the friends of liberty, however de- prived of direct popular representation, and of all the means of influencing public opinion, were yet ■^ AContgaillard, torn, v., p. .422; Fouch^, torn, i., p. 196. 1801.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 323 detei-mined to maintain an opposition to the first consul, somewhat on the plan of that of Eng- land. Another law, passed at this time, must have had a cooling effect on the zeal of some of these patriots. It was announced that there were a set of persons, who were to be regarded rather as public enemies than as criminals, and who ought to be provided against i-ather by anticipating and defeating their schemes than by punishing their offences. These consisted of Republicans, Royalists, or any others entertaining, or supposed to entertain, opinions ini- mical to the present state of affairs ; and the law now passed entitled the government to treat them as suspected persons, and as such, to banish them from Paris or from France. Thus was the chief consul invested with full power over the personal liberty of every person whom he chose to consider as the enemy of his government. Buonaparte was enabled to avail himself to the uttermost of the powers which he had thus extracted from the constitutional bodies, by the frightful agency of the police. This institution may, even in its mildest form, be regarded as a necessary evil ; for although, while great cities continue to afford obscure retreats for vice and crime of every description, there must be men, whose profession it is to discover and bring criminals to justice, as while there are vermin in the animal world, there must be kites and carrion-crows to diminish their number ; yet, as the excellence of these guardians of the public depends in a great measure on their familiarity with the arts, haunts, and practices of culprits, they cannot be expected to feel the same horror for crimes, or criminals, which is common to other men. On the contrary, they have a sym- pathy with them of the same kind which hunters entertain for the game which is the object of their pursuit. Besides, as much of their business is car- ried on by the medium of spies, they must be able to personate the manners and opinions of those whom they detect ; and are frequently induced, by their own interest, to direct, encourage, nay sug- gest crimes, that they may obtain the reward due for conviction of the offenders. Applied to state offences, the agency of such pei-sons, though sometimes unavoidable, is yet more frightfully dangerous. Moral delinquencies can be hardly with any probability attributed to worthy or innocent persons ; but there is no character so pure, that he who bears it may not be supposed capable of entertaining false and exaggerated opi- nions in politics, and, as such, become the victim of treachery and delation. In France, a prey to so many factions, the power of the police had become overwhelming ; indeed, the very existence of the government seemed in some measure dependent upon the accuracy of their intelligence ; and for this purpose their numbers had been enlarged, and their discipline perfected, under the administration of the sagacious and crafty Fouclie'. This remark- able person had been an outrageous Jacobin, and dipped deep in the horrors of the revolutionary government' — an adherent of Barras, and a par- taker in the venality and peculation which charac- terised that period. He was, therefore, totally without principle ; but his nature w-as not of that last degree of depravity, which delights in evil for 1 Sec anU: n^. i;J8, and :n:0. Its own sake, and his good sense told him, th.nt nn unnecessary crime was a political blunder. The lenity with which he exercised his terrible office, when left in any degree to his own discretion, while it never prevented his implicit execution of Buonaparte's commands, made the abominable sys- tem over which he presided to a certain extent en- durable ; and thus even his good qualities, while they relieved individual suffering, were of disser- vice to his country, by reconciling her to bond- age. The haute police, as it is called by the French, meaning that department which applies to politics and state affairs, had been unaccountably neglected by the ministers of Louis XVI., and was much disorganized by the consequences of the Revolution. The demagogues of the Convention had little need of a regular system of the kind. Every affiliated club of Jacobins supplied them with spies, and with instruments of their pleasure. The Directory stood in a different situation. They had no general party of their own, and maintained their authority, by balancing the Moderates and Democrats against each other. They, therefore, were more dependent upon the police than their predecessors, and they intrusted Fouche with the superintendence. It was then that, destroying, or rather superseding, the separate offices where the agents of the police pre- tended to a certain independence of acting, he brought the whole system to concentrate within his own cabinet. By combining the reports of his agents, and of the various individuals with whom under various pretexts he maintained correspond- ence, the minister of police arrived at so accurate a knowledge of the purpose, disposition, adherents, and tools of the different parties in France, that he could anticipate their mode of acting upon all occa- sions that were likely to occur, knew what mea- sures were likely to be proposed, and by whom they vera to be supported ; and when any particu- lar accident took place, was able, from his previous general information, to assign it to the real cause, and the true actors. An unlimited system of espial, and that stretch- ing through society in all its ramifications, was necessary to the perfection of this system, which had not arrived to its utmost height, till Napoleon ascended the throne. Still, before his reign, it existed all through France, controlling the most confidential expressions of opinion on public affairs, and, like some mephitic vapour, stifling the breath though it was invisible to the eye, and, by its mys- terious terrors, putting a stop to all discussion of public measures, w-hich was not in the tone of im- plicit approbation. The expense of maintaining this establishment was immense ; for Fouche' compretiended amongst his spies and informers, persons whom no ordinary gratuity would have moved to act such a part. But this expense was provided for by the large sums which the minister of police received for the toleration yielded to brothels, gambling-houses, and other places of profligacy, to whom he granted licenses, in consideration of their observing certain regulations. His system of espial was also ex- tended, by the information which was collected in these haunts of debauchery ; and thus the vices of the capital were made to support the means by which it was subjected to a despotic government. Hia auto- biography contains a boast, that the private a24 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS TROSE WORKS. [1801. secretary of the cliiei consul was liis pensioner,' and that the lavish profusion of Josephine made even her willing to exchange intelligence concern- nig the chief consul's views and plans.'-^ Thus was Foucht; not only a spy upon the people in behalf (if Buonaparte, but a spy also on Buonaparte himself. Indeed, the power of the director of this terrible enginery was so great, as to excite the suspicion of Napoleon, who endeavoured to counterbalance it by dividing the department of police into four distinct offices. There were established, 1st, The military police of the palace, over which Duroc, the gi-and master of the household, presided. 2d, The police maintained by the inspector of the gendarmes. 3d, That exercised over the city of Paris by the prefect. 4th, The general police, which still re- mained under the control of Fouche. Thus, th.e first consul received every day four reports of police, and esteemed himself secure of learning, through some one of them, information which the others might have an interest in concealing.^ The agents of these different bodies were fre- quently unknown to each other ; and it often hap- pened, that when, in the exercise of their office, they were about to arrest some individual who had incurred suspicion, they found him protected against them, by his connexion with other bureaux of police. The system was, therefore, as compli- cated as it was oppressive and unjust ; but we shall have such frequent opportunity to refer to the sub- ject, that we need here only repeat, that, with re- ference to his real interest, it was unfortunate for Buonaparte that he found at his disposal so ready a weapon of despotism as the organized police, wielded by a hand so experienced as that of Fouche'. It was the duty of the police to watch the pro- {^ress of public opinion, whether it was expressed in general society, and confidential communication, or by the medium of the press. Buonaparte enter- tained a feverish apprehension of the effects of literature on the general mind, and in doing so acknowledged the weak points in his government. The public journals wei'e under the daily and con- stant superintendence of the police, and their edi- tors were summoned before Fouche when any thing was inserted which could be considered as disrespectful to his authority. Threats and pro- mises were liberally employed on such occasions, and such journalists as proved refractory, were soon made to feel that the former were no vain menaces. The suppression of the offensive news- paper was often accompanied by the banishment or imprisonment of the editor. The same measure was dealt to authors, booksellers, and publishers, I'espect- ing whom the jealousy of Buonaparte amounted to a species of disease.* ' " Bourriunne offtrcd to inform me cx.ictly of all the pro- ceedings of Buonaparte for 25,000 francs pur niimtli. The proposal was accepted, and, on my side, I had reason to be satisfied with his dexterity and accuracy. This personage was replete with ability and talent, but his greediness of gaiu very shortly caused his disgrace."— Fouche, torn, i., p. 1G3. 2 "Josephine, in conformity to our conditions, cemented by a thousand francs per day, iiistructed nic in all that passed ill the interior of the castle.'"— Foiche, torn, i., p. 154. 3 Fouche, torn, i., p. 1G5. * " How," exclaims Fouche, " could I possibly reform the state, while the press had too much liberty? I therefore de- termined ujion a decisive blow. At one stroke I suppressed eleven popular journals. I caused their presses to be seized, and arrested their editors, whom I accused of sowing dissen- sion among tlic citizens, of blasting private chaiaelur, misrc No one can be surprised that an absolute govern- ment .should be disposed to usurp the total manage- ment of the daily press, and such other branches of literature as are immediately connected with politics ; but the interference of Buonaparte's police went much farther, and frequently required from those authors who wrote only on general topics, some express recognisance of his authority. The ancient Christians would not attend tiie theatre, because it was necessary that, previous to enjoying the beauties of the scene, tliey should sacrifice some gi'ains of incense to the false deity, supposed to preside over the place. In like manner, men cf generous minds in France were often obliged to suppress works on subjects the most alien to poli- tics, because they could not easily obtain a road to the public unless they consented to recognise the right of the individual who had usurped the su- preme authority, and extinguished the liberties of his country. The circumstances which subjected Madame de Stael to a long persecution by the po- lice of Buonaparte, may be quoted as originating in this busy desire, of connecting his government with the publications of all persons of genius. We have been already led to notice, that there existed no cordiality betwixt Buonapai'te and the gifted daughter of Necker. Their characters were far from suited to each other. She had manifestly regarded the first consul as a subject of close and curious observation, and Buonaparte loved not that any one should make him the subject of minute scrutiny. Madame de Stael was the centre also of a distinguished circle of society in France, several of whom were engaged to support the cause of liberty ; and the resolution of a few members of the Tribunate, to make some efforts to check the advance of Buonaparte to arbitrary power, was supposed to be taken in her saloon, and under her encouragement. For this she was only banished from Paris.^ But when she was about to pub- lish her excellent and spirited book on German manners and literature, in which, unhappily, there was no mention of the French nation, or its supreme chief, Madame de Stael's work was seized by the police, and she was favoured with a line from Savary, acquainting her that the air of France did not suit her health, and inviting her to leave it with all convenient speed.® While in exile from Paris, which she accounted her country, the wortliy Pre- fect of Geneva suggested a mode by which she might regain favour. An ode on the birth of the King of Rome was reconnnended as the means of conciliation. Madame de Stael answered, she should limit herself to wishing him a good nurse ; and became exposed to new rigours, even extend- ing to the friends who ventured to visit her in her presenting motives, reanimating factions, and rekindling ani- mosities."— jl/Aiiom'*, torn, i., p. Bl. 5 Considerations sur la Revolution Fran9aise, tom. ii.,p. 3(tl. 6 '• Madame de Stael had not been banished ; but she was ordered to a distance from the capital. t>he has, no doubt, been told, that Napoleon had, of his own accord, ordered her banishment ; but this was by no means the case. I know in what manner the circumstance originated, and can safely as- sert, that when he forced her from her attachment to the world, and ordered her to retire into the country, he only yielded to the repeated entreaties, and the unfavourable re- ports made to him ; for, it must be acknowledged, that he paid far too much deference to her notions of self-consequence, and to her work on Germany. She assumed the right to ad- vise, foresee, and control, in matters in which the Kmperor felt himself fully qualified to act upon his own judgment. To get rid of the annovance, he sent her to distribute her advice at a distance fioui him."— S WAFtv, torn, iii., p. 4. LIFE OF NAPOLKON BUONAPARTE. 1801.] sxile. So general was the French influoiiee aH over Europe, tliat to shelter herself from tlie per- secutions by which she was every where followed, she was at length oljliged to escape to England, hy the remote way of Russia. Chenier, author of the Hymn of the Marseillois, though formerly the panegyrist of General Buonaparte, became, with other literary persons who did not bend low enough to his new dignity, objects of persecution to the first consul. The childish pertinacity with which Napoleon followed up such imreasonable piques, belongs indeed, chiefly, to the history of the Em- peror, but it showed its blossoms earlier. The power of indulging such petty passions, goes, in a great measure, to foster and encourage their pro- gress ; and in the case of Buonaparte, this power, great in itself, was increased by the dangerous fa- cilities which the police offered, for gratifying the spleen, or the revenge, of the offended sovereign. Another support of a very different kind, and grounded on the most opposite principles, was af- forded to the rising power of Napoleon, through the re-establishment of religion in France, by his treaty with the Pope, called the Concordat. Two gi'eat steps had been taken towards this important point, by the edict opening the churches, and re- newing the exercise of the Christian religion, and by the restoration of the Pope, to his temporal dominions, after the battle of Marengo. The fur- ther objects to be attained were the sanction of the first consul's government by the Pontiff on the one hand, and, on the other, the re-establishment of the rights of the Church in France, so far as should be found consistent with the new order of things. This important treaty was managed by Joseph Buonaparte, who, with three colleagues, held con- ferences for that purpose with the plenipotentiaries of the Pope. The ratifications were exclianged on the 18th of September 1801 ; and when they were published, it was singular to behold how submis- sively the once proud See of Rome lay prostrated before the power of Buonaparte, and how abso- lutely he must have dictated all the terms of the treaty. Every article innovated on some of those rights and claims, which the Church of Rome had for ages asserted as the unalienable privileges of her infallible head. I. It was provided, that the Catholic religion should be freely exercised in France, acknowledged as the national faith, and itsserviceopenlypractised, subject to such regulations of police as the French Government should judge necessary. II. The Pope, in concert with the French Government, was to make a new division of dioceses, and to require of the existing bishops even the resignation of their sees, should that be found necessary to complete the new ari-angement. III. The sees which should become vacant by such resignation, or by depriva- tion, in case a voluntary abdication was refused, as .ilso all future vacancies, were to be filled up by the Pope, on nominations proceeding from the French Government. IV. The new bishops were to take an oath of fidelity to the Government, and to observe a ritual, in which there were to be esp( cial forms of prayer for the consuls. V. The church-livings were to undergo a new division, and the bishops 325 ' I'lir a cojiT (if tlic trcatv, see Annual Rogistcr vol. xliii., were to nominate to tliem, but only such persons as should be approved by the Government. VI. The Government was to make suitable provision for the national clergy, while the Pope expi'essly renounced all right comjietent to him and his successors, to challenge or dispute the sales of church property wliich had been made since the Revolution.' Such was the celebrated compact, by which Pius Yil. surrendered to a soldier, whose name was five or six years before unheard of in Europe, those high claims to supremacy in spiritual affairs, which his predecessors had maintained for so many ages against the whole potentates of Europe. A puritan might have said of the power seated on the Seven Hiils — " Babylon is fallen,^ — it is fallen that great city !" The more rigid Catholics were of the same opinion. The Concordat, they alleged, showed rather the abasement of the Roman hierarchy than the re-erection of the Gallic Church. The proceedings against the existing bishops of France, most of whom were of course emigrants, wei"e also but little edifying. Acting upon the ar- ticle of the Concordat already noticed, and caused, as the letter^ itself states, " by the exigencies of the times, which exercises its violence even on us," the Pope required of each of these reverend per- sons, by an especial mandate, to accede to the compact, by surrendering his see, as therein pro- vided. The order was peremptory in its terms, and an answer was demanded within fifteen days. The purpose of this haste was to prevent consulta- tion or combination, and to place before each bishop, individually, the choice of compliance, thereby gaining a right to be provided for in the new hier- archy ; or of refusal, in which case the Pope would be obliged to declare the see vacant, in conformity to his engagement with Buonaparte. The bishops in general declined compliance with a request, which, on the part of the Pope, was evi- dently made by compulsion. They offered to lay their resignation at his Holiness's feet, so soon as they should be assured that there was regular ca- nonical provision made for filling up their sees ; but they declined, by any voluntary act of theirs, to give countenance to the surrender of the rights of the Church implied in the Concordat, and pre- ferred exile and poverty to any provision which they might obtain, by consenting to compromise the privileges of the hierarchy. These proceedings greatly increased the unpopularity of the Concordat among the more zealous Catholics. Others of that faith there were, who, though they considered the new system as very imperfect, yet thought it might have the effect of preserving in France some sense of the Chi-istian religion, which, under the total disuse of public worshipj stood a chance of being entirely extinguished in the minds of the rising generation. They remembered, that though the Jews in the days of Esdras shed tears of natural sorrow when they beheld the infe- riority of the second Temple, yet Providence had sanctioned its erection, under the warrant, and by permission, of an unbelieving task-master. They granted, that the countenance shown by Buona- parte to the religions establishment, was entirely from motives of self-interest ; but still they hoped that God, who works his own will by the selfish " The Popo's Brief to tlie Archbishops and Bisho]iB o( riaiitc. ^cc Annual Rrpistcr, vol. xiiii., p. 308. RCOTT'S INirSCELLANEOTTS PROSE WORKS. 32G passions of iiiJividuals, was now using those of the first consul to recall some sense oiF religion to France ; and they anticipated that religion, as the best friend of all' that is good and graceful in hu- manity, was likely, in course of time, to bring back and encourage a sense of rational liberty. The revolutionary part of France beheld the Concordat with very different eyes. The Chris- tian religion was, as to the .lews and Greeks of old, a stumbling-block to the Jacobins, and foolish- ness to the philosophers. It was a system which they had attacked with a zeal even as eager as that which they had directed against monarchical insti- tutions ; and in the restoration of the altar, they foresaw the re-erection of the throne. Buonaparte defended himself among the philosophers, by com- paring his Concordat to a sort of vaccination of religion, which, by introducing a slighter kind into the system of the state, would gradually prepare for its entire extinction.' In the meantime, he proceeded to renew the ancient league betwixt the church and crown, with as much solemnity as possible. Portalis'^ was crea- ted minister of religion, a new office, for managing the affairs of the Cburch. He had deserved this preferment, by a learned and argumentative speech to the Legislative Body, in which he proved to the French statesmen, (what in other countries is sel- dom considered as matter of doubt,) that the exer- cise of religion is congenial to human nature, and worthy of being cherished and protected by the state. The Concordat was inaugurated at Notre Dame, [April 1802,] with the utmost magnificence. Buonaparte attended in person, with all the badges and pomp of royalty, and in the style resembling as nearly as possible that of the former Kings of France. The Archbishop of Aix was appointed to preach upon the occasion, being the very indivi- dual prelate who had delivered the sermon upon the coronation of Louis XVI. Some address, it was said, was employed to procure the attendance of the old republican generals. They were invited by Berthier to breakfast, and thence carried to the first consul's levee ; after which it became impossi- ble for them to decline attending him to the church of Notre Dame.' As he returned from the cere- monj', surrounded by these military functionaries, Buonaparte remarked with complacency, that the former order of things was fast returning. One of his generals boldly answered, — " Yes ! — all returns ■ — excepting the two millions of Frenchmen, who have died to procure the proscription of the very Bystem now in the act of being restored."* It is said that Buonaparte, when he found the [1801. ' " One day he assured the prelates, that, in his opinion, there was no religion but the Catholic, which was truly founded on ancient tradition ; and on this subject he usually displayed to them some erudition acquired the day before: then, when he was with the philosophers, he said to C'abanis, ' Do you know what this Concordat is which I have just signed? It is the vaccination of religion, and in fifty years there will be none in France.'" — Mad. de Stael, torn, ii., p. 273. 2 Jean-Etiennc-Marie Portalis was born at Bcausset in 17-16. He died at Paris in ll)<)7. A posthumous treatise, " Sur rUsage et I'Abus de I'Esprit Philosophique, pendant le 18e 8irfcle," was pubUshed in 1820, by his sou. s Fouch^, torn, i., p. 225. * Mad. de Stael, torn, ii., P. 278 ; Montgaillard, torn, v., p. 44.x On the way from the Tuilerics to Notre Dame, Lannes und AuRereau wished to get out of the carriage on finding th.at they were to be carried to mass ; and would have done so, had not an order from Buonaparte prevented them. They went then to Notre Dame ; but on the morrow, when the consul UBkcd Augereau how he liked the ceremonv. he replied, " Oh, ull was very line ; there only wanted the million of men who Po]ie and the clergy loss tractable than ho desired, regretted having taken the step of re-establishing religion, and termed the Concordat the gi-eatest error of his reign. But such observations could only escape him in a moment of pique or provoca- tion. He well knew the advantage which a go- vernment must derive from a national church, which recognises them in its ritual ; and at Saint Helena, he himself at once acknowledged the ad- vantage of his compact with the Pope as a measure of state, and his indifference to it in a religious point of view. " I never regretted the Concordat,'* he said. " I must have had either that or some- thing equivalent. Had the Pope never before existed, he should have been made for the occa- sion."^ The first consul took care, accordingly, to make his full advantage of the Concordat, by introducing his own name as much as possible into the cate- chism of the Church, which, in other respects, was that drawn up by Bossuet. To honour Napoleon, the catechumen was taught, was the same as to honour and serve God himself — to oppose his will, was to incur the penalty of eternal damnation .^ In civil affair.s, Buonaparte equally exerted his talents, in connecting the safety and interests of the nation with his own aggrandisement. He had already laughed at the idea of a free constitution. " The only free constitution necessary," ho said, " or useful, was a good civil code ;" not consider- ing, or choosing to have it considered, that the best system of laws, when held by no better guarantee than the pleasure of an arbiti'ary prince and hia council of state, is as insecure as the situation of a pearl suspended by a single hair. Let us do justice to Napoleon, however, by acknowledging, that he encountered with manly firmness the gigantic labour of forming a code of institutions, which, sup- plying the immense variety of provincial laws that existed in the different departments of Frarice, and suppressing the partial and temporary regulations made in the various political crises of the Revolu- tion, were designed to be the basis of a uniform national system. For this purpose, an order of the consuls convoked Messrs. Portalis, Tronchet,^ Bi- got de Preameneu,* and Maleville,^ juris-consults of the highest character, and associated them with the Minister of Justice, Cambace'res, in the task of adjusting and reporting a plan for a general system of jurisprudence. The progress and termination of this great work will be hereafter noticed. The chief consul himself took an active part in the de- liberations. An ordinance, eminently well quahfied to heal devoted themselves to death, in order to destroy what wc are now establishing." Buonaparte was much irritated at this observation." — Bourrienne. 5 Montholon, tom. i., p. 121. " " The Concordat was necessary to religion, to the Repub- lic, to government : the temples were shut up, the priests wore persecuted. The Concordat rebuilt the altars, )iut an end to disorders, commanded the faithful to pray for the republic, and dissipated all the scruples of the purchasers of national domains."— Napoleon, Muntholui), tom. i.,p. 120. 7 Tronchet was a lawyer of great celebrity, and was one of Louis Sixteenth's counsel. See axit', p. 111. He diedin 1806, and was buried in the Pantheon. " Bigot de Prdameneu was born in Brittany about the year 1750. In 1808, he succeeded Portalis as miniNter of public worship, but was removed from ofticc on the restoration of the Bourbons. He died at Paris in 1825. " Jacques de Maleville was >)orn at Domme in 1741. In 1804-5, he published " Analyse raisonn(5e de la Discussion du Code Civile au Conseil-d'ttat." He was created a peer br Louis XVIU. in 1814, and died in 182.T. 1801.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 327 the civil wounds of France, next manifested the talents of Buonaparte, and, as men hoped, his mo- deration. This was the general amnesty granted to the emigrants. A decree of the Senate, •26th April, 1802, permitted the return of these unfortu- nate persons to Fi-ance, providing they did so, and took the oath of fidelity to Government, withiu a certain period. There were, however, five classes of exceptions, containing such as seemed too deeply and strongly pledged to the house of Bourbon, ever to reconcile themselves to the government of Buo- naparte. Such were, 1st, Those who had been chiefs of bodies of armed royalists ; — '2d, Who had lield rank in the armies of the allies ; 3d, Who had belonged to the household of the princes of the blood ; — 4th, Who had been agents or encouragers of foreign or domestic war ; — 5 th, The generals and admirals, together with the representatives of the people, who had been guilty of treason against the Republic, together with the pi'elates, who declined to resign their sees in terms of the Concordat. It was at the same time declared, that not more than five hundred in all should be excepted from the amnesty. Buonaparte truly judged, that the mass of emigrants, thus winnowed and purified from all who had been leaders, exhausted in fortune and wearied out by exile, would in general be grateful for permission to return to France, and passive, uay, contented and attached subjects of his domi- nion ; and the event in a great measure, if not fully, justified his expectations. Such part of their property as had not been sold, was directed to be restored to them ;' but they were subjected to the special superintendence of the police for the space of ten years after their return.'^ With similar and most laudable attention to the duties of his high office, Buonaparte founded plans of education,^ and particularly, with Monge"s assist- ance, established the Polytechnic school, which has produced so many men of talent. He inquired anxiously into abuses, and was particularly active in correcting those which had crept into the prisons during the Revolution, where great tyranny was exercised by monopoly of provisions, and other- wise.* In amending such evils, Buonaparte, though not of kingly birth, showed a mind worthy of the rank to which he had ascended. It is only to be regretted, that in what interfered with his personal wishes or interest, he uniformly failed to manifest the sound and correct views, which on abstract questions he could form so clearly. Other schemes of a public character were held out as occupying the attention of the chief consul. Like Augustus, whose situation his own in some measure resembled. Napoleon endeavoured, by the magnificence of his projects for the improvement of the state, to withdraw attention from his inroads upon public freedom. The inland navigation of Languedoc was to be completed, and a canal, join- ing the river Yonne to the Saonne, was to connect the south part of the Republic so completely with ' " At one time I intended to form a mass or a spndicale of all the unsold property of the emigrants, and on their return, to distribute it in certain proporUins among them. But when I came to grant property to indiviQuals, I soon Iniind that I was creating too many wealthy men, and that they repaid my favours with insolence."'— Napoleon, Las Cuxcs, torn, iii., p. 2i;J. 2 FnuchS, tom. i., p. 226; Montgaillard, torn, v., p. 4G4. 3 " One of my grand objects was to render education ac- ccstiible to every one. I caused every institution to he formed Upou a plan which offered instruction to the public, either tlie north, as to establish a communication by water between Marseilles and Amsterdam. BrJ Iges were also to be built, roads to be laid out and improved, museums founded in the principal towns of France, and many other public labours undertaken, on a scale which should put to shame even the boasted days of Louis XIV. Buonaparte knew the French nation well, and was aware that he should best reconcile them to his government, by indulging his own genius for bold and magnificent undertakings, whether of a military or a civil character. But although these splendid proposals filled the public ear, and flattered the national pride of France, commerce continued to languish, under the effects of a constant blockade, provisions became dear, and discontent against the Consulate began to gain ground over the favourable sentiments which had hailed its commencement. The effectual cure for these heart-burnings was only to be found in a general peace ; and a variety of circumstances, some of them of a character very unpleasing to the first consul, seemed gradually preparing for this desirable event. CHAPTER XXIL Return to the external Relations of France — Iter unirersal Ascendenct/ — Napoleoii's adranccs to the Emperor Paul — Flan of destroyiny the Bri- tish Foicer in India — Right of Search at Sea — Death of Faul — Its effects on Buonaparte — Af- fairs of Fiji/pt — A ssassinatioti of Kleher — Me- nou appoiiitcil to succeed him— British Army lands in Egypt — Battle and Victory of Alex- andria — Fcath of Sir Ralph Ahcrcromby — . General Hutchinson succeeds him — The French General Belliard capitulates — as does Menou — War in Egypt brought to a victorious Conclu- sion. Having thus given a glance at the internal af- fairs of France during the commencement of Buo- naparte's domination, we return to her external relations, which, since the peace of Luneville, had assumed the appearance of universal ascendency, so much had the current of human affairs been altered by the talents and fortune of one man. Not only was France in secure possession, by the treaty of Luneville, of territories extending to the banks of the Rhine, but the surrounding nations were, under the plausible names of protection or alliance, as submissive to her government as if they had made integral parts of her dominions. Holland, Switzerland, and Italy, were all in a state of subjection to her will ; Spain, like a puppet, moved but at her signal ; Austria was broken-spi- rited and dejected ; Prussia still remembered her losses in the first revolutionary war ; and Russia, who alone could be considered as unmoved by any gratis, or at a rate so moderate, as not to be beyond the means of the peasant. The museums were thrown open to the canaille. My canaille would have become the best educated in the world. All my exertions were directed to illuminate the mass of the nation, instead' of brutifying them by igno- rance and superstition."— Napoleon, O'JIIcara, vol. ii., p. 3it5. * " At the time of my downfall, the state prisons contained two hundred and fiftv individuals, and I found nine thousand in them, when 1 became cousul."— N ifoleon, Las CaseFt tom. v., p. SG. 528 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE VfOPiKS. [1801- fear of France, was yet in a situation to be easily managed, by flattering and cajoling the peculiar temper of the Emperor Paul. We have already observed, that Buonaparte liad artfully availed himself of the misunderstanding between Austria and Russia, to insinuate liimself into the good graces of the Czar. The disputes between Russia and England gave him still fur- ther advantages over the mind of that incautious monarch. The refusal of Britain to cede the almost im- pregnable fortress of Malta, and with it the com- mand of the Mediterranean, to a power who was no longer friendly, was aggravated by her declining to admit Russian prisonei's into the cartel of ex- change betwixt the French and British. Buona- parte contrived to make his approaches to the Czar in a manner calculated to bear upon both these subjects of grievance. He presented to Paul, who affected to be considered as the Grand Master of the Order of St. John of Jerusalem, the sword given by the Pope to the heroic John de la Valette, who was at the head of the Order during the celebrated defence of Malta against the Turks.' With the same view of placing his own conduct in a favourable contrast with that of Great Britain, lie new- clothed and armed eight or nine thousand Russian prisoners, and dismissed them freely, in token of his personal esteem for the character of the Emperor. A more secret and scandalous mode of acquiring interest is said to have been attained, through the attachment of the unfortunate prince to a French actress of talents and beauty, who had been sent from Paris for tlie express purpose of acquiring his affections. From these concurring reasons, Paul began now openly to manifest himself as the warm friend of France, and the bitter enemy of Britain. In the former capacity, he had the weak and un- worthy complaisance to withdraw the hospitality which he had hitherto afforded to the relics of the royal family of Bourbon, who were compelled to remove from Mittau, where they had been hitherto permitted to reside. To gratify his pique against England, Paul gave hearing at least to a magnificent scheme, by which Buonaparte proposed to accomplish the destruction of the British power in India, which he had in vain hoped to assail by the possession of Egyj)t. The scheme was now to be effected by the union of the French and Russian troops, which were to force their way to British India overland, through the kingdom of Persia ; and a plan of such a cam- paign was seriously in agitation. Thirty-five thou- sand French were to descend the Danube into the Black sea ; and then, being wafted across that sea and the sea of Azof, were to march by land to the banks of the Wolga. Here they were again to be embarked, and descend the river to Astracan, and from thence were to cross the Caspian sea to Astra- bad, where th»y were to be joined by a Russian army, equal in force to their own. It was thought that, marclung through Persia by Herat, Ferah, and Candahar, the Russo-Gallic army might reach the Indus in forty-five days from Astrabad. This gigantic project would scarce have been formed by any less daring genius than Napoleon ; nor could any prince, with a brain less infirm than Paul's, ' Gour(;auiI, tum. ii., p. 131, have agi-eed to become his tool in so extraordmai-y an undertaking, from which France was to derive all the advantage.^ A nearer mode of injuring the interests of Eng- land than this overland march to India, was in the power of the Emperor of Russia. A controversy being in dependence betwixt England and the northern courts, afforded the pretext for throwing his weight into the scale against her at this dan- gerous crisis. The right of search at sea, that is, tlie right of stopping a neutral or friendly vessel, and taking out of her the goods belonging to an enemy, is ac- knowledged in the earliest maritime codes. But England, by her naval superiority, had been en- abled to exert this right so generally that it be- came the subject of much heart-burning to neutral powers. The association of the Northern states in 1780, known by the name of the Armed Neutrality, had for its object to put down this right of search, and establish the maxim that free bottoms made free goods ; in other words, that the neutral cha- racter of the vessel should protect whatever pro- perty she might have on board. This principle was now anxiously reclaimed by France, as the most effective argument for the purpose of irritating the neutral powers against Great Britain, whose right of search, which could not be exercised without vexation and inconvenience to their commerce, must necessarily be unpopular amongst them. Forgetting that the danger occasioned by the gigantic power of France was infinitely greater than any which could arise from the maritime claims of England, the northern courts became again united on the subject of what they termed the freedom of the seas. Indeed, the Emperor Paul, even before the offence arising out of his disappointment resi)ecting Malta, had proceeded so far as to sequestrate all British property in his dominions, in resentment of her exercising the right of search. But upon the fresh provocation which he conceived himself to have received, the Emperor became outrageous, and took the most violent measures for seizing the persons and pro- perty of the English, that ever were practised by an angi-y and unreasonable despot. Prussia, more intent on her own immediate aggrandisement, than mindful of the welfare of Europe in general, took advantage of the universal ill-will against England, to seize upon the King's continental dominions of Hanover, with peculiar breach of public faith, as she herself had guaranteed the neutrality of that country. The consequences, with regard to the northern powers, are well known. The promptitude of tlie administration sent a strong fleet to the Baltic ; and the well-contested battle of Copenhagen de- tached Denmark from the Northern Confederacy. Sweden had joined it vmwillingly ; and Russia altered her course of policy in consequence of the death of Paul. That luihappy prince had sur- mounted the patience of his subjects, and fell a victim to one of those conspiracies, which in arbi- trary monarchies, especially such as partake of the Oriental character, supply all the checks of a moderate and free constitution, where the pre- rogative of the crown is limited by laws. In these altered circumstances, the cause of dispute waa - Las Case?, toin. iii., p. ^40; O'lMcaru, voi. i., p. 'Xi\. 1801-2.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 520 easily removed, by the right of search being sub- jected to equitable regulations and modifications. Buonaparte received tlie news of Paul's death with much more emotion than he was usually apt to testify. It is said, that, for the first time in his life, a passionate exclamation of "lion Dieu!" escaped him, in a tone of sorrow and surprise. With Paul's immense power, and his disposition to place it at the disposal of France, the first consul doubtless reckoned upon the accomplish- ment of many important plans which his death . disconcerted. It was natural, also, that Napoleon should be moved by the sudden and violent end of a prince, who had manifested so much admiration of his person and his qualities. He is said to have dwelt so long on the strangeness of the incident, that Fouche was obliged to remind him, that it was a mode of changing a chief magistrate, or a course of administration, which was common to the empire in which it took place.* The death of Paul, so much regretted by Buo- naparte, was nevertheless the means of accelerat- uig a peace between France and Great Britain, which, if it could have been established on a secure basis, would have afforded him the best chance of maintaining his power, and transmitting it to his posterity. While the Czar continued to be his observant ally, there was little prospect that the first consul would be moderate enough in the terms which he might have proffered, to permit tlie British Ministry to treat with him. Another obstacle to peace was at this time re- moved, in a manner not more acceptable to Buo- naparte than was the death of the Emperor Paul. The possession of Egypt by the French was a point which the first consul would have insisted upon from strong personal feeling. The Egyptian ex- pedition was intimately connected with his own personal glory, nor was it likely that he would have sacrificed its results to his desire of peace with Great Britain. On the other hand, there was no probability that England would accede to any arrangement which should sanction the existence of a French colony, settled in Egypt with the ex- press purpose of destroying our Indian commerce. But this obstacle to peace was removed by the fate of arms. Affairs in Egypt had been on the whole unfa- vourable to the French, since that army had lost the presence of the commander-in-chief. Kleber, on whom the command devolved, was discontented both at the unceremonious and sudden manuer in which the duty had been imposed upon him, and with the scarcity of means left to support his de- fence. Perceiving himself threatened by a large Turkish force, which was collecting for the purpose of avenging the defeat of the vizier at Aboukir, he became desirous of giving up a settlement which he despaired of maintaining. He sigued aecord- ' " .Mais enfin, que vnulcz vous? Cost uiie mode de desti- tution propre a ce p.iis-la!"— S.— " I told him, tliat wliatevur miglit be the mode of deposition practised in Kussia, luckily the south of Europe was a stranpor to such treachemus habits and attempts; but my arRumtnts could not convince him; he fiave vent to his passion in ejaculations, stampings of tlie foot, and short tils of rage. I never beheld so striking a scene."— Fouche, torn, i., p. 205. 2 The remains of Kleber were interred with prcat pomp, and a monument was raised to liis memory. Hnoniiparte evinced sincere regret at the loss of this excellent othcer, and r.TU!-cd a medal to he struck \i|K>n the occasion, with the v.drds " (ieneral Klcbcr, born in 17-'*'i as'usiinatid at Cairo, tlic 14th ingly a convention with the Turkish plenijjofeii.. tiaries, and Sir Sidney Smith, on the part of tlie British, by which it was provided that the French should evacuate Egypt, and that Kleber and his army should be transported to France in safety, without being molested by the British fleet. When the British Government received advice of this convention, they refused to ratify it, on the ground that Sir Sidney Smith had exceeded his powers in entering into it. The Earl of Elgin having been sent out as plenipotentiary to the Porte, it was as- serted that Sir Sidney's ministerial powers Avere superseded by his appointment. Such was the al- leged informality on which the treaty fell to the ground ; but the truth was, that the arrival of Kleber and his army in the south of France, at the very moment when the successes of Suwarrow gave strong hopes of making some impression on her frontier, might have had a most material effect upon the events of the war. Lord Keith, there- fore, who commanded in the Mediterranean, re- ceived orders not to permit the passage of the French Egyptian army, and the treaty of El Arish was in consequence broken off. Kleber, disappointed of this mode of extricating himself, had recourse to arms. The Vizier Jouseff Pacha, having crossed the desert, and entered Egypt, received a bloody and decisive defeat from the French general, near the ruins of the ancient city of Heliopolis, on the 20th March, 1800. The measures which Kleber adopted after this victory were well calculated to maintain the possession of the country, and reconcile the inhabitants to the French government. He was as moderate in the imposts as the exigencies of his army pei-mitted, greatly improved the condition of the troops, and made, if not peace, at least an effectual truce, with the restless and enterprising Murad Bey, who still continued to be at the head of a considerable body of Mamelukes. Kleber also raised among the Greeks a legion of fifteen hundred or two thousand men ; and with more difficulty succeeded in levy- ing a regiment of Cophts. While busied in these measures, he was cut short by the blow of an assassin. A fanatic Turk, called Soliman Haleby, a native of Aleppo, imagi- ned he was inspired by Heaven to slay tlie enemy of the Prophet and the Grand Seignior. He con- cealed himself in a cistern, and springing out on Kleber when there was only one man in company with him, stabbed him dead.''' The assassin was justly condemned to die by a military tribunal ; but the sentence was executed with a barbarity which disgraced those who practised it. Being impaled alive, he survived for four hours in the utmost tor- tures, which he bore with an indifference which his fanaticism perhaps alone could have bestowed.^ The Baron Meno'u, on whom the command now devolved, was an inferior person to Kleber. He of June, 1!!00 ;" and on the reverse, " Surnamcd, from his stature and intrepidity, the French Hercules ; lie braved death a thousand times in the tield, and fell under the dagger of an assassin " Kleber and Dcsaix were Napoleon's favourite lieutenants. "Both," he said, "possessed great and rare virtues, though their characters were very dissimilar. Kle- ber's was the talent of nature : Desai.\'s was entirely the re- sult of education and assiduity: Kleber was an irreparable loss to France ; he was a man of the bri^jhtest talents and the greatest bravery." 3 His body was embalmed and biought by the French s,i. vans fnmi Kgypt, to be deposited in the museum of natural history at ranis. 330 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1801. Iiad made some figure amongst tlie nobles who fol- lowed the revolutionary cause in the Constituent Assembly, and was the same genei-al whose want of decision at the affair of the Sections had led to the employment of Buonaparte in his room, and to the first rise, consequently, of the fortunes which had since swelled so high. Menou altered for the worse several of the regulations of Kleber, and, carrying into literal execution what Buonaparte had only written and spoken of, he became an actual Mahommedan, married a native Turkish woman, and assumed the name of Abdallah Menou. This change of religion exposed him to the ridicule of the French, while it went in no degree to conciliate the Egyptians.' The succours from Fiunce, which Buonaparte had promised in his farewell address to the Egyp- tian army, arrived slowly, and in small numbers. This was not the fault of the chief consul, who had commanded Gantheaume to put to sea with a squadron, having on board four or five thousand men ; but being pursued by the English fleet, that admii-al was glad to regain the harbour of Toulon. Other efforts were made with the same indifferent success. The French ports were too closely watch- ed to permit the sailing of any expedition on a large scale, and two frigates, with five or six hundred men, were the only reinforcements that reached Egypt- Meantime the English Cabinet had adopted the daring and manly resolution of wresting from France this favourite colony by force. They had for a length of time confined their military efforts to partial and detached objects, which, if successful, could not liave any effect on the general results of the war, and which, when they miscarried, as was the case before Cadiz, Ferrol, and elsewhere, tend- ed to throw ridicule on the plans of the Ministry, and however undeservedly, even upon the charac- ter of the forces employed on the service. It was by such ill-considered and imperfect eflorts tliat the war was maintained on our part, while our watchful and formidable enemy combined his mighty means to effect objects of commensurate importance. We, like puny fencers, offered doubt- ful and uncertain blows, which could only affect the extremities ; he never aimed, save at the heart, nor thrust, but with the determined purpose of plunging his weapon to the hilt. The consequence of these partial and imperfect measures was, that even while our soldiers were in the act of gradually attaining that perfection of dis- cipline by which they are now distinguished, they i-anked — most unjustly — lower in the respect of their countrymen, tlian at any other period in our history. The pre-eminent excellence of our sailors liad been shown in a thousand actions ; and it be- came too usual to place it in contrast with the fail- ure of our expeditions on shore. But it was after- wards found tliat our soldiei-s could assume the same superiority, whenever the plan of the cam- paign offered them a fair field for its exereise. ' Montholon, torn, i., p. 78; Memoirs of the Duke of Ro- viso, vol. i., p. 243; Las Cases, torn, i., p. 226. ii Henry Dundas, created in 1802, Baron Duneira and Vis- count Melville, died in May, 1811. 3 At an after period, tlie good King made the following ac- knowledgment of his mistake. When Lord Melville was out 01 power his majesty did him the honour to visit him at W iiublrdon, and partook ot some refreshment. On that oc- Such a field of action was aflbrded by the Egyjitiau expedition. This undertaking was the exclusive plan of an ill-requited statesman, the late Lord Melville ;* who had difficulty in obtaining even Mr. Pitt's con- currence in a scheme, of a character so much more daring than Britain had lately entertained. The expedition was resolved upon by the narrowest possible majority in the Cabinet; and his late ma- jesty interposed his consent in terms inferring a solemn protest against the risk about to be incur- red. " It is with the utmost reluctance" (such, or nearly such, were the words of George III.) " that I consent to a measure which sends the flower of my army upon a dangerous expedition against a distant province."' The event, however, showed, that in arduous circumstances, the daring game, if previously well considered, is often the most suc- cessful. On the 8th March, 1801, General Sir Ralph Abercrombie, at the head of an army of seventeen thousand men, landed in Egypt, in despite of the most desperate opposition by the enemy. The ex- cellence of the troops was displayed by the extreme gallantry and calmness w ith which, landing through a heavy surf, they instantly formed and advanced against the enemy. On the 21st of March, a general action took place. The French cavalry attempted to turn the British flank, and made a desperate charge for that purpose, but failed in their attempt, and were driven back with great loss. The French were defeated, and compelled to retreat on Alex- andria, under the walls of which they hoped to maintain themselves. But the British suffered an irreparable loss in their lamented commander. Sir Ralph Abercrombie, who was mortally wounded in the course of the action. In this gallant veteran his country long regretted one of the best generals, and one of the worthiest and most amiable men, to whom she ever gave birth. The command descended on General Hutchin- son, who was soon joined by the Capitan Pacha, with a Turkish army. The recollections of Abou- kir and Heliopolis, joined to the remonstrances and counsels of their English allies, induced the Turks to avoid a general action, and confine themselves to skirmishes, by which system the French were so closely watched, and their communications so effectually destroyed, that General Belliard, shut up in a fortified camp in Cairo, cut off from Alex- andria, and threatened with insurrection within the place, was compelled to capitulate, under condition that his troops should safely be transported to France, with their arms and baggage. This was on the 28th of June, and the convention* had scarce been signed, when the English army was reinfoix!ed in a manner which showed the bold and successful combination of measures under which the expedition had been undertaken. An army of seven thousand men, of whom two thousand were sepoys, or native Indian troops, were disembarked at Cosseir, on the Red Sea, and, casion the King took an opportunity to fill a glass of wine, and having made the company do the same, he gave as his toast, " The health of the courageous minister, who. against the opinion of many of his colleagues, and even the remon- strances of his king, had dared to conceive and carry through the Egyptian expedition."— S. ■* For a copy of the Convention, sec Annual Register, vol xliii., p. ■J2l. 1801-2.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 331 dctaclipci from the Indian settlements, now came to support tlie European part of the Enghsh inva- sion. Tlie Egyptians saw with the extremity of wonder, native troops, many of them Moslemah, who worshipped in the mosques, and observed the ntual enjoined by the Prophet, perfectly accom- plished in the European discipline. The lower class were inclined to think, that this singular re- inforcement had been sent to them in consequence of Mohammed's direct and miraculous interposi- tion ; only their being commanded by English ofiB- cers did not favour this theory. In consequence of these reinforcements, and his own confined situation under the walls of Alexan- dria, Menou saw himself constrained to enter into a convention for surrendering up the province of Egypt. He was admitted to the same terms of composition which had been granted to Belliard ; and thus the war in that quarter was, on the part of Great Britain, triumphantly concluded. The conquest of this disputed kingdom excited \ strong sensation both in France and Britain ; but the news of the contest being finally closed by Menou's submission, are believed to have reached the former country some time before the English received them. Buonaparte, on learning the tidings, is reported to have said, " Well, there remains now no alternative but to make the descent on Britain." But it seems to have occurred to him presently afterwards, that the loss of this disputed province might, instead of being an argimient for carrying the war to extremity, be considered as the removal of an obstacle to a treaty of peace.' CHAPTER XXIII. Preparations for the Inrasion of Britain — Nelson put in command of the Sea — Attack of the Bou- logne Flotilla — Pitt leaves the Ministry — suc- ceeded by Mr. Addington — Negotiations for Peace — Just p^inishment of England, in regard to the conquered Settlements of the enemy — Forced to restore them all, sare Ceylon and Trinidad — i[alta is placed tinder the guarantee of a Neutral Power — Preliminaries of Peace signed — Joy of the English Populace, and doubts of the better classes — Treaty of Amiens signed — The ambitious projects of Napoleon, nevertheless, proceed without interruption — Extension of his power in Italy — He is appointed Consul for life, with the power of naming his Successor — His Situation at this 2>eriod, As the words of the first consul appeared to in- timate, preparations were resumed on the French coast for the invasion of Great Britain. Boulogne, and every harbour along the coast, was crowded with flat-bottomed boats, and the shores covered with camps of the men designed apparently to fill them. We need not at present dwell on the pi-e- parations for attack, or those which the English adopted in defence, as we shall have occasion to notice both, when Buonaparte, for the last time, thi'eatened England with the same measure. It is enough to say, that, on the present occasion, the menaces of Fi-ance had their usual effect in awaken- ing the spirit of Britain. The most extensive arrangements were made for the reception of the invadei-s should tliey chance to land, and in the meanwhile, our natural barrier was not neglected. The naval preparations were very great, and what gave yet more confidence than the number of vessels and guns. Nelson was put into command of the sea, from Orfordness to Beachyhead. Under his management, it soon be- came the question, not whether the French flotilla was to invade the British shores, but whether it was to remain in safety in the French harbours. Boulogne was bombarded, and some of the small craft and gun-boats destroyed — the English admiral generously sparing the town ; and not satisfied with this pai-tial success, Nelson prepared to attack them with the boats of the squadron. The French resorted to the most unusual and formidable pre- parations for defence. Their flotilla was moored close to the sliore in the mouth of Boulogne har- bour, the vessels secured to each other by chains, and filled with soldiers. The British attack in some degree failed, owing to the several divisions of boats missing each other in the dark ; some French vessels were taken, but they could not be brought off"; and the French chose to consider this result as a victory, on their part, of consequence enough to balance the loss at Aboukir ; — though it amounted at best to ascertaining, that although their vessels could not keep the sea, they might, in some comparative degree of safety, lie under close cover of their own batteries. Meantime, the changes which had taken place in the British ad- ministration, were preparing public expectation for that peace which all the world now longed for. Mr. Pitt, as is well known, left the Ministry, [Feb. 1801,] and was succeeded in the office of first Minister of State by Mr. Addington, now Lord Sidmouth. The change was justly considered as friendly to pacific measures ; for, in France espe- cially, the gold of Pitt had been by habit associated with all that was prejudicial to their country. The very massacres of Paris, nay, the return of Buona- pai-"te from Egypt, were imputed to the intrigues of the English "minister ; he was the scape-goat on whom were charged as the ultimate cause, all the follies, crimes, and misfortunes of the Revolution. A great part of his own countrymen, as well as of the French, entertained a doubt of the possibi- lity of concluding a peace under Mr. Pitt's auspices; while those who were most anti-Gallican in their opinions, had little wish to see his lofty spirit stoop to the task of arranging conditions of treaty on terms so different from what his hopes had once dictated. The worth, temper, and talents of his successor, seemed to qualify him to euter into a negotiation to which the greater part of the nation was now inclined, were it but for the sake of ex- periment. Buonaparte himself was at this time disposed to peace. It was necessary to France, and no less 1 " Napoleon never ceased to repeat, that E(i:>7>t ought to have remained in the possession of the French, which, he said, would iiifalliijlv have hcen the case, had the country been de- fended lj\ Kieljer or Desaix."— Las Casks, torn, i., p. 2.T<).— •• However great was the disjjleasure of the first consul at what had taken place, not an expression of illhuinour escaped him against any one. He showed at all times a marked pre- ference for those who formed a part of the army of Kgvpt, with the exception of a few officers who had made themselves conspicuous by their bad spirit and ingratitude; and the only revenge he took on these was to forget them ultogcther " — DuKK OF Roviao, vol. i., p. 251. 332 SCOTTS MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1802. necessary to liini, since he otherwise must remain yjledged "to undertake the hazardous alternative of invasion, in which chances stood incalculably against liis success ; while a failure might have, in its con- sequences, inferred the total ruin of his power. All parties wore, therefore, in a great degree inclined to treat witii sincerity ; and Buonaparte was with little difficulty brought to consent to the evacuation of Egypt, there being every reason to believe that lie was already possessed of the news of the conven- tion with Menou. At any rate, the French cause in Egypt had been ahnost desperate ever since the battle of Alexandria, and the first consul was con- scious that in this sacrifice he only resigned that which there was little chance of his being able to keep. It was also stipulated, that the French should evacuate Rome and Naples ; a condition of little consequence, as they were always able to reoccupy these countries when their interest required it. The Dutch colony of the Cape of Good Hope was to be restored to the Batavian republic, and de- clared a free port. In respect of the settlements which the British arms had conquered, England underwent a punish- ment not mimerited. The conquest of the enemy's colonies had been greatly too much an object of the English ^linistry; and thus the national force had been frittered away upon acquisitions of compara- tively petty importance, which, from the insalubrity of the climate, cost us more men to maintain them than would have been swept off by many a bloody battle. All the conquests made on this peddling plan of warfare, were now to be returned without any equivalent. Had the gallant soldiers, who perished miserubly for the sake of these sugar- islands, been united in one well-concerted expe- dition, to the support of Charette, or La Roclie- jacquelehi, such a force might have enabled these chiefs to march to Paris ; or, if sent to Holland, might have replaced the Stadtholder in his domi- nions. And now, these vei'y sugar-islands, the piti- ful compensation which Britain had received for the blood of her brave children, were to be restored to those from whom they had been wrested. The impoi-tant possessions of Ceylon in the East, and Trinidad in the West Indies, were the only part of her conquests which England retained. The in- tegrity of her ancient ally, Portugal, was, however, recognised, and the independence of the Ionian islands was stipulated for and guaranteed. Britain restored porto Ferrajo, and what other, places she had occupied in the isle of Elba, or on the Italian foast ; but the occupation of Malta for some time threatened to prove an obstacle to the treaty. The J^nglish considered it as of the last consequence that this strong island should remain in their possession, and intimated that they regarded the pertinacious resistance which the first consul testified to this j»roposal, as implying a private and unavowed de- sire of renewing, at some future opportunity, his designs on Egypt, to which Malta might be consi- dered as in some measure a key. After much discussion, it was at length agreed that the inde- pendence of the island should be secured by its being garrisoned by a neutral power, and placed under its guarantee and protection. The preliminaries of peace were signed 10th October, 1801. General Law dc Lauriston,' the .J^P^^?^^ '"''^ "^ Lauriston was born at Pontiiclicnv in J/61). He died at Paris in 13-'» school companion and first aide-de-camp of Buona- parte, brought them over from Paris to London, where they were received with the most extrava- gant joy by the populace, to whom novelty is a sufficient recommendation of almost any thing. But amidst the better classes, the sensation was much divided. There was a small but energetic party, led by the celeVirated Windham, who, adopting the principles of Burke to their utmost extent, consi- dered the act of treating with a regicide govern- ment as indelible meanness, and as a dereliction, on the part of Great Britain, of those principles of legitimacy, upon which the social compact ought to rest. More modei-ate anti-Gallicans, while they regretted that our efforts in favour of the Bour- bons had been totally unavailing, contended with reason, that we were not so closely leagued to their cause as to be bound to sacrifice our own countr}-, in a vain attempt to restore the exiled family to the throne of France. This was the opinion enter- tained by Pitt himself, and the most judicious among his followers. Lastly, there was the pro- fessed Opposition, who, while rejoicing that we had been able to obtain peace on any terms, might now exult in the fulfilment of their predictions of the bad success of the war. Sheridan summed up what was perhaps the most general feeling in the country, with the observation, that " it was a peace which all men were glad of, and no man could be proud of." Amiens was appointed for the meeting of com- missioners, who were finally to adjust the treaty of pacification, which was not ended till five months after the preliminaries had been agreed on. After this long negotiation, the treaty was at length sign- ed, 25th March, 1802. The isle of Malta, accord- ing to this agreement, was to be occupied by a garrison of Neapolitan troops, while, besides Bri- tain and France, Austria, Spain, Russia, and Prussia, were to guarantee its neutrality. The Knights of St. John were to be the sovereigns, but neither French nor English were in futui-e to be members of that order. The harl)ours were to be fi'ee to the commerce of all nations, and the order was to be neutral towards all nations save the Al- gerines and other piratical states. Napoleon, had he chosen to examine into the feelings of the English, must have seen plainly that this treaty, unwillingly acceded to by them, and only by way of experiment, was to have a duration long or short, in proportion to their confidence in, or doubt of, his own good faith. His ambition, and the little scruple which he showed in gratifying it, was, he must have been sensible, the terror of Europe ; and until the fears he had excited were disarmed by a tract of peaceful and moderate con- duct on his part, the suspicions of England must have been constantly awake, and the peace between the nations must have been considered as preca- rious as an armed truce. Yet these considerations could not induce him to lay aside, or even post- pone, a train of measures, tending directly to his own personal aggrandisement, and confirming the jealousies which his character already inspired. These measures were partly of a nature atlapted to consolidate and prolong his own power in France ; partly to extend the predominating influence of that country over her continental neighbours. By the treaty of Luneville, and by that of To- Icntino, the independent existence of the Cipalphie 1802.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 333 and Helvetian republics had been expressly sti])u- lated ; but tliis independence, according; to Buona- parte's explanation of the word, did not exclude their being reduced to mere satellites, who de- pended on, and whose motions were to be regulated by France, and, by himself, the chief governor of France and all her dependencies. When, there- fore, the Directory was overthrown in France, it was not his purpose that a directorial form of go- vernment should continue to subsist in Italy. Mea- Bui'cs were on this account to be taken, to establish in that country something resembling the new con- sidar model adopted in I'aris. For this purpose, in the beginning of January, 1892, a convention of 4.50 deputies from the Cisal- pine states arrived at Lyons, (for they were not trusted to deliberate within the limits of their own country,) to contrive for themselves a new political system. In thaf period, when the modelling of constitutions was so common, there was no diffi- culty in drawing up one ; w hich consisted of a pre- sident, a deputy-president, a legislative council, and three electoral colleges, composed, first, of proprie- tors ; second, of persons of learning ; and, third, of commercial persons. If the Italians had been awk- ward upon the occasion, they had the assistance of Talleyrand ; and soon after, the arrival of Buona- parte liimself at Lyons gave countenance to their operations. His presence was necessary for the exhibition of a most singular farce. A committee of thirty of the Italian convention, to whom had been inti'usted the principal duty of suggesting the new model of government, gave in a report, in which it was stated, that, from the want of any man of sufficient influence amongst them- selves to fill the office of president, upon whom de- volved all the executive duties of the state, the new system could not be considered as secure, unless Buonaparte should be prevailed upon to fill that situation, not, as it was carefully explained, in liis character of head of the French government, but in his individual capacity. Kapoleon graciously in- chned to their suit. He informed them, that he con- rurred in tlie modest opinion they had formed, that their republic did not at present possess an indivi- dual sufficiently gifted with talents and impartial- ity to take charge of their affairs, which he should, therefore, retain under his own chief manage- ment, while circumstances required him to do so. Having thus established his power in Italy as firmly as in France, Buonaparte proceeded to take measures for extending his dominions in the former country and elsewhere. By a treaty with Spain, now made public, it appeared that the duchy of Parma was to devolve on France, together with the island of Elba, upon the death of the present duke — an event at no distant date to be expected. The Spanish part of the province of Louisiana, in North America, was to be ceded to France by the same treaty. Portugal, too, though the integrity of her dominions had been guaranteed by the pre- liminaries of the peace with England, had been induced, by a treaty kept studiously private from the British court, to cede her province of Guiana to France. These stipulations served to sliow that there was no quarter of the world in which France and her present ruler did not entertain views of aggrandisement, and that questions of national faith would not be considered too curiously wlien they interfered with their purpose. While Europe was stunned and astonished at the spirit of conquest and accumulation manifested by this insatiable conqueror, France was made aware that he was equally desirous to consolidate and to prolong his power, as to extend it over near and distant regions. He was all, and more than all, that sovereign had ever been ; but he still wanted the title and the permanence which royalty requires. To attain these was no difficult matter, when the first consul was the prime mover of each act, whether in the Senate or Tribunate ; nor was he long of discovering proper agents eager to gra- tify his wishes. Chabot de L'Allier took the lead in the race of adulation. Arising in the Tribimate, he pronoun- ced a long eulogium on Buonaparte, enhancing the gratitude due to the hero by whom France had been preserved and restored to victory. He there- fore proposed that the Tribunate should transmit to the Conservative Senate a resolution, requesting the Senate to consider the manner of bestowing on Napoleon Buonaparte a splendid mark of the na- tional gratitude. There was no misunderstanding this hint. The motion was unanimously adopted, and transmitted to the Convention, to the Senate, to the Legislative Body, and to the Consuls. The Senate conceived they should best meet the demand now made upon them, by electing Napo- leon first consul for a second space of ten years, to commence when the date of the original period, for which he was named by the Constitution, should expire. The proposition of the Senate being reduced into the form of a decree, was intimated to Buonaparte, but fell short of his wishes ; as it assigned to him, however distant it was, a period at which he must be removed from authority. It is true, that the space of seventeen years, to which the edict of the Senate proposed to extend his power, seemed to guarantee a very ample duration ; and in point of fact, before the term of its expiry arrived, he was prisoner at Saint Helena. But still there was a termination, and that was enough to mortify his ambition. He thanked the Senate, therefore, for this fresh mark of their confidence, but eluded accepting it in express terms, by referring to the pleasure of the people. Their suffrages, he said, had invested him with power, and he could not think it right to accept of the prolongation of that power but by their consent. It might have been thought that there was now nothing left but to present the decree of the Senate to the people. But the second and third consuls, Buonaparte's colleagues at a humble distance, took it upon them, thougli the constitution gave them no waiTant for such a manoeuvre, to alter the question of the Senate, and to propose to the people one more acceptable to Buonaparte's ambition, requesting their judgment, whether the chief consul should retain his office, not for ten years longer, but for the temi of his life. By thus juggling, the proposal of the Senate was set aside, and that assembly soon found it wisest to adopt the more liberal views suggested by the consuls, to w hom they returned thanks, for having taught them (we suppose) how to appreciate a hint. The question was sent down to the departments. The registers were opened with great form, as if the people had really some constitutional right to SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PEOSE WORKS. 334 exercise. As the subscriptions were received at the offices of the various functionaries of govern- ment, it is no wonder, considering the nature of the question, that the ministers with whom the registei-s were finally deposited, were enabled to report a majority of three millions of citizens who gave votes in the affirmative. It was much more surprising, that there should have been an actual minority of a few hundred determined Republi- cans, with Carnot at their head, who answered the question in the negative. This statesman observed, as lie signed his vote, that he was subscribing his sentence of deportation; from which we may con- jecture his opinion concerning the fairness of this mode of consulting the people. He was mistaken notwithstanding. Buonaparte found himself so strong, that he could afford to be merciful, and to assume a show of impartiality, by suffering those to go unpunished who had declined to vote for the increase of his power.' He did not, however, venture to propose to the people another innovation, which extended beyond his death the power which their liberal gift had continued during his life. A simple decree of the Senate assigned to Buonaparte the right of nomi- nating his successor, by a testamentary deed. So that Napoleon might call his children or relatives to the succession of the empire of France, as to a private inheritance ; or, like Alexander, he might leave it to the most favoured of his lieutenant- genei-als. To such a pass had the domination of a military chief, for the space of betwixt two and three years, reduced the fierce democracy and stubborn loyalty of the two factions, which seemed before that period to combat for the possession of France. Napoleon had stooped on them both, like the hawk in the fable. The period at which we close this chapter was a most important one in Napoleon's life, and seemed a crisis on which his fate, and that of France, depended. Britain, his most invetei-ate and most successful enemy, had seen herself com- pelled by circumstances to resort to the experiment of a doubtful peace, rather than continue a war which seemed to be waged without an object. The severe checks to national prosperity, which arose from the ruined commerce and blockaded ports of France, might now, under the countenance of the first consul, be exchanged for the wealth that waits upon trade and manufactures. Her navy, of which few vestiges were left save the Brest fleet, might now be recruited, and resume by degrees that acquaintance with the ocean from which they had long been debarred. The restored colonies of France might have added to the sources of her national wealth, and she might have possessed — what Buonaparte on a remarkable occasion declared to be the principal objects he desired for her — ships, colonies, and commerce. In his personal capacity, the first consul pos- sessed all the power which he desired, and a great deal more than, whether his own er the country's welfare was regarded, he ought to have wished for. His victories over the foes of France had, by their mere fame, enabled him to make himself [1802. ' MontRaillard, torn, v., pp. 470, 476; Jr . 17- " For six weeks," Bavs Fouclii, " tl Jomini, torn, xv., p. 17- " For six weeks," Bays Fouclii, " the ministry was busily enKBRcd in collectinp and transcribing the resistors in which the suffrages for the consulship for life were inscribed. Got up by a special committee, the report presented 3,568,185 votes in the affirmative, and onlv 90/4 in the negative. On master of her freedom. It remained to show — not whether Napoleon was a patriot, for to that honour- able name he had forfeited all title when he first usurped unlimited power — but whether he was to use the power which he had wrongfully acquired, like Trajan or like Domitian. His strangely- mingled character showed traits of both these his- torical portraits, strongly opposed as they are to each other. Or rather, he might seem to be like Socrates in the allegory, alternately influenced by a good and a malevolent demon ; the former mark- ing his course with actions of splendour and dig- nity ; while the latter, mastering human frailty by means of its prevailing foible, the love of self, de- based the history of a hero, by actions and senti • ments worthy only of a vulgar tyrant. CHAPTER XXIV. Different Views entertained hy the English Minis- ters and the Chief Consul of the effects of the Treat i^ of ^4 miens — Napoleon, misled by the Shouts of a London Mob, misunderstands the Feelings of the People of Great Britain — His continued encroach- ments on the Independence of Europe — His con- duct 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, Peding, dis- bands 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 Heltetic PepuUic. The eyes of Europe were now fixed on Buona- parte, as master of the desstinies 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 quali- ties, 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 un- bounded 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 mar- tial 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 the 2d August, a senatns cnn.tnltiim, called organic, conferred the perpetual power on the First Consul Buonaparte ; and on the I5tn, the anniversary of his birth, solemn prayers were offered up to God for having, in his ineffable bounty, granted to France a man who had deigned to consent to bear the bur- den of supreme porfcr for his whole life." — Tom. i., p. 2.'i(> 1802.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 835 power wliich Buonaparte already possessed seemed only valuable in his eyes, as it afforded him the means of getting as nnicli more ; and, like a sanguine and eager gamester, he went on doubling his jtakes at every throw, till the tide of fortune, which had so long- run in liis favoui", 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 dis- appointed 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. Although the two contracting powers had been able to agree upon the special articles of the peace of Amiens, they possessed extremely diffei-ent ideas concerning the nature of a state of pacification in general, aud the relations which it establishes be- tween two independent states. The English mi- nister, 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 remon- strance. 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 sur- render the right of remonstrating against violence aud 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 dift'erent. 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 mak- ing either claim or acquisition beyond them. All Europe, then, was to be at the disposal of France, and states created, dissolved, changed and re- changed at her pleasure, unless England could lay her finger on the line in the treaty of Amiens, which prohibited the proposed measure. " Eng- land," 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, imderstood to decide, and that in favour of France, all questions which could possibly arise in the course of future time between the two ojuntries ; while, in ordinary candour, and in com- ' " Thrice hapjiy Britain, from the kingdoms rent. To sit the (iuardian of the Continent." Addi&on.— S. mon 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 circum- stance had been founded upon eloquently and justly by one of her own poets, for claiming for Britain the office of an umpire,* because less liable to be agitated by the near vicinity of continental 'Aar, and more likely to decide with impartiality con- cerning 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. 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 re- main, with fettered hands and padlocked lips, a helpless and inactive witness, while France com- pleted the subjection of the Continent, what other doom could she expect than to be finally subdued ? It will be seen afterwards that disputes arose con- cerning 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 inconsisteat 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 I" 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 con- cession, 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 pre- liminaries, and during the progress of the Congress. We have already specified Napoleon's accept- ance 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 tj-eaty 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 Spanisli part of Louisiana, and, what was still more ominous, the reversion of the duchy of Parma, and of the island of Elba,' impoiiant as an excellent nava' station. 2 " penitus toto divisos orbe Britannos." VlBGll..— Sl 3 fee Annual Register, vol. iliv., y 6P8. 330 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [180?. In the Gennan Diet ior settling the nulemnities, to be granted to tlie various princes of the empire who liad sustained loss of territory in consequence of late events, and particulai-ly of the treaty of Luiieville, the influence of France predominatied in a manner which threatened entire destruction to that ancient confederation. It may be in general obser\ed, 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 go- vernment of freemen transferred from hand to Iiaiul, without regard to their wislies, 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 at- tachments which bind subjects to their rulers, ex- cepting 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 compensa- tion for the Duchy of Cleves, and other provinces transferred to France, as lying on the left bank of the Rhine.i 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 ter- ritory ; whilst Austria, whose pertinacious opposi- tion was well remembered, was considered as yet retaining too high pretensions to power and in- dependence, 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, wei'e 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. The attack of the Directoi-y on the Swiss Can- tons had been always considered as a coarse and gross violation of the law of nations, and was re- garded 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 coun- try to ofi'er any resistance, \\ ithout 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, Hel- vetic, Cisalpine, and Ligurian Republics. " The contracting parties guarantee the indeiytndence of the said republics," continues the treaty, " and the right of the people who inhabit them to" adopt what form of government they please." ^ We have seen how far the Cisalpine republic profited by this ' Jomini, torn. xv.,p. 25 ; Annual Register, vol. xliv., p 640. * Annual Register, vol. xliii., p. 27.3. » " In the conviction, th.-it for a forced and unfortunate declaration of independence ; the proceedings re- specting Switzerland were much more glaring. There was a political difference of opinion in the Swiss Cantons, concerning the form of govern- ment to be adopted by them ; and the question was solemnly agitated in a diet luld at Berne. The majority inclined for a constitution framed on the principle of their ancient government by a federa- tive league, and the plan of such a constitution was accordingly drawn up and approved of. Aloys Reding, renowned for wisdom, courage, and pa- triotism, was placed at the head of this system. He .saw the necessity of obtaining the countenance of F' ranee, in order to the free enjoyment of the constitution which his countrymen had chosen, and betook himself to Paris to solicit Buonaparte's con- sent to it. This consent was given, upon the Swi.ss government agreeing to admit to their deliberations six persons of the opposite party, who, supported by the French interest, desired that the constitu- tion should be one and indivisible, in imitation of that of the French Republic. This coalition, formed at the first consul's re- quest, terminated in an act of treachery, which Buonaparte had probably foreseen. Availing them- selves 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 sub- verted the principles of that imder 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 ap- probation, 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 compli- ments on their being possessed of a free and inde- pendent constitution, he signified his willingness to withdraw the troops of France, and did so accord- ingly. 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 pro- ceedings. It was, ill 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 af- ford a plausible pretext to justify his armed inter- ference. 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 j , . ,„ to withdraw from the general league, as new-modelled by the French, and to form undei their own ancient laws a separate confederacy.'' This was to consist of the cantons of Scliweitz, Uri, and Underwalden, forest and mountain re- gions, in which the Swiss have least degenerated from the simple and hardy manners of theii* ances marriage, divorce is tlie only reasonable remedy, and that Helvetia and ourselves cannot recover rejiose and content, except by the rupture of this forced tie, we are tirmly resolved to labour at that separation with all possible activity." 1S02.J LIFE OF NArOLEON BUONAPARTE. 337 tors. A civil war immediately broke out, in the uoui-se of which it was seen, tiiat in popularity, as well as patriotism, the usurping Helvetic govern- ment, 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 reso- lution, tc emancipate his unfortunate country. The iutrusivf. government were driven from Berne, their trcips every where routed, and the federative party were generally received with the utmost demonstrations of joy by their countrymen, few adhering to tlie usurpers, excepting those who were attached to tJiem by views of emolument. But while Reding and the Swiss patriots were triumpliing 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. Tlie fatal tidings of the proposed forcible inter- ference of France, were made known by the sudden arrival of Rapp, adjutant-general of Buonaparte, = sn ^^'i*^^ ^ letter addressed to the eigliteen Swiss cantons.' This manifesto was of a most exti'aordinary 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 tlieir arms against each other. These are singular proposi- tions enough to be found in a proclamation ad- dressed 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 with- out the efficacious intervention of France. It is true, I had resolved not to intermeddle with your affairs, having always found that your various go- vernments 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." ^ This insulting tone, with which, uninvited, and as if granting a favour, the chief consul took upon him, as a matter of coui'se, to exorcise the most arbitrary power over a free and independent peo- ple, is equally remarkable at the close of the mani- festo. The proclamation commands, that a depu- ' " The first consul instructed Nev to enter Switzerland with a sorpsof troops, and caused Reding, the instigator of the disturbances, to lie arrested ; and he despatched Rapj), in all haste, who iirovidentialiy arrived at the moment when the parties were coming to blows. Rajip, with a rixre presence of mind, alifihted from his carriage, placed himself between the two armies, loudly declariiif;, in the German lansuage, that he was authorised to denounce, as an enemy of the French na- tion, whichever of the two parties should conimcnco tiring, and that he was ordered to introduce a fresh body of French troops into the Swiss territory. His lirmncss produced the greater eftect, as both paiiies'had the s;;nie consequences to apniehend, from a second invasion." — Sw.viiV, torn, i., \i. 3''\. - Annual Register vol. xliv., p. (i/l. vol.. II tation be sent to Paris, to consult \nth the chief consul ; and concludes with an assertion of Buo- naparte's " right to expect that no city, community, or public body, should presume to contradict the measures which it might please him to adojjt." 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 tlie presence of such an overpowering fc«'ce rendered resistance vain, Aloys Reding, and his gallant companions, were compelled to dismiss their forces after a touching address to them. T!ie Diet of Schweitz also dissolved itself in consequence of the interference, as they stated,^ of an armed force of foreigners, whom it was impossible, iu the exhausted state of the country, to oppose. Switzerland was thus, once more, occupied l.iy French soldiers. The patriots, who had distin- guished 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.* The resistance of these worthy patriots, their calm, dignified, and manly conduct, their simple and affecting pleas against over-mastering violence, though they failed to procure the advantages w liich 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 them.selves with re- garding 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 unprovo- ked 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 suf- fei"ings of such a country ; and no one act of his public life did Buonaparte so much injui-y through- out Europe, as his conduct towards Switzerland.-^ The dignified resistance of the Swiss, their re- nown 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, ho permitted federal- ism to remain as an integral principle. By a sub- sequent defensive treaty, the cantons agreed to re- fuse all passage through the country to the enemies of France, and engaged to maintain an army of a 3 Annual Register, vol. xliv., p. 67*!. 4 Aloys Reding was born in 1755. After being confined several montlis in the castle of Aarsbourg, he was liberated, and being in Itlll.'i elected landemaini of the can ton of Schwcilz, he assisted, in that capacity, at the diet of Fribouig, in iUi). He died at Schweitz in lUlL'. 5 " Never did liuonaparte less abuse his vast preponder- ance ; and Switzerland is, without contradiction, of all states, near or distant, over which he has e-'certed his influence, th.Tt which he lias spared the most, during the fifteen years of his ascendency and glory. In order to pay a proper tribute to truth, I mil add, that the act of mediation was imiTepnated, as much as I'ossiblc, with the conciliatory and chartcteristi- cally moderate spirit of BarthOlemi."— ForcKii to ii i., p 251 *i n y ooo SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE ^VORKS. [1802, tew thousand men to guarantee tins engagement. Switzerland also furnished France witli a subsidiary army of sixteen thousand men, to be maintained at the expense of the Frencli Government. But the firmness which these mountaineers showed in the course of discussing this treaty was such, tliat it saved them from having the conscription imposed on them, as in other countries under the dominion of France.' Notwithstanding these qualifications, however, it was evident that the voluntary and self-elected Mediator '^ of Switzerland was in fact sovereign of that country, as v/ell as of France and the north of Ital}'; but there was no voice to interdict this for- midable 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 indepen- dence ; but ere his arrival, the opei'ations of Ney had rendered all farther resistance impossible. A remonstrance was also made by England to the French Government upon this unprovoked aggres- sion on the liberties of an independent people.^ But it remained unanswered and unnoticed, unless in the pages of the Mvniteur, where the pretensions of Britain to interfere with the affairs of the Con- tinent, were held up to ridicule and contempt. After this period, Buonaparte adopted, and conti- nued to bear, the title of Grand Mediator of the Helvetian Republic, in token, doubtless, of the right which he had assumed, and effectually exer- cised, of interfering in their affairs whenever it- suited him to do so.* CHAPTER XXV. Increasing Jealousies hetwixt France and Enjiand — Encroachments un the part of the former — In- structions given by the Eirst Consul to his Com- meroial Agents — Orders issued by the English Ministers — Peltier^s celebrated Royalist Publi- cation, L'Ambigu — Peltier tried for a Libel against the Eirst Consul — found Guilty — Angry I)iscussiuns respecting the Treaty of Amiens — 31 alt (I — licport of Sebastiani — llesolution of the British Gocernment — Conferences betwixt Euonc- jiarte and Lord Whiticorth — Britain declares War against Erance on 18«A May, 1803. These advances towards universal empire, made during the very period when the pacific measures adopted by the preliminaries, and afterwards con- firmed by the treaty of Amiens, were in the act of being cari'ied into execution, excited the natural jealousy of the people of Britain. They had not been acoustomed to rely much on the sincerity of ' MontKaillard, torn, vi., p. 5; Joniiiii, Vie Politique et Mili- taire dc Na))olei)n, torn, i., \>. 532 ; Kavary, vol. i., p. 302. 2 " The deputies, pleased with the result of their mission, requested the first consul to retain the title of Mediator which had heen conferred ujion him. The country was re- stored to its wonted tranquillity without the effusion of blood ; and the celebrated M- de la Harpe (formerly tutor to the Kniperor Alexander,) who had governed it under the title of Director, came to fix his residence in Paris."— Savarv, torn, i., p. »i2. a For Lord Hawkesburv's note-verbal to M. Otto, Oct. 10, 1802, lof;itlier with his lordship's directions to Mr. Aloore, and Mr. Moore's reply, see Annual Register, vol. .xliv., pp. t;74- 671'. ■» " That which ?ir Walter ."^cott here advances concerning the French nation ; nor did the character of its present chief, so full of ambition, and so bold and successful in his enterprises, incline them to feelings of greater security. On the other hand, Buona- parte seems to liave felt as matter of personal offence tlie jealousy which the British entertaired ; and instead of soothing it, as policy dictated, by concessions and confidence, he showed a disposition to repress, or at least to punish it, by measures which indicated anger and irritation. There ceased to be any cordiality of intercourse betwixt the twc nations, and they began to look into the conduct of each other for causes of offence, rather than for the means of removing it. The English had several subjects of complaint against France, besides the general encroachments wliich she had continued to make on the liberties of Europe. A law had been made during the times of the wildest Jacobinism, which condemned to for- feiture every ve.ssel under a hunch'ed tons burden, carrying British merchandise, and approaching within four leagues of France. It was now thought proper, that the enforcing a regulation of so hostile a character, made during a war of unexampled bit- terness, should be the first fruits of returning peace. Several British vessels were stopped, their captains imprisoned, their cargoes confiscated, and all resti- tution refused. Some of these had been driven on the French coast unwillingly, and by stress of wea- ther ; but the necessity of the case created no ex- emption. An instance there was of a British vessel in ballast, which entered Chareute, in order to load with a cargo of brandy. The plates, knives, forks, &c., used by the captain, being found to be of Bri- tish manufacture, the circumstance was thought a sufficient apology for seizing the vessel. These aggressions, repeatedly made, were not, so far as appears, remedied on the most urgent remonstran- ces, and seemed to argue that the French were already acting on the vexatious and irritating prin- ciple which often precedes a war, but very seldom immediately follows a peace. The coiiduct of France was felt to be the more unreasonable and ungraci- ous, as all restrictions on her commerce, imposed during the wax, had been withdrawn on the part of Great Britain, so soon as the peace was concluded. In like manner, a stipulation of the treaty of Ami- ens, providing that all sequestrations imposed on the property of French or of English, in the two contending countries, should be removed, was in- stantly complied with in Britain, but postponed and dallied with on the jiart of France. The above were vexatious and offensive mea- sures, intimating little respect for the Government of England, and no desire to cultivate lier good will. They were perhaps adopted by the chief consul, iu hopes of inducing Britain to make some the blameable policy of Napoleon with respect to the Swiss, when he gave them this act of mediation, is not correct, andl will prove it to be so. I was in Switzerland in 1H14, 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 car- ried their cfi'rontery 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 dirt'erent cantons, and the princiiial Swiss, who frequented the baths of Baden, near /uricl'i, where I then was, did not refrain from openly decla- ring, that they could not conii)lain of the Kmperur Napoleon, that he had put an end to their difticulties, and that tliey could feel nothing hut grattude towards him "— LoL'i* hU'ONAl'ARTE, p. .lb. 1S02.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPAETE. :50 sacrifices in order to obtain from his favour a com- mercial treaty, the advantages of which, according to his opinion of tlie Englisli nation, was a boon calculated to make them quickly forgive the humi- liating restrictions from whicli it would emancipate their trade. If this wei'e any part of his policy, he was ignorant of the nature of the people to whom it was applied. It is the sluggish ox alone that is governed by a goad. But what gave the deepest offence and most lively alarm to Britain, was, that while Buonaparte declined affording tlie ordinary facilities for English commerce, it was his purpose, nevertheless, to establish a commercial agent in every part of the British dominions, whose osten- | sible duty was to watch over that very trade which ' the fii'st consul showed so little desire to encou- ! rage, but whose real business resembled that of an \ accredited and privileged spy. These official per- sons were not only, by their instructions, directed to collect every possible information on commercial points, but also to furnish a plan of the ports of each district, with all the soundings, and to point out with what wind vessels could go out and enter j with most ease, and at what draught of water the harbour might be entered by ships of bm-den. To add to the alarming character of such a set of agents, it was found that those invested with the office were military men and engineere. Consuls thus nominated had reached Britain, but had not, in general, occupied the posts assigned to them, when the British Government, becoming informed of the duties they were expected to per- form, announced to them, that any one who might repair to a British seaport under such a character, should be instantly ordered to quit the island. The secrecy with which these agents had been instructed to conduct themselves was so great, that one Fau- velet, to whom the office of commercial agent at Dublin had been assigned, and who had reached the place of his destination before the nature of the appointment was discovered, could not be found out by some persons who desired to make an affidavit before him as consul of Franco. It can be no won- der that the very worst impression was made on the public mind of Britain respecting the further projects of her late enemies, when it was evident that they availed themselves of the first moments of returning peace to procure, by an indirect and most suspicious course of proceeding, that species of information, which would be most useful to France, and most dangerous to Britain, in the event of a renewed war. While these grievances and circumstances of suspicion agitated the English nation, the daily press, which alternately acts upon public opinion, and is reacted upon by it, was loud and vehement. The personal character of the chief consul was severely treated ; his measures of self-aggrandise- ment arraigned, his aggressions on the liberty of France, of Italy, and especially of Switzerland, held up to open day ; while every instance of petty vexation and oppression practised upon British commerce or British subjects, was quoted as ex- pressing his deep resentment against the only country which possessed the will and the power to counteract his acquiring the universal dominion of Europe. ' The " Actcs rfes Aiiotres." which appo.iicd in i7i>n, and in the editing of which 1 cl tier was assisted by lliverol. (.'liamp- There was at this period in Britain a large party of French Royalists, who, declining to return to France, or falling under the exceptions to the am- nesty, regarded Buonaparte as their personal ene- my, as well as the main obstacle to the restoration of the Bourbons, to which, but for him only, the people of France seemed otherwise more disposed than at any time since the commencement of the Revolution. These gentlemen foimd an able and active advocate of their cause in ^lonsieur Peltier, an emigrant, a determined royalist, and a man of that ready wit and vivacity of talent wliich is pecu- liarly calculated for periodical writing. He had opposed the democrats during the early days of the Revolution, by a pubHcation termed the " Acts of the Apostles ;" ' in which he held up to ridicule and execration the actions, pretensions, and princi- ples of their leaders, with such success as induced Brissot to assert, that he had done more harm to the Republican cause than all the allied armies. At the present crisis, he commenced the publica- tion of a weekly paper in London, in the French language, called L^Amhiju. The decoration at the top of the sheet was a head of Buonaparte, placed on the body of a Sphinx. This ornament being objected to after the first two or three immbers, the Sphinx appeared with the neck truncated ; but, being still decked with the consular emblems, con- tinued to intimate emblematically the allusion at once to Egypt, and to the ambiguous character of the first consul. The columns of this paper were dedicated to the most severe attacks upon Buona- parte and the French Government ; and as it was highly popular, from the general feelings of the English nation towards both, it was widely disper- sed and generally read. The torrent of satire and abuse poured forth from the English and Anglo-Gallican periodical press, was calculated deeply to annoy and irritate the person against whom it was chiefly aimed. In Eng- land we are so much accustomed to see characters the most unimpeachable, nay, the most venerable, assailed by tlie daily press, that we account the individual guilty of folly, who, if he be innocent of giving cause fur the scandal, takes it to heart more than a passenger would mind the barking of a dog, that yelps at every passing sound. But this is a sentiment acquu'ed partly by habit, partly by our knowledge, that unsubstantiated scaudal of this sort makes no impression on the public mind. Such indifference cannot be expected on the part of fo- reigners, who, in this particular, resemble horses introduced from neighboviring counties into the precincts of forest districts, where they are liable to be stung into madness by a peculiar species of gadfly, to which the race bred in the country are from habit almost totally indifferent. If it be thus with foreigners in general, it must be supposed that from natural impatience of cen- sure, as well as i-endered susceptible and irritable by his course of uninterrupted success. Napoleon Buonaparte must have winced under the animated and sustained attacks upon his person and govern- ment, which appeared in the English newspapers, and Peltier's Amlhju. He attached at all times, as we have already had occasion to remark, much importance to the influence of the press, which in ccnetz, and the Viscount Mirabeau, was principally directed u;;ainst the nieasureb of the Constituci.t Assembly. 340 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1802. l-'aris lie had taken under liis own especial super- inte-idenee, and for which he hinij-elf often conde- scended to coniijose or correct paragraphs. To be assailed, therefore, by the whole body of British newspapers, almost as numerous as their navy, tseeins to have provoked him to the extremity of his patience ; and resentment of these attacks uiijjravated the same hostile sentiments against England, which, from causes of suspicion already mentioned, had begun to be engendered in the British public against France and her i-uler. Napoleon, in the meantime, endeavoured to answer in kind, and the colunms of the Monitenr had many an angry and violent passage directed against England.' Answers, replies, and rejoinders passed rapidly across the Ciiannel, inflaming and augmenting the hostile S])irit, reciprocally enter- tained by the two countries against each other. But there was this great disadvantage on Buona- parte's side, that while the English might justly throw the blame of this scandalous warfare on the license of a free press, the chief consul could not transfer the responsibility of tlie attack on his side ; because it was universally known that the French periodical publications being under the most severe regulations, nothing could appear in them except what had received the previous sanction of the government. Every attack ujion England, there- fore, which was published in the French papers, was held to express the personal sentiments of the chief consul, who thus, by destroying tlie freedom of the French press, had rendered himself answer- al,>le for every such license as it was permitted to take. It became speedily plain, that Buonaparte could reap no advantage from a contest in which he was to be the defendan.t in his'own person, and to main- tain a literary warfare with anonymous antagonists. He had recourse, therefore, to a demand upon the British Government, and after various representa- tions of milder import, caused his envoy, Monsieur Jul ' 25 t)''*^') to state in an official note the fol- lowing distinct grievances : — First, the existence of a deep and continued system to injure the character of the first consul, and prejudice the effect of his public measures, through the me- dium of the press : Secondly, the permission of a part of the Princes of the House of Bourbon, and their adherents, to remain in England for the pur- pose, (it was alleged,) that they might hatch and encourage schemes against the life and govermnent of the chief consul. It was therefore categorically demanded, 1st, That the British Government do put a stop to the publication of the abuse complained of, as affecting the head of the French Government. 2d, That the emigrants residing in Jersey be dis- missed from England — that the bishops who had declined to resign their sees be also sent out of ' " I nnade the Maniteur the soul and life-blood of my ro- rcrnmc.nt ; it was the intermediate instrument of my commsi- nicati'>ns with public ojiiriion, both at home and abroad. Did any question arise respecting; certain grand political combina- tions, or some delicate points of diplomacy ? the objects were indirectlv hinted at in the Monitenr. Thev iiistantlv'attracted universal attention, and became the to])ics of Reneral invcsti- gition. The Mnniteurhas been reproached for the acnmony and virulence of its notes against the enemy : but before we condemn them, we are bound to take into considcra:ion tlie bcnotits thev n.ay have prndneed, the an^ietv with wliich tliey otcaMonal]y])er|dexed the enemv, tlie terror witli whicli they struck a hesitating cabinet."— Napoleon, Las Cases, toni. iv.' p. IHfi. ' 2 Annual Register, vol. xlv., p. 659. the country — that George Cadoudal be transported to Canada — that the Princes of the House of Bour- bon be advised to repair to Warsaw, where the head of their family now resided— and, finally, that such emigrants who continued to wear the ancient badges and decorations of the French court, be also comijelled to leave England. Lest the British ministers should plead, that the constitution of their country precluded them from gratifying the first consul in any of these demands, Monsieur Otto forestalled the objection, by reminding them that the Alien Act gave them full power to exchide any foreigners from Great Britain at their plea- sure.^ To this peremptory mandate. Lord Ilawkes- bury,' then minister for foreign aff"airs, instructed the British agent, Mr. Merry, to make a reply, at once firm and conciliatory ; avoiding the tone of pique and ill temper which is plainly to rie traced in the French note, yet maintaining the dignity of the nation he represented. It was observed, that, if the French Government had reason to com]ilain of the license of the English journals, the British Government had no less right to be dissatisfied with the retorts and recriminations which had been poured out from those of Paris ; and that there was this i-emarkable feature of difference betwixt them, that the English Ministry neither had, could have, nor wished to have, any control over the freedom of the Briti-sh press ; whereas the ]\lon'iteiir, in which the abuse of England had appeared, was the official organ of the French Government. But, finally, upon this point, the British Monarch, it was said, would make no concession to any foreign power, at the expense of the freedom of the press.'* If what was published was libellous or actionable, the printers and publishers were open to punish- ment, and all reasonabl-e facilities would be afforded for prosecuting them. To the demands so per- emptorily urged, respecting the emigrants, Lin-d Hawkesbury replied, by special answers applying to the different classes, but summed up in the gene- ral argument, that his Majesty neither encouraged them in any scheme against the French Govern- ment, nor did he believe there were any such in existence ; and that while these unfortunate prin- ces and their followers lived in conformity to the laws of Great Britain, and without affording natif)ns with whom she was at peace any v. lid or sutficient cause of complaint, his Majesty would feel it incon- sistent with his dignity, his honour, and the com- mon laws of hospitality, to deprive them of that protection, which individuals resident within the British dominions could only forfeit by their own misconduct.* To render these answers, being the only reply which an English Minister could have made to the demands of France, in some degree acceptable to 3 Afterwards Earl of Liverpool, and Prime Minister of Eng- land — who died early in 1827. * " His Majesty cannot, and never will, in consequence of any representation or menace from aforeian power, make any concession which can be, in the smallest degree, dangerous to the liberty of the press, as secured by the constitution of tlie country— a libertv justly dear to every British subject."— ^V»j- nttiil Rublic, Feb. 22, 18U3. See Annual Regis- ter, vol. xlv., p. 7(>0. ^ See Declaration, dated Westminster, May in, 1003; An- uaul Hegisler, vol. .\lv., p. 742. resolution, of himself entering personally into con- ference with the British ambassador. He pro- bably took this determination upon the same grounds which dictated his contempt of customary forms, in entering, or attempting to enter, into di- rect correspondence with the princes whom he had occasion to treat with. Such a deviation from the established mode of procedure seemed to mark his elevation above ordinary rules, and would afford him, he might think, an opportunity of bearing down the British ambassador's reasoning, by exhi • biting one of those bursts of passion, to which he had been accustomed to see most men give way. It would have been more prudent in Napoleon, to have left the conduct of the negotiation to Tal- leyrand.* A sovereign cannot enter in person upon such conferences, unless with the previous determination of adhering precisely and finally to whatever ultimatum he has to propose. He can- not, without a compromise of dignity, chaffer or capitulate, or even argue, and of course is incapable of wielding any of the usual, and almost indispen- sable weapons of negotiators. If it was Napoleon's expectation, by one stunning and emphatic decla- ration of his pleasure, to beat down all arguments, and coufotind all opposition, he would have done wisely to remember, that he was not now, as in other cases, a general upon a victorious field of battle, dictating terms to a defeated enemy; but was treating upon a footing of equality with Bri- tain, the mistress of the seas, possessing strength as formidable as his own, though of a different character, and whose prince and people were far more likely to be incensed than intimidated by any menaces which his passion might throw out. The chfiracter of the English ambassador was as unfavourable for the chief consul's probable pur- pose, as that of the nation he represented. Lord Whitworth was possessed of great experience and sagacity.* His integrity and honour were un- doubted ; and, with the highest degree of courage, he had a calm and collected disposition, admirably calculated to give him the advantage in any dis- cussion with an antagonist of a fiery, impatient, and overbearing temper. We will make no apology for dwelling at un- usual length on the conferences betwixt the first consul and Lord Whitworth, as they are striking- ly illustrative of the character of Buonaparte, and were, in their consequences, decisive of his fate, and that of the world. Their first interview of a political nature took place in the Tuileries, 17th February, 1803. Buo- naparte, having announced that this meeting was for the purpose of " making his sentiments known to the King of England in a clear and authentic manner," proceeded to talk incessantly for the space of nearly two hours, not without considerable incoherence, his temper rising as he dwelt on the alleged causes of complaint which he preferred •4 " The conference with Lord Whitworth proved for me a lesson which altered mv method for ever. From this moment I never treated ofKcially of political affairs, but through ths intervention of my minister for foreign affairs. He, at anj rate, could give a positive and formal denial, which the sovc reign could not do." — Napoleon, torn, iv., p. 15(i. 5 Lord Whitworth had been, successively,— in 17!!f>, mlnlstei plenipotentiary at Warsaw, — in 17*18, envoy extraordinary and minister ]>lenipotenti;iry to St. retersliurgh,— and, in ItidU, minister plenipotentiary to the toiiit of Denmark. 1S03.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTK. jgainst England, though not so much or so incau- tiously as to make him drop the usual tone of cour- tesy to the ambassador. He complained of the delay of the British in evacuating Alexandria and Malta ; cutting short all discussion on the latter subject, by declaring he would as soon agree to Britain's possessing the suburb of St. Antoine as that island. He then re- ferred to the abuse thrown upon him by the Eng- lish papers, but more especially by those French journals published in London. He affirmed that Georges and other Chouan chiefs, whom he accused of designs against his life, received relief or shelter in England ; and that two assassins had been ap- prehended in Normandy, sent over by the French emigrants to murder him. This, he said, would be publicly proved in a court of justice. From this point he diverged to Egypt, of which he affirmed he could make himself master whenever he had a mind ; but that he considered it too paltry a stake to renew the war for. Yet, while on this subject, he suffered it to escape him, that the idea of re- covering this favourite colony was only postponed, not abandoned. " Egypt," he said, " must sooner or later belong to France, either by the falling to pieces of the Turkish government, or in conse- quence of some agreement with the Porte." ' In evidence of his peaceable intentions, he asked, what lie should gain by going to war, since he had no means of acting offensively against England, ex- cept by a descent, of which he acknowledged the liazard in the strongest terms. The chances, he .said, were a hundred to one against him ; and yet he declared that the attempt should be made if he were now obliged to go to war. He extolled the power of both countries. The army of France, he said, should be soon recruited to four hundred and eighty thousand men ; and the fleets of England were such as he could not propose to match within the space of ten years at least. United, the two countries might govern the world, would they but understand each other. Had he found, he said, the least cordiality on the part of England, she should have had indemnities assigned her upon the con- tinent, treaties of commerce, all that she could wish or desire. But he confessed that his irritation in- creased daily, " since e\'ery gale that blew from England, brought nothing but enmity and hatred against him." He then made an excursive digression, in which, faking a review of the nations of Europe, he con- tended that England could hope for assistance from none of them in a war with France. In the total result, he demanded the instant implement of the treaty of Amiens, and the suppression of the abuse in the English papers. War was the alternative. During this excursive piece of declamation, which the first consul delivered with great rapidity. Lord Whitworth, notwithstanding the interview lasted two hours, had scarcely time to slide in a few words in reply or explanation. As he endeavoured to state the new grounds of mistrust which induced ' " If Buonaparte had wished for the maintenaroo of peace, he would scdulouhly liave avoided piviiiy umbrage and inquie- tude to En<4land, with regard to its Indian injsMsaions, and would have abstained from apidaudiny the rliodoniontades about the mission of Sebastiani into !iyria and Turkey. His imprudent conversation with Lord Whitworth accelerated tlic rupture. I foresaw, from tliat time, th.it he would quickly pusj from a certain degree of moderation, as chief of the po the King of England to demand more adxantagc- ous terms, in consequence of the accession of ter- ritory and influence which France had lately made, Napoleon interrupted him — " I suppose you mean Piedmont and Switzerland — they are trifling oc- currences, which must have been foreseen while the negotiation was in dependence. You have no right to recur to them at this time of day." To the hint of indemnities which might be allotted to England out of the general spoil of Europe, if she would cultivate the friendship of Buonaparte, Lord Whitworth nobly answered, that the King of Bri- tain's ambition led him to preserve what A\as his, not to acquire that which belonged to others. They parted with civility, but with a conviction on Lord Whitworth's part, that Buonaparte would never resign his claim to the possession of Malta.'^ The British Ministry were of the same opinion ; for a ]\Iessage was sent down by his Majesty to the House of Common.s, stating, that he had occasion for additional aid to enable him to defend his dominions, in case of an enroach- ment on the part of France. A reason was given, which injured the cause of the Ministeris, by placing the vindication of their measures upon simulated grounds ; — it was stated, that these apprehensions arose from " military preparations carrying on in the ports of France and Holland." ^ No such pre- parations had been complained of during the in- tercourse between the ministers of France and England, — in truth, none such existed to any con- siderable extent, — and in so far, the Britisli mini- sters gave the advantage to the French, by not resting the cause of their country on the just and true grounds. All, however, were sensible of the real merits of the dispute, which were grounded on the grasping and inordinate ambition of the French ruler, and the sentiments of dislike and irritation with which he seemed to regard Great Britain. The charge of the pretended naval preparations being triumphantly refuted by France, Talleyrand was next employed to place before Lord Whit- worth the means which, in case of a ruptm-e, France possessed of wounding England, not di- rectly indeed, but through the sides of those states of Europe whom she would most wish to see, if not absolutely independeiit, yet unoppressed by military exactions. " It was natural," a note of this statesman asserted, " that Britain being armed in consequence of the King's message, France should arm also — that she sliould send an army into Holland — form an encampment on the fron- tiers of Hanover — continue to maintain troops in Switzerland — march others to the south of Italy, and, finally, form encampments upon the coast." •* All these threats, excepting the last, referred to distant and to neutral nations, who were not alleged to have themselves given any cause of complaint to France ; but who were now to be subjected to military occupation and exaction, because Britain desired to see them happy and independent, and because harassing and oppressing them must be in proportion unpleasiug to her. It was an en- vernmcnt, to acts of exaggeration, violence, and even rage." — FoucHE, torn, i., p. 259. 2 See Extract of a Despatch from Lord Whitworth to Lord Hawkesbury, dated Paris, Feb. 1/ ; Annual Register, vol. xlv.. p. CHX 3 Annual Register, vol. xlv., p. 646. •• Annual Regislcr, vol. xlv.. p. 6!>7- BU SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1803 tii-ely new principle of warlil;e policy, wbicli in- troduced tlie oppression of unoffending and neu- tral neighbours as a legitimate mode of carrying oil war against a hostile power, against whom there was little possibility of using measures directly offensive. Shortly after this note had been lodged, Buona- parte, incensed at the message of the King to Par- liament, seems to have formed the scheme of bring- ing the protracted negotiations betwixt France and PIngland to a point, in a time, place, and manner, equally extraordinary. At a public court held at tlie Tuileries, on the 13th March, the chief consul came up to Lord Whitworth in considerable agi- tation, and observed aloud, and within heai'ing of the circle, — " You are then determined on war 2 " — and, without attending to the disclamations of the English ambassador, proceeded, — " We have been at war for fifteen years — you are determined on hostility for fifteen years more — and you force me to it." ' He then addressed Count Marcow and the Chevalier Azara — " The English wish for war ; but if they draw the sword first, I will be the last to return it to the scabbard. They do not respect treaties, which henceforth we must cover with black crape." '-^ He then again ad- dressed Lord Whitworth — " To what purpose are these armaments ? Against whom do you take these measures of precaution ? I have not a single ship of tlie line in any port in France : But if you arm, I too will take up arms — if you fight, I will fight — you may destroy France, but you can- not intimidate her." " We desire neither the one nor the other," an- swered Lord Whitworth, calmly : " We desii'e to live with her on terms of good intelligence." " You must respect treaties, then," said Buona- parte, sternly. " Woe to those by whom they are not respected ! They will be accountable for the consequences to all Europe." So saying, and repeating his last remark twice over, he retired from the levee, leaving the whole circle surprised at the want of decency and diguity which had given rise to such a scene.-' This remarkable explosion may be easily ex- plained, if we refer it entirely to the impatience of a fiery temper, rendered, by tlie most extraordi- nary train of success, morbidly sensitive to any obstacle which interfered with a favourite plan ; and, doubtless, it is not the least evil of arbitrary power, tliat he who possesses it is naturally tempted to mix up his own feelings of anger, revenge, or mortification, in affairs which ought to be treated under the most calm and irapai'tial reference to the public good exclusively. But it has been averred by those who had best opportunity to know Buo- naparte, that the fits of violent passion which he sometimes displayed, were less the bursts of unre- ' " Nous avons," said he, " dejii fait la piierre pendant quinze ans." As he seemed to wait for an answer, I observed only, " C'en est deja trop." — " Mais," said lie, " vous voulez la iairo encore qiiiiize ann^es ; et vous m'y forcez." — J>ord AVhitwjrth to Lord Hawkesbury ; see Annual Register, vol. xlv., p. G'W. - " lis Me respcctent jias les trait^s : il faut dor(5navant Jes couvrir de crepe i;oir." •* ■' The ambassador made a respectful bow, and gave no replv. The first consul left that part of the saloon ; but whe- ther he had been a little heated by this cxjilosion of ill humour, or from some utlier cause, he ceased liis round, and withdrew to his own apartments. Madame Bu(ina|iarte followed; and in an instant the saloon was cleared of coiiii)anv." — Savarv, tom i., p. ;j(»7. pressed and constitutional irritability, than meanr previously calculated upon to intimidate and astound those with whom he was treating at the time. There may, therefore, have been poUcy amid the first consul's indignation, and he may have recol- lected, that the dashing to pieces Cobentzel's china jar in tlie violent scene which preceded the sign- ing of the treaty of Campo Formio,* was com- pletely successful in its issue. But the condition of Britain was very different from that of Austria, and he might have broken all the porcelain at St Cloud without making tlie slightest impression on the equanimity of Lord Whitworth. This " angry parle," therefore, went for nothing, unless in so far as it was considered as cutting off the faint re- maining hope of peace, and expressing the violent and obstinate temper of the individual, upon whose pleasure, whether originating in judgment or ca- price, the fate of Europe at this important crisis unhappily depended. In England, the interview at the Tuileries, where Britain was held to be in- sulted in the person of her ambassador, and that in the presence of the representatives of all Eu- rope, greatly augmented the general spirit of re- sentment.^ Talleyrand, to whom Lord Whitworth applied for an explanation of the scene which had occur- red, only answered, tliat the first consul, publicly affronted, as he conceived himself, desired to ex- culpate himself in presence of the ministers of all the powers of Europe.^ The question of peace or war came now to turn on the subject of Malta. The retention of this fortress by the English could infer no danger to France ; whereas, if parted with by them under an insecure guarantee, the gre.at probability of its falling into the hands of France, was a subject of the most legitimate jealousy to Britain, who must always have regarded the occu- pation of Malta as a preliminary step to the recap- ture of Egypt. There seemed policy, therefore, in Napoleon's conceding this point, and obtaining for France that respite, which, while it regained her colonies and recruited her commerce, would have afforded her the means of renewing a navy, which had been almost totally destroyed during the war, and consequently of engaging England, at some future and propitious time, on the ele- ment which she called peculiarly her own. It was accordingly supposed to be Talleyrand's opinion, that, by giving way to England on the subject of Malta, Napoleon ought to lull her suspicions to sleep. Yet there were strong reasons, beside the mili- tary character of Buonaparte, which might induce the first consul to bi'eak off negotiation. His empire was founded on the general opinion enter- tained of his inflexibility of purpose, and of his un- varied success, alike in political objects as in the ■* See nnle, p. 247. " It is to be remarked, that all this passed loud enough to be heard by two hundred jjeople who were present ; and I am persuaded that there was not a single person who did not feel the impropriety of the tirst consul's conduct, and the total want of dignity, as well as of decency, on thft occasion." — LoRn WHinvoBTH. ^ " It is utterly incorrect, that any thing oceu.Ted in the course of our interview which was not in conformity with the common rules of decorum. Lord Whitworth himself, after our conference, being in comjiany with other ambassadors, expressed himself perfectly satihtied, and added, that he had no doubt all things would be satisfactorily settled." — Xapo- LEov, Las Casts, toni. iv., p. 157. <* Foi a copy of Napoleon's Instructions to Tal'errand, see Ai>pendi.\ No. IX. 1803.J LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 34; field of liattlc. Were he to concede the principle which England now contested with him in the face of Europe, it would have in a certain degree dero- gated from the pre-eminence of the situation he claimed, as autocrat of the civilized world. In that character he could not recede an inch from jiretensions which he had once asserted. To have allowed that his encroachment on Switzer- land and Piedmont rendered it necessary that he should grant a compensation to England, by con- senting to her retention of Malta, would have been to grant that Britain had still a right to interfere in the affairs of the continent, and to point her out to nations disposed to throw off the French yoke, as a power to whose mediation he still owed some deference. These reasons were not without force in themselves, and, joined to the natural impetuosity of Buonaparte's temper, irrita- ted and stung by tlie attacks in the English papers, haa their weight probably in inducing him to give way to that sally of resentment, by which he en- deavoured to cut short the debate, as he would have brought up his guard in person to decide the fate of a long-disputed action. Some lingering and hopeless attempts were made to carry on negotiations. The English Ministj-y lowered their claim of retaining Malta in perpe- tuity to their right of holding it for ten years. Buonaparte, on the other hand, would listen to no modification of the treaty of Amiens, but offered, as the guarantee afforded by the occupation of Neapolitan troops was objected to, that the garri- son should consist of Russians or Austriaus. To this proposal Britain would not accede. Lord Whitworth left Paris, and, on the 18th May, 1803, Britain declared war against France. Before we proceed to detail the history of this eventful struggle, we must cast our eyes back- wards, and review some events of importance which had happened in France since the couclusion of the treaty of Amiens. CHAPTER XXVI. St. Domingo — The JSegroes split into jiarties under different Chiefs — Toussalnt //' Ourtrture the most distinijuished of these — Appoints a Consular Go- ternment — France sends an Expedition against St. Dumingo, under General Leclerc, in December 1801 — Toussaint submits — lie is sent to France, where he dies — The French are assaulted by the Negroes — Leclerc is succeeded by Rochambcau — '■ The French finally obliged to capitulate to an Fnglish squadron — Buonaparte's scheme to con- solidate his power — The Consular Guard aug- mented — Legion of Honour — Oppiosition formed against the Consular Gorernment — Apjilication to the Count de Provence (^Lviiis XVIll.) When the treaty of Amiens appeared to have restored peace to Europe, one of Buonaparte's first enterprises was to attempt the recovery of the French possessions in the h^rge, rich, and valuable colouv of St. Domingo, the disasters of which island form a terrible episode in the history of the war. The convulsions of the French Revolution had ' " To ci^'e ail idea of tlie indipnation which the first cnn- Bul mnst have felt, it may suffice to mention, that Toussaint not only assumed authority over the colony during his life, hut icrestt'd himself with the ri^ht of naming his successor ; and reached St. Domingo, and, catching like fire to com- bustibles, had bred a violent feud between the white people in the island, and the mulattoes, the latter of whom demanded to be admitted into the privileges and immunities of the former ; the newly established rights of men, as they alleged, having no reference to the distinction of colour. While the whites and the peojile of colour were thus en- gaged in a civil war, the negro slaves, the most oppressed and most numerous class of the popula- tion, rose against both parties, and rendered the whole island one scene of bloodshed 'and conflagra- tion. The few planters who remained invited the support of the British arms, which easily effected a temporary conquest. But the European soldiery perished so fast through the influence of the cli- mate, that, in 1798, the English were glad to abandon an island which had proved the grave of so many of her best and bravest, who liad fallen without a wound, and void of renown. The negroes, left to themselves, divided into different parties, who submitted to the authority of chiefs more or less independent of each other, many of whom displayed considerable talent. Of these, the principal leader was Toussaint L'Ouverture, who, after waging war like a savage, appears to have used the [lower \\ hich victory procured him with much political skill. Although himself a negro, he had the sagacity to perceive how important it was for the civilisation of his subjects, that they should not be deprived of the opportunities of knowledge, and examples of industry, afforded them by the white people. He, therefore, pro- tected and encouraged the latter, and established, as an equitable regulation, that tlie blacks, now freemen, should nevertheless continue to labour the plantations of the white colonists, while the produce of the estate should be divided in certain pro]iortions betwixt the white proprietor and the sable cultivator. '^ ; The least transgressions of these regulations he punished with African ferocity. On one occasion, a white female, the owner of a plantation, had been murdered by tlie negroes by whom it was laboured, and who had formerly been her slaves. Toussaint marched to the spot at the head of a party of his horse-guards, collected the negroes belonging to the plantation, and surrounded them with his black cavalry, who, after a very brief inquiry, received orders' to charge and cut them to pieces; of which order our informant witnessed the execution. His unrelenting rigour, joined to his natural sagacity, soon raised Toussaint to the chief command of the island; and he availed himself of the maritime peace, to consolidate his authority by establishing a constitution on the model most lately approved of in France, which being that of the year Eight, consisted of a consular government. Toussaint failed not, of course, to assume the supreme go- vernment to himself, with power to name his suc- cessor. The whole was a ])arody on the procedure of Buonaparte, w Inch, doubtless, the latter was not highly pleased with ;' for there are many cases in which an imitation by others, of the conduct we ourselves have held, is a matter not of compliment, but of the most severe satire. The constitution of pretended to hold his authority, not from the mother country, hilt from a xni-ilinint coUmvA aiscnihly which he hadcrtaled."" — Napoleom, SlonUwlun, tom. i., 11. JOA 54G SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE AVORKS. [1802-3. St. Domingo was instantly put in force, although, with an ostensible deference to France, the sanc- tion of her Government had been ceremoniously i-equired. It was evident that the African, though not unwilling to acknowledge some nominal de- gree of sovereignty on the part of France, was determined to retain in his own hands the effective government of the colony. But tliis in no respect consisted with the plans of Buonaparte, who was impatient to restore to France those possessions of which the British naval superiority had so long deprived her — colonies, shipping, and commerce.' A powerful expedition was fitted out at the har- bours of Brest, L'Orient, and Rochefort, destined to restore St. Domingo in full subjection to the French empire. The fleet amounted to thirty- four ships bearing forty guns and upwards, with more than twenty frigates and smaller armed vessels. They had on board above twenty thousand men, and Genei-al Leclerc, the brother-in-law of the first consul, was named commander-in-chief of the expedition, having a staff composed of officers of acknowledged skill and bravery. It is said that Buonaparte had the art to employ a considerable proportion of the troops which com- posed the late army of the Rhine, in this distant expedition to an insalubrious climate.''' But he would not permit it to be supposed, that there was the least danger ; and he exercised an act of family authority on the subject, to prove that such were his real sentiments. His sister, the beautiful Pauline, afterwards the wife of Prince Borghese, showed the utmost reluctance to accompany her present husband. General Leclerc, upon the expedition, and only went on board when actually compelled to do so by the positive orders of the first consul, who, although she was his favourite sister, was yet bet- ter contented that she should share the general risk, than, by remaining behind, leave it to be in- ferred that he himself augured a disastrous conclu- sion to the expedition. The armament set sail on the 1 4th of December, 1801, while an English squadron of observation, uncertain of their purpose, waited upon and watch- ed their progress to the West Indies. The French fleet presented themselves beibre Cape Franfois, on the 29th of January, 1802. Toussaint, summoned to surrender, seemed at first inclined to come to an agreement, terrified probably by the great force of the expedition, which lime and the climate could alone afford the negroes any chance of resisting. A letter was delivered to him from the first consul, expressing esteem for ' '•' The party of the colonists was very powerful in Paris : pnWic opinion required the possession of St. DominKO. On the other hand, the first consul was not sorrv to dissipate the aplirehensions of the English, by sending 15,(1(10 men to St. Ilominso. These 15,(]()()men would have succeeded, had it not been for the yellow fever. If Toussaint, Dessalines, and Chris- tophe had chosen to submit, thev would have secured their liberty, rank, and fortune, as we'll as those of the people of their colour : the freedom of the blacks would have been se- curely confirmed."— Napoleon, Mordholun, torn, ii., p. 218. - " The first consul ardently seized the happy opportunity of sending away a great number of ofhcers. formed in the school of Moreau, whose reputation pained him, and whose Influence with the army, if not a subject of alarm, was at least ro him one of restraint and inquietude. ' Well,' said Buona- ,)aiti; to meoncdav, 'vout Jacobins malignantlv say, that they arc the soldiers and friends of Moreau whom I arn sending to perish at St. Domingo ; thev are grumbling maniacs ; let them talk on. "— FoucHK, torn, i., p. 217. •' Anxiety, aje. and a climate too severe f.r his constitution, foon put an end to his days. He died on April -2', Ui(i;i, after his person ; and General Leclerc offered him the most favourable terms, together with the situation of lieutenant-governor. Ultimately, however, Tous- saint could not make up his mind to trust the French, and he determined upon resistance, which he managed with considerable skill. Nevertheless, the well-concerted military operations of the whites soon overpowered for the present the resistance of Toussaint and his followei-s. Chief after chief sur- rendered, and submitted themselves to General Leclerc. At length, Toussaint L'Ouverture himself seems to have despaired of being able to make fur- ther or more effectual resistance. He made his formal submission, and received and accepted L,e- clerc's pardon, imder the condition that he should retire to a plantation at Gonaives, and never leave it without permission of the commander-in-chief. The French had not long had possession of the colony, ere they discovered, or supposed they had discovered, symptoms of a conspiracy amongst tlie negroes, and Toussaint was, on very slight grounds, accused as encouraging a revolt. Under this alle- gation, the only proof of which was a letter, capable of an innocent interpretation, the unfortunate chief was seized upon, with his whole family, and put on board of a vessel bound to France. Nothing offi- cial was ever learned concerning his fate, farther than that he was imprisoned in the Castle of Joux, in Franche Comptc!, where the unhappy African fell a victim to the severity of an Alpine climate,^ to which he was unaccustomed, and the privations of a close confinement. The deed has been often quoted and referred to as one of the worst actions of Buonaparte, who ought, if not in justice, in generosity at least, to h.ave had compassion on the man, whose fortunes bore, in many respects, a strong similai'ity to his own. It afforded but too strong a proof, that though humanity was often in Napoleon's mouth, and sometimes displayed in his actions, yet its maxims were seldom found sufficient to protect those whom he disliked or feared from the fate which tyranny most willingly assigns to its victims, that of being siler.tly removed from the living world, and enclosed in their prison as in a tomb, from which no complaints can be heard, and where they are to await the slow approach of death, like men who are literally buried alive. The perfidy with which the French had con- ducted themselves towards Toussaint, was visitetl by early vengeance. That scourge of Em'opeans, the yellow fever, broke out among their troops, and in an incredible short space of time, swept off General Leclerc,* with many of his best officers a captivity of ten months. His mysterious fate excited grext interest — witness the noble sonnet of Wordsworth : — " Toussaint ! the most unhappy man of men ! Whether the all-cheering sun be free to shed His beams around thee, or thou rest thy hcaa Pillow'd in some dark dungeon's noisome den — O, miserable chieftain ! where and when Wilt thou find patience?— Yet die not; do thou Wear rather in thy bonds a cheerful brow : Though fallen thyself, never to rise again. Live .and take comfort. Thou hast left behind Powers that will work for thee— Air, Earth, and Skiers ; There's not a breathing of the common wind That will forget thee ; thou hast great allies ; Thy friends are E.xultations, Agonies, And Love, and Man's unconquerable Mind." . 4 " Leclerc was an officer of the first merit, equally skilful in the labours of the cabinet and in the manoeuvres of the fi( ln their prisoners, he threw himself among them to prevent their violence. " These men,". he said " are Frenchmen— they are unfortunate — I place them under the guardianship of your honour and your humanity." Such was the princely youth, whose name must now be written in bloody charac- ters in this part of Napoleon's history. Whilst the French princes expected on the frontier the effect of commotions in the interior of France, Pichegru, Georges Cadoudal, and about thirty other Royalists ot the most determined chi racter, were secretly landed in France, made their way to the metropolis, and contrived to find lurk- ing ]ilaces invisible to the all-seeing police. There can be no reason to doubt that a part of those agents, and Georges in particular, saw the great- est obstacle of their enterprise in the existence of Buonaparte, and were resolved to commence by his assassination. Pichegru, who was constantly in company with Geoi'ges, cannot well be suj)posed ignorant of this purpose, although better befitting the fierce chief of a band of Chouans than the con- queror of Holland. In the meantime, Pichegru effected the desired communication with Moreau, then, as we have said, considered as the chief of the discontented mili- tary men, and the declared enemy of Buonaparte. They met at least twice ; and it is certain that on one of these occasions Pichegi'u carried with hira Georges Cadoudal, at whose person and plans Mo- reau expressed horror, and desired that Pichegru would not again bring that irrational savage into his company. The cause of his dislike we must naturally suppose to have been the nature of the measures Georges proposed, being the last to which a brave and loyal soldier like Moreau would wil- lingly have resorted to ; but Buonaparte, when pre- tending to give an exact account of what passed betwixt iloreau and Pichegru, represents the con- duct of the former in a vei-y different point of view. Moreau, according to this account, informed Piche- gi'u, that while the first consul lived, he had not the slightest interest in the army, and that not even his own aides-de-camp would follow him against Napoleon ; but were Napoleon removed, Moreau assured them all eyes would be fixed on himself alone — that he would then become first consul — that Pichegru should be second ; and was proceeding to make farther arrangements, when Georges broke in on their deliberations with fury, accused the generals of scheming their own gran- deur, not the restoration of the king, and declared that to choose betwixt blue and blue, (a phrase by which the Vende'ans distinguished the Republi- cans,) ^ he would as soon have Buonaparte as Moreau at the head of affairs, and concluded by stating his own pretensions to be third consul at least. According to this account, therefore, Moreau was not shocked at the atrocity of Georges' enter- prise, of which he himself had been the first to admit the necessity, but only disgusted at the share which the Chouan chief assorted to himself in the partition of the spoil. But we give no credit what- ever to this story. Though nothing could have been so important to the first consul at the time as to produce proof of Moreau's direct accession to the plot on his life, no such proof was ever brought for- ward ; and therefore the statement, we have little doubt, was made up afterwards, and contains what Buonaparte might think probable, and desire that others should believe, not what he knew from cer- tain information, or was able to prove by credible testimony. The police was speedily alarmed, and in action. Notice had been received that a band of Royalists had introduced themselves into the capital, though it was for some time very difficult to apprehend them. Georges, meanwhile, prosecuted his attempt ' Sce^^Ieraoiics dc Savary, torn ii., p. 52. 1804. LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 3') 7 against the chief consul, and is believed at one time to have insinuated himself in the disguise of a menial into the Tuileries, and even into Buona- parte's apartment ; but without finding any oppor- tunity to strike the blow, which his uncommon strength and desperate resolution might otherwise have rendered decisive. All the barriers were closed, and a division of Buonaparte's guards main- tained the closest watch, to prevent any one esca- ping from the city. By degrees sufficient light was obtained to enable the government to make a com- munication to the public upon the existence and tendency of the conspiracy, which became more especially necessary, when it was resolved to arrest Moreau himself. This took place on tlie 15th February, 1804. He was seized without difficulty or resistance, while residmg quietly at his country- house. On the day following, an order of the day, signed by Murat, then Govei-nor of Paris, announ- ced the fact to the citizens, with the additional in- formation, tliat Moreaii was engaged in a conspi- racy with Pichegru, Georges, and others, who were closely pursued by the police. The news of Moreau's imprisonment produced the deepest sensation in Paris ; and the reports which were circulated on the subject were by no means favourable to Buonaparte. Some disbelieved the plot entirely, while others, less sceptical, con- sidered the chief consul as making a pretext of the abortive attempt of Pichegru and Georges for the purpose of sacrificing Moreau, who was at once his rival in military fame, and the declared oppo- nent of his government. It was even asserted, that secret agents of Buonaparte in London had been active in encouraging the attempts of the original conspirators, for the sake of implicating a man whom the first consul both hated and feared. Of this there was no proof ; but these and other dark suspicions pervaded men's minds, and all eyes were turned with anxiety upon the issue of the legal investigations which were about to take place. * Upon the 17th February, the great judge of police, by a report' which was communicated to the Senate, the Legislative Body, and the Tribu- nate, denounced Pichegru, Georges, and others, as liaving returned to France from their exile, with the purpose of overthrowing the government, and assassinating the chief consul, and implicated ^lo- reau as having held communication with them. When the report was read in the Tribunate, the brother of Moreau arose, and, recalling the merits and services of his relative, complained of the cruelty of calunniiating him without proof, and demanded for him the privilege of an open and public trial. " This is a fine display of sensibility," said Curee, one of the tribunes, in ridicule of the sensation naturally produced by this affecting incident. " It is a display of indignation," replied the bro- ther of Moreau, and left the assembly. The public bodies, however, did what was doubt- less expected of them, and carried to the foot of the consular throne the most exaggerated expres- ' See Annual Resister, vol. xlvi., p. 616. - The passage alluded to is in the Duke of Rovi'o's (Sava- ry'g) Vindication of liis own Conduct At the same time, no traces of such an admission are to be found in the interroga- tions, as |>rmted elsewhere. It is also said, tliat \shcn the duke (then at Ettenheim) first heard of the conspiracy of Pichejini, he alleged that it must have been cm); a pretended sions of their interest in the life and safety of him by whom it was occupied. Meanwhile the vigilance of the police, and the extraordinary means employed by them, accom- plished the arrest of almost all the persons concern- ed in the plot. A false friend, w hom Pichegru had trusted to the highest degree, betrayed his confi- dence for a large bribe, and introduced the gen- darmes into his apartment while he was asleep. They first secured the arms which lay beside him, and then his person,after a severe struggle. Georges Cadoudal, perhaps a yet more important capture, fell into the hands of the police soon after. He had been traced so closely, that at length he dared not enter a house, but spent many hours of the day and night in driving about Paris in a caliriolet. On being arrested, he shot one of the gendarriies dead, mortally wounded another, and had nearly escajjed . from them all. The other conspirators, and those accused of countenancing their enterprise, were arrested to the number of forty persons, who were of very dift'erent characters and conditions ; some followers or associates of Georges, and others be- longing to the ancient nobility. Among the latter were Messrs. Armaud and Jules Polignac, Charles de la Riviere, and other Royalists of distinction. Chance had also thrown into Buonaparte's power a victim of another description. Captain Wright, the commander of a British brig of war, had been engaged in putting ashore on the coast of Morbi- han, Pichegru and some of his companions. Short- ly afterwards, his vessel was captvtred by a French vessel of superior force. Under pretence that his evidence was necessary to the conviction of the French conspirators, he was brought up to Paris, committed to the Temple, and treated with a rigour which became a prelude to the subsequent tragedy. It might have been supposed, that among so many prisoners, enough of victims might have been selected to atone with their lives for the in- surrection which they were accused of meditating • nay, for the attempt which was alleged to be design- ed against the person of the first consul. Most unhappily for his fame, Napoleon thought other- wise ; and, from causes which we shall hereafter endeavour to appreciate, sought to give a fuller scope to the gratification of his revenge, than the list of his captives, though containing several men of high rank, enabled him to accomplish. We have observed, that the residence of the Duke d'Enghien upon the French frontier was to a certain degree connected with the enterprise- un- dertaken by Pichegru, so far as concerned the proposed insurrection of the royalists in Paris. This we infer from the duke's admission, that he resided at Ettenheim in the expectation of having soon a part of importauce to play in France.''' This was perfectly vindicated by his situation and connexions. But that the duke participated in, or countenanced in the slightest degree, the medi- tated attempt on Buonajiarte's life, has never even been alleged, and is contrary to all the proof led itt. the case, and especially to the sentiments im- pressed upon him by his graudfatherj the Prince discovery. " Had there been &uc!i an intriRue in reality," he said, " my father and grandfather would have let me know somethiuf,' of the matter, that 1 might provide for my sufety." It niav he adiU-d, tliat if he had been really engaged in th.it conspir.icv. it i> probable that he would liAve retired from tlie viciriity of the French territory ou the scheme being discg- \eted.— S. oai scorrs miscellaneous prose works. [1804. of Conde.' He lived in groat privacy, and amused liiniself principally with hunting. A pension al- lowed him by England was his only means of support. On the evening of the 14th March, a body of Fi'eneh soldiers and gendarmes, commanded by Colonel Ordenner, acting under the direction of Cauhvincourt, afterwards called Duke of Vicenza, suddenly entered the territory of Baden, a power with whom France was in profound peace, and surrounded the chateau in which the unfortunate prince resided. The descendant of Conde' sprung to his arms, but was pi'evented from using them by one of his attendants, who represented the force of the assailants as too great to be resisted. The soldiers rushed into the apartment, and, presenting their pistols, demanded to know which was the Duke D'Enghien. " If you desire to arrest him," said the Duke, " you ought to have his description in youi" warrant." — " Then we must seize on you all," replied the officer in command ; and the prince, with his little household, were arrested and carried to a mill at some distance from the house, where he was permitted to receive some clothes and necessaries. Being now recognised, he was transferred, with his attendants, to the citadel of Strasburg, and presently afterwards separated from the gentlemen of his household, with the exception of his aid-de-camp, the Baron de St. Jaccpies. He was allowed to communicate with no one. He remained a close prisoner for three days ; but on the 18th, betwixt one and two in the morning, he was obliged to rise and dress himself hastily, being only informed that he w-as about to commence a journey. He requested the attendance of his valet- de-chambre, but was answered that it was unneces- sai'y. The linen which he was permitted to take with him amounted to two shirts only ; so nicely had his worldly wants been calculated and ascer- tained. He was transported with the utmost speed and secrecy towards Paris, where he arrived on the 20th ; and, after having been committed for a few hours to the Temple, was transferred to the an- cient Gothic castle of Vincennes, about a mile fi-om the city, long used as a state prison, but whose walls never received a more illustrious or a more inno- cent victim. There he was permitted to take some repose ; and, as if the favour had only been granted for the purpose of being withdrawn, he was awaked at midnight, and called upon to sustain an inter- rogatory on which his life depended, and to which he replied with the utmost composure. On the ensuing night, at the same dead hour, he was brought before the pretended court. The law en- joined that he should have had a defender ap- i A remarkable letter from t)ie Prince of Condd to the Comte d'Artois, dated 24th .lanuarv, 18(12, <;ontains the follow- ing passage, which we translate literally :— " The Chevalier de Roll will give you an account of what has passed here yester- day. A man of a very simple and gentle exterior arrived the night before, and having travelled, as he affirmed, on foot, from Paris to Calais, had an audience of me about eleven in the forenoon, and distinctly offered to rid us of the usurper by the shortest method possible. I did not give him time to finUli the details of his project, but rejected the proposal with horror, assuring him that you, if present, would do the same. 1 told him, we should always be the enemies of him who had arrogated to himself the power and the throne of our Sove- reign, until he should make restitution : that wc had combated tne usurper by open force, and would do so again if oppor- tunity oftered ; but that we would never employ that species ot means winch only became the Jacobin party; and if that laction should meditate such a crime, assuredly we would not lie thcjr accomiilices." This discourse the prince renewed to pointed to plead his cause. But none such was allotted to him. The inquisitors before whom he was hurried, fonned a military commission of eight officers, having General Hulin as their president. They were, as the proceedings express it, named by Buo- naparte's brother-in-law Murat, then governor of Paris. Though necessarily exhausted with fatigue and want of rest, the Duke d'Enghicn performed in this melancholy scene a part worthy of tlie last descendant of the great Conde'. He avowed hia name and rank, and the share which he had taken in the war against France, but denied aL know- ledge of Pichegrii or of his conspiracy. The inter- rogations ended by his demanding an audience of the chief consul. " My name," he said, " my rank, my sentiments, and the peculiar distress of my situation, lead me to hope that my request will not be refused." The military commissioners paused and hesita- ted — nay, though selected doubtless as fitted for the office, they were even affected by the whole behaviour, and especially by the intrepidity, of the unhappy prince. But Savary, then chief of the police, stood behind the president's chair, and con- trolled their sentiments of compassion. When they proposed to further the prisoner's request of an audience of the first consul, Savary cut the dis- cussion short, by saying, that was inexpedient. • At length they reported their opinion, that the Duke d'Enghien was guilty of having fought against the Republic, intrigued with England, and maintained intelligence in Strasburg, for the purpose of seizing the place ; — great part of which allegations, and especially the last, was in express contradiction to the only proof adduced, the admission, namely, of the prisoner himself. The report being sent to Buonaparte to know his farther pleasure, the court received for answer their own letter, marked with the emphatic words, " Condemned to death." Na- poleon was obeyed by his satraps with Persian devotion. The sentence was pronoimced, alid the prisoner received it with the same intrepid gallantry which distinguished him through the whole of the bloody scene. He requested the aid of a confessor. " Would you die like a monk?" is said to have been the insulting reply. The duke, without noticing the insult, knelt down for a minute, and seemed absorbed in profound devotion. " Let us go,'' he said, when he arose from his knees. All was in readiness for the execution ; and, as if to stamp the trial as a mere mockery, the grave had been prepared ere the judgment of the court was pronounced.* Upon quitting the apartment in which the pretended trial had taken the secret agent in the presence of the Chevalier de Roll, as a confidential friend of the Comte d'Artois, and, finally, advised the man instantly to leave England, as, in case of his being arrested, the prince would affnrd him no countenance or pro- tection. The person to whom the Prince of Conde addressed sentiments so worthy of himself and of his great ancestor, afterwards proved to be an agent of Buonaparte, despatched to sound the opinions of the Princes of the Ilouse of Bourbon, and if possible to imi)licate them in such a nefarious project as should justly excite public indignation against them. — S. 2 Savary has denied this. It is not of much consequence. The illegal arrest— the precipitation of the mock trial— the disconformity of the sentence frrm the proof— the hurry of the execution— all prove that the unfortunate prince was doomed to die long before he was brought before the military commission. — S. — Sec. in Savary's Memoirs, tom. ii., p. 221, the Supplementary Chapter, " On the Catastrophe of the Duke d'Kiiyhieu " "% yyiy?tc^^^^?^£^>. Xk C PLACE. ZKINBtrHG-ii 1804.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. place, the prince was conducted hy torch-light down a winding-stair, which seemed to descend to the dungeons of the ancient castle. " Am I to be immured in an oubliette 1" he said, naturally recollecting the use which had sometimes been made of those tombs for the living. — " No, Monseigneur," answered the soldier he addressed, in a voice interrupted by sobs, " be tranquil on that subject." The stair led to a postern, which opened into the castle ditch, where, as we have already said, a grave was dug, beside which were drawn up a party of the gensdarme d'c'lite. It was near six o'clock in the morning, and day had dawned. But as there was a heavy mist on the ground, several torches and lamps mixed their pale and ominous light with that afforded by the heavens, — a circumstance which seems to have given rise to the inaccurate report, that a lantern was tied to the button of the victim, that his slay- ers might take the more certain aim. Savary was again in attendance, and had taken his place upon a parapet which commanded the place of execu- tion. The victim was placed, the fatal word was given by the future Duke de Rovigo, the party fired, and the prisoner fell. The body, dressed as it was, and without the slightest attention to the usual decencies of sepulture, was huddled into the grave with as little ceremony as common robbers use towards the carcases of the murdered. Paris learned with astonishment and fear .the singular deed which had been perpetrated so near her walls. No act had ever excited more univer- sal horror, both in France and in foreign countries, and none has left so deep a stain on the memory of Napoleon. If there were farther proof neces- sary of the general opinion of mankind on the sub- ject, the anxiety displayed by Savary, Hulin, and the other subaltern agents in this shameful trans- action to diminish their own share in it, or trans- fer it to others, would be sufficient evidence of the deep responsibility to which they felt themselves subjected. There is but justice, however, in listening to the defence which Buonaparte set up for himself when in Saint Helena, especially as it appeared perfectly convincing to Las Cases, his attendant, who, though reconciled to most of his master's actions, had con- tinued to regard the Duke d'Enghien's death as so great a blotupon his escutcheon, that he blushed even when Napoleon himself introduced the subject.' His exculpation seems to have assumed a differ- ent and inconsistent character, according to the audience to whom it was stated. Among his inti- mate friends and followers, he appears to have represented the whole transaction as an affair not of his own device, but which was pressed upon him ' The reasoning and sentiments of Buonaparte on tliis sub- iect are taken from the work of Las Cases, torn, iv., partie /icme, p. 249, where thoy are given at great length.— S. - Napoleon in Kxile, vol. i., p. .335. 3 " The idea of the death of the Duke d'Enghien never cripssed the tirst consul's mind, till he was astonished and con- bunded by the tidings communicated to him by Savary of his execution. The question was not whether he s'lould Vie put to death, but whether he should be put on his tria'. Joseph, Josephine, Cambaceres, Berthier, earnestly expostulated witli the chief magistrate against it. Joseph, who was living at Morfontaine, and transiently in town, on the 2llth of March, the day the Duke d'Enghien was taken a prisoner to Paris, Bpoke to his brother in his behalf, warmly urging the defence of the grandson of the Prince of C'ondt, who, he reminded his brother, had seven times crowned him for as many distinc- tions gained at the Royal School ; to which expostulation the first consul's reply affords a curious proof of tlie state of his by .surprise by his ministers. " I was seated," he said, " alone, and engaged in finishing my coffee, when they came to announce to me the discovery of some new machination. They represented it was time to put an end to such horrible attempts, by washing myself in the blood of one amongst the Bourbons ; and they suggested the Duke d'Enghien as the most proj>er victim." Buonaparte proceeds to say, that he did not know exactly who the Duke d'Engliien was, far less that he resided so near France as to be only three leagues from the Rhine. This was explained. " In that case," said Napoleon, " he ought to be arrested." His prudent ministers had foreseen this conclusion. They had the whole scheme laid, and the orders ready drawn up for Buonaparte's signature ; so that, according to this account, he was hurried into the enormity by the zeal of those about him, or perhaps in consequence of their private views and mysterious intrigues. He also charged Tal- leyrand with concealing from him a letter, '-^ written by the unfortunate prisoner, in which he offered his services to Buonaparte, but which was inter- cepted by the minister. If this had reached him in time, he intimates that he would have spared the prince's life. To render this statement pro- bable, he denies generally that Josephine had interested herself to the utmost to engage him to spare the duke ; although this has been affirmed by the testimony of such as declared, that they received the fact from the Empress's own lips.'' It is unfortunate for the truth of this statement and the soundness of the defence which it contains, that neither Tal'ic; rand, nor any human being save Buonaparte himself, could have the least interest in the death of the Duke d'Enghien. That Napo- leon should be furious at the conspiracies of Georges and Pichegru, and should be willing to avenge the personal dangers he incurred ; and that he should be desirous to intimidate the family of Bourbon, by " washing himself," as he expresses it, " in the blood of one of their House," was much in charac- ter. But that the sagacious Talleyrand should have hurried on a cruel proceeding, in which he had no earthly interest, is as unlikely, as that, if he had desired to do so, he could have been able to elicit from Buonaparte the powers neces-sary for an act of so much consequence, without his master having given the affair, in all its bearings, the most full and ample consideration. It may also be noticed, that besides transferring a part at least of the guilt from himself, Buonaparte might be disposed to gratify his revenge against Talleyrand, by stigma- tizing him, from St. Helena, witli a crime the most odious to his new sovereigns of the House of Bour- bon. Lastly, the existence of the letter above men- mind at the moment. His answer was given by dcclaimins; the following passage from a speech of t'irsar, in Coriieille's tragedy of Lti Mori tie Pumjicc: — ' Votre zele est faux, si seul il redoutait Ce que le monde entier a plcins vceux souhaitait : Et s'il vous a donne ccs craiutes trop subtiles. Qui m'otent tout le fruit de nos gucrrcs civile^, Oil I'honneur seul m'engage, ct que pour terminer Je ne veu.x q>ie celui de vaincre ct pardonner; ()u mes plus dangorcux et plus grands advcrsaires, Sitot qu'ils sont vaincus, ne sont plus ([ue mes frcres; Et mon amliition ne va qu'a ks forcer, Ayant domte leur haine, a vivrc ct m'embrasser. Oh ! combien d'allegrcsse une si triste guerre Aurait-elle laisee dessus toute la tcrre, Si Ton voyait marcher dessus un meme char, Vainqucura dc leur discordc, ct Pompee ct C^ar.'" Joseph Buo.NArAKTH. 3G0 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WOEKS. [1804. tioncd has never been proved, and it is inconsistent witli every thought and sentiment of tlie Duke d'Enghien. It is besides said to have been dated from Strasburg ; and the duke's aide-de-camp, the Baron de St. Jacques, has given his testimony, that lie was never an instant separated from liis patron during liis confinement in that citadel ; and that the duke neither wrote a letter to Buonaparte nor to any one else. But, after all, if Buonaparte had actually proceeded in this bloody matter upon tlic instigation of Talleyrand, it cannot be denied, that, as a man knowing right from wrong, he could not hope to transfer to his counsellor the guilt of the measures which he executed at his reconi- iiicndation. The murder, like the rebellion of Absalom, was not less a crime, even supposing it recommended and facilitated by the unconscientious counsels of a modern Achito]iliel. Accordingly, Napoleon has not chosen to trust to this defence ; but, inconsistently with this pre- tence of being hurried into the measure by Talley- rand, he has, upon other occasions, broadly and boldly avowed that it was in itself just and neces- sai'y ; that the Duke d'Enghien was condemned by the laws, and suffered execution accordingly under tlieir sanction. It is an easy task to show, that even according to the law of France, jealous and severe as it was in its application to such subjects, there existed no right to take the life of the Duke. It is true he ■was an emigrant, and the law denounced the penalty of death against such of these as should return to France with arms in their hands. But the Duke did not so return — nay, his returning at all was not an act of his own, but the consequence of vio- lence exercised on his person. He was in a more favourable case than even those emigi-ants whom storms had cast on their native shore, and whom Buonaparte himself considered as objects of pity, not of punishment. He had indeed born arms against France ; but as a member of the house of Bourbon, he was not and could not be accounted, a subject of Buonaparte, having left the country before his name was heard of ; nor could he bo considered as in contumacy against the state of France, for he, like the rest of the royal family, was specially exehided from the benefits of the amnesty which invited the return of the less dis- tinguished emigrants. The act by which he was trepanned, and brought within the compass of French power, not of French law, was as much a violation of the rights of nations, as the precipita- tion with which the pretended trial followed the arrest, and the execution the trial, was an outrage upon humanity. On the trial no witnesses were produced, nor did any investigation take place, saving by the inteiTogation of the prisoner. What- ever points of accusation, therefore, are not esta- blished by the admission of the duke himself, must be considered as totally unpi'oved. Yet this un- conscientious tribunal not only found their prisoner guilty of having borne arms against the Jlepublic, \\hich he readily admitted, but of having placed himself at tlie head of a party of French emigrants in the pay of England, and carried on machinations for surprising the city of Strasburg ; charges which he himself positively denied, and which were sup- ported by no proof whatever. 1 See Las Cases, torn, iv., p. iC!). Buonaparte, well aware of the total irregularity of the proceedings in this extraordinary case, seems, on some occasions, to have wisely renounced any attempt to defend what he must have been con- vinced was indefensible, and has vindicated his conduct upon general grounds, of a nature well worthy of notice. It seems that, when he spoke of the death of the Duke d'Enghien among his attendants, he always chose to represent it as a case falling under the ordinary forms of law, in which all regularity was observed, and where, though h« might be accused of severity, he could not be charged with violation of justice. This was safe language to hearers from whom he was sure to receive neither objection nor contradiction, and is just an instance of an attempt, on the part of a con- scientiously guilty party, to establish, by repeated asseverations, an innocence which was inconsistent with fact. But with strangers, from whom replies and argument might be expected. Napoleon took broader grounds. He alleged the death of the Duke d'Enghien to be an act of self-defence, a measure of state policy, arising out of the natural rights of humanity, by which a man, to save his own life, is entitled to take away that of another. " I was assailed," he said, " on all hands by the enemies whom the Bourbons raised up against me ; threatened with air-guns, infernal machines, and deadly stratagems of every kind. I had no tribunal on earth to which I could appeal for protection, tlierefore I had a right to protect myself ; and by putting to death one of those whose followers threa- tened my life, I was entitled to strike a salutary terror into the others." ' We have no doubt that, in this argument, which is in the original nuich extended, Buonaparte ex- plained his real motives ; at least we can only add to them the stimulus of f)bstinate resentment, and implacable revenge. But the whole resolves itself into an allegation of that state necessity, which has been justly called the Tyrant's plea, and which has always been at hand to defend, or rather to pal- liate the worst crimes of sovereigns. The prince may be lamented, who is exposed, from civil dis- affection, to the dagger of the assassin, but his danger gives him no right to turn such a weapon even against the individual person by whom it is pointed at him. Far less could the attempt of any violent pai'tisans of the House of Bourbon autho- rize the first consul to take, by a suborned judg- ment, and the most precipitate procedure, the life of a young prince, against whom the accession to the conspiracies of which Napoleon complained had never been alleged, far less proved. In every point of view, the act was a murder ; and the stain of the Duke d'Enghien's blood must remain inde- libly upon Napoleon Buonaparte. ^^'ith similar sophistry, he attempted to daub over the violation of the neutral ten-itory of Baden, which was committed for the purpose of enabling his emissaries to seize the person of his unhappy victim. This, according to Buonaparte, was a wrong which was foreign to tlie case of the Duke d'Enghien, and concerned the sovereign of Baden alone. As that prince never complained of this violation, " the plea," he contended, " could not be used by any other person."'^ This Avas merely speaking as one who has power to do wrong. To Z Sec Las Cases, torn, iv., p. 271 1804.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 3G1 ■vhom was the Duko of Baden to complain, or wliat reparation could he expect by doing so ? He was in the condition of a poor man, wlio suffers injustice at tlie hands of a weahhy neiglibour, because he has no means to go to law, but whose acquiescence under the injury cannot certainly change its cha- racter, or render that invasion just which is in its own character distinct y otherwise. The passage may be marked as showing Napoleon's unhappy predilection to consider public measures not ac- cording to the immutable rules of right and wrong, but according to the opportunities which the weak- ness of one kingdom may afford to the superior strength of another.' It may be truly added, that even the pliant ar- gument of state necessity was far from justifying this fatal deed. To have retained the Duke d'Enghien a prisoner, as a hostage who might be made responsible for the Royalists' abstaining from their plots, might have had in it some touch of policy ; but the murder of the young and gallant prince, in a way so secret and so savage, had a deep moral effect upon the European world, and excited liatred against Buonaparte wherever the tale was told. In the well-known words of Foiiche, the duke's execution was worse than a moral crime — it was a political blunder.''' It had this consequence most unfortunate for Buonaparte, that it seemed to stamp his character as bloody and unforgiving ; and in so far prepared the public mind to receive the worst impressions, and authorised the worst suspicions, when other tragedies of a more mys- terious character followed that of the last of the race of Conde.^ The Duke d'Enghien's execution took place on the 2 1st March; on the 7th April following. Ge- neral Pichegru was found dead in his prison. A black handkerchief was wrapped round his neck, which had been tightened by twisting round a short stick inserted through one of the folds. It was asserted that he had turned this stick with his own hands, until he lost the power of respiring, and then, by laying his head on the pillow, had se- cured the stick in its position. It did not escape the public, that thi-s was a mode of terminating life far more likely to be inflicted by the hands of others than those of the deceased himself. Sur- geons were found, but men, it is said, of small reputation, to sign a report upon the state of the body, in which they affirm that Pichegru had died by suicide ; yet as he must have lost animation and sense so soon as he had twisted the stick to tho point of strangulation, it seems strange he should not have then unclosed his grasp on the fatal tour- niquet, which he used as the means of self-destnic- tion. In that case the pressure must have relaxed, and the fatal purpose have remained unaccom- plished. No human eye could see into the dark recesses of a state prison, but there were not want- ing many who entertained a total disbelief of Pichegru's suicide. It was argued that the first consul did not dare to bring before a public tribu- nal, and subject to a personal interrogatory, a man of Pichegru's boldness and presence of mind — it was said, also, that his evidence would have been decisively favourable to Moreau — that the citizens of Paris were many of them attached to Pichegru's person — that the soldiers had not forgotten his military fame — and, finally, it was reported, that in consideration of these circumstances, it was judged most expedient to take away his life in prison. Public rumour went so far as to name, as the agents in the crime, four of those ilamelukes, of whom Buonaparte had brought a small party from Egypt, and whom he used to have about his person as matter of parade. This last assertion had a strong impression on the multitude, who are accustomed to think, and love to talk, about the mutes and bowstrings of Eastern despotism. But with w ell-informed persons, its improbability threw some discredit on the whole accusation. The state prisons of France nmst have furnished from their officials enough of men as relentless and dexterous in such a connnission as those Eastern strangers, whose unwonted appearance in these gloomy re- gions must have at once shown a fatal pui-pose, and enabled every one to trace it to Buonaparte.* A subsequent catastrophe, of nearly the same kind, increased by its coincidence the dark suspi- cions which arose out of the circumstances attend- ing the death of Pichegru. Captain Wright, from whose vessel Pichegru and his companions had disembarked on the French coast, had become, as we have said, a prisoner of war, his ship being captured by one of much superior force, and after a most desperate defence. Under pretext that his evidence was necessary to the con- viction of Pichegru and Georges, he was brought to Paris, and lodged a close prisoner in the Temple. It must also be mentioned, that Captain Wright had been an officer under Sir Sidney Smith, and that the mind of Buonaparte was tenaciously re- ' See, in the Appendix, No. X., " Further Particulars CON'CER.MNG THE ARREST, ThlAl,, AND DkATH OF THE DuKE D'E.N'GMEN." 2 " 1 was not the person who hesitated to express himself with tlie least restraint, respecting this violence against the rights of nations and humanity. ' It is more than a crime,' I said, ' it is a political blunder ;' words which I record, because they have been repeated and attributed to others." — Folche, torn, i., p. 266. \3 " I deplore as much as any man can possibly do, the ca- tastrophe of the Duke d'Knghien ; but as Napoleon has'him- Eelf spoken of it, it does not become me to add another word. I shall only observe, that this aft'air is far from having lieen cleared up— that it was impossible that my brother should have brought tlie prince to Paris to be immolated— that he who established a K.urhon in Tuscany, had quite a contrary design, and one which could but be favourable; else why cause so distinguished a prince to make a journey to Paris, when liis presence in traversing France could but be danger- ous? If it be asked, why the commendable design attributed to Napoleon was not followed u\>, and was so cruelly changed, 1 cannot explain: but I am i)ersuaded that imjjartii; history will one day reveal this secret."— Louis buo.NAi'AKTE, p. 4u. < " M. dc Bourrienne does not scruple to charge with a frightful crime the man whom he calls the friend of his youth, in whose service he had been for years, and by whom he sought to be again em))loyed, as long as fortune was on his side. In my conscience, 1 believe there never exisied a man less capable of committing such a crime than Napoleon; yet it is he whom the schooltellow of lirienne dares to ac"use. On the morning of Pichegru's death, 1 was in the first consul ■ cabinet in the i uileries, searching for some ])apers, when Sa- lary was announced, and 1 heard him detail the particulars of the suicide, precisely as they were afterwards published. 1 read on Naiioleon's countenance the surprise which the event created, and little imagined that there were men so base as to charge him with so detestable and uncalled-for a murder; for the meeting between Pichegru and Moreau had been fully established."- Joskph 1Uo\ai aktk.— " What ad- vantage could accrue to me from Pichegru's assassination?— a man who was evidently guilty, against whom every proof was ready, and whose condemnation was ceitain. The lact is, that i.e found himself in a hopeless situation; his high mind could not bear to contemiilatc the infamy ot a public execution, he despaired of my clemency, or disdained to ap- peal to it, and put an end to his existence." — Napoleon, Las CciJVi, torn, iv., p. SOH. )C,-2 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. ri804. tentive of animosity against those who had aided 10 withstand a darling purpose, or diminisli and obscure tlie military renown, whicli was jet more dear to him. The treatment of Captain Wright was — must liave been severe, even if it extended no farther than solitary imprisonment ; but reports went abroad, that torture was employed to bring the gallant seaman to such confessions as niiglit Buit the purposes of the French Government. This lielief became very general, when it was heard that Wright, like Pichegru, was found dead in his apartment, with his throat cut from ear to ear, the result, according to the account given by Govern- ment, of his own impatience and despair. This official account of the second suicide committed by a state prisoner, augmented and confirmed the opinions entertained concerning the death of Piche- gru, which it so closely resembled. The unfortunate Captain Wright was supposed to have been sacri- ficed, partly perhaps to Buonaparte's sentiments of petty vengeance, but chiefly to conceal, withiu the walls of the Temple, the evidence which his person would have exhibited in a public court of justice, of the dark and cruel practices by which confession was sometimes extorted. Buonaparte always alleged his total ignorance concerning the fate of Pichegru and Wright, and affirmed upon all occjfsions, that they perished, so far as he knew, by their own hands, and not by those of assassins. No proof has ever been produ- ced to contradict his assertion ; and so far as he is inculpated upon these heads, his crime can be only matter of strong suspicion. But it was singular that this rage for suicide should have thus infected the state prisons of Paris, and that both these men, determined enemies of tlie Emperor, should have adopted the resolution of putting themselves to death, just when that event was most convenient to their oppressor. Above all, it must be confessed, that, by his conduct towards the Duke d'Enghien, Buonaparte had lost that fairness of character to which he might otiierwise have appealed, as in itself an answer to the presumptions fcn-med against him. The man who, under pretext of state neces- sity, ventured on sucli an open violation of the laws of justice, ought not to complain if he is judged capable, in every case of suspicion, of sacrificing the rights of humanity to his passions or his inte- rest. He himself has affirmed, that Wright died long before it was announced to the public, but has given no reason why silence was preserved with respect to the event.' The Dnke de Rovigo, also denying all knowledge of Wright's death, acknow- ledges that it was a dark and mysterious subject, and intimates liis belief that Fouche was at the bottom of the tragedy.''' In Fouche's real or pre- tended ]\Iemoirs, the subject is not mentioned. We leave, in the obscurity in which we found it, a dreadful tale, of which tlie truth cannot, in all pro- bability, be known, until the secrets of all hearts shall be laid open. Rid of Pichegru, bj' his own hand or his jailor's, Buonaparte's government was now left to deal with ' See Napoleon in Exile, vol. ii., p. 21.5. _ 2 ■• When, as ministerof the ]i(ilicc, tlio source? of informa- tion were ojieM to me, I ascertained that \Vri;;IU cut his thro.Tl In despair, after reading tlie ai-cnmit of the ca]iitnlatinn nf the Austrian seiieral, .Mack, at I'ltn, tliat is. wliile Napoleon vas en'.;a,!;ed in the campaign of Austerlitz- Can any one, in tat-t. wulioul alike insulting common sense and glory, admit Georges and his comrades, as well as with Moreau. With the first it was an easy task, for the Chouan chief retained, in the court of criminal justice be- fore which he was conveyed, the same fearless tone of defiance which he had displayed from the beginning. He acknowledged that lie came to Paris for the sake of making war personally on Napoleon, and seemed only to regret his captivity, as it had disconcerted his enterprise. He treated the judges with cool contem))t, and amused himself by calling Thuriot, who conducted the process, and who had been an old Jacobin, by the name of Monsieur Tue-Roi. There was no difficulty in obtaining sentence of death against Georges and nineteen of his associates ; amongst whom was Ar- mand de Polignac, for whose life his brother affec- tionately tendered his own. Arniand de Polignac, however, with seven others, were pardoned by Buonaparte ; or rather banishment in some cases, and imprisonment in other.s, were substituted for a capital punishmoiit. Georges and the rest were executed, and died with the most determined firm- ness. The discovery and suppression of this conspiracy seems to have produced, in a great degree, the effects expected by Buonaparte. The Royal party became silent and submissive, and, but that their aversion to the reign of Napoleon show(-d itself in lampoons, satires, and witticisms, which were cir- culated in their evening parties, it could hardly have been known to exist. Offers were made to Buonaparte to rid him of the remaining Bourbons, in consideration of a large sum of money ; but with better judgment than had dictated his conduct of late, he rejected the proposal. His interest, he was now convinced, would be better consulted by a line of policy which would reduce the e.xiled family to a state of insignificance, than by any rash and violent proceedings, which must necessarily draw men's attention, and, in doing so, were likely to interest them in behalf of the sufferer.?, and animate them against their powerful oppressor. With this purpose, the names of the exiled family were, shortly after this period, carefully suppressed in all periodical publication.s, and, with one or two exceptions, little allu.sion to their existence can be traced in the pages of the official journal of France ; and, unquestionably, the policy was wisely adopted towards a people so light, and animated so intensely with the interest of the moment, as the French, to whom the present is a great deal, the future much less, and the past nothing at all. Though Georges's part of the consph-aey was disposed of thus easily, the trial of Moreau involved a much more dangerous task. It was found impos- sible to procure evidence against him, beyond his own admission that he had seen Pichegru twice ; and this admission was coupled with a positive denial that he had engaged to be jiarticipant in his schemes. A majority of the judges seemed dis- posed to acquit him entirely, but were cautioned by the pi-esident Heniart, that, by doing so, they that the Emperor had attached so miich importance to the (Ustrnction of a scurvy lieutenant of the Enijlish navy, as to send from one of his most RJorious fields of battle the order for his destruction? It has heen added, th.nt it was I wlio received from him this commission : now 1 never quitted hira for a single day dnrins the whole campaign, from his liepar- tnre from Paris till his return."— Sayahv, torn. ii.. p. (il. 1S04.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 3G3 would force the govern incnt upon violent measures. Adopting this hint, and willing to compromise matters, they declared Moreaii guilty, but not to the extent of a capital crime. He was subjected to imprisonment for two yeai's ; but the soldiers con- tinuing to interest themselves in his fate, Fouche', who about this time was restored to the adminis- tration of police, interceded warmly in his favour,' and seconded the applications of Madame Moreau, for a commutation of her husband's sentence.^ His doom of imprisonment was therefore exchanged for that of exile ; a mode of punishment safer for Moreai;, considering the late incidents in the pri- sons of state ; and more advantageous for Buona- parte, as removing entirely from the thoughts of the republican party, and of the soldiers, a leader, whose military talents brooked comparison with his own, and to whom the public eye would natu- j'ally be turned when any cause of discontent with their present government might incline them to look elsewhere. Buonaparte thus escaped from the consequences of this alarming conspiracy ; and, like a patient whose disease is brought to*a. favour- able ci'isis by the breaking of an imposthume, he attained additional strength by the discomfiture of those secret enemies. CHAPTER XXIX. General Indhjnat'wn of Europe in consequence of the Murder of the Duke d'Enghien— Russia com- jilains to Talleyrand of the Violation of Baden — and, alouij with IStceden, Remonstrates in a Note laid before the German Diet — hut withoiit effect — Charges brought by Buonaparte against Mr. Drake and Mr. Spencer Smith — who are accord- ingly Dismissed from the Courts of Stuttgard and Munich — Seizure — Imp>risonment — and Dismis- sal — ()/ Sir George Rumbold, the British Envoy at Lou'er Saxony — Treachery attempted against Lord Elgin, by the Agents of Buonaparte — Details — Defeated by the Exemj>lary Prudence of that Nobleman. — These Charges brought before the House of Commons- — and peremptorily Denied by the Chancellor of the Exchequer. BuoxAPARTE, as We liave seen, gained a great accession of power by the event of Pichegru's con- spiracy. But this was, in some measure, counter- balanced by the diminution of character which attached to the kidnapping and murdering the Duke d'Enghien, and by the foul suspicions arising from the mysterious fate of Pichegru and Wright. He possessed no longer the respect which might be claimed by a victor and legislator, but had dis- tinctly shown that either the sudden tempest of ungoverned passion, or the rankling feelings of per- sonal hatred, could induce him to take the readiest means of wreaking the basest, as well as the blood- iest vengeance. Deep indignation was felt through every country on the Continent, though Russia and Siveden alone ventured to express their dis- satisfaction with a proceeding so contrary to the law of nations. The court of St. Petersburg went 1 Memoires de Firacli^, torn, i., p. 2fi7- 2 " 1 was the person whom tlie first consul sent to liini in the Temple to communicate his consent, and to make ar- ranpements with him for liis (ic]>arture. I gave him my own carriage, and tlie first consul paid all the expanses of liis into state mourning ;or the Duke d'Enghien, and while the Russian minister at Paris presented a note to M. Talleyrand, complaining of the violation of the Duke of Baden's territory, the Russian resi- dent at Ratisbon was instructed to lay before the Diet of the Empire a remonstrance to the sam« effect. The Swedish minister did the same. The answer of the French minister was hostile and offensive.' He treated with scorn the jirctensions of Russia to interfere in the affairs of France and Germany, and accused that power of being desirous to rekindle the flames of war in Europe. This correspondence tended greatly to inflame the dis- contents already subsisting betwixt France and Russia, and was one main cause of again engaging France in war with that powerful enemy. The Russian and Swedish remonstrance to tlie Diet produced no effect. Austria was too much depressed, Prussia was too closely leagued with France to be intiuenced by it ; and there were none of the smaller powers who could be expected to provoke the displeasure of the first consul, by seconding the complaint of the violation of the ter- ritory of Baden. The blood of the Duke d'Enghien was not, howevei', destined to sleep tmavenged in his obscure dwelling. The Duke of Baden himself requested the matter might be left to silence and oblivion ; but many of the German potentates felt as men, what they dared not, in their hour of weak- ness, resent as princes. It was a topic repeatedly and efficaciously resumed whenever an opportunity of resistance against the universal conqueror pre- sented itself ; and the perfidy and cruelty of the whole transaction continued to animate new ene- mies against him, until, in the issue, they became strong enough to work his overthrow. From the various and in(!onsistent pleas which Buonaparte set up in defence of his conduct — now attempting to justify, now to apologize for, now to throw on others a crime which he alone had means and interest to commit, it is believed that he felt the death of the Duke d'Enghien to be the most reprehensible as well as the most impolitic act in his life. Already aware of the unpopularity which at- tached to his late cruel proceedings, Buonaparte became desirous to counterbalance it by filling the public mind with a terrific idea of the schemes of England, which, in framing and encouraging at- tempts upon his life, drove him to those unusual and extraordinary acts, which he desired to repi-e- sent as measures of retaliation. Singular manoeu- vres were resorted to for the purpose of confirming the opinions which he was desirous to imjiress upon the world. The imprudence — so, at least, it seems — of Mr. Drake, British resident at Munich, enabled Buonaparte to make his charges against England with some speciousness. This agent of the British Government had maintained a secret correspond- ence with a person of infamous character, called Mehee de la Touche, who, affecting the sentiments of a Royalist and enemy of Buonaparte, was, in fact, employed by the first consul to trepan Mr. Drake into expressions which might implicate the English ministers, his constituents, and furnish journey to Barcelona. The nenoral expressed a wi-.h to see -Madame Mnreau; 1 went myself to fetch her, and brougiit her to the i'emple."— Savakv, torn, ii., p. UG. 3 See Annual Rigislcr, vol. xlvi., pp. 642 ftjG. 3G4 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1804. gixTunds for tlio accusations which Buonaparte made against them. It certainly apj)ears that Mr. Drake endeavoured, by the medium of de la Touche, to contrive the means of effecting an insurrection of the Royalists, or other enemies of Buonaparte, with whom his country >\as then at war ; and, in doing so, lie acted according to the practice of all belligerent powers, who, on all occa- sions, are desirous to maintain a communication with such malecontents as may exist in the hostile nation. But, unless by the greatest distortion of phrase and expression, there arises out of the let- ters not the slightest room to believe that Mr. Drake encouraged the party "itli whom he sup- posed himself to be in correspondence, to proceed by the mode of assassination, or any others that are incompatible with the law of nations, and ac- kn(.wledged by civilized governments. The error of Mr. Drake seems to have been, that he was not sufficiently cautious respecting the sincerity of the person with whom he maintained his intercourse. Mr. Spencer Smith, the British envoy at Stuttgard, was engaged in a similar intrigue, which appears also to have been a snare spread for him by the French Government. Buonaparte failed not to make the utmost vise of these pretended discoveries, which were promul- gated with great form by Regnier,' who held the office of grand judge. He invoked the faith of na- tions, as if the Duke d'Enghien had been still resid- ing in peaceable neutrality at Ettenheim, and ex- claimed against assassination, as if his state dun- geons could not have whispered of the death of Pichegru. The complaisant sovereigns of Stutt- gard and Munich readily ordered Smith and Drake to leave their courts ; and the latter was forced to depart on foot, and by cross-roads,' to avoid being kidnapped by the French gendarmes. The fate which Mr. Drake dreaded, and perhaps narrowly escaped, actually befell Sir George Rum- bold, I'esident at the free German city of Hamburgh, in the capacity of his British Majesty's envoy to the Circle of Lower Saxony. On the night of the 25th October, he was seized, in violation of the rights attached by the law of nations to the persons of ambassadoi's, as well as to the territories of neu- tral countries, by a party of the French troops, who crossed the Elbe for that purpose. The envoy, with his papers, was then transferred to Paris in the capacity of a close prisoner, and thrown into the fatal Temple. The utmost anxiety was excited even amongst Buonaparte's ministers, lest this ini- pi'isonment should bo intended as a prelude to fui'- ther violence ; and both Fouche and Talleyrand exerted i/hat influence they possessed over the mind of Napoleon, to prevent the proceedings which were to be appreliended. The King of Prussia also extended his powerful interposition ; and the result was, that Sir George Rumbold, after two days' im- prisonment, was dismissed to England, on giving his parole not to retui-n to Hamburgh. It seems probable, although the Moniteur calls this gentle- man the worthy associate of Drake and Spencer Smith, and speaks of discoveries amongst liis papers which were to enlighten the public on the policy of England, that nothing precise was alleged against 1 For the First and Second Reports nf tlie Grand Judge to the hirst Consul, on the alkscd CoMsiiiiacios against him, see Aunual Kcgister, vol. xlvi,, pp. GIO 622. him, even to palliate the outrage which the French ruler had committed. The tenor of Buonaparte's conduct in another instance, towards a British nobleman of distinction, though his scheme was rendered abortive by the sagacity of the noble individual against whom it was directed, is a striking illustration of the species of intrigue practised by the French police, and en- ables us to form a correct judgment of the kind of evidence upon which Buonaparte brought forward his calumnious accusation against Britain and her subjects. The Earl of Elgin, lately ambassador of Grent Britain at the Porte, had, contrary to the u.sage among civilized nations, been seized u])on with his family as he passed through the French territory ; and during the period of which we are treating, he was residing upon his parole near Pan, in the south of France, as one of the Dttenus. Shortly after the arrest of Morcau, Georges, &c., an order ai-rived for committing his lordship to close custody, in re- prisal, it w-as said, of severities exercised in Eng- land on the French General Boyer. The truth was, that the affair of General Boyer had been sa- tisfactorily explained to the French Government. In the Parisian papers, on tlie contrary, his lord- ship's imprisonment was ascribed to barbarities which he was said to have instigated against the French prisoners of war in Turkey — a charge to- tally without foundation. Lord Elgin was, how- ever, transferred to the strong castle of Lourdes, situated on the descent of the Pyrenees, where the commandant received him, though a familiar ac- quaintance, with the reserve and coldness of an entire stranger. Attempts were made by this gen- tleman and his lieutenant to exasperate the feelings which must naturally agitate the mind of a man torn from the bosom of his family, and committed to close custody in a remote fortress, where the ac- commodation was as miserable as the castle itself was gloomy, strong, and ominously secluded from the world. They failed, however, in extracting from their prisoner any expressions of violence or impatience, however warranted by the usage to which he was subjected. After a few days' confinement, a sergeant of the guard delivered to Lord Elgin a letter, the writer of which informed him, that, being his fellow pri- soner, and confined in a secluded dungeon, he re- gretted he could not wait on his lordship, but that when he walked in the court-yard, he could have conversation with him at the window of liis room. Justly suspecting this commmiication. Lord Elgin destroyed the letter ; and while he gave the ser- geant a louis-d'or, told him, tliat if he or any of his comrades should again bring him any secret letter or message, he would inform the commandant of the circumstance. Shortly afterwards, the com- mandant of the fijrtress, in conversation with Lord Elgin, spoke of the prisoner in question as a person whose health was suffering for want of e.xerci.se ; and next day his lordship saw the individual walk ing in the court-yard before liis window. He manifested every disposition to engage his lord- ship in conversation, which Lord Elgin successfully avoided. A few weeks afterwards, and not till he had been subjected to several acts of severity and vexation, Lord Elgin was permitted to return to Pau. But he was not yet extricated from the nets in which it 1804.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPATITE. 3G5 was the fraudulent jiolicy of the French Govern- | nient to involve him. Tlic female, who acted as [ porter to his lordship's lodjj;inuh\ic /elcs without animation, and without joy." — Fouche, torn, i., p. 272. 2 Fouch^, torn, ii., p. 280. ■• " I'he Emperor went to meet the Pope on the road to Nemour§ To avoid ceremony, tlie pretext of a hunting party was assumed: the attendants, with his equipages, were in the forest. The Emperor came on horseback, and in a hunting dress, with his retinue. It was at the half moon at the top of the hill that the meeting took place. There the Pope's car- riage drew up ; he got out at the left door in his white cos- tume ; the ground was dirty ; he did not I'.ke to step upon it with his white silk shoes, but was le, whom, from the midst of camps, I first saluted with tiic name of Grkat. From my youtli, my thouslits have been solely fixed upon them, and 1 must add here, that my pleasures and my VOL. n. 3Gy against the proposition. The vice-president, Neuf- chateau, declared, " this report was the unbiassed expression of the people's choice. No government could plead a title more authentic."* This was the established lajiguage of fbe day ; but when the orator went farther, and mentioned the measure now adopted as enabling Buonaparte to guide into port the vessel of the ItpuUk, one would have thought there was more irony than compliment in the expression. Napoleon replied, by promises to employ the power which the imanimous consent of the Senate, the people, and the army, had conferred upon liiiu, for the advantage of that nation which he himself, writing from fields of battle, had first saluted with the title of the Great. He promised, too, in name of his Dynasty, that liis children should long pre- serve the throne, and be at once the first soldiers in the army of France, and the first magistrates among her citizens.^ As every word on such an occasion was scrupu- lously sifted and examined, it seemed to some that this promise, which Napoleon volunteered in be- half of children who had as yet no existence, inti- mated a meditated change of consort, since from his present Empress he had no longer any hope of issue. Others censured the prophetic tone in which he announced what would be the fate and conduct of unborn beings, and spoke of a reign, newly commenced, under the title of a Dynasty, which is usually applied to a race of successive princes. We pause for a moment to consider the act of popular accession to the new government ; because there, if any where, we are to look for something like a legal right, in virtue of which Napoleon might claim obedience. He himself, when plead- ing his own cause after his fall, repeatedly rests his right to be considered and treated as a legitimate monarch, upon the fact, that he was called to the crown by the voice of the people.^ We will not stop to inquire how the registers, in which the votes of the citizens were enrolled, were managed by the functionaries who had the charge of them ; — it is only necessary to state in passing, that these returning officers were in gene- ral accessible to the influence of government, and that there was no possibility of instituting any scrutiny into the authenticity of the returns. Nei- ther will we repeat, that instead of waiting for the event of the popular vote, he had accepted of the empire from the Senate, and had been proclaimed Emperor accordingly. Waving those circum- stances entirely, let it be remembered, that France is usually reckoned to contain upwards of thirty millions of inhabitants, and that three millions five pains are derived entirely from the happiness or misery of rny peo]ile. Jly descendants shall long preserve this throne ; in the camps.'thcy will be the first soldiers of the army, s.icri ficing their lives in the defence of their country. As magis- trates, they will never forget that the contenijit of the laws, and the confusion of social order, are only the result of the inibe.'ility and unsteadiness of princes. Von, senators. wlio.<.c counc Is and support have never f.iiled me in the most difficult circumstances; your spirit will be handed down to your suc- cessors. Be ever the props and first counsellors of that throne, so ueccss.ary to the welfare of this vast empire." P " If 1 was not a legitimate sovereign, William the Tliird was a usurper of the throne of England, as he was broucht in cliiefiv by the aid of foreign bayonets. George the First was placed on the throne bv a faction, composed of a few nobles. 1 was called to that of Prance by the vi tes of nearly four niil- lioub of Ficiiclimcn." -Nai"oi.ko.\', /'wi'cv, &C., vol.'ii , p. US -2b 370 SCOTT'S IvnSCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1804. hundred thousand, only gave their votes. This was not a third part, deducing women and children, of those who had a title to express their opinion, where it was to be held decisive of the greatest change whicli the state could undergo ; and it must be allowed that the authority of so limited a por- tion of the people is far too small to bind the re- mainder. We have heard it indeed argued, that the question having been formally put to the na- tion at large, every one was under an obligation to make a specific reply ; and they who did not vote, must be held to have acquiesced in the opinion ex- pressed by the majority of such as did. This argu- ment, being directly contrary to the presumption of law in all similar cases, is not more valid than the defence of the soldier, who, accused of having stolen a necklace from an image of the Virgin, re- plied to the charge, that he had first asked the Madonna's permission, and, receiving no answer, had taken silence for consent. In another point of view, it must be remembered that this vote, by which Napoleon claimed the ab- solute and irredeemable cession of the liberties of France in his favoui", was not a jot more solemn than those by which the people had previously sanctioned the Constitutional Monarchy of 1701, the Republic of 1792, the Directory of 1795, and the Consular Government of 1799. Now, either the vote upon all those occasions was binding and permanent, or it was capable of being denied and recalled at the pleasure of the people. If the for- mer was the case, then the people had no right, in 1804, to resume the votes they had given, and the oaths they had sworn, to the first form of govern • ment in 1791. The others which they sanctioned in its stead, were in consequence, mere usurpations, and that now attempted the most flagrant of all ; since three constitutions, each resting on the popu- lar consent, were demolished, and three sets of oaths broken and discarded, to make room for the present model. Again, if the people, in swearing to one constitution, retained inalienably the right of substituting another whenever they thought pro- per, the imperial constitution remained at their mercy as much as those that preceded it ; and then on what could Buonaparte rest the inviolability of his authority, guarded with such jealous precaution, and designed to descend to his successors, without any future appeal to the people? The dynasty which he supposed himself to have planted, was in that case not the oak-tree which he conceived it, but, held during the good pleasure of a fickle peo- ple, rather resembled the thistle, whose unsubstan- tial crest rests upon the stalk only so long as the "ftind shall not disturb it. But we leave these considerations; nor do we Btop to inquire how many, amid the three millions and upwards of voters, gave an unwilling signa- ture, which they would have refused if they had dared, nor how many more attached no greater consequence to the act than to a piece of formal complaisance, which every government expected in its turn, and whicli bound tlie subject no longer than the ruler had means to enforce his obedience. Another and more formidable objection remains behind, which pervaded the whole pretended sur- render by the French nation of their liberties, and rendered it void, null, and without force or effect whatever. It was, from the commencement, wliat jui-ists tall a pactum in illicito: — tba people gave that which they had no right to surrender, and Buonaparte accepted that which he had no title to take at their hands. In most instances of despotic usurpation-^we need only look at the case of Csesar — the popular party have been made the means of working out their own servitude ; the go- vernment being usurped by some demagogue who acted in their name, and had the art to make their own hands the framers of their own chains. But though such consent on the part of the people, elicited from an excess of partial confidence or ol gratitude, may have rendered such encroachments on the freedom of the state more easy, it did not and could not render it in any case more legal. The rights of a free people are theirs to enjoy, but not theirs to alienate or surrender. The people are in this respect like minors, to whom law as- sures their property, but invests them with no title to give it away or consume it ; the national privi- leges are an estate entailed from generation to ge- neration, and they can neither be the subject of gift, exchange, nor surrender, by those who enjoy the usufruct or temporary possession of them. No man is lord even of his person, to the effect of sur- rendering his life or limbs to the mercy of another ; the contract of the Merchant of Venice would now be held null from the beginning in any court of justice in Europe. But far more should the re- port of 1804, upon Buonaparte's election, be es- teemed totally void, since it involved the cession on the part of the French people of that which ought to have been far more dear to them, and held more inalienable, than " the pound of flesh nearest the heart," ^ or the very heart itself. As the people of France had no right to resign their own liberties, and that of their posterity, for ever, so Buonaparte could not legally avail himself of their prodigal and imprudent cession. If a blind man give a piece of gold by mistake instead of a piece of silver, he who receives it acquires no legal title to the surplus value. If an ignorant man enter unwittingly into an illegal compact, his signature, though voluntary, is not binding upon him. It is true, that Buonaparte had rendered the highest services to France by his Italian cam- paigns in the first instance, and afterwards by that wonderful train of success which followed his return from Egypt. Still the services yielded by a subject to his native land, like the duty paid by a child to a parent, cannot render him creditor of the country, beyond the amount which she has legal means of discharging. If France had recei- ved the highest benefits from Buonaparte, she had in retui-n raised him as high as any subject could be advanced, and had, indeed, in her reckless pro- digality of gratitude, given, or suffered him to assume, the vei'y despotic authority, which this compact of which we treat was to consolidate and sanction under its real name of Empire. Here, therefore, we close the argument ; concluding the pretended vote of the French people to be totally null, both as regarding the subjects who yielded their privileges, and the emperor who accepted of their surrender. The former could not give away rights which it was not lawful to resign, the Utter could not accept an authority which it was unlaw- ful to exercise. An apology, or I'ather a pallintion of Buona* ' Merchant of Venice, act iy., scene 1. 1805.] LIFE OF NArOLEQN BUONAPARTE. 371 partc's usurpation, has been set up by linnsclf and liis move ardent admirers, and we are desirous of n-iving to it all the weight which it shall be found to deserve. They have said, and with great reason, that Buonaparte, viewed in his general conduct, was no selfish usui'per, and that the mode in which he acquired his power nas gilded over by the use which he made of it. This is true ; for we will not luider-rate the merits which Napoleon thus acquir- ed, by observing that shrewd politicians have been of opinion, that sovereigns who have only a ques- tionable right to their authority, are compelled, were it but for their own sakes, to govern in such a manner as to make the country feel its advantage in submitting to their government. We grant willingly, that in much of his internal administra- tion Buonaparte showed that lie desired to have no advantage separate from that of France ; that he conceived her interests to be connected with his own glory ; that he expended his wealth in orna- menting the empire, and not upon objects more im- mediately personal to himself. We liave no doubt that he had more pleasure in seeing ti'easures of art added to the Museum, than in h.anging them on the walls of his own palace ; and that he spoke trulv, when asserting that he grudged Josephine the expensive plants with which she decorated her residence at ilalniaison, because her taste inter- fered with the prosperity of the public botanical garden of Paris.^ We allow, therefore, that Buonaparte fully identified himself with the country which he had rendered his patrimony ; and that while it should be called by his name, he was desirous of investing it with as much external splendour, and as much internal prosperity as his gigantic schemes were able to compass. No doubt it may be said, so completely was the country iden- tified with its ruler, that as France had nothing but what belonged to its Emperor, he ^\■as in fact im- proving his own estate when he advanced her pub- lic works, and could no more be said to lose sight of his own interest, than a private gentleman does, who neglects his garden to ornament his park. But it is not fair to press the motives of human nature to their last retreat, in which something like a taint of self-interest may so often be discovered. It is enough to reply, that the selfishness which embra- ces the interests of a whole kingdom, is of a kind so liberal, so extended, and so refined, as to be closely allied to patriotism ; and that the good in- tentions of Buonaparte towards that France, over which he ruled with despotic sway, can be no more doubted, than the affections of an arbitrary father whose object it is to make his son prosperous and happy, to which he annexes as the only condition, that he shall be implicitly obedient to every tittle of his will. The misfortune is, however, that arbi- trary power is in itself a faculty, which, whether exercised over a kingdom, or in the bosom of a 1 Las Cases, torn, vii., p. 120. 2 " The Emperor conBtantlv insisted on subjectinR the whole nation to the laws of the conscriiition. ' The conscription,' he said, ' is the root of a nation, its moral purificatimi, the real foundation of its habits. Orf;anixcd, built u\> in tliis way, the French people might have defied the world, and might with justice have renewed the saying of the i)roud Gauls: ' If the sky should fall, we will keep it up with our lances.'".— Las Cases, torn, vii., p. Dfi. 3 " Wc soon perceived that Napoicon meditated a great diversion. Wlien he mentioned in council hi« idea of toing to be crowned King of Italy, we all told liini he would i)ro- vfike a new continental war. ' I must have battles and triumphs, replied he. And ytt he did not iela.\ his prepu- family, is apt to be used with caprice rather than judgment, and becomes a snare to those who pos- sess it, as well as a burden to those over whom it extends. A father, for example, seeks the hapjii- ness of his son, while he endeavours to assure his fortunes, by compelling him to enter into a merce- nary and reluctant marriage ; and Buonaparte conceived himself to be benefiting as well as aggrandizing France, when, preferring the splen- dour of conquest to the blessitigs of peace, he led the flower of her young men to perish in foreign fields, and finally was the means of her being deli- vered up, drained of her population,^ to the mercy of the foreign invaders, whose resentment Lis ambi- tion had provoked. Such are the considerations which naturally arise out of Napoleon's final and avowed assump- tion of the absolute power, which he had in reality posses.sed and e.\ercised ever since he had been created First Consul for life. It was soon after made manifest, that France, enlarged and increased in strength as she had been under his auspices, was yet too narrow a sphere for his domination. Italy afforded the first illustration of his grasping ambi- tion.^ The northern states of Italy had followed the ex- ample of France through all her change of models. They had become republican in a directorial form, when Napoleon's sword conquered them from the Austrians ; had changed to an establishment similar to the consular, when that was instituted in Paris by the 18th Brumaire ; and were now destined to receive, as a king, him who had lately accepted and exercised with regal authority the office of their president. The authorities of the Italian (late Cisalpine) republic had a prescient guess of what was ex- pected of them. A deputation* appeared at Paris, to declare the absolute necessity which they felt, that their government should assume a monarchical and hereditary form. On the 17tli March, 1805, they obtained an audience of the Emperor, to whom they intimated the unanimous desire of their countrymen, that Napoleon, founder of the Italian Republic, should be monarch of the Italian King- dom. He was to have power to name his succes- sor, such being always a native of France or Italy. With an affectation of jealous independence, how- ever, the authors of this " humble petition and advice" stipulated, that the crowns of France and Italy should never, save in the present instance, be placed on the head of the same monarch. Na- poleon might, during his life, devolve the sove- reignty of Italy on one of his descendants, either natural or adopted ; but it was an.xiously stipulated, that such delegation should not be made during the period while France continued to occupy the Neapolitan territories, the Russians Corfu, and the British Malta.* rations for the invasion of England. One day, upon mv ob- jecting to him that he could not make war at the same time, against England and against all Europe, he replied, ' I m.ay fail by sea, but not by land ; besides, 1 sljall be able to strike the blow hefore the old coalition n)achines are leady. The people of the old school {lelfs li ijerrmiiies) understand nothing about it, and the kings liave neither activity nor decision of character. 1 do not fear old Europe." — Fouche, torn, i., p. 285. ■1 Consisting of M.MeIzi, vice-presidentof the Italian repub- lic ; M. Mareschalchi, ambassador of that republic ; and the rejiresentatives of its principal bodies. i Sec oflitial proceedings relative to the assumption of the 372 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WOKKS. [1805. Buonaparte granted the petition of tlie Italian states, and listened with incior of the French, as kiiiR of Italy, at Milan, 2Gth AI.iv, 18(15— An- nnal Register, vol. xlvii., p. '72.3. See also Botta, Sioria d'lta- lia, tom. iv., p. 2119; Jomini, Vie Politique, torn, ii., p Ho. * " After the ceremony of the coronation, the Fmperor went in procession to the Italian senate, where be invested Prince Eujiene with the viceroyalty of Italy."— Sav.-vkv, tom. ii., p W). * " L>uring Napoleon's stavat Milan, he directed hisatten- 37-7 has given it me . Let him beware who touches it."3 The new kingdom was, in all respects, modelled on tlie same plan with the French empire. An order, called " of the Iron Crown," was established on the footing of that of the Legion of Honour, A large French force was taken into Italian pay, and Eugene Beauharnois,'' the son of Josephine by her former marriage, w'ho enjoyed and merited tlio confidence of his father-in law, was created viceroy, and appointed to represent, in that character, tho dignity of Napoleon.' Napoleon did not leave Italy without further extension of his empire. Genoa, once the proud and the powerful, resigned her independence, and her Doge presented to the Emperor a request that the Ligurian republic, laying down her separate rights, should be considered in future as a part of the French nation. It was but lately that Buona- parte had declared to the listening Senate, that the boundaries of Fi-ance were permanently fixed, and should not be extended for the comprehension of future conquests. It is farther true, that, by a solemn alliance with France, Genoa had placed her arsenals and harbours at the disposal of the French government ; engaged to supply her powerful ally with si.x thousand sailors, and ten sail of the line, to be equipped at her own expense ; and that her independence, or such a nominal share of that inestimable privilege as was consistent with her connexion with this formidable power, had been guaranteed by France. But neither the charge of inconsistency with his own public declarations, nor consideration of the solemn treaty acknowledging the Ligurian republic, prevented Napoleon from availing himself of the pretext afforded bj' the petition of the Doge. It was convenient to indulge the city and government of Genoa in their winh to become an integral part of the Great Nation.'' Buonaparte was well aw-are, that, by recognising them as a department of France, he was augment- ing the jealousy of Russia and Austria, who had already assumed a threatening front towards him ; but, as he visited the splendid city of the Dorias, and saw its streets of marble palaces, ascending from and surrounding its noble harbours, he was heard to exclaim, that such a possession was well worth the risks of war.^ The success of one mighty tion towards the embellishment of that city, with the same zeal as if it had been Paris. He had alwavs regretted that none of the governments of that country had undertaken the comjiletion of the cathedral of Milan, the largest edifice of the kind, after St. Peter's at Rome. He ordered the works to he immediately resumed, forbidding them to be interrupted on any jiretext wliatever; and created a siiecial fund for de- fraying the expenses. To liim the Milanese arc indebted for the completion of that noble structure."— Sa vary, tom. ii., p. 81. 6 " The Doge and Senate had come to Milan to 'ocgthe Em- jieror to accept them, and to incorporate them with the French empire. I have no doubt that this rcsolutimi had been some- what assisted. Such was the state of this unfortunate re))nb- lic, that its inhabitants were almost famishini; : the Englisli closely blockaded it by sea; the French (Idiki ii:s coo]'cinagnificeui 1805.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 373 plan only induced liini to form nnnthcr ; anr] while he was conscious that he was the general object of jealousy and suspicion to Europe, Napoleon could not refrain from encroachments, which necessarily hicreased and perpetuated such hostile sentiments towards him.^ CHAPTER XXXI. Napoleon addresses a Second Letter to ilie Kinfj of England pcrsonalli/ — Ansivered hy the British Secretary of State to Talleyrand — j-lUiance formed heticixt Russia and England — Prussia keeps aloof, and the Emp.ror Alexander xisits Berlin — Austria prepares for War, and marches an Army into Bararia — Her impolicy in prema- turely commencing Hostilities, and in her Conduct to Bavaria — Unsoldierlike Conduct of the Aus- trian General Mack — Buonaparte is joined by the Electors of Bararia and Wirtemherg, and the Duke of Baden — Skilful Manoeutrcs of the French Generals, and successive losses of the Austrians — - Napoleon violates the Neutrality of Prussia, by marching through Anspach and Bareuth — Further Losses of the Austrian Leaders, and, consequent Bisunion among them — JSlack is cooped up in Ulm — Issues a formidable Declaration on the I6th October — and surrenders on the follou-ing (iay — Fatal Besidts of this iMan^s Poltroonery, want of Skill, and probcihle Treachery. Buonaparte, Consul, had affected to give a direct testimony of his desire to malce peace, by opening a communication immediately and person- ally with the King of Great Britain. Buonaparte, Emperor, had, according to his own interpretation of his proceedings, expiated by his elevation all the crimes of the Revolution, and wiped out for ever the memoi'v of those illusory visions of liberty and equality, which had alax-med such governments as continued to rest their authority on the ancient basis of legitimacy. He had, in short, according to his own belief, preserved in his system all that the Republic had produced of good, and done away all the memory of that which was evil. With such pretensions, to say nothing of his absolute power, he hastened to claim admission city of Genoa and its picturesque environs, he exclaimed— ' This is indeed worth a war.'" — ForcHE. torn, i., p. 28). 1 " All the organisations of Italy were provisional. Napo- leon wished to make a single power of that great peninsula ; for which reason he reserved the iron crown to himself, in order to keep in his own hands the direction of the dittercnt people of Italy. He preferred uniting Genoa, Rome, Tus- cany and Piedmont to the empire, rather than to the kingdom of Italy, hecause the people of those countries preferred it ; because the imperial mtiuence would he more powerful ; he- cause it was a means of calling a great numherof the inhabit- ants of those countries into France, and of sending a number of French thither in exchange; and because it would bring tlie conscripts and sailors of those provnices to strengthen the French regiments, and the crews of Toulon." — NAroLEo.v, Montliolon, tom. ii., p. 234. 2 " Sir and Brother,— Called to the tlirone of France by Providence, and by the suifrages of the senate, the people, and the army, my first sentiment is a wish for peace. France and England abuse their prosperity. They may cnntend for ages ; but do their Governments well fulfil the most sacred of their duties, and will not so much blood, shed useUssly and without a view to any end, condemn them in their own con- BcienccB ? 1 consider it as no disgrace to make the first step. 1 have, I hope, sutheiently proved to the world, th.it I fear rone of the chances of war ; it, besides, presents nothing that I need to fear: peace is the wish of my heart, but war has never been inconsistent with my glory. I conjure your ma- jesty not to deny vourself the hapiiiness of giving peace to the world, nor to leave that sweet satisfaction to your children; ■did among the acknowledged Prince.s of Europe ; and a second time (2d January 1805,) by a letter ad- dressed to King George III., personally, under the title of " Sir my Brother," endeavoured to prove, by a string of truisms,— on the preference of a state of peace to war, and on the recipi-ocal grandeur of France and England, both advanced to the highest pitch of prosperity, — that the hos- tilities between the nations ought to be ended."'' We have already stated the inconveniences which must necessarily attach to a departure from the usual course of treating between states, and to the transference of the discussions usually intrust- ed to inferior and responsible agents, to those who are themselves at the head of the nation. But if Napoleon had been serious in desiring peace, and saw any reason for directly communicating with the English King rather than with the English Government, he ought to have made his propo.sal something more specific than a string of general propositions, which, affirmed on the one side, and undisputed on the other, left the question between the belligerent powers as undecided as formerly. The question was, not whether peace was desirable, but on what terms it was offered, or could be ob- tained. If Buonaparte, while stating, as he might have been expected to do, that the jealousies entertained by England of his power were unjust, had agreed, that for the tranquillity of Europe, the weal of both nations, and the respect in which he held the character of the monarch whom he ad- dressed, Malta -should remain with Britain in per- petuity, or for a stipulated pei-iod, it would have given a serious turn to his overture, which was at present as vague in its tendency, as it was unusual in the form. The an.swer to his letter, addressed by the British Secretary of State ^ to M. Talleyrand, declared, that Britain could not make a precise reply to the proposal of peace intimated in Napoleon's letter, until she had communicated with her allies on the continent, and in particular with the Emperor of Russia. These expressions indicated, what was already well known to Buonaparte, the darkening of an- other continental storm, about to be directed against his power. On this occasion, Russia was the soul for certainly there never was a more fortunate opportunity, nor a moment more favourable, to silence all the passions.and listen only to the sentiments of humanity and reason. This moment once lost, what end can be assigned to a war which all my efforts will not be able to terminate ! Your majesty has gained more within ten vears, both in territory and riches, than the whole extent of Europe. Your nation is at the high- est point of prosperity ; what can it hope from war? To form a coalition with some powers of the continent? The conti- nent will remain tranquil : a coalition can only increase the preponderance and continental greatness of France. To renew intestine troubles ? The times are no longer the same. To destroy our finances? Finances founded on a flourisliing agri- culture can never be destroyed. To take from France her co- lonies? The colonies are to France only a secondary object ; and docs not your m.ajesty already possess more than you know how to preserve? If your majesty would but reflect, you must perceive that the war is withmit an object, without any pre- sumable result to yourself. Alas ! what a melancholy prospect to cause two nations to fight merely for the sake of fighting. The M-orld is sufHciently large for our two nations to live in it, and reason is sufHciently powerful to discover means of recon- ciling every thing, when- the wish for reconciliation exists on both sides. I have, however, fulfilled a sacred duty, and one which is precious to my heart. I trust your majesty will be- lieve in the sincerity of my sentiments, and my wish to give you every proof of it." — Napoleon. 3 Lord i\Iulgrave. For the letter sec Annual Register, to). xlvii., p. (il(j. 374 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS THOSE WORKS. [1805. of the confeileracy. Since the death of the unfor- tunate Paul had placed that mighty country under the government of a wise and prudent prince, whose education had been sedulously cultivated, and who had profited in an eminent degree by that advantage, her counsels had been dignified, wise, and moderate. She had off'ered her mediation betwixt the belligerent powers, which, accepted willingly by Great Britain, had been somewhat haughtily declined by France, whose ruler was displeased, doubtless, to find that power in the hands of a sharp-sighted and sagacious sovereign, which, when lodged in those of Paul, he might reckon upon as at his own disposal, through his influence over that weak and partial monarch. From this time, there was coldness betwixt the French and Russian Govei'uments. The murder of the Duke d'Enghien increased the misunder- standing. The Emperor of Russia was too high- spirited to view this scene of perfidy and violence hi silence ; and as he not only remonstrated with Buonaparte himself, but appealed to the German Diet on the violation of tlie territories of the Empire,^ Napoleon, unused to have his actions censured and condemned by others, how powerful soever, seems to have regarded the Empei'or Alex- ander with personal dislike.''' Russia and Sweden, and tlieir monarchs, became the subject of satire and ridicule in the lloniteur;^ and, as evei-y one knew, such arrows were never discharged without Buonaparte's special authority. The latter prince withdrew his ambassador from Paris, and in a public note, delivered to the French envoy at Stockholm, expressed his surprise at the " indecent and ridiculous insolences which Monsieur Napoleon Buonaparte had permitted to be inserted in the Moniteur."* Gustavus was, it is true, of an irre- gular and violent temper, apt to undertake plans, to the achievement of which the strength of his kingdom was inadequate ;^ yet he would scarcely have expressed himself with so little veneration for the most formidable authority in Europe, had he not been confident in the support of the Czar. In fact, on the 10th of January, 1805, the King of Sweden had signed a treaty of close alliance with Russia ; and, as a necessary consequence, on the 31st of October following, he published a declara- tion of war against France, in terms personally insulting to Napoleon.^ Russia and England, in the meantime, had en- gaged in an alliance, the general purpose of which was to form a league upon the continent, to com- pel the French Government to consent to the re- establishment of the b.akance of Europe. The objects proposed were briefly the independence of Holland and Switzerland ; the evacuation of Ha- nover and the north of Germany by the French ' See Note presented to M. Tallcvranrl. by M. d'Oubiil, re- lative to the seizure of the Duke d'Enghien. April 21), li!()4 ; and also Note of the Minister Resident of Russia, communi- cated to the Diet of Ratisbon, May 5 : Annual Register, vol. Xlvi., pp. 642, 6.54. 2 " As to the Emperor of Russia, he possesses wit, grace, infornLition, is fascinating ; but he is not to he trusted ; he is a true Greek of the Lower Empire. Would you believe what 1 had to discuss with liim? He maintained that inheritance was an abuse of nionart-liy, and 1 had to spend more than an hour, and cmplov all my eloquence and losic in provini; to liim that this riRht constituted the peace and happiness of the people. It may be that he was nivstifvins ; for he is cunning. false, and expert. If I die in St. Helena, he will be my real Heir in fcHroi)c."— Napoleon, Las Cases, tom. i., i). 30U. » S'te Moniteur, 14tli August, 1804. troops ; the restoration of Piedmont to the King of Sardinia; and the complete evacuation of Italy by the French.^ These were gigantic schemes, for which suitable efforts were to be made. Five hundred thousand men were to be employed ; and Britain, besides affording the assistance of her forces by sea and land, was to pay large subsidies for supporting the armies of the coalition. Great Britain and Russia were the animating sources of this new coalition against France ; but it was impossible, considering the insular situi^tiou of the first of those powers, and the great distance of the second from the scene of action, that they aloiie, without the concurrence of the Emperor of Austria and the King of Prussia, should be able to assail Franco with any prospect of making a successful impression. Every eff'ort, therefore, was used to awaken those states to a sense of the daily repeated encroachments of Buonaparte, and of the extreme danger to which they were respectively exposed by the rapidly increasing extent of his empire. But since the unsuccessful campaign of the year 1 792, Prussia had observed a cautious and wary neutrality. She had seen, not perhaps without secret pleasure, the humiliatioia of Austria, her natural rival in Germany, and she had taken many opportunities to make acquisition of petty objects of advantage, in consequence of the various changes upon the continent ; so that she seemed to find her own interest in the successes of France. It is imagined, also, that Buonaparte had found some of her leading statesmen not altogether inaccessible to inflitence of a different kind, by the liberal exer- cise of which he was enabled to maintain a strong interest in the Prussian councils.* But the prin- ciples of these ministers were far from being shared by the nation at large. The encroachments on the German Empire intimately concerned the safety of Prussia, and the nation saw, in the decay of the Austrian influence, the creation and increase of a strong German party in favour of France, to whom Bavaria, Wirtemberg, and almost all the petty princes upon the Rhine, and its vicinity, began now to look up with the devotion and reverence which had hitherto been paid to the great states of Austria and Prussia. The subjects of the Great Frederick also remembered his numerous victories, and, proud of the army which he had created and bequeathed to his successor, felt neither apprehension nor un- willingness at the thought of measuring forces with the Dictator of Europe. The councils, therefore, of Prussia were divided ; and though those which were favourable to France prevailed so far as to prevent her immediately becoming a member of the coalition, yet, by increasing her army to the war establishment, and marching forces towards ■* See Note presented by order of the King of Sweden to M. Caillavd, the French Charge d'Affiiircsat Stockholm, Sept. 7, 1K(I4: Annual Register, vol. xlvi., p. 6!)7. 5 " On my accession to the sovereignty, Gustavus declared himself my great antagonist ; it might have been supposed, that nothing short of renewing the exploits of the great Gus- tavus Adoli)hus would have satisfied him. He ran over the whole of Germany, for the purpose of stirring up enemies against me. At the time of the catastrophe of the Duke d'Enghien, he swore he would exact vengeance in person ; and at a later period, he insolently sent back the black e.iglo to the King of Prussia, because the latter liad accepted mj Legion of Honour."— Napoi-eon, Las Cnsrs, torn, v., p. ICa. See Annual Register, vol. xhii., p. 7J7'' " Joniini, torn, ii., p. 82. 8 Montgaillard, tom. vi., p. KTl, 1805.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. the country which appoarod about to become the scene of hostihties, Prussia gave plain intimation that the continuance of her neutrality depended upon the events of war. To animate her councils, if possible, with a more decided spirit, Alexander visited the court of Bei'- lin in person. He was received with the utmost distinction, and both the King of Pi-ussia, and his beautiful and intei'csting queen, gave manifest to- kens of the share they took personally in the suc- cess of the alliance. An oath was taken by the two sovereigns at the tomb of the Great *^ ■ ■ Frederick, by which they are said to have devoted themselves to the liberation of Ger- many,' — a vow which, though at a distant period, they amply redeemed. Still, whatever might be the personal opinions of the King of Prussia, the counsels of Haugwitz continued to influence his Cabinet ; and the Emperor withdrew from Berlin, to place himself at the head of his troops, while the Prussian monarch, assembling an army of observa- tion, assumed the menacing air of a neutnal who feels himself able to turn the scale in favour of either of the belligerent powers at his pleasure. This was not the moment for Buonaparte to take offence at these demonstrations, as the doing so might convert a doubtful friend into an avowed and determined enemy. But the dubious policy of Prussia was not forgotten, — it was carefully trea- sured in Napoleon's memory, as that for which she was to be called to account at a future period. In the meantime, he had the full advantage of her hesitating councils and doubtful neutrality. Austria was more accessible to the application of the allies. Notwithstanding the disasters of the last two wars, the loss of a large portion of Italy, the disasters of Bellegai'de, Alvinzi, and Wurmser, and the disastrous defeats of Marengo and Ilohen- linden, the extent and military character of her population, amongst whom a short interval of peace was sufficient to recruit the losses of the most bloody war, — above all, the haughty determination of a Cabinet remarkable for the tenacity with which they retain and act upon the principles which they have once adopted, induced her Government to ac- cede to the alliance betwixt Russia and Great Bi-i- tain. She had not forgotten the successes which her generals and armies had obtained when fight- ing by the side of Suwarrow, and might hope to see once more renewed the victories of Trebia and of Novi. She therefore increased her force in every quarter ; and while the Archduke Charles took the command of eighty thousand men in Italy, on which country Austria always kept a wdshful eye, eighty thousand more, destined to act upon the Lech, and it was hoped upon the Rhine, were placed under the charge of General Mack, whose factitious and ill-merited reputation had, unfortunately for Aus- tria, remained unabated, notwithstanding his mise- rable Neapolitan campaign in 1799. The Arch- duke Ferdinand, a prince of great courage and ' Montgaillard, torn, vi., p. 17O; Jomini, torn, ii., p. l.'f?. 2 Jomini, Vie Politique et Militaire, torn, ii., pjj. IJ/lOl. 3 See two Notes, delivered on the 1.3tl) and Kiili April, by M. de Talleyrand to Count Cobentzel, Annual Kugister, vol. tlvii., pp. 044, ti4(i. ■* Memoires de Savary, torn, ii., p. 123 ; Jomini, torn, ii., p. 'Xi. * " The public, who bad been solely occupied with the pro- Jooted invasion ol' England, suw, with astjni.sliment, ia the hopes, was the nominal commander of the last- men- tioned army, while the real authority was lodged in this old and empty professor of tactics. To con- clude this detail of preparation, the Archduke John was appointed to command in the Tyrol.''' It remained only to try the event of negotiation, ere finally proceeding to military extremities. It was not difficult to state the causes of the war, which was now about to Itreak out anew. By tlie peace of Luneville, finally concluded between Aus- tria and France, the independence of the Italian, Helvetian, and Batavian republics had been stipu- lated ; but instead of such terms being complied with. Napoleon, rendering himself Grand Mediator of Switzerland and King of Italy, had at the same time filled Holland with troops, and occupied the whole three countries in such a manner, as made them virtually, and almost avowedly, the absolute dependencies of France. Complaints on these heads, warmly urged by Austria, were sharply answered by France, who in her turn accused Austria of want of confidence, and of assuming arms in the midst of peace.' The Emperor of Russia interfered, and sent a special ambassador to Paris, with the purpose of coming, if possible, to an amicable accommodation, which might even yet preserve the tranquillity of Europe. But ere Novosiltzoff had reached his place of des- tination, the union of Genoa with the French em- pire was amiounced ; an encroachment which, joined to Napoleon's influence in Switzerland, ren- dered the whole north-western frontier of Italy completely open for the march of French armies, and precluded the possible hope of that fine coun- try assuming any character of independence, even if, at a future time, its crown should be vested in a person different from the ruler of France.'' Upon hearing of this new usurpation, made at the very time when Napoleon's steps towards the aggrandisement of his power w ere under challenge, Russia countermanded her ambassador ; and Aus- stria, after the exchange of some more angry notes, began her daring enterprise by marching a large army upon Bavaria.^ It would have been better, probably, had the Emperor Francis suspended this decisive measure, and continued to protract, if pos- sible, the negotiation, until the Russian auxiliary armies, two in number, of fifty thousand men each, could have advanced to the assistance of their al- lies ; or until a sense of the approaching crisis had removed the indecision in the Prussian councils, and induced the King to join the coalition. Either of these events, and more especially both, might have given a very different turn to this disastrous campaign.^ But Austria was not alone to be blamed for pre- cipitating the wai' — she exposed herself to censure by the mode in which she conducted it. Occupy- ing Bavaria with numerous forces, the elector was required to join the confederacy, Maximilian of Bavaria w^as not disinclined to unite his forces with Mouleur of the 21st September, the announcement of the in- va.sion of Bavaria by Austria, without any rupture or previous declaration of war. What a fortunate diversion for the French Kmiieror! It fcavcd his maritime hoiuiur, and probably pre- served him from a disaster which would have destroved both himself and liis ancient empire. The army hastened to abau- don the Bonlegiic coast. It was a ni.it;nihccnt one, and lelt the highest enthusiasm at quitting a stale of irksome inaction to march nn towards the Uhiuc."— t'oUCllli:, tuni. l, p. i'Jl. '< Jomini, tom. ii. p. 1)5. 37G SCOTT'S mSCELLANEOUS PROSE WOUKS. [1S05. those which proposed for their object the defeuce of Germany ; but he pleaded that his son, now tra- vellineople. If it should be iieoc5s;ii-T, they will all rise at mv voice to confound and dis.olvf tliis new league which has been formed by the hatred aiift the gold of England. But, siddiers, we shall have forced marcbci- to make, fatigues and jirivations of every kind to endure What- ever obstacles may be opposed to us, we will uvcicom'! them, and we shall take no rest until we have planted our eagles on the territory of our enemy." 3 Jomini, tom. ii., )). UK) ; Savary, torn, ii., p. 9t). * Jomini, tom. ii., p. 112. 373 SCOTTS MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1805. tioned general to get into the desired position, unless by violating the neutrality of Prussia, and takins the straight road to the scene of operations, by marching tlu-ougli tlie territories of Anspach and Bareuth, belonging to that power. A less daring general, a more timid politician than Napo- leon, "would have hesitated to commit such an aggression at such a moment. Prussia, undecided in her councils, was yet known to be, in point of national spirit, hostilely disposed towards France ; and a marked outrage "of this nature was likely to raise the indignation of the people in general to a point which Haugwitz and his party might be unable to stem. The junction of Prussia with the allies at a moment so critical, might be decisive of the fate of the campaign, and well if the loss ended there. Yet, with these consequences before his eyes, Napoleon knew, on the other hand, that it was not want of pretexts to go to war which prevented Prussia from drawing the sword, but diiifidence in the power of the allies to resist the arms and for- tune of France. If, therefore, by violating the territory of Prussia, he sliould be able to inflict a sudden and terrible blow upon the allies, he reck- oned truly, that the court of Berlin would be more astounded at his success, than irritated at the means which he had taken to obtain it. Berna- dotte received, therefore, the Emperor's commands to march through the territory of Anspach and Bareuth, which wei-e only defended by idle pro- tests and reclamations of the rights of neutrality. The news of this aggression gave tlie utmost of- fence at the Prussian court ; and the call for war, which alone could right their injured honour, be- came almost unanimous through the nation. But while the general irritation, which Buonaparte of course foresaw, was thus taking place on the one side, the success which he had achieved over the Austrians acted on the other as a powerful sedative.^ The spirit of enterprise had deserted Mack as soon as actual hostilities commenced. With the usual fault of Austrian generals, he had extended his position too far, and embraced too many points of defence, rendering his communications difficult, and offering facilities for Buonaparte's favourite tactics, of attacking and destroying in detail the divisions opposed to him. The defeat at Guntz- burg induced Mack at length to concentrate his army around Ulm ; but Bavaria and Suabia were now fully in possession of the French and Bava- rians ; and the Austrian General Spangenberg, sur- rounded in Memmingen, was compelled to lay down his arms with five thousand men.* The French had crossed the Rhine about the 26th ' ' Sir Walter Scott blames the violation of the territory of liarcuth ; but, how little have these neutralities been re- spected by conquerors! Witness the invasion of Switzerland at the end of 1813, so fatal to France!" — Louis Buonaparte, l>. 43. 2 " This intelligence reached Napoleon in a wretched bi- vouac, which was so wet, that it was necessary to seek a plank for him to kee|> his feet out of the water. He had just re- ceived this capitulation, when Prince Maurice Lichtenstein, whom Mack liad sent with a flag of truce, was announced. He came to treat for the evacuation of Ulm : the army which occupied it demanded permission to return to Austria. The Kmpcror could not forbear smilinR, and said, 'What reason have I to comply with this demand? in a week you will be in my power, without conditions?' Prince Maurice protested, that without the conditions which he demanded, the army bhuuld not have the place. ' I shall not prant them,' rejoined the Kmpcror; 'there is the capitulation of Memmingen; eirry it to Marshal Mack, and whatever may be your resolu- Septembor; it was now the 13th October, and they could scarcely be said to have begun the cam- paign, when they had made, on various points, not fewer than twenty thousand prisoners. Napoleon, however, expected that resistance from Mack's derpair, which no other motive liad yet engaged him to offer ; and he announced to his army the prospect of a general action. He called on his soldiers to revenge themselves on the Austrians for the loss of the plunder of London, of which, but for this new continental war, they would have been already in possession. He pointed out to them, that, as at ]\Iarengo, he had cut the enemy off from his reserves and resources, and he summoned them to signalise Ulm by a battle, which should be yet more decisive.^ No general action, however, took place, though several sanguinary affairs of a partial nature were fought, and terminated uniformly to the misfortune of tlie Austrians. In the meantime, disunion took place among their generals. The Archduke Ferdi- nand, Schwartzenberg, afterwards destined to play a remarkable part in this changeful history, with Collowrath and others, seeing themselves invested by toils which were daily narrowed upon them, re- solved to leave Mack and his army, and cut their way into Bohemia at the head of the cavalry. The archduke executed this movement with the gi-eatest gallantry, but not witliout considerable loss. In- deed, the behaviour of the Austrian princes of the blood throughout these wars was such, as if Fate had meant to mitigate the disasters of the Imperial House, by showing forth the talents and bravery of their ancient race, and proving, that although Fortune frowned on them. Honour remained faith- ful to their line. Ferdinand, after much fighting, and considerable damage done and received, at length brought six thousand cavalry in safety to Egra, in Boliemia.^ Meanwhile, Mack found himself, with the re- mains of his army, cooped up in Ulm, as Wurmser liad been in Mantua. He published an order of the day, whicli intimated an intention to imitate th.o persevering defence of that heroic veteran. He forbade tlie word surrender to be used by any one — he announced the arrival of two powerful armies, one of Austrians, one of Russians, whose appear- ance would presently raise the blockade — he de- clai'ed his determination to eat horse-flesh rather than listen to any terms of capitulation. This bra- vado appeared on the 16th October, and the con- ditions of surrender were subscribed by Mack on the next day, having been probably in the coui-se of adjustment when he was making these notable professions of resistance.^ tions in Ulm, I will never grant him any other terms : besides, I am in no hurry ; the longer he delays, the worse he will render his own situation, and that of you all. For the rest, I shall have the corps which took Memmingen here to-mor- row, and we shall then see.'" — Savarv, torn, ii., p. 96. 3 " Soldiers ! But for the army which is now in front of you, we should this day have been in London ; we should have avenged ourselves for six centuries of insults, and restored the freedom of the seas! But bear in mind to-moirow, that you are fighting against the allies of England ; that you have to avenge yourselves on a perjured prince, whose own letters breathed nothing but peace, at the moment when he wa9 marching his army against our ally ! Soldiers! to-morrow will be a hundred times more celeVjrated than the day of Marengo. I have placed the enemy in the same position." •4 Jomini, torn, ii., p. 123. * For the terms of the capitulation of Ulm, see Annual Register, vol. xlvii., p ()(y2. 1805. J LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. The com-rie of military miscontluct wliieh wc liave traced, sin2;iilar as it is, might be perhaps referred to folly or incapacity on the part of ]Mack, though it must be owned it was of th.at gross kind which civilians consider as equal to fraud. But another circumstance remains to be told, which goes far to prove that this once celebrated and tiiisted gene- ral had ingrafted the traitor upon the fool. The terms of capitulation, as subscribed on the 17th October, bore, that there should be an armistice until 26th October at midnight ; and that if, during this space, an Austrian or Russian army should appear to raise the blockade, the army at Ulm should have liberty to join them, with their arms and baggage. This stipulation allowed the Aus- trian soldiers some hope of relief, and in any event it was sure to interrupt the progress of Buona- parte's successes, by detaining the principal part of his army in the neighbourhood of Ulm, until the term of nine days was expired. But Mack con- sented to a revision of these terms, a thing which would scarcely have been proposed to a man of honour, and signed on the 19th a second capitula- tion, by which he consented to evacuate Ulm on the day following;' thus abridging considerably, at a crisis when every minute was precious, any ad- vantage, direct or contingent, which the Austrians could have derived from the delay originally stipu- lated. No reason has ever been alleged for this concession. Buonaparte, indeed, had given Mack an audience^ previous to the signing of this addi- tional article of capitulation, and what arguments he then employed must be left to conjecture.' The effects of Mack's poltroonery, want of skill, and probable treachery, were equal to the results of a great victory. Artillery, baggage, and mili- tary stores, were given up to an immense extent. Eight general olficers surrendered upon parole, upwards of 20,000 men became prisoners of war, and were marched into France The numbers of the prisoners taken in this campaign were so great, that Buonaparte distributed them amongst the agriculturists, that their work in the fields might make up for the absence of the conscripts, whom he had withdrawn from such labour. The experi- ment was successful ; and from the docile habits of the Germans, and the good-humour of their French employers, this new species of servitude ' Jomini. toni. ii., p. .12G. - '■ Marshal Mack paid the Emperor a visit at the abbey of Klchini>en. He kept hiin along time, and made him talk a Rrcat deal. It was on this interview that he learned all the circumstances which had preceded the resolution of the Aus- trian cabinet to make war upon him. He was made acquainted with all the sprinjjs which the Russians had set to work to de- cide it ; and lastly, with the plans of the coalition." — Savary, toni. ii., p. m. ^ " It must be owned, that Napoleon did not think himself justified in restin;; his sole dependence upon his excellent troops. He recollected the saying of Machiavel : that a pru- dent prince must be both a fox and a lion at the same time. After iiaving well studied his newtield of battle, (for it was the lirst time he made war in Germany,) he told us, that we should soon see that the campaigns of Moreau were nothing in compa- rison with his. In fact, he acted admirably in order to derange JIack's jilaris, who permitted himself to be petrified in his piisition of Ulm. All the Emperor's spies were more easily purchased than may be conceived. Almost all the Austrian btaff ofticers were virtually gained over. I had intrusted Sa- vary, who was employed in the management of the cspoiniifli: at the grand headquarters, with all my secret notes upon Germany, and, with his hands full, he worked quickly and Bucces-fully."— FoiicHE, torn, i., p. 2i\\. * •• I intended to enrol them in regiments, and to make them l:ibour under military disci;|)line, at public works and monuments. 'J'hey should have received whatever money they earned, and would thus have becii secured ag.tinst the suited botli parties, and went some length to .soften the hardships of war. For not the field of battle itself, with its wounded and dead, is a more dis- tressing sight to humanity and reflection, than prison-barracks and hulks, in which hundreds and thousands of prisoners are delivered up to idleness, and all the evils which idleness is sure to introduce, and not unfrequently to disease and death. Buo- naparte meditated introducing this alteration into the usages of war upon a great scale, and thought of regimenting his prisoners for the purpose of labouring on public works. His jurists objected to the proposal as contrary to the law of nations.'' This scruple might have been avoided, by employ- ing only volunteers, which would also have pre- vented the appearance of retrograding towards those barbarous times, when the captive of the sword be- came the slave of his victor. But national character would, in most instances, render the scheme imprac- ticable. Thus, an attempt was afterwards made to dispose of the Spanish prisoners in a similar w-ay, v.lio in most cases made their escape, and in some rose upon and destroyed their taskmasters. A French soldier woidd, in like manner, make an indiff'erent serf to an English farmer, an English prisoner a still more intractable assistant to a French agriculturist. The advantages of compa- rative freedom would be in both cases counterba- lanced, by a feeling of degradation in the personal subjection experienced. When the general ofticers of the Austrians* were admitted to a personal interview with the French Emperor, he behaved w ith courtesy to Klenau and otiiers of reputation, whose character had become known to him in the Italian campaigns. But he complained of the politics of their court, which he said had forced him into war when he knew not what he was fighting for. He prophesied the fall of the House of Austria, unless his brother the Emperor hastened to make peace, and reprobated the policy which brought the uncivilized Russians to interfere in the decision of more cultivated countries than their own. Mack^ had the impu- dence to reply, that the Emperor of Austria had been forced into the war by Russia. " Then," said Napoleon, " you no longer exist as an independent power." The whole conversation appeared in the bulletin 7 of the day, which also insinuates, with misery of absolute idleness, and the disorders arising out of it. Xhey would have been well fed and clothed, and would have wanted for nothing, without being a burden on the state. But my idea did not meet the approval of the Council of State, which, in this instance, was swayed by the mistaken philan- thropy, that it would be unjust and cruel to compel men to labour."— Napoleon, Las Vases, torn, vii., p. 45. 5 " The 19th October arrived. The drums beat -the bands played; the gates of Ulm opened; the Austrian army ad- vanced in silence, filed off slowly, and went, corjis by corps, to lay down its arms on a s])ot whicli had been prepared to receive them. The ceremony occupied the whole day. The Emperor was posted on a little hill in front of the centre "t his army; a great fire had been lighted, and by this tiro he received the Austrian general.s, to the number of seventeen. They were all very dull : it was the Emperor who kejit up the conversation."— Savary, tom. ii., p. Urn. 6 It will be unnecessary again to mention this man's name, of which our readers arc doubtless as much tired as we our- selves are. He was committed to a state prison, in ii remote part of the Austrian dominions; and whetiier he died in cap- tivity, or was set at liberty, we have not learned, nor are wc an.xious to know.— S.— On his return to Austria, Mack was arrested, and sent to the citadel of Brunn, in Moravia, whence he was transferred to the fortressof Josephstadt, in lioliemia. He was tried by a military commission and condemned to death ; hut the penalty was commuted by the Emperor foJ two years' imprisonment, and the loss of rank. 7 Tentli Othcial Bulletin of the Grand Armv. 880 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1805. little probability, that the Au'trian officers and soldiers concurred generally in blaming the alliance between their own Emperor and Alexander.' From this we infer;, that the union between those two powerful sovereigns was, even in the moment of this great success, a subject of apprehension to Buonaparte ; whose official notes ai'e sometimes expressed with generosity towards the vanquished, who had ceased to struggle, but always with an eager tone of reproach and offence towards those from whom an animated resistance was to be ap- prehended. CHAPTER XXXII. Position of the French Annies — Napoleon advances towards Vienna — The Emperor Francis leaves his Capital — French enter Vienna on the loth November — Revieic of the French Successes in Italy and the Tyrol — Schemes of Napoleon to force on a General Battle — Battle of Austerlitz is fo'iujht on the 2d December, and the combined Austro-Russ'ian Armies completely Defeated — Interview betirixt the Emperor of Austria and Napoleon— The Emp)eror Alexander retr ats to- tvards Bussia — Treaty of Presburr/h signed on the 26th December — Jts Conditions — Fate of the Kinf/ of Sweden — and of the Tao Sicilies. The tide of war now rolled eastward, having surmounted and utterly demolished the formidable barrier which was opposed to it. Napoleon placed himself at the head of his central army." Ney, upon his right, was ready to repel any descent which might be made from the passes of the Tyrol. Murat, on his left, watched the motions of the Austrians, under the Archduke Ferdinand, who, refusing to join in the unworthy capitulation of Ulm, had cut their way into Bohemia, and there united themselves with other forces, either stationed in that kingdom, or who had, like themselves, escaped thither. Lastly, the division of Augereau, (who had recently advanced from France at the head of an army of reserve,) occupying part of Swabia, served to protect the rear of the French army against any movement from the Vorax-lberg ; and at the same time menaced the Prussians, in case, acting upon the offence given by the violation of their territory, they should have crossed the Danube, and engaged in the war.^ If, however, the weight of Prussia had been thrown into the scale with sufficient energy at this decisive moment, it would not probably have been any resistance which Augereau could have offered that could have saved Napoleon from a perilous 1 " This conversation was not lost upon all : none of them, however, made anj' reply." — Savary, torn, ii., p. 100. 2 From Elchinscn, Oct. 21, Napoleon issued the following adilress to the army :— " Soldiers of the Grand Armv ! In a fortnight we have finished a campaign : we have expelled the troo)>sof the house of Austria from Bavaria, and reestablished our ally in the Bovereignty of his estates. That army which, with equal ostentation and imiirudence, had posted itself on our frontiers, is annihilated. Soldiers! you owe tliis success to your unbounded confidence in your Emperor ; to your Jiatience in snpporlinR fatigues and privations of every de- fcnp'ion ; and to your singular intrepidity. But we will not stop here. You are impatient to commence a second cam- paign. We are about to make tlie Russian army, which the gold of England has trans).nrted from the extremities of the universe, undergo the same (ate. Here there are no generals in combating against whom I can have any glory to acquire. 380 situation, since the large armies of the now enemy would have been placed in his rear, and, of course his communications with France entirely cut off. It was a crisis of the same kind which opened to Austria in the year 1813 ; but she was then taught wisdom by experience, and availed herself of the golden opportunity which Prussia now suffered to escape. Buonaparte had reckoned with accui-acy upon the timid and fluctuating councils of that power. The aggression on their territories of Anspach and Bareuth was learned at Berlin ; but then the news of the calamity sustained by the Austrians at Ulm succeeded these tidings almost instantly, and while the first article of intelligence seemed to urge instant hostilities, the next was calculated to warn them against espousing a losing cause. Thus, trusting to the vacillating and timid policy of Pi'ussia,'* Napoleon, covered on liis flank and rear as we have stated, continued to push forward^ with his central forces towards Vienna, menaced repeatedly in the former wars, but whose fate seemed decided after the disaster ^f Ulm. It is true, that an army, partly consisting of Russians and partly of Austrians, had pressed forward to prevent that disgraceful calamity, and, finding that the capitulation had taken place, were now retreat- ing step by step in front of the advancing French ; but, not exceeding forty-five thousand men, they were unable to make any effectual stand upon the Inn, the Traun, the Ens, or in any other position which might have covered Vienna. They halted, indeed, repeatedly, made a considerable show of resistance, and fought some severe though partial actions ; but always ended by continuing their retreat, Avhich was now directed upon Moravia, where the grand Russian army had already assem- bled, under the command of the Emperor Alex- ander, and wei'e expecting still farther reinforce- ments under General Buxhowden.^ Some attempts were made to place Vienna in a state of defence, and the inhabitants were called upon to rise in mass for that purpose. But as the fortifications were ancient and in disrepair, an effort at resistance could only have occasioned the destruction of the city. The Emperor Francis saw himself, therefore, under the necessity of endeavouring to provide for the safety of his capi- tal by negotiation, and for that of his person by leaving it. On the 7th November, accordingly, he departed from Vienna for Brunn in Moravia, in order to place himself under the protection of the Russian forces. On the same day, but late in the evening. Count Giulay arrived at Buonaparte's headquarter.?, then established at Lintz, with a proposal for an armis- All my care shall be to obtain the victory with the least jios- sible efTnsion of blood. My soldiers are my children." 3 Jomini, torn, ii., p. 13.!. ■4 " The conduct of Prussia at this period was conformable to the wholesome policy which had so long connected this power with France. It is not for us, Frenclimen, to reproach lier inaction at this important crisis, even while criticising her raising tlie shield before Jena. Until then, Prussia had showed herself reasonable, in not allowing herself to be drawn into new coalitions."— Louts Buonaparte, p. 44. 5 "Najioleon was always on horseback whatever weather it might be, travelling in his carriage only when his army was two or three marches in advance. This was a calculation on his part, the point always entered into in his cnmbinatinna and to him dist.inces were nothing: he traversed them with the swiftness of eagles."— Savary, torn, ii., p. 103. Jomini, torn, ii., p. 133; Savary, torn, ii., p. 101. Four teentlT and Fifteenth Bulletins of tlie Grand Army. 1805.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 381. ticc, previous to a general negotiation for peace. Nai)oleon refused to listen to the proposal, unless Venice and the Tyrol were put into his hands. These terms were too hard to be aecejited.' Vienna, therefore, was left to its fate ; and that proud capi- tal of the proud House of Austria remained an unresisting prize to the invader. On the 1 3th November the French took posses- sion of Vienna, where they obtained an immense quantity of military stores, arms, and clothing ;2 a part of which spoils were bestowed by Napoleon on his ally tlie Elector of Bavaria, who now witnessed the humiliation of the Imperial House which had of late conducted itself so haughtily towards him. General Clarke was appointed Governor of Vien- na ; and by a change as rapid as if it had taken place on the stage, the new Emperor of France occupied Schonbrun, the splendid palace of the long-descended Emperor of Austria. But though such signal successes had crowned the commence- ment of the campaign, it was necessary to defeat the haughty Russians, in whose aid the Emperor of Austria still confided, before the object of the ■war could be considered as attained. The broken and shattered remnant of the Austrian forces had rallied from different quarters around the yet un- touched army of Alexander ; and although the lat- ter retreated from Brunn towards Olmutz, it was oidy with the purpose of forming a junction with Buxliowden, before they hazarded a general battle. In the meantime, the French army, following close on their back into Moravia, fought one or two partial actions, which, though claimed as vic- tories, were so severely disputed as to make Napo- leon aware that he had to do with a more obstinate enemy than he had of late encountered in the dis- pirited Austrians. He waited, therefore, until the result of his skilful combinations should have drawn around him the greatest force he could expect to collect, ere venturing upon an engagement, of which, if he failed to obtain a decisive victory, the consequences were likely to be fatal to him. At this period, success had smiled on the French in Italy, and in the Tyrol, as well as in Germany. In the former country, it may be remembered that the Archduke Charles, at the head of seventy -five or eighty thousand men, exclusive of garrisons, was opposed to Massena, w hose forces considerably exceeded that amount. The prince occupied the left bank of the Adige, with the purpose of main- taining a defensive warfare, until he should hear news of the campaign in Germany, ilassena, however, after some fighting, succeeded in forcing the passage of the river at Verona, and in occupy- ing the village of St. Micliael. This was on the SOth October. Soon afterwards, the account of the sur- render at Ulm reached the Frenchman, and deter- mined him on a general attack along the whole Austrian line, which was strongly posted near Cal- diero. The assault took place on the 30th October, and was followed by a very desperate action ; for the Austrians, confident in the presence of their favourite commander, fought with the greatest courage. They were, however, defeated ; and a column of five thousand men, under General Hel- linger, detached for the purpose of attacking the 1 Jomini. torn, ii., p. 145. 2 " In the masaziiies and arsenals of Vienna were found artillery and ammunition enough for two campaifjns: we had DO farther occasion to draw upon our stores at iitrasburg or 381 French in the rear, failed in their purpose, and, being themselves surrounded, were obliged to lay down their arms. The victors were joined by General St. Cyr, at the head of twenty-five thou- sand men, wl;o liad evacuated the kingdom of Na- ples, upon a treaty of neutrality entered into with the King, and now came to join their countrymen in Loml ardy. In the midst of his own misfortunes, the Arch- duke Charles received the fatal intelligence of the capitulation of Ulm, and that the French were advancing in full march towards Vienna. To cover his brother's capital became a matter of more press- ing necessity than to attempt to continue the de- fence of Italy, which circumstances rendered al- most hopeless. He commenced his retreat, there- fore, on the night of the 1st of November, deter- mining to continue it through the mountain passes of Carinthia, and so on into Hungary. If he had marched by the Tyrol, he would have found Auge- reau in his front, with Ney and Marmont threat- ening his flanks, while Massena, before whom he was now retreating, pressed on his rear. The archduke commenced this dispiriting and distressing movement, over nearly the same ground which he had passed while retreating before Buo- naparte himself in 1797. He did not, however, as on that occasion, avail himself of the Tagliamento, or Palma Nova. His purpose was retreat, not defence ; and, though pursued closely by Massena, he halted no longer at these strong posts than was necessary to protect his march, and check the viva- city of the French advance. He effected at length his retreat upon Laybach, where he received tidings from his brother the Archduke John, whose situa- tion on the Tyrol was not more agreeable tlian his own in Italy ; and who, like Charles himself, was desirous to escape into the vicinity of Hungary with what forces remained to him. The distress of the Archduke John was occa- sioned by an army of French and Bavarians, com- manded by Ney, who had penetrated into the Tyrol by paths deemed impracticable ; taken the forts of Schwatz, Neustadt, and luspruck itself, and placed the archduke's army in the most pre- carious situation. Adopting a determination wor- thy of his birth, the Austrian prince resolved at all risks to effect a junction with his brotlier, and, though hard pressed by the enemy, he accomplished his purpose. Two considerable corps of Austrians, being left in an insulated situation by these move- ments of the two princes, were obliged to surren- der. These were tlie divisions of Jellachich, in the Vorarlberg, and of the Prince of Rohan, in Lombardy. The whole of the north of Italy, with the Tyrol and all its passes, was left to the undis- turbed and unresisted occupation of the French.' The army of the royal brothers had, however, become formidable by their junction, and was daily growing stronger. They were in communication with Hungary, the brave iidiabitants of which war- like country were universally rising in arms. They were also joined by volimtcers from Croatia, the Tyrol, and all those wild and mountainous coun- tries, which have so long supplied the Austrian army with the finest light troops in the world. Mctz; but could, on the contrarv, despatch a considcrahle matirirl to those two great establishments."— t^AVAnv, torn. ii., p. 107. 3 Jomini, torn, ii., p. ItW; Savarj-, torn, ii., p. 107. 382 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE ^YORKS. [1805. It might seem to counterbalance these advan- tages, that Massena had also entered into connuu- nications with the French army of Germany at Clagenfurt, the capital of Carinthia. But having left great part of his troops in Italy, he had for the time ceased to be formidable to the Austrian princes, who now meditated advancing on the French grand army, which the audacity of its leader had placed iu" a situation extremely perilous to any other than French troops acting under the eye of their Emperor. Nothing, it is true, could be more admirably conceived and satisfactorily accomplished than the succession of grand manoeuvres, which, distinguish- ing the opening of the campaign, had produced the great, yet cheaply-purchased success of Ulm, and the capture of Vienna. Nor was the series of combination less wonderful, by which, clearing the Vorarlberg, the Tyrol, and the north of Italy of the enemy. Napoleon had placed almost all the subordinate divisions of his own army at his dis- posal, ready to assist him in the grand enterprise against the Austro-Russian forces. But he has been considered by military critics as having trusted too great a risk upon the precarious event of battle, when he crossed the Danube, and plunged into Moravia, where a defeat, or even a check, might liave been attended with the most fatal conse- quences. The position of the Archdukes Charles and John ; the organisation of the Hungarian in- surrection, which proceeded rapidly ; the success of the Archduke Ferdinand, in raising a similar general levy in Bohemia, threatened alarming ope- I'ations in the French rear ; while Prussia, with the sword drawn in her hand, and the word icar upon her lips, watched but the slightest waning of Buo- naparte's star, to pronounce the word, and to strike & blow at the same moment. Napoleon accordingly, though he had dared the risk, was perfectly sensiljle that as he had distin- guished the earlier part of this campaign by some of the most brilliant manoeuvres which military history records, it was now incumbent upon him, without delay, to conclude it by a great and deci- sive victory over a new and formidable enemy. He neglected, therefore, no art by which success could be ensured. In the first place, it was neces- sary to determine the allies to immediate battle ; for, situated in the heart of an enemy's country, with insun-ection spreading wide and wider around him, an immediate action was as desirable on his part, as delay would have been advantageous to his opponents. Some attempts at negotiation were made by the Austrians, to aid which Haugwitz, the Prussian minister, made his appearance in the French camp with the offer of his master's mediation, but with the alternative of declaring war in case it was re- fused. To temporize with Prussia was of the last consequence, and the French Emperor found a willing instrument in Haujiwitz. " The French 1 ilonlholon, torn, ii., p. 241. 2 '•! asked Napoleon, if Haugwitz had been gained l)y him? he replied 'No; but he was of oi>iiiion that Prussia should never play the first fiddle in the affairs of the contine'.t ; that ghc was only a second-rate power, and ouKht to act as such.' " — O MicAhA, vol. i., p. 227. 3 " Napoleon sent for ine at daybreak : he had passed the night over his maps; his candles were burnt down to the •ockets: he held a letter in his hand; he was silent for some momenls. and then abruptly said to me, ' Be oft" to Olmutz ; aelivtr this letter tc ttc Emperor of Russia, aud tell him that. and Austrian outpost'," said Napoleon," are en- gaged ; it is a prelude to the battle which I am about to fight — Say nothing of your errand to me at present — I wish to remain in igiioraucs of it Return to Vienna, and wait the events of war." ' Haugwitz, to use Napoleon's own expression, was no novice, and returned to Vienna without waiting for another hint ; and doubtless the French Em- peror was well pleased to be rid of his presence.''' Napoleon next sent Savary' to the Russian camp, under pretence of compliment to the Em- peror Alexander, but in reality as a spy upon that monarch and his generals. He returned, having discovered, or affected to discover, that the Russian sovereign was surrounded by counsellors, whom their youth and rank rendered confident and pre- sumptuous, and who, he concluded, might be easily misguided into some fatal act of rashness.* Buonaparte acted on the hint, aud upon the first movement of the Austro-Russian army in advance, withdrew his forces from the position they lia4 occupied. Prince Dolgorucki, aide-de-camp of the Emperor Alexander, was despatched by him to return the com])liments which had been brought him. He too was, doubtless, expected to use his powers of observation, but they were not so acute as those of the old officer of police. Buonaparte, as if the interior of his camp displayed scenes which he did not desire Dolgorucki to witness, met the jirince at the outposts, which the soldiers were in the act of hastily covering with field-works, like an army which seeks to shelter conscious weakness under intrenchments. Encouraged by what he thought he saw of the difficulties in which the French seemed to be placed, Dolgorucki entered upon politics, and demanded iu plain terms the cession of the crown of Italy. To this proposal Buonaparte listened with a patience which seemed to be the effect of his present situation. In short, Dolgorucki carried back to his imperial master the hastily conceived opinion, that the French Empe- ror was retreating, and felt himself in a pi'ecarious posture.^ On this false ground the Russian council of war determined to act. Their plan was to ex- tend their own left wing, with the purpose of turning the right of the French army, and taking them upon the flank and rear. It was upon the 1st December at noon that the Russians commenced this movement, by which, in confidence of success, they abandoned a chain of heights where they might have received an attack with great advantage, descended into ground more favourable to the enemy, and, finally, placed their left wing at too great a distance from the centre. The French general no sooner witnessed this rash manoeuvre, than he exclaimed, " Before to-morrow is over, that army is my own." In the meantime, withdrawing his outposts, and concentrating his forces, he continued to intimate a conscious inferi- ority, which was far from existing. The two armies seem to have been very nearly bavins heard of his arrival at his army, I have sent you to sa- lute him iu my name. If he questiuiis you." added he, ' you know what answer ought to be ^I'ien under such circum- stances.'" — Savarv, toni. ii., p. 112. •* " I saw at Olmutz a t!ieat number of youns Russians, be- longing to the difierent ministerial departments of their coun- try, who talked wildly of the ambition of Frai;co; and all oj whom, in their plans for reducing her to a state of harmies*- iitss, made muoh the same kind of calculations as toe maid with her pail of milk." — Savarv, torn, ii., p. 113. i Tliirtieth Bulletin of the Grand Army. 1805.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. of the same strength. For though the bulletin, to enhance the victory, makes the opposite army amount to 100,000 men, yet there were not actually above 50,000 Russians, and about 25,000 Aus- trians, in the field of battle.* The French army might be about the same force. But they were commanded by Napoleon, and the Russians by Kutousof ; a veteran soldier indeed, full of bravery and patriotism, arid accustomed to war as it was waged against the Turks ; but deficient in general talent, as well as in the alertness of mind neces- sary to penetrate into and oppose the designs of his adversary, and, as is not unusual, obstinate in proportion to the narrowness of his understanding, and the prejudices of his education. Meanwhile Buonaparte, possessed of his enemy's plan by the demonstrations of the preceding day, passed the night in making his arrangements.'' He visited the posts in person, and apparently desired to maintain an incognito which was soon discovered. As soon as the person of the Emperor was recog- nised, the soldiers remembered that next day [id December] was the anniversary of his coronation. Bunches of lighted hay, placed on the end of poles, made an extempore illumination, while the troops, with loud acclamations, protested they would pre- sent him on the following day with a bouquet be- coming the occasion ; and an old gi'enadier, ap- proaching his person, swore that the Empei-or should only have to combat with his eyes, and that, without his exposing his person, the whole coloui's and artillery of the Russian army should be brought to him to celebrate the festival of the morrow. 3 In the proclamation which Napoleon, according to his custom, issued to the army, he promises that he will keep his person out of the reach of fire ; tlms showing the full confidence, that the assurance of his personal safety would be considered as great an encouragement to the troops, as the usual pro- testation of sovereigns and leaders, that they will be in the front, and share the dangers of the day.* This is, perhaps, the strongest proof possible of the complete and confidential understanding which subsisted between Napoleon and his soldiers. Yet there have not been wanting those, who have thrown the imputation of cowardice on the victor of a hundred battles, and whose reputation was so well established amongst those troops who must be the best judges, that his attention to the safety ' of his person was requested by them, and granted by him, as a favour to his array. The Battle of Austerlitz, fought against an enemy of great valour but slender experience, was not of a very complicated character. The Russians, we have seen, were extending their line to surround the French flank. Marshal Davoust, witli a di- ' Jomini, torn, ii., p. 181. * '' Tlie Emperor passed the whole day of the l«t Pecemher inspecting his army himself, reeiment hv reeiment. He spoke 10 the troops, viewed all the parks. all the liaht batteries, and fjave instructions to all the othcersand gnnncrs. He returned to dine at his bivouac and sent for all his marshals: he en- larged upon all that they ought to do the next day, and all that it was possible fcr the euemv fo attempt. He knew his ground as well as the environs of Paris. It would require a volume to detail all that emanated from his mind in those twenty-four hours." — Savarv, torn, ii., p. 131. . 3 Thirtieth Bulletin of the Grand Army. ■• " Order of the Dnt/. On the Ficlil, Dec. 1.— Soldiers! The Rusiian forces are before vou, to avenge the Austrian armv at Ulm ; they are the same battalions you conquered at Holla- brun, and which you have constantly pursued. The positions vision of infantry, and another of dragoons, was placed behind the convent of Raygern, to oppo.se the forces destined for this manoeuvre, at the mo- ment when they should conceive the point carried. Soult conmianded the right wing ; Lannes con- ducted the left, which last rested upon a fortified position called Santon, defended by twenty pieces of cannon. Bernadotte led the centre, where Murat and all the French cavalry were stationed. Ten battalions of the Imperial Guard, with ten of Oudinot's division, were kept in reserve in the rear of tlie line, under the eye of Napoleon himself, who destined them, with forty field-pieces, to act where- ever the fate of battle should render their services most necessary. Such were the preparations for this decisive battle, where three Emperors, each at the head of his own army, strove to decide the destinies of Europe. The sun rose with iniclouded brilliancy ; it was that sun of Austerlitz which Napoleon, upon so many succeeding occasions apos- trophised, and recalled to the minds of his soldiers. As its first beams rose above the horizon, Buona- parte appeared in front of the army, surrounded by his marshals, to whom he issued his last direc- tions, and they departed at full gallop to their dif- ferent posts.* The column detached from the left of the Austro- Russian army was engaged in a false manoeuvre, and it was ill executed. The intervals between the regiments of which it consisted were suft'ered to become irregular, and the communications be- tween this attacking colunm itself and the main body were not maintained with sufficient accuracy. When the Russians thought themselves on the point of turning the right flank of tlie French, they found themselves suddenly, and at unawares, engaged with Davoust's division, of whose position behind the convent of Raygern, they had not been aware. At the same time, Soult, at the head of the French right wing, rushed forward upon the interval between the Austro-Russian centre and left, caused by the march of the latter upon Ray- gern, and, completely intersecting their line, severed the left wing entirely from the centre. The Emperor of Russia perceived the danger, and directed a desperate attempt to be made upon Soult's division by the Russian Guards, for the pur- pose of restoring the communication with his left. The French infantry were staggered by this charge, and one regiment coTnpletely routed. But it was in such a crisis that the genius of Buonaiiarte triumphed. Bessicres had orders to advance with the Imperial Guard, while the Russians were dis- ordered with their own success. The encounter was desperate, and the Ru.ssians displayed the ut- most valour before they at length gave way to the discipline and steadiness of Buonaparte's veterans. vre occupy are formidable, and. whilst they marih to turn my right, they shall present m£ their tiaiik. Soldieis! I shall direct mvself all your battalions, I shall keep at a distance from the' tiring, if, with your accustomed bravery, you carry confusion and disorder into tlie eneniv's ranks: but should victorv be for a moment doubtful, you shall liehold your Em- peror expose himself to the tirst blow. This victory will finish our campaign, when we shall return to winter quarters, and be joined by the new armies forming in France : then the peace which I shall sanction will be worthy of my people, ol you, and of myself." s '• In pa-ssiiig along the front of seveiai regiments, the Em- peror said, 'Soldiers! we must finish this campaign by a thun- derbolt, which shall confound the pride of our enemies ;' and, instantly, hats were placed on the points of their bayonets, and cries of ' Vive I'Empereur ! ' were the signal for the baltlo."— • ! Thirtieth Bu.Utiit. 8Si SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1805. Their artillery and standards were lost, and Prince Constantine, the Emperor's brother, wh.o fought gallantly at their head, was only saved by the speed of his horse. The centre of the French army now advanced to complete the victory, and the cavalry of Murat made repeated charges with such success, that the Emperors of Russia and Austria, from the heights of Austcrlitz, beheld their centre and left completely defeated. The Me of the right wing could no longer be protracted, and it was disas- trous oven beyond the usual consequences of defeat.' They had been actively pressed during the whole battle by Lannes, but now the troops on their left being routed, they were surrounded on all sides, and, unable to make longer resistance, were forced down into a hollow, where they were exposed to the lire of twenty ])ieces of cannon. Many at- tempted to escape across a lake, which was par- tially frozen ; but the ice proving too weak gave way under them, or was broken by the hostile cannonade. This fatality renewed, according to Buonaparte's description, the appearance of the battle with the Turks at Aboukir, where so many thousand men, flying from the battle, perished by drowning. It was with the greatest difficulty, that, rallying the remains of their routed forces around them, and retiring in the best manner they could, the Emperors effected their personal retreat. Only the devoted bravery of the Russians, and the loyalty of the Austrian cavalry, who charged i-epeatedly to protect the retrograde movement, could have rendered it possible, since the sole passage to the rear lay along a causeway, extending between two lakes. The retreat was, however, accomplished, and the Emperors escaped without sustaining the loss in the pursuit which might have been expected. But in the battle, at least twenty thousand men had remained, killed, wounded, and prisonei's; and forty standards, with a great proportion of the hostile artillery, were the trophies of Napoleon, whose army had thus amply redeemed their pledge. It was, however, at a high rate that they had purchased the promised bouquet. Their own ranks had lost probably five thousand men, though the bulletin diminishes the numbers to two thousand five hundred.''' The Austrian Emperor considered his last hope of successful opposition to Napoleon as extinguished by this defeat, and conceived, therefore, that he had nothing remaining save to throw himself upon the discretion of the victor. There, were, indeed 1 " The Russians fled and dispersed : Alexander and the Emperor of Austria witnessed the defeat. Stationed on a height at a little distance from the field of battle, they beheld the Ruard, which had been expected to decide the victory, cut to pieces by a handful of brave men. Tlicir guns and baggage had fallen into our possession, and Prince Repnin was our prisoner; unfortunately, however, we had a great number of men killed and wounded. I had myself received a sabre wound in the head ; in which situation I galloped off to give an account of the affair to the Emperor. My sabre broken, my wound, the blood with which I was covered, the decided advantage we had gained with so small a force over the ene- my's cnosen troops, inspired Napoleon with the idea of the picture thtit was painted by Girard." — Mcmoircs du Gcniral Rttpp, p. fi2. 2 Jomini, tom. ii.. p. 180-101 ; Savary, torn, ii., p. \X\. Thirtieth Bulletin of the Grand Army. On the field of battle, Napoleon issued the following proclamation : — " Headquarters, Dec. 2, 111 o'clock at night. •' Soldiers of the Grand Armv ! J-'ven at this hour, before this great day shall passaw.iy aiid be lost in the ocean of eter- nity, your Emperor must address you, and express how ntuch he is satisfied with the conduct of'all those who have had the good fortune to combat in this memorable battle. Soldiers ! some, who accused his councils of pusillanimity. It was said, that the levies of Prince Charles in Hungary, and of Prince Fcrditiand in Bohemia, were in great forwardness — that the Emperors had still a considerable army under their own com- mand — and that Prussia, already sufficiently dis- posed for war, would certainly not permit Austri.a to be totally overwhelmed. But it ought to be considei'ed, on the other hand, that the new levies, however useful in a partisan war, could not bo expected to redeem the loss of such a, battle as Austcrlitz — that they were watched by French troops, which, though inferior in number, were greatly more formidable in discipline — and that, as for Prussia, it was scarce rational to expect that she would interfere by arms, to save, in the hour of distress, those to whom she had given no assist- ance, when such would probably have been decisive of the contest, and that in favour of the allies. The influence of the victory on the Prus.sian councils was indeed soon made evident ; for Count Haugwitz, who had been dismissed to Vienna t'li the battle should take place, now returned to Buonaparte's headquarters, having changed the original message of defiance of which he was the bearer, into a handsome compliment to Napoleon upon his victory. The answer of Napoleon inti- mated his full sense of the duplicity of Prussia.— " This," he said, "*is a compliment designed ftn* others, but Fortune has transferred the address to me. "5 It was, however, still necessary to conciliate a power which had a hundred and fifty thousand men in the field ; and a private treaty with Haug- witz assigned the Electorate of Hanover to Prussia, in exchange for Anspach, or rather as the price of her neutrality at this important crisis.* Thus all hopes of Prussian interference being over, the Em- peror Francis must be held justified in yielding to necessity, and endeavouring to secure the best terms which could be yet obtained, by submitting at discretion. His ally, Alexander, refused indeed to be concerned in a negotiation, which in the cir- cumstances could not fail to be lunniliating. A personal interview took place betwixt the Emperor of Austria and Napoleon, to whose camp B^rancis resorted almost in the guise of a suppliant. The defeated prince is represented as having thrown the blame of the war upon the English. " They are a set of merchants," he said, " who would set the continent on fire, in order to secure to themselves the comnterce of the world." " The argument was not very logical, but the good prince you are the first warriors in the world! The recollection or this exjdoit and of your deeds, will be eternal ! thousands ol ages heieafter, so long as the events of the universe coiitinut to be related, will record, that a Russian army, of seventy-si.K thousand men, hired by the gold of England, was annihihitcd by you on the plains (if Olmutz. — The miserable remains of that army, upon which the commercial spirit of a despicable nation had placed its exjiiring hope, are in flight, hastening to make known to the savage inhabitants of the north what the French arc capable of performing ; they will, likewise, tell them, that, after having destroyed the Austrian army, at Ulm, you told Vienna—' That army is no more ! ' To Petersburgh you shall also say — 'The Emperor Alexander has no longer an army.'" 3 Thirty-Fourth Bulletin of the Grand Armv; Savary, tom. ii., p. 1-18. < " The battle of Austerlitz took place on the 2d December, and on the Ijtli, Prussia, by the convention of Vienna, re- nouneed the tie;ity of Potsdam and the oath of the tomb; she yielded Wesel, Barcuth, and Neucbatel to France; who, in return, consented to Frederic William's taking possession of Hanover, and uniting that country to his dominions." — Ni- I'OLKo.v, .tluiitliulun, tom. ii., p. 24i . - . : 1805.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON liUONAPARTE. 38a in whcse moutli it is placed, is not to be condemned for holding at such a moment the language which might please the victor. When Buonaparte wel- comed him to his militai'v hut, and said it was the only jialaco he had inhabited for nearly two months, the Austrian answered with a smile, " You have turned your residence, then, to such good account, that you ought to be content with it." The Emperor of Austria, having satisfied him- self that he would be admitted to terms of greater or less severity, next stipulated for that which Alexander had disdained to request in his own person — the unmolested retreat of the Russians to their own country. — " The Russian army is sur- rounded," said Napoleon ; " not a man can escape me. But I wish to oblige their Emperor, and will stop the march of my columns, if your Majesty promises me that these Russians shall evacuate Ger- many and the Austrian and Prussian parts of Po- land." — " It is the pui'pose of the Emperor Alex- ander to do so." ' The arrangement was communicated by Savary to the Russian Emperor, who acquiesced in the proposal to return with his army to Russia by re- gular marches.''' No other engagement was required of Alexander than his word ; and the respectful manner in which he is mentioned in the bulletins, indicates Buonaparte's desire to cultivate a good understanding with this powerful and spirited young monarch. On the other hand, Napoleon has not failed to place in the Czar's mouth such compli- ments to himself as the following: — "Tell your master," said he to Savai'y, " that he did miracles yesterday— that this bloody day has augmented my respect for him — He is the predestined of Heaven — it will take a hundred jears ere my army equals that of France." Savary is then stated to have found Alexander, despite of his reverse of fortune, a man of heart and head. He entered into details of the battle. " You -were inferior to us on the whole," he said, " yet we found you superior on every point of ac- tion." " That," replied Savary, " arises from warlike experience, the fruit of sixteen years of glory. This is the fortieth battle which the Emperor has fought." " He is a great soldier," said Alexander ; " I do not pretend to compare myself with him — this is the first time I have been under fire. But it is enough. I came hither to the assistance of the Emperor of Austria — he has no farther occasion for my services — I return to my capital." Accordingly, he commenced his march towards Russia, in pursuance of the terms agreed upon. 1 Thirty-First Bulletin of the Grand Army. 2 " The Emperors seemed to be both in excellent humour ; they laughed, whicli seemed to us all to be a ^ood omen: ac- enrdinslv, in an hour or two, the sovereigns parted with a mu- tual embrace. We followed Napoleon, who rode his horse at a foot-pace, musing on what he meant to do. He called me, and said, ' Run after the P^mperor of Austria : tell hira that I have desired you to go and wait at his headquarters for the ad- hesion of the Emperor of Russia to what has just been con- cluded between us. When you are in possession of this adhe- sion, proceed to the cor|)3 d'arm^e of Marshal Davoust, stop his movement, and tell him what has passed.'"— Savary, torn, ii., p. 1411. 3 " 1 could not help feeling a certain timidity on finding my- self in Alexander's presence; he awed me by the majesty and nobleness of his look. Nature liad done much for him ; and it would have been difficult to find a model so perfect and so graceful ; he was then twenty-six years old. lie was already ii.mewhat hard of hcarinsj w'ith the left ear, and he turned AOL. II. 385 The Russian arms had been unfortunate ; nut the behaviour of their youthful Emperor, and the marked deference shown towards him by Buona- parte, made a most favourable impression upon Europe at large.' The Austrian monarch, left to his fate, obtained from Buonaparte an armistice'* — a small part of the price was imposed in the shape of a militaiy contribution of a hundred millions of francs, to be raised in the territories oc- cupied by the French armies. The cessation of hostilities was to endur* while Talleyrand on the one side, and Prince John of Lichtenstein on the other, adjusted the terms of a general pacification. Buonaparte failed not to propitiate the Austrian negotiator by the most extravagant praises in hia bulletins, and has represented the Emperor of Austria as asking, " Why, possessing men of such distinguished talent, should the affairs of my cabi- net be committed to knaves and fools 2" Of this question we can only say, that if really asked by Francis, which we doubt, he was himself the only person by whom it could liave been answered. The compliments to the Prince John of Lich- tenstein, were intended to propitiate the public iu favour of the treaty of peace, negotiated by a man of such talents. Some of his countrymen, on the other hand, accused hira of selfish precipitation in the treaty, for the purpose of removing the scene of war from the neighbourhood of his own family estates. But w hat could the wisdom of the ablest negotiator, or the firnmess of the most stubborn patriot have availed, when France was to dictate terms, and Austria to receive them. The treaties of Campo Formio and Luneville, though granted to Austria by Napoleon in the hour of victory, were highly advantageous compared to that of Presburgh, which was signed on the 26111 of De cember, 1805, about a fortnight after the battle ol Austerlitz.-' By this negotiation, Francis ceded to Bavaria the oldest possession of his house, the mountains of Tyrol and of the Yorarlberg, filled with the best, bravest, and most attached of Ins subjects, and which, by their geographical situa- tion, had hitherto given Austria influence at once in Germany and Italy. Venice, Austria's most recent possession, and which had not been very honourably obtained, was also yielded up, and added to the kingdom of Italy.^ She was again reduced to the solitary seaport of Trieste, iu the Adriatic. By the same treaty, the Germanic allies of Buo- naparte were to be remunerated. Wirtemberg, as well as Bavaria,' received large additions at the ex- pense of Austria and of the other princes of tho the right to hear what waa said to him. He spoke in broket sentences ; he laid great stress upon his finals, so that the dis- course was never long. For the rest, he spoke tlie French language in all its purity, and always used its elegant academic expression. As there was no affectation iu his language, it was easy to judge that tliis was one of the results of an excellent education."— Sa VARY, torn, ii., p. ll.'i. ■• See Annual Register, vol. xlvii., p. Cfifi. 5 For a copy of tiie treaty, see Annual Register, vol. xlvii., p. OH!!. <»' " After leaving 'Vienna, Napoleon, on his way to Munich, )iassed through I'assau, where he met Cieneral l.auriston, whc was returning from Cadiz; he seut him as governor to Venice." - SAVAhY, torn, ii., p. 155. 7 " The Emj)eror arrived at Munich, a few hours before New 'Vear's-day, liKC The Empress had come thither by liis order a fortnight before. There w as, as may be supjiosed, great rejoicing .it the court. of Bavaria: not only was the country saved, but ahnoit doubled in extent. The greatest d!l:;;ht wrt» 2 c S«(i SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1805. eir.pire, and Francis consented that bntli the elec- tors should be promoted to tlic kingly dignity, in reward of tlieir adherence to the French cause. Other provisions thei'e were, equally inconsistent with the ininiunitics of the Germauic body, for wliich scarcely a shadow of respect was retained, save by aa illusory clause, or species of protest, by which Austria declared that all the stipulations to which she consented were under reservation of the rights of the empire. By the treaty of Presburgh, Austria is said to have lost upwards of 20,000 square miles of territory, two millions and a half of subjects, and a revenue to the amount of ten mil- lions and a half of florins. And this momentous surrender was made in consequence of one unfor- tunate campaign, which lasted but six months, and was distinguished by only one general action. There were two episodes ia this war, of little consequence in themselves, but important consider- ed with reference to the alterations they produced in two of the ancient kingdoms of Europe, which they proved the proximate cause of re-modelling according to the new form of government which liad been introduced by Buonaparte, and sanctioned by the example of France. The King of Sweden had been .an ardent and enthusiastic member of the anti-Gallican league. He was brave, enterprising, and cliivalrous, and ambitious to play the part of his namesake and pro- genitor, Gustavus Adolphvis, or his predecessor, Charles XII. ; without, however, considering, that since the time of those princes, and partly in con- sequence of their wars and extensive undertakings, Sweden had sunk into a secondary rank in the great European family ; and without reflecting, that when great enterprises are attempted without adequate means to cai-ry them through, valour becomes Quixotic, and generosity ludicrous. He had engaged to join in a combined effort for the purpose of freeing Hanover, and the northern parts of Germany, from the French, by means of an army of English, Russians, and Swedes. Had Prussia acceded to the confederacy, this might have been easily accomplished ; especially as Saxony, Hesse, and Brunswick, would, under her encouragement, have willingly joined in the war. Nay, even with- out the accession of Prussia, a diversion in the north, ably conducted and strongly supported, might have at least found Bernadotte sufficient work in Hanover, and prevented him from mate- rially contributing, by his march to the Danube, to the disasters of the Austrian army at Ulm. But, by some of those delays and misunderstand- ings, which are so apt to disappoint the objects of a coalition, and disconcert enterprises attempted by troops of different nations, the forces designed for the north of Europe did not assemble until the middle of November, and then only in strength sufficient to undertake the siege of the Hanoverian fortress of Hamelen, in which Bernadotte had left therefore expressed at seeing lis. It was at Munich that we bcsaii to perceive something which we had as yet only liiard vaguely talked of. A courier was sent by the Tyrol with orders to the Viceroy of Italy to come immediately to Munich : accord- inply, five davs afterwards, he arrived. No secret was any loMKer made of his marriasewith the Princess Aujusta of Ba- varia. The viceroy was much beloved, and the f;rcatest plca- •ure was expressed to see him unite his dpsiinv with that of a princess so virtuous and so lovely. The nuptials weie cele- brated at Munich ; after which Napoleon returned to Paris." -Savaby, torn, ii., p. 155. 286 a strong garrison. The enterprise, too tardy in its commencement, was soon broken off" by the newg of the battle of Austcrlitz and its consequences, and, being finally abandoned, the unfortunate King of Sweden returned to his own dominions, where his subjects received with unwillingness and terror a prince, who, on many accounts, had incurred the fatal and persevering resentment of Buonaparte. Machinations began presently to be agitated for removing him from the kingdom, as one with whom Napoleon could never be reconciled, and averting from Sweden, by such sacrifice, the punishmerit which must otherwise fall on the country, as well as on the King.' While the trifling attempt again.st Hamelen, joined to other circumstances, was thus preparing the downfall of the ancient dynasty of Sweden, a descent made by the Russians and English on the Neapolitan territories, afforded a good apology to Buonaparte for depriving the King of the Two Sicilies of his dominions, so far as they lay open to the power of France. Governed entirely by the influence of the Queen, the policy of Naples had been of a fickle anc^ insincere character. Repeat- edly saved from the greatest hazard of dethrone- ment, the King or his royal consort had never omitted an opportunity to resume arms against France, under the conviction, perhaps, that their ruin would no longer be deferred than whilst poli- tical considerations induced the French Emperor to permit their posse.ssion of their power. The last interference in their behalf had been at the instance of the Emperor Paul. After this period we have seen that their Italian dominions were occupied by French troops, who held Otranto, and other places in Calabria, as pledges (so they pre- tended) for the restoration of Malta. But upon the breaking out of the war of 1805, it was agreed, by a convention entered into at Paris, 21st of September, and ratified by the King of Naples on the 8th of October, that the French should withdraw their forces from the places which they occupied in the Neapolitan territories, and the King should observe a strict neutrality. Nei- ther of the contracting parties was quite sincere. The French troops, which were commanded by St. Cyr, were, as we have seen, withdrawn from Naples, for the purpose of reinforcing Massena, in the beginning of the campaign of Austerlitz. Their absence would probably have endured no longer than the necessity which called them away. But the court of Naples was equally insincere ; for no sooner had St. Cyr left the Neapolitan territories to ])roceed northward, than the King, animated by the opportunity which his departure aff"orded, once more raised his forces to the war establishment, and rt-ceived with open arms an army, consisting of 12,000 Russian troops from Corfu, and 8000 British from Malta, who disembarked in his domi - nions. ^ ' .Tomini. torn, ii , p. 196 ; Las Cases, torn, v., p. U!8; Mont- ijaillard, torn, vi., p. 21,'n. - " Before his departure from Vienna, Napoleon received intellisence of the entry of the Rns'.ians, jointly with some Enslish, into Naples. He immediately made dispositions for marchiiiR troops thither. He had an old grudge a/^iiinst the Queen of Naples, and on receiving this news, he said, ' Ah ! as for her, 1 am not surprised at it ; liut woe betide ler if I enter Naples ; never shall she set foot there a^'sin ! ' He sent from the staff of his own army officers to compose that which was about to assenibleon the frontiers of Naples, and ordered 1805.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 387 Had lliis arinament occupied Venice attbe cnm- meneemont of the war, they might liavc materially assisted in the camj^aigii of tlie Archduke Charles against JNIasseiia. The sending them in Novem- ber to the extremity of the Italian peninsula, only served to seal the fate of Ferdinand the Fourtli. On receiving the news of the armistice at Auster- litz, the Russians and the British re-embarked, and not long after their departure a large French army, commanded by Joseph Buonaparte, approached, once moi-e to enforce the doom passed against the royal family of Naples, that they should cease to reign.* The King and Queen fled from the storm vhich tliey had provoked. Their son, the prince I'oyal, in whose favour they had abdicated, only made use of his temporary authority to surrender Gaeta, Pescara, and Naples itself, with its castles, to the French general. In Calabria, however, wliose wild inhabitants were totally disinclined to the French yoke. Count Roger de Damas and the Duke of Calabria attempted to make a stand. But their hasty and undisciplined levies were easily defeated by the French under General Regnier, and, nominally at least, almost the whole Neapo- litan kingdom was subjected to the power of Joseph Buonaparte. One single trait of gallantry illuminated the scene of universal pusillanimity. The Prince of Hesse Philipsthal, who defended the strong for- tress of Gaeta in name of Ferdinand IV., refused to suiTender it in terms of the capitulation. " Tell your general," said he, in reply to the French sum- mons, " that Gaeta is not Ulm, nor the Prince of Hesse Genei'al Mack !" The place was defended with a gallantry corresponding to these expressions, nor was it surrendered until the 17th of July, 180G, after a long siege, in which the brave governor was wonnded.2 This heroic young prince only ap])eared on the public scene to be withdrawn from it by an untimely death, which has been ascribed to poison. His valour, however honourable to himself, was of little use to the royal family of Naples, wliose de]iosition was determined on by Buonaparte, in oi'der to place upon the throne one of his own famiiv. CHAPTER XXXIII. li-elatire situations of France and EnffJand — IJos- tilitics commenced with Spain, hy the Stoppage, by Commodore Moore, of four Spanish Galleons, when three of their Escort were taken, and one blew up — JVapoleon's Plan of Invasion stated and discussed — John Clerk of Eldin^s great Sys- tem of Breaking the Line, explained — The French Admiral, Villeneuve, forms a junction with the Spanish Fleet under Gratlna — Attacked and defeated by Sir Robert Calder — Nelson appointed to the Command in the Mediterranean — Battle Prince Tnscpli, liis brother, whom he had left at Paris, to ro and put himself at the head of it." — Savarv, torn, ii., p. LIS. 1 " General St. Cyr is advancing hy forced marches towards Naples, to punish the treason of the Queen, and to precipitate from tlie tlironethis culpable woman, who has violated, in so •hameless a manner, all that is held sacred amohf,' men. It was endeavoured to intercede for her with the Emperor. He reiilied, ' Were hostilities to recommence, and the nation to support a thirty years' war, so atrocious an act of jiertidy can- not be pardoned.' The Queen of Najiles has cfnsed to reign." '-Tliiitu-seventh Bulletin o/Ihe Grand Arnuj, Dec. 20. 387 OF Trafalgar fought 'IXst October, \E05— Death of Nelson — Behaviour of Napoleon on learning the Intelligence of this signal Defeat — Villcneuce commits Suicide — Address of Buonaparte to tht Legislative Body — Statement ofM. de Champaqny on the Interned Imjworements of France — Elera~ tion of Nap)ohon''s Brothers, Louis and Joseph, to the Thrones of Holland and Naples — Princi- pality of Lucca conferred on Eliza, the eldest Sister of Buonaparte, and that of Guastalla on Pauline, the ynunges't— Other Alliances made hy his Family — Napoleon appoints a neiv Ileredi' tary Nobility — Converts from the old Noblesse anxiously sought for and liberally rewarded — Confederation of the Rhine established, and Napo- leon appointed Protector — The Emperor Francis lays aside the Imperial Crown of Germany, re- taining only the Title of Emperor of Austria — Vacillating and Impolitic Conduct of Prussia. The triumphs of Napoleon had been greater at. this period of his reign, than had ever before been recorded in history as achieved by a single man. Yet even these, like every thing eartlily, had their limit. Fate, while she seemed to assign him com- plete domination over the land, had vested in other hands the empire of the seas ; and it frequently happened, that when his victorious eagles were flying their highest pitch upon the continent, some conspicuous naval di.saster warned the nations, that there was another element, where France had a rival and a superior. It is true, that the repeated success of England, resembling almost that of the huntsman over his game, had so much diminished the French navy, and rendered so cautious such seamen as France had remaining, that the former country, unable to get opportunities of as.sai]ing the French vessels, was induced to have recourse to strange, and, as it proved, ineffectual means of carrying on hostilities. Such was the attempt at destroying the harbour of Boulogne, by sinking in the roads ships loaded with stones, and another scheme to blow up the French ships, by means of detonating machines to be afK.xed to them imder water. The one, we believe, only furnished the inhabitants of Boulogne with a supply of useful building stone ; the other, from the raft on which the machines were con- veyed, was much ridiculed under the name of the catamaran expedition.' Buonaparte, meanwhile, never lost sight of that combination of naval manoeuvres, through means of which, by the time that the subjugation of Aus- tria should permit the Grand Army to resume its destination for England, he hoped to assemble in the Channel such a superior fleet, as might waft liis troops in safety to the devoted shores of Britain. The unbounded influence which lie exercised over the court of Spain, seemed likely to facilitate tliis difiicult enterprise. Yet, as from Spain the French Emperor derived large supplies of treasure, it 2 Jomini, torn. ii.,p. 2.'i7; Annual Register, vol. xlviii.,p. 144. 3 These implements of destruction were afterwards used against the British cruizersin America, and were judged for- midable. But such desperate courage is necossarv to attach the machine to the destined vessel, and the fate of the engi- neer, if discovend, i.s so certainly fatal, that, like fire-ships, I)etards, and similar inventions, liable to the same inconve- nience, they do not appear likclv to get into general use.— S. Sec in the Annual Register, vol. xlvi., p. S."!;!, Lord KwtU'n account of the failure of thecatahiaran cxpcditto« v^giitjuil tfig French flotilla outside the pier of Boulogne. 388 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1805. would have been convenient for him, that, for a time at least, she should retain tlie mask of nen- tralitv. while, in fact, she was contributing to serve France, and prejudice England, more effectuall)' than if she had been in a state of avowed hostility ■Nvith the latter power. The British Government determined to bring this state of things to a decided point, by stopping four galleons, or vessels loaded witli treasni-e, i)ro- ceeding under an escort from the South Sea, and destined for Cadiz. The purpose of the English was only to detain these ships, as a pledge for the sincerity of the Government of Spain, in observing a more strict neutrality than hitherto. But unhap- pily the British force, under Commodore Moore, amounted only to four frigates. Spanish honour rendered the admiral unwilii"ng to strike the national flag to an equal strength, and an action ensued, in which three of the Spanish vessels were taiven, and one unfortunately blew up ; an accident greatly to be regretted. Mr. South ey observes, with his usual sound sense and humanity, '' Had a stronger squadron been sent, (against the Spa- niards,) this deplorable catasti'ophe might liave been saved — a catastrophe which excited not more indignation in Spain, than it did grief in those who •were its iniwilling instruments, in the British people and in the British government." This action took place on the 5th of October IDO-I ; and as hostilities were of course immediately commenced betwixt Spain and Britain,' Buona- parte, losing the advantages he derived from the neutrality of the former power, had now only to use the naval and militarymeans which she afforded for the advancement of his own purposes. The Court of Spain devoted them to his service, with a passive complaisance of which we shall hereafter Bee the reward. Napoleon persisted to the last in asserting, that he saw clearly the means of utterly destroying the English superiority at sea. This he proposed to achieve by evading the blockades of the several ports of France and Spain, which, while weather permitted, were each hermetically sealed by the presence of a Britisli squadron, and by finally assembling in the Channel that overwhelming force, ■which, according to his statement, was to I'educe England to a dependency on France, as complete as that of the Isle of Oleron.''' But men of the greatest talents must necessarily be liable to error, vv'hen they apply the principles of a science with which they are well acquainted upon one element, to the operations which are to be carried on by means of another. It is evident that he erred, when calculating his maritime combinations, in not sufficiently considering two most material differ- ences betwixt them, and those which had exalted his glory upon land. In the first place, as a landsman. Napoleon did not make sufficient allowance for the action of con- trary winds and waves ; as indeed it was perhaps ' See declaration of war made by Spain against Ensland, dated Madrid, Dec. 12, 1(!(U, and also declaration of war with hpaiii on the part of the King of Ensland, Annual Register, vol. xlvi., p. ()'I9, and vol. xlvji., p. (iiii). 2 Las Cases, torn, ii., ]>. 2fi4 ; O'Meara, vol. i., p. 351. 3 Las Cases, torn, iii., p. 248. * See Commodore Dance's account of the defeat of Admiral Linois' squadron in the Indian seas, Annual Reiiisler, vol. xlvi., p. 5.51 » The late John Clerk of Eldin ; a name never to be mcn- 388 his fault, even in land operations, where their influ- ence is less essential, to admit too little consequence to the opposition of the elements. He complained, when at St. Helena, that he could never get a sea- man sufficiently emancipated from the technicality of his profession, to execute or enter into any of his schemes. " If I proposed," he said, " any new idea, I had Gantheaume and all the marine depart- ment to contend witli^ — Sir, that is impossible — Sir, — the winds— the calms — the currents, will not permit it; and thus I was stopped short."'* We believe little dread could have been entertained of the result of naval combinations in which the influ- ence of the winds and waves was not previously and accurately calculated ; and that British seamen would have desired nothing more ardently, than that their enemies should have acted upon a system in which these casualties were neglected, even if that system had been derived from the genius of Napoleon. But, secondly, there was this great difference betwixt the land and the sea service, to which (the vehemence of his wishes, doubtless, overpowering his judgment) Buonaparte did not give sufficient weight. Upon land, the excellence of the French troops, their discipline, and the enthusiasm arising from uninterrupted success, might be safely reck- oned upon as likely to bear down any obstacle which they might unexpectedly meet with, in the execution of the movements which they were com- manded to undertake.' The situation of the French seamen was diametrically the contrary. Their only chance of safety consisted in their being able to elude a rencontre with a British squadron, even of very inferior force. So much was this the case at the period of which we treat, that Linois, their admiral in the East Indian sea.s, commanding an eighty -four-gim ship, and at the head of a consi- derable squadron of ships of war, was baffied and beaten ofl' in the straits of Malacca by a squadron of merchant vessels belonging to the British East India Company, although built, of course, for traffic, and not for war, and, as usual in war time, very im])erfectly maimed.* Yet, notwithstanding the great and essential dif- ference which we have pointed out between the French navy and their land forces, and that the former was even more inferior to that of England than the continental troops in general were to the French soldiers, it is evident that Buonaparte, when talking of !5hi])s of the line, was always thinking of battalions. Thus he imagines that the defeat of the Nile might have been prevented, had the headmost vessels of the French line, instead of remaining at anchor, slipped their cables, and borne down to the assistance of those which were first attacked by the British. But in urging this, the leading principle of the manoeuvre of breaking the line had totally escaped the French Emperor. It was the boast of the patriotic sage,^ who illustrated and recom^ mended this most important system of naval tactics. tioned by Britons witho-it respect and veneration, since, until his systematic Ks'say upon Naval Tactics appeared, the break- ing of the line (whatever professional jealousy may allef;e to the contrary) was never practised on decided and detiiud |>riii- cij-le. His suavity, nay, simplicity of manner, equalkd Die originality of his genius. This trifling tribute is due fi om one, wlio. honoured with his regard from boyhood, has stood by his side, while he was detailing and illustrating the system which taught British seamen to understand and use their own force, at an age so early, that he can rememter having bee» 1805.] LIFE OF ^^APOLICON BUONAPARTE. 389 tl'.at it could serve the purpose of a British floet only. The general principle is briefly this : By breaking through the line, a certain number of ships are separated from the rest, which the re- mainder must either abandon to their fate by sailing away, or endeavour to save by bearing down, or doubling as it were, upon the assailants, and engaging in a close and general engagement. Now, this last alternative is what Buonaparte re- commends, — what he would cei'tainly have prac- tised on land, — and what he did practise, in order to extricate his right wing, at Marengo. But the relative superiority of the English navy is so great, that, while it is maintained, a close engagement with an enemy in the least approaching to equality, is equivalent to a victory ; and to recommend a plan of tactics which should render such a battle inevitable, would be, in other words, advising a French admiral to lose his whole fleet, instead of sacrificing those ships which the English manoeuvre had cut off', and crowding sail to save such as were yet unengaged.' Under this consciousness of inferiority, the escape of a Sj)anish or French squadron, when a gale of wind forced, from the port in which they lay, the British blockading vessels, was a matter, the ulti- mate success of which depended not alone on the winds and waves, but still more upon the chance of their escaping any part of the hostile navy, with whom battle, except with the most exorbitant su- periority on their side, was certain and unavoidable defeat. Their effoi-ts to comply with the wishes of the Emperor of France, were therefore so partially conducted, so insulated, and so ineffectual, that they rather resembled the children's game of hide and seek, than any thing like a system of regular combination. A more hasty and less cautious com- pliance with Napoleon's earnest wishes to assemble a predominant naval force, woidd have only occa- sioned the total destruction of the combined fleets at an earlier period than when it actually took place. U])on this desultory principle, and seizing the opportunity of the blockading squadron being dri- "ven by weather from the vicinity of their harbour, a squadron of ten French vessels escaped from Rochefort on the 11th of January, 1805; and another, under Villeneuve, got out of Toulon on the iSth by a similarly favourable opportunity. The former, after rendering some trifling services in the West Indies, was fortunate enough to regain the port from which they had sailed, with the pride of a party who have sallied from a besieged town, and Riiiltv of abstractitiK from tlie table some of the little cork miidcls by which Mr. Clerk exemplified his maiiceuvres : un- checked but by his cood-humoured raillery, when he missed a sup|)o--ed line-of-hattle sliiji. and complained that the de- monstration was cripi)led l)y its absence.— S. ' " If it were permitted to a man whose only cam])aif;n at Bea was that of iisvpt in the vessel of Brueves, to sjjeak of naval tactics, I could easily refute all that Sir Walter Scott has here said. I shall limit myself to the relation of the ob- servations made with General Kleber, when, from the neigh- bouring coast, we witnessed the battle of Aljonkir. The er-jver part of our squadron remained inactive, while the English turned the left ; there was not a sinRle spt ctator who was not irritated at seeing the si.x vessels on the riftht of the squadron, commanded bv Brueyes, keep their line, when, if they had hnistcd sail, and fallen back on the left, they would have put the English between two fires, and would certainly have ua'ued the victory."— Loi'is Buo.naparte, p. 4fi • " Had Villeneuve manifested more vi{;our at Cape Finis- tire, the attack on England miglit have been rendered prac- ticable. I had made arrangements for his arrival, with cou- 38a returned into it without loss. Villeneuve also re gained Toidisn without disa.ster, and, encouraged by his success, made a second sortie uiion the 18th of March, having on board a large body of troops, designed, it was supposed, for a descent upon Ire- land or Scotland. He made, however, towards Cadiz, and formed a junction there with the Spa- nish fleet under Gravina. They sailed for the West Indies, where the joint squadrons were able to pos- sess themselves of a rock called Diamond, which is scarce to be discovered on the map ; and with this trophy, which served at lea,st to show they had been actually out of harbour, they returned with all speed to Europe. As for executing manoeuvres, and forming combinations, as Napoleon's plans would lead us to infer was tlie purpose of their hurried expedition, they attempted none, save of that kind which the hare executes when the hound is at its heels. Nelson, they were aware, was in full pursuit of them, and to have attempted any thing which involved a delay, or gave a chance of his coming up with them, was to court destruction. They were so fortunate as to escape him, though very narrowly, yet did not reach their harbours in safety. On the 22d July, the combined fleets fell in with Sir Robert Calder, commanding a British squadron. The enemy amounted to twenty sail of the line, three fifty-gun ships, and four frigates, and the Briti.sh to fifteen sail of the line, and two frigates only. Under this disparity of force, nevertheless, the English admiral defeated the enemy, and took two ships of the line ; yet such was the opinion in both countries of the comparative superiority of the British navy, that the French considered their escape as a kind of triumph. Buonaparte alone grumbled against Villeneuve, for not having made use of his ad vantages, '■' for so it pleased him to term an engagement in which two ships of the line were lost ; whilst the English murnuu'ed at the inade- quate success of Sir Robert Calder, against an enemy of such superior strength, as if he had per- formed something less than his duty. A court- martial ratified, to a certain extent,-' the popular opinion ; though it may be doubted whether im- partial posterity will concur in the justice of the censtu'e which was passed upon the gallant admiral. At any other period of our naval history, the action of the 22d of July would have been rated as a dis- tinguished victory. The combined fleets escaped into Vigo, where tliey refitted ; and, venturing to sail from that port, they proceeded to Ferrol,^ united themselves with sidcrable art and calculation, and in defiance of the opinions and the routine of the naval otficersby whom I was surrounded. Every thing happened as 1 had furisecn ; when the inactivity of Villeneuve ruined all." — Napoleo.v, Las (, 'uses, lom. iii., p. 247. 3 " The court are of opinion that such conduct on the part of Admiral Sir Robert Calder was not the result of cowardice or dis.iffection, but of error in judgment, for which he deserves to he severely reprimanded— and he is hereby severely repri- manded accordingly." — See Annual Kegister, vol. xlvii., p. •).■«;. And for the Defence of Sir Robert Calder, see p. 564 of the same volume. 4 " In IH05, M. Daru was at Boulogne, intendant general of the army. One morning, N^jioleon sent for him into hi» cabinet : D^^ru thvre fuunrl him transported with rage, stjid- ing rapidly up aud down the apartment, and breaking asulliD silence only by abrupt and short e.vclamalions -' What a navy!— What an admiral! What sacrifices thrown awav ! — My hope is destroyed ! — This Villeneuve ! instead of b^ing in the Channel, lie is gone into Ferrol ! It is all over' be wiU he blockaded. Daru, sit duwu, listen, and write t* Kapoleua )90 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1805. rue sqiLitlron wlileli was lying there, and continued their course for Cadiz, whicli they entered in safety. This did not consist witli the plans of Buonaparte, who would have had the whole naval force united at Brest to be in readiness to cover the descent upon En;,dand. " General terror was Spread,"' he said, " throughout that divided nation, and never was England so near to destruction." * Of the ge- neral terror, few of the British, we believe, remem- ber any thing, and of the imminent danger we were not sensible. Had the combined fleets entered the British Channel, instead of the Mediterranean, they would have found the same admiral, the _ same seamen, nay, in many instances, the same ships, to which Villeneuve's retreat into Cadiz gave the trouble of going to seelc him there. When the certainty was known that the enemy's fleets were actually "in Cadiz, Nelson was put at the head of the British naval foroe in the Mediter- ranean,''' which was reinforced with aia altertness and secrecy that did the highest honour to the Ad- miralty. Villeneuve, in the meantime, had, it is believed, his master's express orders to put to sea ;^ and if he had been censured for want of zeal in the action off' Cape Finisterre witli Calder, he was likely, as a brave man, to determine on running some risk to prove the injustice of his Emperor's reproaches. Cadiz also, being strictly blockaded by the English, the fleets of France and Spain began to be in want of necessaries. But what principally determined the French admiral on putting to sea, was his ignorance of the reinforcements received by the English, which, though they left Nelson's fleet still inferior to his own, yet brought them nearer to an equality than, had he been aware of it, would have rendered their meeting at all de- sirable to Villeneuve. It was another and especial point of encouragement, that circumstances led him to disbelieve the report that Nelson commanded the British fleet.* Under the influence of these united motives, and confiding in a plan of tactics which he had formed for resisting the favourite mode of attack practised by the English, the French admiral sailed from Cadiz on the 19th October, 1805, in an evil liour for himself and for his country. The hostile fleets were not long in meeting, and the wind never impelled along the ocean two more gallant armaments. The advantage of numbers was greatly on the side of Villeneuve. He had thirty-three sail of the line,and seven large frigates ; Nelson only twenty-seven line-of-battle ships, and three frigates. The inferiority of the English in number of men and guns was yet more considerable. The combined fleet had four thousand troops on board, many of whom, excellent rifle-men, were placed in the tops. But all odds were compensated by the quality of the British sailors, and the talents of Nelson. Villeneuve showed no inclination to shun the eventful action. His disposition was singular and ingenious. His fleet formed a double line, each alternate ship being about a cable's lengtii to the windwai'd of her second a-hcad and a-stern, and thus the arrangements represented the chequers of a draught-board, and seemed to guard against the operation of cutting the line, as usually practised by the British. But Nelson had determined to prac- tise the manceuvre in a manner as original as the mode of defence adopted by Villeneuve. His order for sailing was in two lines, and this was also the order for battle. An advanced squadron of eight of the fastest sailing two-deckers, was to cut oft three or four of the enemy's line, a-head of their centre ; the second in command. Admiral Colling- wood, was to break in upon the enemy about the twelfth ship from the rear, and Nelson himself determined to bear down on the centre. The ef- fect of these manoeuvres must of course be a close ! and general action ; for the rest Nelson knew he I could trust to the determination of his officers and I seamen. To his admirals and officers he explained j in general, that his object was a close and decisive ' engagement ; and that if, in the confusion and smoke of the battle, signals should not be visible, the cap- tain would never do wrong who laid his ship along- side of the enemy. With such dispositions on either side, the two gallant fleets met on the memorable 2 1st of Octo- ber. Admiral Collingwood, who led the van, went down on the enemy with all his sails set, and, dis- daining to furl tliem in the usual manner, cut the sheets, and let his canvass 'fly loose in the wind, as if he needed it no longer after it had borne him amidst the thickest of the enemy. Nelson I'un his vessel, the Victory, on board the French Redout- able ; the Temeraire, a second British ship, fell on board the same vessel on the other side ; another enemy's ship fell on board of the Temeraire, and the action was fiercely maintained betwixt these four vessels, which lay as close as if they had been moored together in some friendly harbour. While the Victory thus engaged the Redoutable on the starboard, she maintained from her larboard guns an incessant fire on the Bucentaur and the colossal Santa Trinidad, a vessel of four decks. The ex- ample of the admu-al was universally followed by bad received early in tlie niorninp; the news of Villeneuve's arrival in a Sjianish ))ort ; lie saw instantly that the conquest of England was abortive, the immense expense of the fleet and the flotilla lost for a long time, perhaps for ever. At that moment, in the transport of rage, which jiermits not other men to preserve their judgment, he had taken one of those bold resolutions, and traced out one of the most admirable plans of a campaign, that any other conqueror could have conceived at leisure and with coolness, without hesitation, witliout stopping: he then dictated the whole plan of the cani]):iign ni Austerlitz, the departure of the several corps of the army, from Hm'..iver and Holland, even to the confines of the west and south of France.".— DuriN, Furcc Aai:al, torn, i., p. -JAA. ^ Las Cases, lorn, ii., p. 2R3. - Nelson had not been a month in England when Captain Jjlackwood, on his >vay to the Admiralty with despatches, called on him at Meit'.T, at five in the morning, and found him already dressed. Upon seeing him, he exclaimed " I am sure you bring me news of the French and Spanish fleets! I tliiiik 1 shall nave yet to beat them I " it was as he had sup- 3i)0 posed; they had liberated the squadron from Ferrol, and being now thirty-four sail of the line, got safely into Cadiz. " Dejiend on it, Blackwood," he rejieatedly said, " I shall yet give M. Villeneuve a drnbbing !"— Southky. 3 "Napoleon had, no doubti ordered the minister of the ma- rine to take from Admiral Villeneuve the command of his fleets; for the latter sent Admiral Rosilly to supersede him. Heapprised Villeneuve of this byacouiier: wh«;her heaJded any reproaches 1 know not ; but something of the kind must liavp passed, since Villeneuve quitted Cadiz without occasion, with the French and Spanish fleet, to attack the English squa- dron commanded by Nelson,"— Savahv, tom. ii., p. 112. 4 " Villeneuve had called a council of war on hearin3 that Nelson had takpn the command ; and their determination was not to leave Cadiz unless they had reason to believe tbera- selves one-tbird stronger than the British force. Many cir- cuniFtances tended to deceive them into such an opinion, and an American contributed unintentionally to mislead thein, by declaring that Nelson could not jiossibly be with the tlcet, for he himself had seen him only a few days before in London." — b'OUTIlEV, 1805.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 391 the Britisli captains ; they broke into tiie enemy's line on every s-ido, engaged two or three sliips at the same tinie^ and maintained the battle at the very mnzzles of the cannon. The superiority wliich we liave claimed for our countrymen was soon made manifest. Nineteen ships of the line were captured, two were first-rate vessels, none were under seventy-four guns. Four ships of the line were taken, in a subsequent action, by Sir Richard Strachan. Seven out of the vessels which escaped into Cadiz were rendered unserviceable. The whole combined fleet was almost totally destroyed. It is twenty years and upwards since that glori- ous day. But the feelings of deep sorrow mingled with those of exultation, with which we first heard the tidings of the battle of Trafalgar, still agitate our bosoms, as we record, that Nelson, the darling of Britain, bought with his life this last and decided triumph over his country's enemies. A Briton him- self in every word and thought, the discharge of a sailor's duty, according to his idea, was a debt in- volving every feat which the most exalted bravery could perform, and every risk which the extremity of danger could present. The word to which he attached such an unlimited meaning, was often in his mouth ; the idea never, we believe, absent from his mind. His last signal intimated that England expected every man to do his duty. His first words on entering the action were, " 1 thank the great Disposer of events for this great opportunity of doing my duty;" and with his last departing breath, he was distinctly heard to repeat the same pious and patriotic sentiment, " I thank God I have done my duty." ' That duty was indeed performed, even to the utmost extent of his own comprehensive interpretation of the phrase. The good servant of his country slept not before his task was fulfilled ; for, by the victory in which he fell, the naval force of the enemy was altogether destroyed, and the threat of invasion silenced for ever. It is a remarkable coincidence, that Mack's sur- render having taken place the 20th October, Napoleon was probably entering Ulm in triumph upon the very day, when the united remains of his ' See, for these and other particulars of the battle of Tra- falgar, Southey's Lifi iif Nelson, a work already repeatedly quoted. It is the history of a hero, in the narrative of which are evinced at once the judgment and fidelity of the historian, with the imagination of the poet. It well deserves to be, what already it is, the text-book of the British navy. — S. 2 " The disaster of Trafalgar, by the ruin of our navy, com- pleted the securitv of Great Britain. It was a few days after the capitulation of Ulm, and upon the Vienna road, that Na- poleon received the despatch containinR the first intelligence of this misfortune. IJerthier has since related to me, that while seated at the same table with Napoleon, he read the fatal paper, but not daring to present it to him, he pushed it gradually with his elbiiws under his eyes. Scarcely had Na- poleon glanced through its contents, than be started up, full of rage, exclaiming, ' I cannot be every where ! ' His agitation was extreme, and Bcrthier despaired of tranquillizing him." — FoucHE, torn, i., p. i93. 3 " It used to be remarked in the saloon of the household, that I was never accessible to any one after I had an audience with the minister of the marine. The reason was, because he never had any but bad news to communicate to me. For my part, I gave up every thing after the disaster of Trafalgar ; I could not be every where, and I had enough to occiii>y my attention with the armies of the coutiuent." — Napoleon, X,'is Oases, torn, iii., p. 248. ■* '-At Kennes, 2fith April, IflflO, on his way fvom England to Paris.— Villeneuve, when taken prisoner and cniiveyed to Eivgland, was so much grieved at his defeat, that he studied anatomy on purjKise to destroy himself. For this purpose he bought some anatomical plates of the heart, and compared Ihem with his own body, in order to ascertain the exact situ- 331 maritime force, and the means on which, according to his own subsequent account, he relied for the subjugation of England, were flying, striking, and sinking, before the banners of Nelson. What his feelings may h.ave been on learning the news, we have no certain means of ascertaining. The Me- moirs of Fouchd say, upon the alleged authority of Berthier, that his emotion was extreme, and that his first exclamation was, " I cannot be every where !" implying, certainly, tliat his own presence would have changed the scene.* The same idea occurs in his conver.sations with Las Cases.^ It may be greatly doubted, however, whether Napoleon would have desired to have been on board the best .ship in the French navy on that memorable occa- sion ; and it seems pretty certain, that his being so could have had no influence whatever on the fate of the day. The unfortunate Villeneuve dared not trust to his master's forgiveness. " He ought," so Buonaparte states it, " to have been victorious, and he was defeated." For this, although the mishap which usually must attend one out of the two commanders who engage in action, Villeneuve felt there was no apology to be accepted, or even offered, and the brave but unfortimate seaman com- mitted suicide.^ Buonaparte, on all occasions, spoke with disrespect of his memory ; nor was it a sign of his judgment in nautical matters, that he preferred to this able, but unfortunate admiral, the gasconad- ing braggart, Latouche Trcville.'' The unfortimate event of the battle of Trafalgar was not permitted to darken the brilliant picture, which the extraordinary campaign of Ulm and Aus- terlitz enabled the victor to present to the cmiiire which he governed, and which detailed his sue cesses in the full-blown pride of conquest. " His armies," he said, addressing the Legislative Body, the session of w hicli he opened with great pomp ou ■2d March, 1806, " had never ceased to conquer until he commanded them to cease to combat. Hia enemies were humbled and confounded — the royal house of Naples had ceased to reign fur erer" — (the term was too comprehensive) — " the entire penin- sula of Italy now made a part of the Great Empire — his generosity had permitted the return of the ation of that organ. On his arrival in France, I ordered that he should remain at Kennes, and not proceed to Paris. Vil- leneuve, afraid of being tried by a court-martial, determined to destroy himself, and accordingly took his plates of the heart, and compared them with his breast. Exactly in the shape of the plate, he made a mark with a large pin, then fixed the pin as near as he could judge in the same spot in his own breast, shoved it in to the head, iienetrated his heart, and expired. He need not have dune it, as he was a brave man, though possessed of no talent."— Napoleon, l^uice, &c., vol. i., p. .17. •'> This admiral commanded at Toulon in l(!d4, and having stolen out (if liarbi.ur with a strung squadion, when the main body of the Englisli fleet was out of sight, had the satislaction to see three vessels, under Rear-admiral lanijibell, retreat before his superior force. This unusual circumstance so elated Monsieur Latouche Treville, that he converted the afiiiir into a general pursuit of the whole British fleet, and of Nelson himself, who, he pretended, (led before him. Nelson was so much nettled at nis eft'rontery, that he wrote to his brother, " You will have seen Latouche's letter, how he chased me and how I run. I keep it, and if ! take liim, by God, he shall cat it." Latouche esca)>ed this punislinieiit by dying [l!)th August, ]ii(l4] of the fatigue incurred hy walking so olteii up to the signal-post at Se])et, to watch for the momentary ab- sence of the blockading souadron, which he pretended dared not face him. This man liuonaparte considered as the boast of the French navy.— S. — "Najioleon said, he much regretted Latouche Trt^ville, whom he regarded as a man of real talent. He was (jf opinion that that admiral would have given a dif- ferent imjiulse to affairs. The attack on India, and the inva- sion of England, would by liim have been at least attempted." —Las Cases, torn, iii., p. 247. 592 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1805-6. dffeateJ Russians to tlieir own country, and Lad fe-estublished the throne of Austria, atter punish- ing lier by tlie privation of a part of her domin- ions." Trafalgar vas tlien fouclied upon. " A tempest," he said, " had deprived liim of some few vessels, after a combat imprudently entered into ;" ' — and thus he glossed over a calamitous and deci- sive defeat, in which so many of his hopes wei'e shipwrecked. When a sovereign has not sufficient greatness of mind to acknowledge his losses, we may, with- out doing him wrong, suspect him of exaggerating his successes. Those of France, in her external relations, were indeed scarcely capable of being over-estimated. But when M. de Champaguy, on the 4th March following, made a relation of the interna] improvements of France under the govern- ment of Buonaparte, he seems to have assumed the merit of those which only existed upon paper, and of others which were barely commenced, as well as of some that were completed. All was of course ascribed to the inspiring genius of the Emperor, to whose agency France was indebted for all her prosperity. The credit of the good city of Paris was restored, and her revenue doubled — agricultui-e was encouraged, by the draining of immense morasses — mendicity was abolished. Be- neficial results, apparently inconsistent with each other, were produced by his regulations — the expenses of legal proceedings were abridged, and the appointments of the judges were raised. Im- mense and most expensive improvements, which, in other countries, or rather under other sovereigns, are necessarily reserved for times of peace, were carried on by Napoleon during the most burden- some -wars against entire Europe. Forty millions had been expended on pubhc works, of which eight great canals were quoted with peculiar emphasis, as opening all the depai-tments of the empire to the influence of internal navigation. To conclude, the Emperor had established three hundred and seventy schools — had restored the rites of religion — re-in- forced public credit by supporting the Bank — reconciled jarring factions — diminished the public imposts — and ameliorated the condition of every existing Frenchman. '^ To judge from the rapturous expressions of M. de Champaguy, the Emperor was already the subject of deserved adoration ; it only remained to found temples and raise altars. Much of this statement was unquestionably the exaggeration of flattery, which represented every thing as commenced as soon as it had been resolved upon by the sovereign, every thing finished as soon as it was begun. Other measures there were, which, like the support afforded to the Bank, merely repaired injuries which Napoleon himself had in- flicted. The credit of this commercial establish- ment had been shaken, because, in setting off" for the campaign, Napoleon had stripped it of the re- l Moniteur, 3d March, 1806. 8 Tlie Expose also states—" The calendar of the Revolution has been abolished, because its object was found to be unat- tjiinalile, and it was necessary to sacrifice it to commercial and political convenience, which requires a common svsteni. j^Indeed, ' it adds, " the people of fair Europe are already divided by too many varieties; they ought only to form one great family." ^ " This embarrassment Napoleon had himself caused by carrying off from the vaults of the bank above fifty millions. I .aced upon the backs of Kiiit; Philii)'s mules, these millions had ])owerfully coiilrjlnited to the prudiHions success of this B»expected campaign."— Foucn.'5, to)n. i., p. 2!i5. 392 serve of specie laid up to answer demands ; and it was restored, because his return with victory had enabled him to replace ^^•hat he had borrowed. Considering that there was no small hazard of his being unable to remedy the evil which he had cer- tainly occasioned,^ his conduct on the occasion scarcely deserves the name of a national benefit. Some part of this exaggeration might even de- ceive Napoleon. It is one of the great disadvan- tages of despotism, that the sovereign liimself is liable to be imposed upon by false representations of this nature ; as it is said the Empress Catherine was flattered by the appearance of distant villages and towns in the desert places of her empire, which were, in fact, no more than painted representations of such objects,* upon the plan of those that are exhibited on the stage, or are erected as points of view in some fantastic pleasure gardens. It was a part of Buonaparte's character to seize with ready precision upon general ideas of improvement. Wherever he came, he formed plans of important public works, many of which never existed but in the bulletin. Having issued his general orders, he was apt to hold them as executed. It was impos- sible to do all himself, or even to overlook with accuracy those to whom the details were conmiit- ted. There were, therefore, many magnificent schemes commenced, under feelings of the moment, wliich were left unfinished for want of funds, or perhaps because they only regarded some points ot local interest, and there were many adopted that were forgotten amid the hurry of aff'airs, or post- poned till the moment of peace, which was never to appear during his reign. But with the same frankness with which history is bound to censure tlie immeasurable ambition of this extraordinary man, she is bound also to record that his views towards the improvement of his em- pire were broad, clear-sighted, and public-spirited ; and we think it probable, that, had his passion for war been a less predominant point of his character, his care, applied to the objects of peace, would have done as much for France, as Augustus did for Rome. Still it must be added, that, having bereft his country of her freedom, and proposing to trans- mit the empire, like his own patrimony, to his heirs, the evil which he had done to France was as permanent as his system of government, while the benefits which he had conferred on her, to what- ever extent they might have been realized, must have been dependent upon his own life, and the character of his successor. But as such reflections had not prevented Na- poleon from raising the fabric of supreme power, to the summit of which he had ascended, so they did not now prevent him from surrounding and strengthening it with such additional bulwarks as he could find materials for erecting, at the expense of the foes whom he subdued. Sensible of the < " A ridiculous story," says the Prince de I.ipne, who ac- companied the Empress Catherine during her tour through her southern provinces, in \^ii^, "has been spread, which affirms that villages of pasteboard, and paintings representing^ distant fleets and arsenals, and bodies of cavalry, have been so disi>osed as to cheat our eyes during our rapid journey. I believe, however, that some little contrivance is occasionally em])loyed: that, for in-tanee, the Empress, who cannot rove about on foot as we do, is i)ersuaded that some towns, for the building of which she has paid considerable sums, arc really tiiiished; whereas there are, in fact, many towns vitliout streets, streets without houses, and houses without roofs, doors, or windows."— ii'/Z/r*' el Pt-nsths 180G.] LIFE OF NAPOLEOX BUONAPARTE. 393 difficulty^ or ratlier the impossibility, of retaininn; all power in his own hands, he now bent hiniseli' so to modify and organise the governments of the countries adjacent, that they sliould always be de- pendent upon Fi'ance ; and to ensure this point, he determined to vest immediate relations of his own with the supreme authority in those states, which, under the name of allies, were to pay to France the same homage in peace, and render her the same services in war, which ancient Rome exacted from the countries which she had subdued. Germany, Holland, and Italy, were each destined to furnish an appanage to the princes born of the Imperial blood of Napoleon, or connected with it by matri- monial alliances. In return for these benefits, Buonaparte was disposed to subject his brothers to the ordinary monarchical restrictions, which pre- clude princes nearly connected with the throne from forming marriages, according to their own private inclinations, and place them in this respect entirely at the devotion of the monarch, and des- tined to form such political alliances as may best suit his views. They belonged, he said, in the decree creating them, entirely to the country, and must tlierefore lay aside every sentiment of indivi- dual feeling, when the public weal ref^uired such a sacrifice.' Two of Napoleon's brothers resisted this species nf authority. The services which Lucien had ren- dered him upon the liJth Brumaire, although with- out his prompt assistance that daring adventure might have altogether failed, had not saved him from falling under the Imperial displeasure. It is said that he had disapproved of the destruction of the Republic, and that, in remonstrating against the murder of the Duke d'Enghien, he had dared to tell liis brother, that such conduct would cause the people to cast himself and his kindred into the common sewer, as they had done the corpse of Marat.2 But Lueien's principal offence consisted in his refusing to part with his wife, a beautiful and affectionate woman, for the purpose of forming an alliance more suited to the views of Napoleon.^ He remained, therefore, long in a private situation,^ notwithstanding the talent and decision which he had evinced on many occasions during the Revolu- tion, and was only restored to his brother's favour and countenance, when, after his return from Elba, his support became again of importance. Jerome, tlie youngest brother of the family, incurred also for a time his brother's displeasure, by having formed a matrimonial connexion with an American lady of beauty and accomplishments.^ Complying with the commands of Napoleon, he was at a later period restored to his favour, but at present he too was in disgrace. Neither Lucien nor Jerome was ' " How does Sir Walter make thc^c different assertions Rgrre? The truth is, Xapoieon never wished or pretended to Rive appnnanrx, but to art a« he thought right towards France, and tliis design was as i; real as it was noble and generous; exaggeration only defomis it." — Louis Buonapartk, p. 48. - "One dr>y, after a wirm des|>ute bctwein the two bro- thers, I.iifien, taking out his watch, and flinging it violently on tlie floor, iiddressed Napoleon in these remarkable words : ' Yoi" will one day be smaslicd to pieces as I have smashed that watch ; and a time will come, when your family and friends will not have a resting-i)lace for their heads.'" — Mi,„„iresd, Rapp, p 11. •• lie Biiurricnne, torn, vi., p. 80. * In IHtl.") he settled at Rome, where the Pope, calling to mind the active part he had taken in the neg'itiation relative to the Concordat, treated him with marked attention and kindness. 6 Towards the close of 180.3. Jerome married Miss Paterson, 393 therefore mentioned in the species of entail, which, in default of Napoleon's naming his successor, des- tined the French empire to Josej^h and Louis in succession ; nor were the former called upon to par- take in the splendid provisions, which, after the campaign of Austerlitz, Napoleon was enabled to make for the other members of his family. Of these establishments, the most princely were the provinces of Holland, which Napoleon now converted into a kingdom, and conferred upon Louig Buonaparte. This transmutation of a republic, whose independence was merely nominal, into a kingdom, which was completely and absolutely subordinate, was effected by little more than an expression of the French Emperor's will that such an alteration should take place. The change was accomplished without attracting much attention ; for the Batavian republic was placed so absolutely at Buonaparte's mercy, as to have no power wl:at- ever to dispute his pleasure. They had followed the French Revolution through all its phases ; and under their present constitution, a Grand Pension- ary, who had the sole right of presenting new laws for adoption, and who was accountable to no one for the acts of his administration, corresponded to the First Consul of the French Consular Govern- ment. This office-bearer was now to assume the name of king, as his prototype had done that of em])eror ; but the king was to be chosen from the family of Buonaparte. On' the 18th March, 1806, the secretary of the Dutch Legation at Paris aiTived at the Hague bear- ing a secret commission. The States-General were convoked — the Gi^nd Pensionary was consulted — and, finally, a deputation was sent to Paris, request- ing that the Prince Louis Buonaparte should be created hereditary King of Holland. Buonaparte's assent was grticiously given, and the transaction was concluded. It is indeed probable, that though the change was in every degree contradictory of their habits and opinions, the Dutch submitted to it as affording a prospect of a desirable relief from the disputes and factions which then divided their government. Louis Buonaparte was of a singularly amiable and gentle disposition. Besides his near relationship to Napoleon, he was married to Hortensia,® the daugh- ter of Josephine, step-child of course to the Em- peror, and who was supjiosed to share a great pro- jiortion of his favour. Tlie comjuered States of Holland, no longer the High and Mighty, as they had been accustomed to style themselves, hoped in adopting a monarch so nearly and intimately connected with Buonaparte, and received from his hand, that they might be permitted to enjoy the protection of France, and be secured against the the daughter of a rich merchant of Baltinvire. In the spring of 1805, he embarked in a neutral vessel, and landed at Lisbon, whence he set off, by land, for Paris, directing the ship to pro- ceed to Amsterdam; from which city he intrnded his wife should follow him. as soon as he had ol taiiied the requisite permission from his ini)>erial brother. On the arrival, how- ever, of the vessel in the Texel, Madame Jerome, not being liermitted to go on shore, landed at Dover, took up her resi- dence during the summer at Camberwell, and in the autumn returned to America. 6 " The marriage took place on the 4th Januarv, 1802. Louu became a hii-band- never was there a more gloomy ceremony — never had husband and wife a stronger presentiment lif all tlie horrors of a forced and ill-assotted union ! From this he dates the commencement of his unhapniness. It stamped on his whole existence a profound melancholy." — Loi'ts Bou.vaparte, Document Historiques, torn, i., p. lis. 394 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PEOSE WOEKS. [1306. subaltern oppression exercised over their commerce and tlieir country. The acceptance of Louis as their King, tliey imagined, must estabhsli for them a powerful protector in tlie councils of that Auto- ci-at, at wliose disposal they were necessarily placed. Louis Buonaparte was therefore received as King of Holland.' How for the prince and his subjects experienced fulfilment of the hopes which both naturally entertained, belongs to another page of this history. Germany also was doomed to find more than one appanage for the Buonaparte family. The effect of the campaign of Ulm and Austerlitz had been almost entirely destructive of the influence which the House of Austria had so long possessed in the south-west districts of Germany. Stripped of her dominions in the Vorarlberg and the Tyrol, as she had formerly been of the larger portion of the Netherlands, she was flung far back from that por- tion of Germany bordering on the right of the Rhine, where she had formerly exercised so much authority, and often, it must be confessed, with no gentle hand. Defeated and humbled, the Emperor of Austria was no longer able to offer any opposition to the projects of aggrandisement which Napoleon medi- tated in those confines of the empire which lay adjacent to the Rhine and to France, of which that river had been declared the boundary ; nor indeed to his scheme of entirely new-modelling the empire itself. Prussia, however, remained a party interested, and too formidable, from her numerous armies and high military reputation, to be despised by Napo- leon. He was indeed greatly dissatisfied with her conduct during the campaign, and by no means inclined either to forget or to forgive the menacing attitude which the Court of Berlin had assumed, although finally determined by the course of events to abstain from actual hostility. Yet notwith- standing these causes of irritation. Napoleon still esteemed it more politic to purchase Prussia's ac- quiescence in his projects by a large sacrifice to lier selfish interests, than to add her to the number of his avowed enemies. She was therefore to be largely propitiated at the expense of some other state. We have alre:idy noticed the critical arrival of Haugwitz, the prime minister of Prussia, at Vienna, and iiow the declaration of war against France, with which he was charged, was exchanged for a friendly congratulation to Napoleon by the event of the battle of Austerlitz. Napoleon was no dupe to the versatility of the Prussian Cabinet ; but the Archduke Ferdinand had rallied a large army in Bohemia — his brother Charles was at the head of a yet larger in Hungary — Alexander, though de- feated, refused to enter into any treaty, and re- tained a menacing attitude, and, victor as he was, Buonaparte could not wish to see the great and highly-esteemed military force of Prussia thrown ' I.ouis pleaded the delicacy of his constitution, and theiin- favourableness of the climate. " Better to die a king than to live a pniicc," was Napoleon's reply; and in a day or two aflor Talleyrand waited on him at St. Leu, and read aloud to him and Hortensia, the treaty and constitution This tool; place on the 3d of .Tune, 18(i6 ; on the 5th Louis was pro- claimed King of Holland.— Dt Eolekie.vne, torn, viii., p. liiti. " Murat's father was thc> keeper of an humble country inn, «nd, havini; once been a steward of the Tallevrands, enjoyed the protection of that ancient and wealthy family. 394 into the scale against Hm. He entered, tl.erefore, into a private treaty with Haugwitz, by which Prussia was to cede to France, or rather to place at her disposal, the territories of Anspach and Ba- reuth, and, by way of indemnification, was to hava the countenance of France in occupying Hanover, from which the French troops had been w-ithdrawu to join the Grand Ai"my. The conduct of the Pru.ssian minister — for with him, rather than with his court, the fault lay — was at once mean-spirited and unprincipled. He made his country surrender to France that very territory which the French armies had so recently violated ; and he accepted as an indemnification the provinces belonging to the King of Britain, with whom Prussia was so far from having any quarrel, that she had been on the point of making common cause with her against the aggressions of France ; and which provinces had been seized by France in violation of the rights of neutrality claimed by the Elector of Hanover, as a member of the Germanic Body. Such gross and complicated violations of national law and justice, have often carried with them their own punishment, nor did they fail to do so in the present instance. Those states, Anspach and Bareuth, were imited to Bavaria ; that kingdom was also aggrandized by the Tyrol, at the expense of Austria ; and it ceded the Grand Duchy of Berg, which, with other lord- ship.s, Napoleon erected into a Grand Duchy, and conferred as an appanage upon Joachim Murat. Originally a soldier of fortune,'-* and an undaunted one, Murat had raised him.self to eminence in the Itahan campaigns. On the 18th Brumaire, he com- manded the party which drove the Council of Five Hundred out of their hall. In reward for this ser vice, he obtained the command of the Consular Guard, and the hand of Marie de I'Annonciade, afterwards called Caroline, sister of Napoleon.' Murat was particularly distinguished as a cavalry officer ; his handsome person, accomplished horse- manship, and daring bravery at the head of his squadrons, procured him the title of Le Beau Sa- hrcur. Out of the field of battle he was but a weak man, liable to be duped by his own vanity, and the flattery of those around him. He affected a theatrical foppery in dress, which rather evinced a fantastic love of finery than good taste ; and hence he was sometimes called King Franconi, from the celebrated mountebank of that name.* His wife Caroline was an able woman, and well versed in political intrigue.'^ It will presently be found that they arose to higher fortunes than the Grand Duchy of Berg. Meantime, JIurat was invested with the hereditary dignity of Grand Admiral of France ; for it was the policy of Buonaparte to maintain the attachment of the new princes to the Great Nation, were it but by wearing some string or tassel of his own imperial livery. The fair territories of Naples and Sicily were conferred upon Joseph," the former in possession, 3 They were married in January, 18(10, at the Palace of the Luxemhourg. 4 Las Cases, torn iv., p. .T5L 5 AL de Talleyrand said of her, that " she had Cromwell's head on the shoulders of a pretty woman. " •i " Ferdirand havini; embarked for Sicily, Joseph Buona- parte, in February, llitKj, made ids public entry into Na])le», aliKhting at the palace which the unfortunate monarch had just qi;itted. He was proclaimed Kint; of Naiiles ;fnd the two Sicilies on the 3()th of March. The city was illuminated on the occasion, " amidst every demonstration of joy, even mora ISOG.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 395 file latter in prospect. He was a good man, who often strove to moderate the fits of violence' to which his brother gave way. In society, he was accomplished and amiable, fond of letters, and, though not possessed of any thing approaching his brother'ehigh qualifications, had yet good judgment as well as good inclinations. Had he continued King of Naples, it is probable he might have been as fortunate as Louis, in conciliating the respect of liis subjects ; but his transference to Spain was fatal to his reputation. In confcn-niity with the policy which we have noticed, the King of Naples was to continue a high feudatory of the empire, under the title of the Vice-Grand Elector. The principality of Lucca had been already con- ferred on Eliza, the eldest sister of Buonaparte, and was now augmented by the districts of ^lassa- Carara and Garfagnana. She was a woman of a sti-ong and masculine character, which did not, however, prevent her giving way to the feminine ■weakness of encouraging admirers, who, it is said, did not sigh in vain.' The public opinion wa.s still less favourable to her younger sister Pauline, who was one of the most beautiful women in France, and perhaps in Europe. Leclerc, her first husband, died in the fatal expedition to St. Domingo, and she was after- wards married to the Prince Borghese. Her en- couragement of the fine arts was so little limited by the ordinary ideas of decorum, that the cele- brated Canova was permitted to model from her person a naked Venus, the most beautiful, it is said, of his works.''' Scandal went the horrible length of imputing to Pauline an intrigue with her own brother ; which we willingly reject as a crime too hideous to be imputed to any one, without the most satisfactory evidence.^ The gross and guilty enormities practised by the ancient Roman empe- rors, do not belong to the character of Buona- piirte, though such foul aspersions have been cast upon him by those who were willing to represent him as in all respects the counterpart of Tiberius or Caligula. Pauline Borghese received the prin- cipality of Guastalla, in the distribution of honours among the family of Napoleon. At this period, also, I3uonaparte began first to display a desire of engrafting his ov.n family upon the ancient dynasties of Europe, with whom he had been so long at war, and the ruin of most of whom had contributed to his elevation. The Elector of Bavaria had to repay the patronage which raised him to the rank of king, and enlarged his territories with the fine country of the Tyrol, by forming an alliaiKie which should mi.x his ancient blood with that of the family connexions of the fortunate sol- on the part of the nobles than of the lower orders." — Botta, Storia d'llulia, torn, iv., p. 2U4. 1 " She was haushty, nervous, passionate, dissolute, and devoured by the two passions of love and ambition— influ- enced, as has been said, by the poet Fontanes, in whom she was wrapped up." — Folche, torn, i., p. 240. 2 It is said, that being asked by a lady how she could sub- mit to such an exposure of her person, she conceived that the question only related to physical inconvenience, and an- swered it by assuring her friend that the apartment was pro- perly aired.— S. 3 Fouche, torn, ii., p. 33- Tliemost ridiculous reports were also circulated, respecting an improper intercourse between Napoleon and his step daughter Hortensia:—'- Sucli a con- nexion," said he, " would liavi; been wholly repuKnant to my ide-Ts; and ttiose who knew any lliini» of the morality of the luiieries, must be aware that 1 need not have been reduced •i9a dier. Eugene Beauharnais, Viceroy of Italy, tho son of Josephine by her first husband, and now the adopted son of Napo'eon, was wedded to the eldest daughter of the King of Bavaria. Eugene was deservedly favoured by his father-in-law, Na- poleon. He was a man of talents, probity, and honour, and displayed great military skill, parti- cularly during the Russian Campaign of 181"2. Stephanie Beauharnais,* the niece of Josephine, was married about the same time to the Hereditary Prince of Baden, son to the reigning duke, the neutrality of whose territories had been violated in the seizure of the Duke d'Eiighien. These various kingdoms and principalities, erect- ed in favour of his nearest relations, imposed on the mind a most impressive image of Buonaparte's unlimited authority, who distributed crowns among his kinsfolk as ordinary men give vails to their domestics. But the sound policy of his conduct may be greatly doubted. We have elsewhere stated the obvious objections to the transference of cities and kingdoms from hand to hand, with as little ceremony as the circulation of a commercial bill payable to the holder. Authority is a plant of a slow growth, and to obtain the full veneration which renders it most effectual, must have arisen by degrees in the place which it overshadows and protects. Suddenly transferred to new regions, it is apt to pine and to perish. The theoretical evils of a long-established government are generally mitigated by some practicable remedy, or those who suffer by them have grown callous from habit. The reverse is the case with a newly-established domination, which has no claim to the veneration due to antiquity, and to which the subjects are not attached by the sti'ong though invisible chains of long habit. Fox, in his own nervous language, has left his protest against the principle adopted at this time in Europe, of transferring the subjects of one prince to another by way of equivalents, and under tlie pretext of general arrangement. " The wildest schemes," he remarked, " that were ever before broached, would not go so far to shake the founda- tions of all established government, as this new practice. There must be in every nation a certain attachment of the people to its form of govern- ment, without which no government could exist. The system, then, of transferring the subjects of one prince to another, strikes at the foundation of every government, .and the existence of every nation."^ These observations apply generally to violent alterations upon the European system ; but other and more special objections arise to Buonaparte's to so unnatural and rovolting a choice."— Las Cases, torn, iii., p. 3(17, 4 " Stephanie Beauharnais lost her mother in childhood. She was left in the care of an Knf,'lish ladv, who contided her proUij^e to some old nuns in the south of TF ranee. During the consulship, I had her placed in tlie establishment of .Madame Campan, at St. Germain ; all sorlsof masters were .ippointed to superintend her education, and on her introduction into the world, her beauty, wit, accomplishments, and virtues, ren- dered her an object of universal admiration. I adopted her as my daughter, and gave her in marriage to the hereditary Prince of iiaden. This union was. for several years, far from being happv. In course of time, however, they became at- tached to each other, and from that moment they had only to regret the happiness of which tliey had deprived themselves during the early years of their marriage."— Napolko.v, La$ C'asis, tom. iii., p. 317- 5 Speech on the King's Message, relating to Prussia, April 23, I«o() ; Hansards Parliamentary Debates, Yol. vi., 801. 896 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. nsnc. system of erectiiifx thrones in Holland, in Naples, and all through Europe, for the members of his own family. It was particularly impolitic, as mark- ing too strongly his determination to be satisfied with nothing less than the dominion of the world ; for while he governed France in his own person, the disposing of other countries to his brothers and ncur rchtions, feudatories of France, and his de- pendents as well by blood as by allegiance, what else could bo expected than that the independence of such kingdoms must be merely nominal, and their monarchs bound to act in every respect as the agents of Buonaparte's pleasure ? This, in- deed, was their most sacred duty, according to his own view of the matter, and he dilated upon it to Las Cases while at St. Helena. The following pas- sage contains an express avowal of the principles on which he desired and expected his brothers to regulate the governments intrusted to them : — " At another time the Emperor recurred to the subject of his relations, the little aid he had received from them, the embarrassment and mischief which they had caused him. He dwelt especially on that false idea upon their part, that when once placed at the head of a state, they ought to identify them- selves with it to such an extent, as to prefer its interests to those of the common country. He agreed, that the source of this sentiment might be in some degree honourable, but contended that they made a false and hurtful application of it, when, in their whims of absolute independence, they con- sidered themselves as in an isolated posture, not observing that they made only parts of a great system, the movements of which it was their busi- ness to aid, and not to thwart." ' This is explaining in few words the principle on which Napoleon established these subsidiary mo- narchies, which was not for the benefit of the people of wliom they were respectively composed, but for the service of France, or more properly of himself, the sole moving principle by which France was governed. Jn devolving the crown of Holland on the son of Louis, after the abdication of Louis, [in July, 1810,] he repeats the same principle as a fundamental condition of its tenure. " Never for- get," he said, " that in the situation to which my political system, and the interest of my empire have called you, your first duty is towards me, your second towards France. All your other duties, even those towards the people whom I have called you to govern, rank after these."''^ When Napoleon censures his delegate princes for preferring the interest of the kingdoms which he had assigned them, instead of sacrificing it to him and his government, he degrades them into mere puppets, which might indeed bear regal titles and regal attendance, but, entii-ely dependent on the will of another, had no choice save to second the views of an ambition, the most insatiable cer- tainly that ever reigned in a human breast. This secret did not remain concealed from the Dutch, from the Neapolitans, or other foreigners, ' Las Cases, torn, vii., p. 77. 2 On tile' abilication of Louis, Napoleon sent an aide-de- camfi for tlie minor, to whom lie assi-jned a dwelling in a pa- vilion in tlie park of St. Cloud with lii» biother, and a few days after mailu him the above speech, which he caused to be in- serted in the Monileur. •• This," says Madame de Stael, " is "". j''?'-'!' '' '* "f' 'lie opinion of a faction : it is tlie man him- •elf, it is Buonaparte in person, who brings against himself a »ev«rcr accusation than posterity would ever have dared to 396 subjected to these pageant monarchs; and as tt naturally incensed them against Napoleon's govern- ment, so it prevented the authority which he had delegated from obtaining either affection or reve- rence, and disposed the nations who were subjected to it to take the first opportunity of casting the yoke aside. The erection of these kindred monarchies was not the only mode by which Napoleon endeavoured to maintain an ascendency in the countries which lie had conquered, and wliich he desired to retain in dependence upon France, though not nominally or directly making parts of the French empire. Buo- naparte had already proposed to his council the question whether the creation of Grandees of the Empire, a species of nobility whose titles were to depend, not on their descents, but on their talents and services to the state, was to be considered as a violation of the laws of liberty and equality. He was universally answered in the negative ; for, hav- ing now acquired an hereditary monarch, it seemed a natural, if not an indispensable consequence, that France should have peers of the kingdom, and great officers of the crown. Such an establishment, according to Buonaparte's view, would at once place his dignity on the same footing with those of the other courts of Europe, (an assimilation to which he attached a greater degree of consequence than was consistent with policy,) and by blending the new nobles of the empire with those of the ancient kingly government, would tend to reconcile the modern state of things with such relics of the old court as yet existed. From respect, perhaps, to the republican opinions which had so long ])redominated, the titles and ap- panages of these grand feudatories were not chosen within the bounds of France herself, but from pro- vinces which had experienced the sword of the ruler. Fifteen dukedoms, grand fiefs, not of France, but of the French empire, which extended far be- yond France itself, were created by the fiat of the Emperor. The income attached to each amounted to the fifteenth part of the revenue of the province, which gave title to the dignitary. The Emperor invested with these endowments those who had best served him in war and in state affairs. Prince- doms also were erected, and while marshals and ministers were created dukes, the superior rank of prince was bestowed on Talleyrand, Bernadotte, and Berthier, by the titles of Beneventum, Ponte- Corvo, and Neufchatel. The transformation of Republican generals and ancient Jacobins into the peerage of a monarchical government,gave a species of incongruity to this splendid masquerade, and more than one of the personages showed not a little awkwardness in sup- porting their new titles. It is true, the high degree of talent annexed to some of the individuals thua promoted, the dread inspired by others, and the fame in war which many had acquired, might bear them out against the ridicule which was unsparingly heaped upon them in the saloons frequented by the do. Louis XIV. was accused of having said in private, ' lam the State . ' and enlightened historians have with justice grounded themselves upon tliis language in condemning his character. But if, when that moiiaicli placed his grandson on the throne of Spain, he had publicly taught him the ^anlo doctrine that Buonajiarte taught his nephew, iierha]is even Bossuet would not have dared to prefer the interests of kiuf,u to those of nations. "— Cunsid. siir la Rei.'. Franc., torn, iu, p. J7y. 1806.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 397 ftiicient noblesse ; but, whatever claims these dig- nitaries liad to the i-espect of the public, had been long theirs, and received no accession from their new honours and titles. In this, and on similar occasions. Napoleon ovei'- shot his aim, and diminished to a certain extent his reputation, by seeming to set a value upon ho- nours, titles, and ceremonies, which, if matters of importance to other courts, were certainly not such as he ought to have rested his dignity upon. Cere- monial is the natural element of a long-established court, and etiquette and title are the idols which are worshipped there. But Buonaparte reigned by his talents and his sword. Like Mezentius in the JEne'ul, he ought to have acknowledged no other source of his authority.' It was impi-udent to ap- pear to attach consequence to points, which even his otherwise almost boundless power could not at- tain, since his nobility and his court-ceremonial must still retain the rawness of novelty, and could no more possess that value, which, whether real or imaginai'v, has been generally attached to ancient institutions and long descent, than the Emperor could, by a decree of his complaisant Senate, have given his modern coinage the value which anti- quaries attach to ancient medals. It was imprudent to descend to a strife in which he must necessarily be overcome ; for where power rests in a great measure on public opinion, it is diminished in pro- portion to its failure in objects aimed at, whether of greater or less consequence. This half-feudal half-oriental establishment of grand feudatories, with which Buonaparte now began to decorate the structure of his power, may be compared to the heavy Gothic devices with which modern architects sometimes overlay the front of their buildings, where they always encumber what they cannot ornament, and sometimes overload what they are designed to support.^ The system of the new noblesse was settled by an Imperial edict of Napoleon himself, which was comnunncated to the Senate 30th March, 1806, not for the purpose of deliberation or acceptance, but merely that, like the old Parliament of Paris, they might enter it upon their register. The court of Buonaparte now assumed a charac- ter of the strictest etiquette, in which these import- ant trifles, called by a writer on the subject the •' Superstitions of Gentlemen Ushers," were treated as matters of serious import, and sometimes occu- pied the thoughts of Napoleon himself, and supplied the place of meditated conquests, and the future destruction or erection of kingdoms. The possessors of ancient titles, tempted by revi- val of the respect paid to birth and rank, did not fail to mingle with those whose nobility rested on the new creation. The Emperor distinguished these ancient minions of royalty with considerable iavour, as half-blushing for their own apostasy in 1 Dcxtra mihi Deus, et telum, quod missile lihro. Nunc adsint Miuidos, Lib. A'.— S. " Now ! now ! my spear, and conquering hand, he cry'd, (Mezentius owns no deity beside !) Assist my vows." — Pitt. 2 '■ 1 had tliree objects in view in establishing an hereditary cational nobility : 1st, to reconcile France to the rest of Eu- roi)e; 2dly, to reconcile ancient with modern France; .3dly, to banish the remains of the feudal system from Europe, by attaching the idea of nobility to services rendered to the state, and detaching it from every feudal association. The old French nobles, on recovering their country and part of their wealth, had resumed their titles, not legally, but actually; 397 doing homage to Buonaparte in the palace of the Bourbons, half-sneering at the maladroit and awk- ward manners of their new associates, they mingled among the men of new descent, and paid homage to the monarch of the day, . " because," as one of them expressed himself to Madame de Stael, " ona must serve some one or other."' Buonaparte en- couraged these nobles of the ancient antechambers^ whose superior manners seemed to introduce among his courtiers some traits of the former court, so inimitable for grace and for address, and also becavise he liked to rank among his retainers, so far as he could, the inheritors of those superb names which ornamented the history of France in former ages. But then he desired to make them exclusively his own ; nothing less than complete and uncom- promising conversion to his government would give satisfaction. A baron of the old noblesse, who had become a counsellor of state, was in 1810 summoned to attend the Em])eror at Fontainbleau. " What would you do," said the Emperor, " should you learn that the Comte de Lille was this instant at Paris I " " I would inform against him, and have him ar- rested," said the candidate for favour ; " the law commands it." " And what would you do if appointed a judge on his trial?" demanded the Emperor again. " I would condemn him to death," said the un- hesitating noble ; " the law denounces him." " With such .sentiments you deserve a prefec- ture," .said the Emperor ; and the catechumen, whose respect for the law was thus absolute, was made Prefect of Paris. Such converts were searched for, and, when found, were honoured, and rewarded, and trusted. For the power of recompensing his soldiers, states- men, and adherents, the conquered countries were again the Emperor's resource. National domains were reserved to a large amount throughout those countries, and formed funds, out of which gratifi- cations and annuities were, at Napoleon's sole plea- sure, assigned to the generals, officers, and soldiers of the French army ; who might in this way be said to have all Europe for their paymaster. Thus, every conquest increased his means of rewarding his soldiers ; and that army, which was the most formidable instrument of his ambition, was encou- raged and maintained at the expense of those states which had suffered most from his anns. We have not yet concluded the important changes introduced into Europe by the consequences of the fatal campaign of Austerlitz. The Confederation of the Rhine,* which withdrew from the German empire so large a portion of its princes, and, trans- ferring them from the influence of Austria, placed them directly and avowedly under the ])rotection of France, was an event which tended directly to the dissolution of the Germanic League, which had thcv more than ever regarded themselves as a privileged race ; all blending and amalgamation with tlie leaders of the Kevo- lution was dithcult ; the creation of new titles wholly annihi- lated these difticulticB ; there was not an ancient family that did not readily form alliances with the new dukes. It was not with(ml design that I beslow. a Considerations sur la Hev. Franc, tom. li., p. .3.31. 4 For the " Act of Confederation' of the Rhenish League, done at Paris, July U, WitKi," sec Annual Register, vol ilviii., p. 818. 598 SCOTT'S IknSCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [180G. eufjsisted since the year 800, when Cliarlemaciie received the Imperial Crown from Pope Leo tue Third. By the new Federation of the Rhine, the courts of Wirtemberg and Bavaria, of Hesse d'Armstadt, witli some petty princes of the right bank of the Rhine, formed among themselves an alhance ofi'en- sive and defensive, and renounced tlieir dependence upon the Germanic Body, of which they declared they no longer recognised the constitution. The reasons assigned for this league had considerable weight. It was urged, that the countries governed by these princes were, in every case of war' be- twixt France and Austria, exposed to all the evils of invasion, from which the Germanic Body had no longer power to defend them. Therefore, being obliged to seek for more effectual protection from so great an evil, they placed themselves directly under the guardianship of France. Napoleon, on liis part, did not hesitate to accept the title of Pi"o- tector of the Confedei'ation of the Rhine. It is true, that he had engaged to his subjects that he would not extend the limits of his empii-e beyond that river, which he acknowledged as the natural boundary of France ; but this engagement was not held to exclude the sort of seigniorie attached to the new Protectorate, in virtue of which he plunged the German states who composed the Confederacy into every war in which France herself engaged, and at pleasure carried their armies against other German states, their brethren in language and manners, or transferred tliem to more distant climates, to wage wars in whieli they had no in- terest, and to which they had received no pro- vocation. It was also a natural consequence, that a number of inferior members of the empire, who had small tenures under the old constitutions, hav- ing no means of defence excepting their ancient rights, were abolished in their capacity of imperial feudatories, and reduced from petty sovereigns to the condition of private nobles. This, though cer- tainly unjust in the abstract principle, was not in practice an inconvenient result of the great change introducer!. The military contingents, which the Confedera- tion placed, not perha])s in words, but certainly in fact, at the disposal of their Protector, not less than sixty thousand men, were of a chai-acter and in a state of military organisation very superior to those which they had formerly furnished to the Germanic Body. These last, much fewer in number, were seldom in a complete state of equi-pment, and were generally very inferior in discipline. But Napo- leon not only exacted, that the contingents furnished under this new federation should be complete in numbers, and perfect in discipline and appoint- ments, but, imparting to them, and to their officers, a spark of his own military ardour, he inspired them with a spirit of bravery and confidence which they had been far from exhibiting when in the op- posite ranks. No troops in his army behaved bet- ter than those of the Confederacy of the Rhine. But the strength which tlie system afforded to Na- poleon was only temporary, and depended on the continuance of the power by wliich it was created. It was too arbitrary, too artificial, and too much opposed both to the interests and national preju- dices of the Germans, not to bear within it the seeds of dissolution. When the tide of fortune turned against Buonaparte after tlie battle of Leipsic, Ba- 398 varia hastened to join the allies for the purpose oE completing his destruction, and the example was followed by all the other princes of the Rhine. It fared with Napoleon and the German Confedera- tion, as with a necromancer and the demon whom for a certain term he has bound to his service, and who obeys him with fidelity during the currency of the obligation ; but when that is expired, is the first to tear his employer to pieces. Francis of Austria, seeing the empire, of which his house had been so long the head, going to pieee.-i like a parting wreck, had no other resource than to lay aside tlie Imperial Crown of Germany, and to declare that league dissolved which ho now saw no sufficient means of enforcing. He declared the ties dissevered which bound the various pri'^ees to him as Emperor, to each other as allies ; and al- though he reserved the Imperial title, it was only as the Sovereign of Austria, and his other heredi- tary states.' France became therefore in a great measure tlie successor to the influence and dignity of the Holy Roman Empire, as that of Germany had been proudly styled for a thousand years ; and the Em- pire of Napoleon gained a still neai-er resemblance to that of Charlemagne. At least France succeeded to the Imperial influence exercised by Austria and her empire over all the south-western provinces of tliat powerful district of Europe. In the eastern districts, Austria, stunned by her misfortunes and her defeats, was passive and unresisting. Prussia, in the north of Germany, was halting between two very opposite set of counsellors ; one of which, with too much confidence in the military resources of the country, advised war with France, for which the favourable opportunity had been permitted to escape ; while the other recommended that, like the jackal in the train of the lion, Prussia should continue to avail herself of the spoils which Napo- leon might permit her to seize upon, without pre- suming to place herself in opposition to his will. In either case, the course recommended was suffi- ciently perilous ; but to vacillate, as the Cabinet of Berlin did, betwixt the one and the othei', inferred almost certain ruin. While Napoleon thus revelled in augmented strength, and increased honours. Providence put it once more, and for the last time, in his power to consolidate his immense empire by a genei-al peace, maritime as well as upon the continent. CHAPTER XXXIV. Death of Pitt — He is succeeded by Fox as Prime Minister — Ne,jotiation icith France — The Earl of Lauderdale sent to Paris as the British Negotia- tor — Negotiation broken off, in consequence cf the refusal of England to cede Sicily to France — Temporizing Policy of Prussia — An attempt made by her to form a Confederacy in opposition to that of the Rhine, defeated by Napoleon — General Disjjosition of the Prussians to War — . Legal Murder of Palm, a bookseller — The Em- 2^eror Alexander again visits Berlin — Prussia ' Sec the " Act of Risignation of the Office of Emperor of Germany, by Francis, Emperor of Aubtriii, August 6, IBOG " Annual Kegisttr, vol. xlviii., j). 824. 1806.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 39J begins to arm in Aum?t 180(5, aud, after some JVerjotiation, takes the fe/d in October, binder the Duke of Brunswick — Imjiolicy of the Plans if the Campahjn — Details — Action at ISaa/fefd — Bat- tle of Auerstadt, or Jena, on \Ath October — I)uke of Brunsicick mortcdly icounded — Consequences of this total Defeat — Buonaparte takes possession of Berlin on the Qoth— Situations of Austria and I-'russia, after their several Defeats — liejiections on the fall of Prussia. TnE death of William Pitt [23(1 Jan.] was accele- rated by the campaign of Ulm and Austerlitz, as his health had been previously injured by the de- feat of Marengo. Great as he was as a statesman, ardent in patriotism, and comprehensive in his po- litical views, it had been too much the habit of that great minister, to trust, for some re-establishment of the balance of power on the continent, to- the exertions of the aucient European governments, whose efforts had gradually become fainter and fainter, and their spirits more and more depressed, when opposed to the power of Buonaparte, whose blows, like the thunderbolt, seemed to inflict inevi- table ruin wherever they burst. But, while rest- ing too much hope on coalitions, placing too much confidence in foreign armies, and too little con- sidering, perhaps, what might have been achieved by our own, had sufficient numbers been employed on adequate objects, Pitt maintained with unabated zeal the great principle of resistance to France, unless France should be disposed to show, that, satisfied with the immense power which she pos- sessed, her Emperor was willing to leave to the rest of Europe such precarious independence as his victorious arms had not yet bereft them of. The British prime minister was succeeded, upon his death, by the statesman to whom, in life, he Iiad waged the most uniform opposition. Charles Fox, now at the head of the British Government, had uniformly professed to believe it possible to effect a solid and lasting peace with France, and, in the ai-dour of debate, had repeatedly thrown on his great adversary the blame that such liad not been accomplished. When he himself became possessed of the supreme power of administration, he was natui-ally disposed to realize his predictions, if Napoleon should be found disposed to admit a treaty upon any tiling like equal terms. In a visit to Paris during the peace of Amiens, Mr. Fox had been received with great distinction by Napoleon. The private relations betwixt them were, there- fore, of an amicable nature, and gave an opening for friendly intercourse. The time, too, appeared favourable for negotia- tion ; for whatever advantages had been derived by France from her late triumphant campaign on the continent, were, so far as Britain was concern- ed, neutralized and outbalanced by the destruction of the combined fleets. All possibility of invasion — which appears before this event to have warmly engrossed the imagination of Napoleon — seemed at an end and for ever. The delusion which repre- sented a united navy of fifty sail of the line tri- umpiiantly occupying the Bi-itish Channel, and escorting -an overpowering force to the shores of England, was dispelled by the cannon of 21st Oc- ' See Mr. Fox's letter to M. Talleyrand, February 2(1, I80G; Hansard's Parliamentary Debates, vol. viii., p. 92 ; Annual Register, vol. xlviii., p. 708. After reading it, IsapoUon's first 399 tober. Tlie gay dreams, which painted a victorious army marching to London, reforming the state of England by the destruction of her aristocracv, and reducing her to her natural condition, as Napoleon termed it, of such a dependency on France as the island of Oleron or of Corsica, were gone. After the battle of Trafalgar, all hopes were extingnie hed, that the fair provinces of England could, in any po-ssible event, have been cut up into ncAv fiefs of the French empire. It was no longer to be dreamed, that Dotations, as they were termed, might be formed upon the Royal Exchange for the payment of annuities by hundreds of thousands, and by millions, for rewarding the soldiers of the Great Nation. To work purses for the French officers, that they might be filled with British gold, had of late been a favourite amusement among the fair ladies of France ; but it was now evident that they had laboured in vain. All these hopes and projects were swallowed up in the billows which entombed the wrecks of Trafalgar. In a word, if Austria had fallen in the contest of 1805, Britain stood more pre-eminent than ever ; and- it might have been rationally expected, that the desire of war, on the part of Napoleon, should have ended, when every prospect of bringing that war to the conclusive and triumphant termination which he meditated, had totally di.sappeared. The views of the British Cabinet, also, we have said, were now amicable, and an incident occurred for opening a negotiation, under circumstances which seemed to warrant the good faith of the English ministers. A person pretending to be an adherent of the Bourbons, but afterwards pretty well understood to be an agent of the French Government, acting upon the paltry system of espionage which had infected both their internal and exterior relations, obtained an audience of Mr. Fox, for the purpose, as he pretended, of communicating to the British minister a proposal for the assassination of Buona- parte. It had happened, that Mr. Fox, in conver- sation with Napoleon, while at Paris, had indig- nantly repelled a charge of this kind, which the latter brought against some of the English Minis- try. " Clear your liead of that nonsense," was said to be his answer, with more of English blunt- ness than of French politeness. Perhaps Buona- parte was desirous of knowing whether his practice would keep pace with his principles, and on this principle had encotiraged the spy. Fox, as was to be expected, not only repelled with abhorrence the idea suggested by this French agent, but caused it to be communicated to the French Emperor ; ' and this gave rise to some friendly conmmnication, and finally to a negotiation for peace. Lord Yarmouth, and afterwards Lord Lauderdale, acted for the British Government ; Champagny and General Clarke for the Emperor of France. Napoleon, who, like most foreigners, had but an inaccurate idea of the internal structure of the British consti- tution, had expected to find a French party in the bosom of Englan-", and was surprised to find that a few miscreants of the lowest rank, wh )m he liad been able to bribe, were the only English who were accessible to foreign infiuence ; and that the party which had opposed the war with France lU all it& words were, " I recoRnisc licre the ijrinciples of ho. our and of virtue, by which Mr. Fox has ever been actuated. ThauU him on my part." SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PEOSE WOEKS. 400 Ftages, wei'e nevertheless incapable of desiring to see it cease on such terms as were dislionourable to the country. The French commissioners made several con- cessions, and even intimated, in verbal conference with Lord Yarmouth, that they would be content to treat upon the principle of titi possidetis; that is, of allowing each party to retain such advan- tages as she had been able to gain by her arms during the war. But when the treaty was farther advan^ced, the French negotiators resisted this rule, and showed themselves disposed to deny that iJiev had ever assented to it. Thcv were, indeed, willing to resign a long con- tested point, and consented that the island of Malta, with the Cape of Good Hope, and other possessions in the East and West Indies, should remain under the dominion of Great Britain. But then they exacted the surrender of Sicily and Naples, pro- posing that Frederick JV. should be indemnified at the expense of Spain by the cession of the Bale- aric isles. Britain could not implicitly consent to this last proposition, either in policy, or in jnstice to her unfortunate ally. Naples was indeed occu- pied by the French, and had received Joseph Buonaparte as her King ; but the insular situa- tion of Sicily rendered it easy for Britain to pro- tect that rich island, which was still in rlie posses- sion of its legitimate monarch. The principle of vti possidetis was, therefore, in favour 'if the Eng- lish, so far as Sicily was concerned, as it was in that of the French in the case of Naples. The English envoy, for this reason, refused '-in ultima- tum, in which the cession of Sicily was made an indispensable article. Lord Lauderdale, at the same time, demanded his passports, which, how- ever, he did not receive for several days, as if there had been some hopes of renewing the treaty.' Buonaparte was put to considerable inconve- nience by the shrewdness and tenacity of the noble negotiator, and had not forgotten them when, in 1815, he found himself on board the Bellcrophon, commanded by a relation of the noble earl.'-' It is indeed probable, that, had Mr. Fox lived, the negotiation might have been renewed. That emi- nent statesman, then in his last illness, was desirous to accomplish two gi"eat objects — peace with France, and the abolition of the slave trade. But althougli Buonaparte's deference for Fox might have indu- ced him to concede some of the points in dispute, and although the British statesman's desire of peace might have made him relinquish others on the part of England, still, while the two nations retained their relative power and positions, the deep jealousy and mutual animosity which sub- sisted between them would jn-obably have ren- dered any peace which could have been made a mere suspension of arms — a hollow and insincere truce, which was almost certain to give way on the slightest occasion. Britain could never have seen with indifference Buonaparte making one stride after another towards universal domin- ion ; and Buonaparte could not long have borne with patience the neighbourhood of our free insti- tutions and our free press; the former of which ' For copies of the " Papers relative to the Negotiation with France." see Parliamentary Debates, vol. viii., p. 92 ; Annual Kecistcr, vol. xlviii., n. ;08. ■i Captain Maitland. • " Certainly the death of Fox was one of the fatalities of 400 [1806. must have perpetually reminded the French of the liberty they had lost, while the latter was sure to make the Emperor, his government, and his policy, the daily snbject of the most severe and misparing criticism. Even the war w'ith Prussia and Russia, in which Napoleon was soon afterwards engaged, wonld, in all probability, have renewed the h^/Stili- ties between France and Er»,'land, supposing them to have been terminated for a season by a tempo- rary peace. Yet Napoleon always spoke of the death of Fox as one of the fatalities on which his great designs were shipwrecked ;3 which makes it the more surprising that he did not resume inter- course with the administration formed nnder his auspices, and who might have been supposed to be animated by his principles even after his decease. That he did not do so may be fairly received in evidence to show, that peace, unless on terms which he could dictate, was not desired by him. As the conduct of Prussia had been fickle and versatile during the campaign of Austerlitz, the displeasure of Napoleon was excited in proportion atrainst her. She had, il is true, wrenched from him an unwilling acquie.-cence in her views upon Hanover. By the treaty which Haugwitz had signed at Vienna, after the battle of Austerlitz, it was agreed that Prussia should receive the elec- toral dominions of the King of England, his ally, instead of Anspach, Bareuth, and Neufchatel, which she was to cede to France. The far superior value of Hanover was to be considered as a boon to Prussia, in guerdon of her neutrality. But Napoleon did not forgive the ho.stile disposition which Prussia had manifested, and it is probable he waited with anxiety for the opportunity of inflicting upon her condign chastisement. He con- tinued to maintain a large army in Swabia and Franconia, and, by introducing troops into West- phalia, intimated, not obscurely, an approaching rupture with his ally. Meantime, under the influ- ence of conflicting councils, Prussia proceeded in a course of politics which rendered her odious for her rapacity, and contemptible for the shortsighted views under which she indulged it. It was no matter of difficulty for the Prussian forces to take possession of Hanover, which, when evacuated by Bernadotte and his army, lay a prey to the first invader, with the exception of the for- tress of Hamelen, still occupied by a French gar- rison. The electorate, the hereditary dominions of the King of Great Britain, with whom Prussia was at profound peace, was accordingly seized upon, and her Cabinet pretended to justify that usuipation by alleging, that Hanover, having been transferred to France by the rights of war, had been ceded to the Prussian Government in ex- change for other districts. At the same time, an order of the Prussian monarch shut his ports in the Baltic against the admission of British vessels. These measures, taken together, were looktd upon by England as intimating determined and avowed ho.stility ; and Fox described, in the House of Commons, the conduct of Prussia, as a compound of the most hateful rapacity with the most con- temptible servility.'* War was accordingly declared my career. Had his life been prolonged, affairs irould have taken a totally different turn ; tlie cause of the people would have triuni])hed, and we should have established a new order of things in Europe."— Napoleon, Las Cases, torn, vii., p ifj. •> Parliamentary Debates, vol. vi., p. 887. 180G.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 401 ej^ainst Iicr by Great Britain ; and Iier flai^ heing banished from tlie ocean by tlie English cruizers, tlie mouth of tlie Elbe and the Pi-ussian seaports were declared in a state of blockade, and her trade was subjected to a corresponding degree of distress. Meantime, it was the fate of Prussia to find, that she held by a very insecure tenure that very electorate, the price of her neutrality at Auster- litz, and which was farther purchased at the ex- pense of war with England. Her ministers, while pressing France to confirm the cession of Hanover, had the mortification to discover that Napoleon, far from regarding the Prussian right in it as inde- feasible, was in fact negotiating for a genei-al peace upon the condition, amongst others, that the elec- torate should be restored to the King of England, its hereditary sovereign. While the disclosure of this double game showed Frederick William upon what insecure footing he held the premium assigned to Prussia by the treaty of Vienna, farther dis- cover_v of the projects of France seemed to impel him to change the pacific line of his policy. Hitherto the victories of Napoleon had had for tl'.eir chief consequences the dejn-ession of Austria, and the diminution of that power which was the natural and ancient rival of th" House of Bran- denburg. But now, when Austria was thrust back to the eastward, and deprived of her influence in the south-west of Germany, Prussia saw with just alarm tliat France was assuming that influence herself, and that, unless opposed, she was likely to become as powerful in the north of Germany, as she had rendered herself in the south-western circles. Above all, Prussia was alarmed at the Confederacy of the_ Rhine, an association which placed under the direct influence of France, so large a proportion of what had been lately component parts of the Germanic empire. The dissolution of the Germanic empire itself was an event no less surprising and embarrassing ; for, besides all the other important points, in which the position of Prussia was altered by the annihilation of that ancient confederacy, she lost thereby the prospect of her own monarch being, upon the decline of Austria, chosen to wear the imperial crown, as the most powerful memljer of the federation. One way remained, to balance the new species of power which France had acquired by these innova- tions on the state of Europe. It was possible, by forming the northern princes of the German em- pire into a league of tlie same character with the Confederacy of the Rhine, having Prussia instead of France for its protector, to create such an equi- librium as might render it difficult or dangerous for Buonaparte to use his means, however greatly enlarged, to disturb the peace of the north of Europe. It was, therefore, determined in the Prussi.-\n Cabinet to form a league on this principle. This proposed Northern Confederacy, however, could not well be established without communica- tion ^^ith France; and Buonaparte, though offer- ing no direct opposition to the formation of a league, sanctioned by the example of that of the Rhine, started such obstacles to the project in detail, as were likely to render its establishiiient on an effec- tual footing impossible. It was said by his minis- ters, that Napoleon was to take the Hanseatic towns under liis own immediate protection ; that the wise prince who governed Saxony sliowcd no desire to become a niomber of the proposed Con- voL. 11. 401 federacy ; and that France would permit no po\APr to be forced into such a measure. Finally, the Landgrave of Hesse Cassel, who was naturally reckoned upon as an important member of the ])ro- posed Northern League, was tampered with to prevail upon him to join the Confederacy of the Rhine, instead of that which was proposed to be formed under the protectorate of Prussia. This prince, afraid to decide which of these powerful nations he should adhere to, remained in a state of neutrality, notwithstanding the off"ers of France ; and, by doing so, incurred the displeasure of Na- poleon, from which in the sequel he suffered se- verely. By this partial interruption and opposition. Na- poleon rendered it impossible for Prussia to make any effectual efforts for combining togetlier those remaining fragments of the German empire, over which her military power and geographical posi- tion gave her natural influence. This disappoint- ment, with the sense of having been outwitted by the French Government, excited feelings of chagi-in and resentment in the Prussian Cabinet, which coi-- responded with the sentiments expressed by the nation at large. In the former, the predominant feeling was, despite for disappointed hopes, and a desire of revenge on the sovereign and state by whom they had been over-reached ; in the latter, there prevailed a keen and honourable sense that Prussia had lost her character through the truck- ling policy of her Administration. Whatever reluctance the Cabinet of Berlin had shown to enter into hostilities with France, the court and country never appear to have shared that sensation. The former was under the influence of the young, beautiful, and high-spirited Queen, and of Louis of Prussia, a prince who felt with impatience the decaying importance of that king- dom, which the victories of the Great Frederick had raised to such a pitch of glory. These were surrounded by a numerous band of noble youths, impatient for war, as the means of emulating the fame of their fathers ; but ignorant how little likely were even the powerful and well-disciplined forces of Frederick, unless directed by his genius, to succeed in opposition to troops not inferior to themselves, and conducted by a leader who had long appeared to chain victory to his chariot wheels. The sentiments of the young Prussian noblesse were sufficiently indicated", by their going to sharpen their sabres on the threshold of La Foret, the ambassador of Napoleon, and the wilder frolic of breaking the windows of the ministers supposed to be in the French interest. The Queen appeared frequently in the uniform of the regiment which boi'e her name, and sometimes rode at their head, to give enthusiasm to the soldiery. This was soon excited to the highest pitcli ; and liad the military talents of the Prussian generals borne any correspondence to the gallantry of the officers and soldiers, an issue to the campaign might have been expected far different from tliat which took place. The manner in which the chai'acters of the Queen, the King, and Prince Louis, were treated in the Moniteur, tended still more to exasperate the quar- rel ; for Napoleon's studious and cautious exclu- sion from the government paper of such political articles as had not his own previous approliat'on, rendered him in reason accountable for all which appeared there. 402 SCO-rT'S mSCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [180G. The people of Prussia at larjre were clamorous for war. They, too. were sensible that the late versatile conckict of their Cabinet had exposed them to the censure, and even tlie scorn of Europe ; and that Buonaparte, seeing the crisis ended in which the firmness of Prussia misht have preserved the balance of Europe, retained no lonj^er any respect for those whom he had made his dupes, but treated with total disregard the remonstrances, which, be- fore the advantages obtained at Ulm and Auster- litz, he must have listened to with respect and deference. Another circumstance of a very exasperating diaracter took place at this time. One Palm, a bookseller at Nuremberg, had exposed to sale a pamphlet,' containing remarks on the conduct of Napoleon, in which \he Emperor and his policy were treated with considerable severity. The book- seller was seized upon for this offence by the French gendarmes, and transferred to Braunau, where he was brought before a military commis- sion, tried for a libel on the Emperor of France, found guilty, and shot to death [Aug. 26] in terms of his sentence. The murder of this poor man, for such it literally was, whether immediately flow- ing from Buonapartivs mandate,^ or the effects of the furious zeal of some of his officers, excited deep and general indignation.^ The constitution of many of the states in Ger- many is despotic ; but, nevertheless, the number of inde])endent principalities, and the privileges of the free towns, have always ensured to the nation at large the blessings of a free press, which, much addicted as they are to literature, the Gei-mans value as it deserves. The cruel effort now made to fetter this unshackled expression of opinion, was, of course, most unfavourable to his authority by whom it had been commanded. The thousand presses of Germany continued on every possible opportunity to dwell on the fate of Palm ; and, at the distance of six or seven years from his death, it might be reckoned among the leading causes which ultimately determined the popular opinion against Napoleon. It had not less effect at the time when the crime was committed ; and the eyes of all Ger- many were turned upon Prussia, as the only mem- ber of the late Holy Roman League, by whom the progress of the public enemy of the liberties of Europe could be arrested in its course. Amidst the general ferment of the public mind, Alexander once more appeared in person at the court of Berlin, and, more successful than on the former occasion, prevailed on the King of Prussia at length to unsheath the sword. The support of the powerful hosts of Russia was promised ; and, defeated on the fatal field of Austerlitz in his at- tempt to preserve the south-east of Germany from French inihience, Alexander now stood forth to assist Prussia as the Champion of the North. An attempt had indeed been made through means of D'Oubril, a Russian envoy at Paris, to obtain a general peace for Europe, in concurrence with that ' The pamplilct was intitled, " L'AlIeniasne clans son pro- fond AlKiisscnient," and wasattributcd to tlie pen of M. Gentz. I'iilm was offned his pardon, upon condition that he gave up the autlior of tlie work ; which he refused to do. 2 " All that I recollect about Palm is, that he was arrested by order of Davoust, 1 believe, tried, condenmed, and shot, for having, while the country was in possession of the French, and under military occupation, not only excited rebeliion 402 which Lord Lauderdale was endeavouring to nego- tiate on the part of Britain ; but the treaty entirely miscarried. While Prussia thus declared herself the enemy of France, it seemed to follow, as a matter of course, that she should become once more the friend of Britain ; and, indeed, that power lost no time in manifesting an amicable disposition on her part, by recalling the order which blockaded the Prussian ports, and annihilated her commerce. But the Cabinet of Berlin evinced, in the moment when about to commence hostilities, the same selfish in- sincerity which had dictated all their previous con- duct. While sufficiently desirous of obtaining British money to maintain the approaching war, they showed great reluctance to part with Hano- ver, an acquisition made in a manner so unworthy : and the Prussian minister, Lucchesini, did not hesitate to tell the British ambassador. Lord Mor- peth, that the fate of the electorate would depend upon the event of arms. Little good could be augured from the interposi- tion of a power, who, pretending to arm in behalf of the rights of nations, refused to part with an acquisition which she herself had made, contrary to all the rules of justice and good faith. Still less was a favourable event to be hoped for, when the management of the war was intrusted to the same incapable or faithless ministers, who had allowed every opportunity to escape of asserting the rights of Prussia, when, perhaps, her assuming a firm attitude might have prevented the necessity c-f war altogether. But the resolution which had been delayed, when so many favourable occasions were suffered to escape unemployed, was at length adopted with an im])rudent precipitation, which left Prussia neither time to adopt the wisest war- like measures, nor to look out for those statesmen and generals by whom such measures could have been most effectually executed. About the middle of August, Prussia began to arm. Perhaps there are few examples of a wur declared with the almost unanimous consent of a great and warlike people, which was brought to an earlier and more unhappy termination. On the 1st of October, Knobelsdorfl", the Prussian envoy, was called upon by Talleyrand to explain the cause of the martial attitude assumed by his state. In reply, a paper was delivered, containing three proposi- tions, or rather demands. First, That the French troo])s which had entered the German territory, should instantly recross the Rhine. Secondly, That France should desist from presenting oId- stacles to the formation of a league in the northern part of Germany, to comprehend all the states, without exception, which had not been included in the Confederation of the Rhine. Thirdly, That negotiations should be immediately commenced, for the purpose of detaching the fortress of Wesel from the French empire, and for the restitution of three abbeys,* which Murat had chosen to seize upon as a part of his Duchy of Berg. With this amongst the inhabitants, and urged them to rise and massacre the soldiers, but also attempted to instigate the soldiers them- selves to refuse obedience to their orders, and to mutin? against their generals. I believe that he met witti a fair trial." — Napoleon, Voice, &c., vol. i., p. 432. 3 A subscription was set on foot in Germany, and also in England, for his widow and three children. 4 Essen, Wcrden, and EUen 180G.] LIFE OF NArOLEON BUONAPArvTE. 403 man'ilesto ' was delivered a long explanatory letter, containing severe remar];a on the system of en- croachment which Franco had acted upon. Such a text and commentary, considering their peremp- tory tone, and the pride and power of him to whom they were addi'essed in such unqualified terms, must have been understood to amount to a decla- ration of war. And yet, althougli Prussia, in com- mon with all Europe, had just reason to complain of the encroachments of France, and her rapid strides to universal empire, it would appear that the two first articles in the King's declaration, were subjects rather of negotiation than grounds of an absolute declaration of war ; and that the fortress of Wescl, and the three abbeys, were scarce of importance enough to plunge the whole empire into blood for the sake of them. Prussia, indeed, was less actuall}' aggrieved than she was mortified and offended. She saw she had been outwitted by Buonaparte in tne negotiation of Vienna; that he was juggling with her in the matter of Hanover ; that she was in danger of be- holding Saxony and Hesse withdrawn from her protection, to be placed under tliat of Fi'ance ; and under a general sense of these injuries, though rather apprehended than really sustained, she hur- ried to the field. If negotiations could have been protracted till the advance of the Russian armies, it might have given a different face to the war ; but in the warlike ardour which possessed the Prus- sians, they were desirous to secure the advantages which, in military affairs, belong to the assailants, without weighing the circumstances which, in their situation, rendered such precipitation fatal. Besides, such advantages were not easily to be obtained over Buonaparte, who was not a man to be amused by words when the moment of action arrived. Four days before the delivery of the Prussian note to his minister, Buonaparte had left Paris, and was personally in the field collecting his own immense forces, and urging the contribution of those contingents which the Confederate Princes of the Rhine were bound to supply. His answer to the hostile note of the King of Prussia was ad- dressed, not to that monarch, but to his own sol- diers. " They have dared to demand," he said, " that we should retreat at the first sight of their army. Fools ! could they not reflect how impossi- ble they found it to destroy Paris, a task incompa- rably more easy than to tarnish the honour of the Great Nation ! Let the Prussian army expect the same fate w'hich they encountered fourteen years ago, since experience has not taught them, that while it is easy to acquire additional dominions and mci'ease of power, by the friendship of France, her enmity, on the contrary, which will only be pi-ovo- ked by those who are totally destitute of sense and reason, is more terrible than the tempests of the ocean." The King of Prussia had again placed at the head of his armies the Duke of Brunswick. In liis youth, this general had gained renown under his uncle Prince Ferdinand. But it had been lost in the retreat from Champagne in 179"2, where he had suffered himself to be out-manoeuvred by Du- mouriez and his army of conscripts. He was seventy-two years old, and is said to have added the obstinacy of age to others of the infirmities ' Ste Animal Register, vol. xlviii., p. WO. 40;5 which naturally attend it. He was not communi- cative, nor accessible to any of the other generals, excepting MoUcndorf ; and this generated a dis- union of councils in tlie Prussian camp, and the personal dislike of the army to him by whom it was commanded. The plan of the campaign, formed by this ill- fated prince, seems to have been singularly injudi- cious, and the more so, as it is censurable on exactly the same grounds as that of Austria in the late war. Prussia could not expect to have the advan- tage of numbers in the contest. It was, therefore, her obvious policy to procrastinate and lengthen out negotiation, until she could have the advantage of the Russian forces. Instead of this, it was de- termined to rush forward towards Franconia, and oppose the Prussian army alone to the whole force of France, commanded by their renowned Emperor. The motive, too, was similar to that which had determined Austria to advance as far as the banks of the Iller. Saxony was in the present campaign, as Bavaria in the former, desirous of remaining neuter ; and the hasty advance of the Prussian armies was designed to compel the Elector Augus- tus to embrace their cause. It succeeded accord- ingly ; and the sovereign of Saxony united his forces, though reluctantly, with the left wing of the Prussians, under Prince Hohenloe. The conduct of the Prussians towards the Saxons bore the same ominous resemblance to that of the Austrians to the Bavarians. Their troops behaved in the coun- try of Saxony more as if they were in the land of a tributary than an ally, and while the assistance of the good and peaceable prince was sternly ex- acted, no efforts were made to conciliate his good- will, or soothe the pride of his subjects. In their behaviour to the Saxons in general, the Prussians showed too much of the haughty spirit that goes before a fall. The united force of the Prussian army, with its auxiliaries, amounted to one hundred and fifty thousand men,^ confident in their own courage, in the rigid discipline which continued to distinguish their service, and in the animating recollections of the victorious career of the Great Frederick. There were many generals and soldiers in their ranks who had served under him ; but, amongst that troop of veterans, Blucher alone was destined to do distinguished honour to the school. Notwitlistanding these practical errors, the ad- dress of the Prussian King to his army was in bet- ter taste than the vaunting proclamation of Buona- parte, and concluded with a passage, which, though its accomplishment was long delayed, nevertheless proved at last prophetic :^" We go," said Frede- rick William, " to encounter an enemy, who has vanquislied numerous armies, humiliated monarchs, destroyed constitutions, and deprived more than one state of its independence, and even of its very name. He has threatened a similar fate to Prussia, and proposes to reduce us to the dominion oi a strange people, who would supjiress the very name of Germans. The fate of armies, and of nations, is in the hands of the Almighty ; but constant vic- tory, and durable prosperity, are never granted, save to the cause of justice." While Buonaijarte assembled in Franconia an army considerably superior in number to that of 2 Jumiiii, torn, ii., [i. i7<'- 404 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [I80C. The I'riissiaiif?, the latter occupied the country hi tlie vicinity of the river Saale, and seemed, in doing 50, to renounce all the advantage of making the attiick on the enemy ere he had collected his forces. Yet, to make such an attack was, and must have been, the princijial motive of their hasty and pre- cipitate advance ; especially after they had secured its primary object, the accession of Saxony to the campaign. The position which the Duke of Brnns- wick occupied was indeed very strong as a defen- sive one, but the means of supjiorting so large an army were not easily to be obtained in such a bar- ren country as that about Weimar ; and their magazines and depots of provisions were injudici- ously placed, not close in the rear of the army, but at Naumburg, and other jilaces, upon their extreme left, and where they were exposed to the risk of being separated from them. It might be partly owing to the difficulty of obtaining forage and sub- sistence, that the Prussian army was extended upon a line by far too much prolonged to admit of mutual support. Indeed, they may be considered rather as disposed in cantonments than as occupying a military position ; and as they remained strictly on the defensive, an opportunity was gratuitously af- forded to Buonaparte to attack their divisions in detail, of which he did not fail to avail himself with his usual talent. The headquarters of the Prus- eians, where were the King and Duke of Brunswick, were at Weimar ; their left, under Prince Hoheu- loe, were at Schleitz ; and their right extended as far as Muhlhausen, leaving thus a space of ninety miles betwixt the extreme flanks of their line. Buonaparte, in the meantime, commenced the campaign, according to his custom, by a series of partial actions fought on different points, in which his usual combinations obtained his usual success ; the whole tending to straiten the Prussians in their position, to interrupt their comminiications, separate them from their supplies, and compel them to fight a decisive battle from necessity, not choice, in which dispirited troops, under baffled and outwitted gene- rals, were to encounter with soldiers who liad al- ready obtained a foretaste of victory, and who fought under the most renowned commanders, the combined efforts of the whole being directed by the master spirit of the age. Upon the 8th Octolier, Buonaparte gave vent to his resentment in a bulletin, in which he complained of having received a letter of twenty pages, signed by the King of Prussia, being, as he alleged, a sort of wretched pamphlet, such as England engaged hireling authors to compose at the rate of five luui- dred pounds sterling a-year. " I am sorry," he Baid, " for my brother, who does not understand the French language, and has certainly never read that rha]>sody." The same publication contained much in ridicule of the Queen and Prince Louis.' It bears evident marks of Napoleon's own compo- eition, which was as singular, though not so felici- tous, as his mode of fighting ; but it was of little • " • Marshal," said the Emperor, on the 7th, to Berthier, ' ihev Rive us a rendezvous of lionour for the Kth. They sav a liand^ome queen is there, who desires to see battles ; let us be polite, and march without delay for Saxony !' The Emiieror Was correctly informed ; for the Queen of Prussia is with the atniy, equipped like an Amazon, wearing the uniform of her regiment of dra;;ooiis, and writing twenty letters a-day to all parts of the kinndom, to excite the inhabitants aRainst the trench. It apjiears like the conduct of the frenzied Armida, jetting fire to her own palace. Ne.\t to her .Majesty, Prince Louis of Prussia, a I rave young man, incited by the war fac- 404 u.se to censure either the style or the reasoning of the lord of so many legions. His arms soon made the impression which he desired upon the position of the enemy. The French advanced, in three divisions, upon the dislocated and extended dispositioit of the large but ill-arranged Prussian army. It Avas a primary and irretrievable fault of the Duke of Brunswick, that his magazines, and reserves of artillery and ammunition were pkced at Naumburg, instead of being close in the rear of his army, and under the protection of his main body. This ill-timed sepa- ration rendered it easy for the French to interpose betwixt the Prussians and their supplies, providing they were able to clear the course of the Saale. With this view the French right wing, com- manded by Soult and Ney, marched upon Hof. The centre was under Bcrnadotte and Davoust, with the guard commanded by ^lurat. They moved on Saalburg and Schleitz. The left wing was led by Augereau against Coburg and Saalfield. It was the object of this grand combined movement to overwhelm the Prussian right wing, which was extended farther than prudence permitted ; and, having beaten this part of the army, to turn their whole position, and possess themselves of their magazines. After some previous skirmishes, a serious action took place at Saalfield, where Prince Louis of Piaissia commanded the advanced guard of the Prussian left w ing. In the ardour and inexperience of youth, the brave prince, instead of being contented with de- fending the bridge on the Saale, quitted that advan- tageous position, to advance with unequal forces against Lannes, who was marching upon him from Graffenthal. If bravery could have atoned for im- prudence, the battle of Saalfield would not have been lost. Prince Louis showed the utmost gal- lantry in leading his men when they advanced, and in rallying them when they fled. He was killed fighting hand to hand with a French subaltern, who required him to surrender, and, receiving a sabre- wound for reply, plunged his sw ord into the princc'a body. Several of his staff fell around him.''' The victory of Saalfield opened the course of the Saale to the French, who instantly advanced on Naumburg. Buonaparte was at Gera, w ithin lialf a day's journey from the latter city, whence he sent a letter to the King of Prussia, couched in the lan- guage of a victor, (for victorious he already felt himself by his numbers and position,) and seasoned with the irony of a successful foe. He regretted his good brother had been made to sign the wretch- ed pamphlet w Inch had borne his name, but which he protested he did not impute to him as his com- position. Had Prussia asked any practicable favour of him, he said he would have granted it ; but she had asked his dishonour, and ought to have known there could be but one answer. In consideration of their former friendship. Napoleon stated himself to be ready to restore peace to Prussia and her tinn, vainly hopes to gain honours and renown in the vicissi- tudes of war.' — Firft liulletin ojt/ie Gnuid Army. - " Prince Louis urged and hastened hostilities, and feared to let the opportunity escajie. He was, besides, a man of ^reat courage and talent ; all accounts agreed on that point Isajio- ieon, who did not dislike such jieiulant eagerness, was con- versing with us one evening respecting the generals of tha eneniv's army ; some one present happened to mention Prince Louis'; ' As for him,' said he, ' I foretell that he will be killed this campaign. Who could have thought that the predictiou would £0 soon have been fulfilled."— jV^woHCSrfe R\pp, p. (iS. 180G.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE 405 monarch ; and, advising Ins gDod brother to dismiss Buch counsellors as recommended tlie present war and that of 1792, he bade liiin heartily farewell.' Buonaparte neither expected nor received any answer to this missive, wliicli was written under the exulting sensations experienced by the angler, when he feels the fish is hooked, and about to become his secure prey. Naunibiirg and its maga- zines were consigned to the flames, which first announced to the Prussians that the French army had gotten completely into their rear, had destroyed their magazines, and, being now interposed be- twixt them and Saxony, left them no alternative save that of battle, which was to be waged at the greatest disadvantage with an alert enemy, to ■whom their supineness liad already given the choice of time and place for it. There was also this ominous consideration, that, in ease of disaster, the Prussians had neither principle, nor order, nor line of retreat. Tlie enemy were betwixt them and Magdeburg, which ought to have been their rallying point ; and the army of the Great Frederick was, it must be owned, bi-ought to combat with as little reflection or military science, as a hei-d of 6chool-boys might have displayed in a mutiny. Too late determined to make some exertion to clear their communications to the rear, the Duke of Brunswick, with the King of Prussia in person, marched with great part of their army to the re- covery of Naumburg. Here Davoust,* \> ho had taken the place, remained at the head of a division of si.\-and-thirty thousand men, with whom he was to oppose nearly double the number. The march of tlie Duke of Brunswick was so slow, as to lose the advantage of this superiority. He paused on the evening of the thirteenth on the heights of Auer- stadt, and gave Davoust time to reinforce the troops with which he occupied the strong defile of Koesen. The next morniiig, Davoust, with strong reinforcements, but still unequal in numbers to the Prussians, marched towards the enemy, whose columns were already in motion. The vanguard of both armies met, without previously knowing that they were so closely ap])roacliing each other, so thick lay the mist upon the ground. The village of Hassen-Hausen, near which the opposite armies were first made aware of each other's proximity, became instantly the scene of a severe conflict, and was taken and retaken re- peatedly The Prussian cavalry, being superior in numbers to that of the French, and long famous for its appointments and discipline, attacked repeat- edly, and was as often resisted by the French squares of infantry, whom they found it impossible to throw into disorder, or break upon any point. The French, having thus repelled the Prussian horse, carried, at the point of the bayonet, some woods and the vil- lage of Spilberg, and I'emained in undisturbed pos- session of that of Hassen-Hausen. The Prussians had by this time maintained the battle from eight in the moi-ning till eleven, and being now engaged on all points, with the exception of two divisions of the reserve, had sufl'ered great loss. The (Jeneral- issimo, Duke of Brunswick, wounded in the face by a grape-shot, was carried off ; so was General ' See Fifteenth Bulletin of 'he Grand Armv. 2 " Befure tile Kiriperor l;iy down, lie ckseended tlie hill of Jena on font, to be certain that no aranumitioii-wasyon had been left at the bottom. He tliere found Die whole of Mav- •hai LaniuK artillery sticking: in a ravine, which, in the ob- 4U5 Schmettau, and other officers of rlistinotion. Tlio want of an experienced chief began to be felt ; when, to increase the difficulties of their situation, the King of Prussia received intelligence, that General Mollendorf, who commanded his right wing, stationed near Jena, was in the act of being defeated by Buonaparte in person. The King took the generous but perhaps desperate resolu- tion, of trying, whetlier in one general charge he could not redeem the fortune of the day, by defeat ing that part of tlie French witli which he was per sonally engaged. He ordered the attack to be maile along all the line, and with all the forces which he had in the field ; and his commands were obeyed with gallantry enough to vindicate the honour oi the troops, but not to lead to success. They were beaten off, and the French resumed the offensive in their turn. Still the Prussian monarch, who seems now to liave taken the command upon himself, endeavour- ing to supply the want of professional experience h^ courage, brought up his last reser^-es, and encour- i aged liis broken troops rather to make a final stand for victory, than to retreat in face of a conquering army. This effort also proved in vain. The Prus- sian line was attacked every where at once ; centre and wings were broken through by the French at the bayonet's point ; and the retreat, after s^o many fruitless efforts, in which no division had been left unengaged, was of the most disorderly character. But the confusion was increased tenfold, when, as the defeated troops reached Weimar, they fell in with the right wing of their own army, fugitives like themselves, and who were attempting to re- treat in the same direction. The disorder of two routed armies meeting in opposing currents, soon became inextricable. The roads were choked uj) with artillery and baggage waggons ; the relreai, became a hurried flight ; and the King himself, who had shown the utmost courage during the battle of Auerstadt, was at length, for personal satety, compelled to leave the high-roads, and escape across the fields, escorted by a small body of cavalry. While the left of the Prussian army were in the act of combating Davoust at Auerstadt, their right, as we have hinted, were with equally bad fortune engaged at Jena. This second action, though the least important of the two, has always given the name to the double battle ; because it was at Jena that Napoleon was engaged in person. The French Emperor had arrived at this town, which is situated upon the Saale, on the 13th of October, and had lost no time in issuing those or- ders to his mareschals, which jjroduced the demon- strations of Davoust, and the victory of Auerstadt. His attention was not less turned to the position he himself occupied, and in which he had the prosjjuct of fighting ]\lollendorf, and the right of the I'rus- sians, on the next morning. With his usual ac- tivity, he formed or enlarged, in the course of the night, the roads by which he proposed to bring up his artillery on the succeeding day, and by hewing the solid rock, made a path practicable for guns to the plateau, or elevated plain in the front of Jena, where his centre was established.* The scurity of the night had been mistaken for a road. The Eni- iieror was excessively an};ry, but sliowed his displeasure only by a cold silence. Without wasliun lime in reproaches, be set to work him^elf to do the duty of an artillery ofiicer. He collected the men, itiadv tUeui |;bt their park-tools, uiid liglkt 40G SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WOEKS. [1806. Prussian armj- lay before tliem, extended on a line of six leagues, while that of Napoleon, extremely concentrated, showed a very narrow front, but was well secured both in the flanks and in the rear. Buonaparte, according to his custom, slept in the bivouac, surrounded by his guards.' In the morn- ing he harangued liis soldiers, and recommended to them to stand firm against the charges of the Oct 14 Prussian cavalry, which had been re- pi'esented as very redoubtable. As be- fore Ulm,he had promised his soldiers a repetition of the battle of Marengo, so now he pointed out to his men that the Prussians, separated from their magazines, and cut off fi-om their country, were in the situation of Mack at Ulm. He told them, that the enemy no longer fought for honour and victory, but for the chance of opening a way to retreat ; and he added, that the corps wliieh should permit them to escape would lose their honour. The French replied with loud shouts, and demanded instantly to advance to the combat. The Emperor ordered the columns destined for the attack to descend into the plain. His centre consisted of the Imperial Guard, and two divisions of Lannes. Augereau commanded the right, which rested on a village and a forest ; and Soult's division, with a part of Nay's, were upon the left. General Mollendorf advanced on his side, and both armies, as at Auerstadt, were hid from each other by the mist, until suddenly the atmosphere cleared, and showed them to each other within the distance of half-cannon shot. The conflict instantly commenced. It began on the French right, where the Prussians attacked with the purpose of driving Augereau from the village on which he rested his extreme flank. Lannes was sent to support him, by whose succour he was enabled to stand his ground. The battle then became general ; and the Prussians showed tliemselves such masters of dis- cipline, that it was long impossible to gain any ad- vantage over men, who advanced, retired, or moved to either flank, with the regularity of machines. Soult at length, by the most desperate efforts, dis- possessed the Prussians opposed to him of the woods from which they had annoyed the French left; and at the same conjuncture the division of Ney, and a large reserve of cavalry, appeared upon the field of battle. Napoleon, thus sti-engthened, advanced the centre, consisting in a great measure «)f the Imperial Guard, who, being fresh and in the liighest spirits, compelled the Pi-ussian army to give way. Their retreat was at first orderly ; but it was a part of Buonaparte's tactics to pour attack after attack upon a worsted enemy, as the billows of a tempestuous ocean follow each other in suc- cession, till the last waves totally disperse the frag- ments of the bulwark which the first have breached. the lanterns ; one of whieli he held for the convenience of those whose labours he directed. Never shall I forget the expression of the countenances of the men on seeing tlie Em- peror lighting them with a lantern, nor the heavy blows with Vfhich they struck the rocks."— Sa vary, torn, ii., p. 180. ' " The night bcfcre the battle of Jena, the Emperor said, he had run the greatest risk. He might then have disappeared without his fate being clearly known. He had approached the bivouacs of the enemy, in the dark, to reconnoitre them ; lie had only a few officers witli him. The opinion which was then entertained of the Prussian army kept every one on the alert : it was thought that the Prussians were jiarticularly pivcii to nocturnal attacks. As the Emperor returned, he was hred at by the first sentinel of his camp ; this was a signal for Ibe whole line ; he had no resource but to throw liimself flat on hi8 face, until the mistake was discovered. But his prin- cipal apprehension was, tluit tlie Prussian line, which was near 4(IU Murat, at the head of the dragoons and the cavalr y of reserve, charged, as one who would merit, as far as bravery could merit, the splendid destinies which seemed now opening to him. The Prussian infantry were unable to support the shock, nor could their cavalry protect them. The rout be- came general.^ Great part of the artillery was taken, and the broken troops retreated in disorder upon Weimar, where, as we have already stated, their confusion became inextricable, by tlicir en- countering the other tide of fugitives from their own left, which was directed upon Weimar also. All leading and following seemed now lost in this army, so lately confiding in its numbers and discipline. There was scarcely a general left to issue orders, scarcely a soldier disposed to obey them ; and it seems to have been more by a sort of instinct, than any resolved purpose, that several broken regiments were directed, or directed them- selves, upon Magdeburg, where Prince Hohenloe endeavoured to rally them. The French accounts state that 20,000 Prussians were killed and taken in the course of this fatal day ; that three hundred guns fell into their power, witli twenty generals, or lieutenant-generals, and standards and colours to the nmnber of sixty.^ The mi-smanagement of the Prussian generals in these calamitous battles, and in all the manoeuvrea which preceded them, amounted to infatuation. The troops also, according to Buonaparte's evi- dence, scarcely maintained their higli character, oppressed probably by a sense of the disadvantages under which they combated. But it is unnecessary to dwell on the various causes of a defeat, when the vanquished seem neither to have formed one com- bined and general plan of attack in the action, nor maintained communication with each other while it endured, nor agreed upon any scheme of retreat when the day was lost. The Duke of Brunswick, too, and General Schmettau, being mortally wound- ed early in the battle, the several divisions of the Prussian army fought individually, without receiv- ing any general orders, and consequently without regular plan or combined manceuvres. The conse- quences of the defeat were more nniversally cala- mitous than could have been anticipated, even when we consider, that no mode of retreat having been fixed on, or general rallying place appointed, the broken army resembled a covey of heathfowl, which the sportsman marks down and destroys in detail and at his leisure. Next day after the action, a large body of the Prussians, who, under the command of Mollendorf had retired to Erfurt, were compelled to surrender to the victors, and the marshal, with the Prince of Orange Fulda, became prisoners. Other relics of this most unhappy defeat met with the same fate. him, would act in the same manner." — Las Cases, torn, i., p. 143. 2 " The Emperor, at the point where he stood, saw the flight of the Prussians, aiid our cavalry taking tlioin by thou- sands. Night was appioaching; and here, as at Austerlitz, he rode round the tield of battle. He often alighted from hia horse to give a little brandy to the wounded ; and several times I observed him putting his hand into the breast of a sol- dier to ascertain whether bis heart beat, because, in conse- quence of having seen some sliglit appearance of colour in his checks, he supposed he might not be dead. In this manner I saw him two or three li-mes discover men who were still alive. On these occasions he gave way to a joy which it is impossible to describe." — Savary, torn, ii., p. li)4. 3 Fifth Bullethi of the Grand Army; .Tomini, torn, ii., p. •Jin ; bavary, torn, ii., p. IHl. 180G.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 407 General Kalkreutli, at the head of a considerable division of troops, was overtaken and routed in an attempt to cross the Hartz mountains. Prince Eugene of Wirteniberg commanded an untouched body of sixteen thousand men, whom the Prussian general-in-chief had suftered to remain at Mem- mingen, without an attempt to bring them into the field. Instead of retiring wlien he heard all was lost, the prince was rash enough to advance towards Halle, as if to put the only unbroken division of the Pinissian army in the way of the far superior and victorious hosts of France. He was accord- higly attacked and defeated by Bernadotte. The chief point of rallying, however, was Mag- deburg, under the walls of which strong city Prince Hohenloe, though wounded, contrived to assemble an army amounting to fitty thousand men, but wanting every thing, and in the last degree of confusion. But Magdeburg was no place of rest for them. The same improvidence, which had marked every step of the campaign, had exhausted that city of the immense magazines whicli it con- tained, and taken them for the supply of the Duke of Brunswick's army. Tlie wrecks of the field of Jena were exposed to famine as well as the sword. It only remained for Prince Hohenloe to make tlie best escape he could to tlie Oder, and, considering the disastrous circumstances in which he was placed, he seems to liave difj)layed both courage and skill in his proceedings. After various partial actions, liowever, in all of wliich he lost men, he finally found himself, with the advanced guard and centre of liis army, on the heights of Prenzlow, without provisions, forage, or amni'inition. Surrender be- came unavoidable ; and at Prenzlow and Passewalk, nearly twenty thousand Prussians laid down their arms. The rear of Prince Hohenloe's army did not immediately share this calamity. They were at Boitzenburg when the surrender took place, and amounted to about ten thousand men, the relics of the battle in whicli Prince Eugene of Wirteni- berg had engaged near Weimar, and were under the command of a general whose name hereafter was destined to sound like a war trumpet — the celebrated Bluoher. In the extremity of his country's distresses, this distinguished soldier showed the same indomitable spirit, the same activity in execution and daring- ness of resolve, which afterwards led to such glori- ous results. He was about to leave Boitzenburg on the 29th, in consequence of his orders from Prince Hohenloe, when he learned that general's disaster at Prenzlow. He instantly changed the direction of his retreat, and, by a rapid march to- wards Strelitz, contrived to unite his forces with about ten thousand men, gleanings of Jena and Auerstadt, which, under the Dukes of Weimar and of Brunswick Oels, had taken their route in that direction. Thus reinforced, Blucher adopted the plan of passing the Elbe at Lauenburg, and reinforcing the Prussian garrisons in Lower Saxony. With this view he fought several sharp actions, and made many rapid marches. But the odds were too great to be balanced by courage and activity. The division of Soult which had crossed the Elbe, cut him off from Lauenburg, that of Murat inter- posed between him and Stralsund, while Berna- dotte pressed u]ion his rear. Blucher had no resource but to throw himself and his diminished and dispirited army into Lubcck. The pursuers came soon up, and found him like a stag at bay. A battle was fought on the 6th of November, in the streets of Lubcck, with extreme fury on both side», in which the Prussians were overpowered by num- bers, and lost many slain, besides four thousand prisoners. Blucher fought his way out of tlie town, and reached Schwcrta. But he had now retreated as far as he could, without violating the neutrality of the Danish territory, which would only have raised up new enemies to his unfortunate master. On the 7th November, therefore, he gave up his good sword, to be resumed under happier auspices, and surrendered with the few thousand men wliich remained under liis command.' But the courage wliich he had manifested, like the lights of St. Elmo amid the gloom of the tempest, showed that there was at least one pupil of the Great Frederick worthy of liis master, and afforded hopes, on which Prussia long dwelt in silence, till the moment of action arrived. The total destruction, for such it might almost be termed, of the Prussian army, was scarcely so wonderful, as the facility with which the fortresses which defend tliat country, some of them ranking among the foremost in Europe, were surrendered by their commandants, without shame, and without resistance, to the victorious enemy. Strong towns, and fortified places, on which the engineer had exhausted his science, provided too with large gar- risons, and ample su])plies, opened their gates at the sound of a French trumpet, or the explosion of a few bombs. Spandau, Stettin, Custrin, Hame- len, were each qualified to have arrested the marcK of invaders for months, yet were all surrendered on little more than a summons. In Magdeburg was a garrison of twenty-two thousand men, two thousand of them being artillerymen ; and never- theless this celebrated city capitulated with Mare- schal Ney at the first flight of shells. Hamelen was garrisoned by six thousand troops, am])ly supplied with provisions, and every means of maintaining a siege. The place was surrendered to a force scarcely one-third in proportion to that of the gar- rison. These incidents were too gross to be im- puted to folly and cowardice alone. The French tliemselves wondered at their conquests, yet liad a shrewd guess at the manner in which they were rendered so easy. Wlien the recreant governor of Magdeburg was insulted by the students of Halle for treachery as well as cowardice, the French garrison of the ))lace sympathized, as soldiers, with the youthful enthusiasm of the scholars, and aflbrd- ed the sordid old coward but little protection against their indignation. From a similar generous impulse, Scliocis, the commandant of Ilanielen, was nearly destroyed by the troops under his orders. In surrendering the i>lace, he had endeavoured to stipulate, that,in case the Prussian provinces should ]iass by the fortune of war to some other power, the officers should retain their pay and rank. The ' " So jealous was Blucher of anv tarnish bciriKattaclied to '• compelled him to siirreiulcr. viz. a want of powder and other his character, in consequence of this surrender, that the capi- 1 necessaries, should be stated, as Blucher insisted, among the tnlatioii was at one time on tlie point of being broken ofl', be- articles drawn up between tliem." — See Ge.ntz, JuurnaX dii cause Bernadotte would not consent that the reasons which Qualorze Jvurs cle la Munarchie Piiiisianie. 407 408 SCOTT'S MISCELLA^'EOUS PROSE WORKS. [1806. soldiers were so much incensed !vt this stipulation, which carried desertion in its front, and a pro- posal to shape a i)rivate fortune to himself amid the ruin of his country, that Schoels only saved liimself hy delivering up the place to the French before the time stipulated in the articles of capi- tulation. It is believed that, on several of these occasions, the French constructed a golden key to open these iron fortresses, without being themselves at the expense of the precious metal which composed it. Everv large garrison has of course a military chest, with treas'iu-e for the regular payment of the sol- diery ; and it is said, that more than one command- ant was unalile to resist the proffer, that, in case of an immediate surrender, this deposit should not be inquired into by the captors, but left at the disposal of the governor, whose accommodating disposition had saved them the time and trouble of a siege.i While the French ariny made this unintemipted progress, the new King of Holland, Louis Buona- parte, with an army partly composed of Dutch and parti v of Frenchmen, possessed himself with equal ease "of Westphalia, great pai't of Hanover, Em- den, and East Friesland.^ To complete the picture of general disorder which Pi'ussia now exhibited, it is only necessary to add, that the unfortunate King, whose personal qualities deserved a better fate, had been obliged, after the battle, to fly into East Prussia, where he finally sought refuge in the city of Koningsberg. L'Estocq, a faithful and able general, was still able to as- semble out of the wreck of the Prussian army a few thousand men, for the protection of his '^ '^' sovereign. Buonaparte took possession of Berlin on the 25th October, eleven days after the liattle of Jena. The mode in which he improved his good fortune, we reserve for future consideration. The fall of Prussia was so sudden and so total, as to excite the general astonishment of Europe. Its prince was compared to the rash and inexpe- rienced gambler, who risks his whole fortune on- one desperate cast, and rises from the table totally ruined. That power had, for three quarters of a century, ranked among the most important of Europe ; but never had she exhibited such a for- midable position as almost immediately before her disaster, when, holding in her own hand the balance of Europe, she might, before the day of Austerlitz, have inclined the scale to which side she would. And now she lay at the feet of the antagonist whom she had rashly and in ill time defied, not fallen merely, but totally prostrate, without the means of making a single effort to ai'ise. It was remembered that Austi-ia, when her armies were defeated, and her capital taken, had still found resources in the courage of her subjects, and that the insurrections of Hungary and Bohemia had as- Bumed, even after Buonaparte's most eminent successes, a character so formidable, as to aid in ]>rocuring peace for the defeated Emperor on mo- derate terms. Austria, therefore, was like a for- 1 " The war with Prussia— a war which had boen hatchin-; since tlie battle of Austerlitz — was k-ss caused bythe counsels of the cabinet, than by the comjiilcrs of secret memoirs. Tliey bepan by rcjjresentinp the Prussian monarchy as ready to fall nt the least null', like a house built with cards. I can aftirm, that for the last three months, this war was prepared like a coup tie tMillre: all the chances and vicissitudes had been calculated, and weighed, with the greatest exactnces. I con- 408 tress repeatedly besieged, and as often breached and damaged, but which continued to be tenable, though diminished in strength, and deprived ot important outworks. But Prussia seemed like the same fortress swallowed up by %n earthquake, which leaves nothing either to inhabit or defend, and where the fearful agency of the destroyer reduces the strongest bastions and bulwarks to crumbled masses of ruins and rubbish. The cause of this great distinction between two countries which have so often contended against each other for political power, and for influence in Germany, may be easily traced. The empire of Austria combines in itself several large kingdoms, the undisturbed and undisputed dominions of a common sovereign, to whose sway they have been long accustomed, and towards whom they nourish the same sentiments of loyalty which their fathers entertained to the ancient princes of the same house. Austria's natural authority there- fore rested, and now i-ests, on this broad and solid base, the general and rooted attachment of the people to their prince, and their identification of his interests with their own. Prussia had also her native provinces, in which her authority was hereditary, and where the affec- tion, loyalty, and patriotism of the inhabitants were natural qualities, which fathers transmitted to their sons. But a large part of her dominions consist of late acquisitions, obtained at different times by the arms or policy of the great Frederick ; and thus her territories, made up of a number of sinall and distant states, want geographical breadth, while their disproportioned length stretches, according to Voltaire's well-known simile, Hke a pair of garters across the map of Europe. It follows as a natural consequence, that a long time must intervene be- twixt the formation of such a kingdom, and the amalgamation of its component parts, differing in laws, manners, and usages, into one compact and solid monarchy, having respect a:id affection to their king, as the common head, and regard to each other as members of the same community. It will require generations to pass away, ere a king- dom, so artificially composed, can be cemented into unity and strength ; and the tendency to remain disunited, is greatly increased by the disadvantages of its geographical situation. These considerations alone might explain, why, after the fatal battle of Jena, the inhabitants of the various provinces of Prussia contributed no import- ant personal assistance to i-epel the invader; and why, although almost all trained to arms, and ac- customed to serve a certain time in the line, they did not display any readiness to exert themselves against the common enemy. They felt that they belonged to Prussia only by the right of the strongest, and therefore were indifferent when the same right seemed about to transfer their allegiance elsewhere. They saw the approaching ruin of the Prussian power, not as children view the danger of a father, which they are bound to prevent at the hazard of their lives, but as servants view that of sidered it ill becominc the diirnity of crowned heads, to see a cabinet so i.11 rcsulated. The Prussian monarchy, whose safe- guard it should have been, depended upon the cnnnins of some intrij;uers, and the energy of a few subsidized persons, who were the very ^jujipets of our will. Jena! history will one day develope thy secret causes." — Fouchb, torn, i., p. - Docunicns sur la HoU.indo, torn, i., p. 282. 18G6.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 409 a master, winch concerns them no otherwise than as leading to a change of their employei-s. There were other reasons, tendin;^ to paralyse any effort at popular resistance, which affected the hereditary states of Prussia, as well as her new acquisitions. The power of Prussia had appeared to depend almost entirely upon her standing; army, established by Frederick, and modelled according to his rules. When, therefore, this army was at once annihilated, no hope of safety was entertained by those who had so long regarded it as invincible. The Prussian peasant, who would gladly have joined the ranks of his country while they conti- nued to keep the field, knew, or thouglit he knew, too much of the art of war, to have any hope in the efforts which might be made in a desultory guerilla warfare ; which, however, the courage, devotion, and pertinacity of an invaded people have rendered the most formidable means of opposition even to a victorious army. The ruin of Prussia, to whatever causes it was to be attributed, seemed, in the eyes of astonished Europe, not only universal, but irremediable. The King, driven to the extremity of his dominions, could only be considered as a fugitive, whose pre- carious chance of restoration to the crown depended on the doubtful success of his ally of Russia, who now, as after the capture of Vienna, had upon his hands, strong as those hands were, not the task of aiding an ally, who was in the act of resistance to the common enemy, but the far more difficult one of raising from the ground a prince who was totally powerless and prostrate. The French crossed the Oder — Glogau and Breslau were invested. Their defence was respectable ; but it seemed not the less certain that their fall involved almost the last hopes of Prussia, and that a name raised so high by the reign of one wise monarch, was like to be blotted from the map of Europe by the events of a sijigle day. Men looked upon this astonishing calamity with various sentiments, according as they considered it with relation to the Prussian administration alone, or as connected with the character of the King and kingdom, and the general interests of Europe. In the former point of view, the mind could not avoid acknowledging, with a feeling of embittered satis- faction, that the crooked and selfish policy of Prus- sia's recent conduct,— as shortsighted as it was grasping and unconscientious, — had met in this present hour of disaster with no more than merited chastisement. The indifference with which the Prussian Cabinet had viewed the distresses of the House of Austria, which their firm interposition might probably have prevented — the total want of conscience and decency with which they accepted Hanover from France, at the moment when they meditated war with the power at whose hand they received it — the shameless rapacity with which they proposed to detain the electorate from its legal owner, at the very time when they were ne- gotiating an alliance with Britain, — intimated that contempt of the ordinary principles of justice, which, while it renders a nation undeserving of success, is frequently a direct obstacle to their attaining it. Their whole procedure was founded on the prin- ciples of a fe\>m, who is willing to betray his accom- plice, providing he is allowed to retain his own Eliare of the common booty. It was no wonder, men said, tliat a government setting such an e.\am- 409 pie to its subjects, of greediness and breach of faith in its public transactions, should find among them, in the hour of need, many who were capable of preferring their own private interests to that of their country. And if the conduct of this wretched administration was regarded in a political instead of a moral point of view, the disasters of the king- dom might be considered as the consequence of their incapacity, as well as the just remuneration of their profligacy. The hurried and presumptuous declaration of war, after every favourable oppor- tunity had been suffered to escape, and indeed the whole conduct of the campaign, showed a degree of folly not far short of actual imbecility, and which must have arisen either from gross treachery, or something like infatuation. So far, therefore, as the mir.istersofPiTissia were concerned, they reaped only the reward due to their political want of mo- i-ality, and their practical want of judgment. Very different, indeed, were the feelings with which the battle of Jena and its consequences were regarded, when men considered riiat great calamity in reference not to the evil counsellors by whom it was prepared, but to the prince and nation who were to pay the penalty. " We are human," and, according to the sentiment of the poet, on the ex- tinction of the state of Venice,' " must mourn, even when the shadow of that which has once been great passes away." But the apparent destruction of Prussia was not like the departure of the aged man, whose life is come to the natural close, or the fall of a mined tower, whose mouldering arches can no longer support the incumbent weight. These are viewed with awe indeed, and with sympathy, but they do not excite astonishment or horror. The seeming fate of the Prussian monarchy re- sembled the agonizing death of him who expires in the flower of manhood. The fall of the House of Brandenburg was as if a castle, with all its trophied turrets strong and entire, should be at once hurled to the earth by a superhuman power. Men, alike stunned with the extent and suddenness of the catastrophe, were moved with sympathy for those instantly involved in the ruin, and struck with terror at tlie demolition of a bulwark, by the de- struction of which all found their own safety en dangered. The excellent and patriotic character of Frederick \Mlliam, on whose rectitude and hon- our even the misconduct of his ministers had not brought any stain ; the distress of his interesting, high-spirited, and beautiful consort ; the general sufferings of a brave and proud people, accustomed to assume and deserve the name of Protectors of the Protestant Faith and of the Liberties of Ger- many, and whose energies, corresponding with the talents of their leader, liad enabled them in former times to withstand the combined force of France, Austria, and Russia, — excited deep and general sympathy. Still wider did that sj-mpathy extend, and more thrilling became its impulse, when it was remem- bered that in Prussia fell the last stite of Germany, who could treat with Napoleon in the style of an equal ; and that to the exorbitant power which France already possessed in the south of Europe, was now to be added an authority in the north al- most equally arbitrary and equally extensive. The 1 " Men are wc, and must pricvc cvon ■when tlie shade Of that which once was (jn-at is pass'ii away." WCKDSWORTU — S. 410 SCOTT'S mSCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1806, prospect was a gloomy one ; and tlicy vlio felt nei- ther for the fallen authority of a prince, nor the rle- Btroyed independence of a kingdom, trembled at the prospect likely to be entailed on their own country by a ruin, which seemed as remediless as it was extensive and astounding. " Put yet the end was not." Providence, which disappoints presumptuous hopes by the event, is often mercifully pleased to give aid when human aid seems hopeless. Whatever may be thought of the doctrine of an intermediate state of sufferance and purification in an after stage of existence, it is evident from history, that in this world, kingdoms, as well as individuals, are often subjected to misfortunes arising from their own errors, and which prove in the event conducive to future regeneration. Prussia was exposed to a long and painful discipline in the severe school of adversity, by which she pi'ofited in such a degree as enabled her to regain her high i-ank in the re- public of Eui'ope, with more honour perhaps to her prince and people, than if she had never been thrust from her lofty station. Her government, it may be hoped, have learned to respect the rights of other nations, from the sufferings which followed the destruction of their own — her people have been taught to understand the difference between the dominion of strangers and the value of independ- ence. Indeed, the Prussians showed in the event, by every species of sacrifice, how fully they had become aware, that the blessing of freedom from foreign control is not to be secured by the efforts of a regular army only, but must be attained and rendered permanent by the general resolution of the nation, from highest to lowest, to dedicate their united exertions to the achievement of the public liberty at evei-y risk, and by every act of self-devo- tion. Their improvement under the stern lessons which calamity taught them, we shall record in a brighter page. For the time, the cloud of misfor- tune sunk hopelessly dai'k over Prussia, of which not merely the renown, but the very national existence seemed in danger of beins: extinsuished for ever. CHAPTER XXXV. Ungenerous conduct of Biionajyarte to the Duke of Bninswick — The approach of the French troops to Brunswick compels the dying Prince to cause himself to be carried to Altona, where he expires ■ — Oath of revenge taken by his Son — ylt Potsdam and Berlin, the proceedings of Napoleon are equally cruel and vindictire — His clemency to- uxcrds the Prince of llatzfeld — His Treatment of the Lesser Powers — Jerome Buonaparte — Seizure of Hamburgh — Berlin Decrees against British Commerce — Napoleon rejects all ajyplication from the Continental commercial towns to relax or repeal them — Commerce, nevertheless, flourishes in spite of them — Second anticipation called for of the Conscription for 1807 — The King of Prussia ap- plies for an Armistice, which is clogged with such harsh terms, that he refuses them. ' Sixteenth Bulletin of the Orand Army, dated 12tli Oct. 2 " The Ouke of Brunswick's entry into Altoim presented B new and strikini; pioof of the instabilitv of fortune. A sove- reign prince was belield, enjoying, rii;ht or wioiia, a great mi- litary rei'Utation, but very lately powerful and tranquil in his own capital, now beaten and mortally \vouiided, borne into Altona on a miserable litter, carried by teumeii, without otti- 4» The will of Napoleon seemed now the only law, from which the conquered country, that so late stood forth as the rival of France, was to expect her destiny ; and circumstances indicated, that, with more than the fortune of Ctesar or Alexander, the Conqueror would not emulate their generosity or clemency. The treatment of the ill-fated Duke of Bruns- wick did little honour to the victor. After receiv- ing a mortal wound on the field of battle, he was transported from thence to Altona. Upon his way to his native dominions, in the government of which his conduct had been always patriotic and praise- worthy, he wrote to Napoleon, representing that, although he had fought against him as a general in the Prussian service, he nevertheless, as a Prince of the Empire, recomi.iended his hereditary prin- cipality to the moderation aitd clemency of the A'ictor. This attempt to separate his two character.s, or to appeal to the immunities of a league which Napoleon had dissolved, although natural in the duke's forlorn situation, formed a plea not likely to be attended to by the conqueror. Put, on other and broader grounds, Buonaparte, if not influenced by personal animosity against the duke, or desirous to degrade, in his person, the father-in-law of the heir of the British crown, might have found rea- sons for treating the defeated general with the respect due to his rank and his misfortunes. Tlie Duke of Brunswick was one of the oldest soldiers in Europe, and his unquestioned bravery ought to have recommended him to his junior in arms. He was a reigning prince, and Buonaparte's own aspi- rations towards confirmation of aristocratical rank should have led him to treat the vanquished with decency. Above all, the duke was defenceless, wounded, dying ; a situation to command the sym- pathy of every military man, who knows on what casual circumstances the fate of battle depends. The answer of Napoleon was, nevertheless, harsh and insulting in the last degree. He reproached the departing general with his celebrated procla- mation against France in 1792, with the result of his unhappy campaign in that country, with the recent summons by which the French had been required to retreat beyond the Rhine. He charged him as having been the instigator of a war which his counsels ought to have prevented. He an- nounced the right which he had acquired, to leave not one stone standing upon another in the town of Brunswick ; and summed up his ungenerous re- ply by intimating, that though he might treat the subjects of the duke like a generous victor, it was his purpose to deprive the dying prince and his family of their hereditary sovereignty. • As if to fulfil these menaces, tiie French troops approached the city of Brunswick ; and the wounded veteran, dreading the further resentment of his ungenerous victor, was compelled to cause himself to be removed to the neutral town of Altona, where he expired.'^ An application from his son, requesting permission to lay his father's body in the tomb of his ancestors, was rejected with the same sternness which had characterised .Buonaparte's ccrs. without domestics, escorted by a crowd of bovs and raaa- muftins, who pressed about him from cnriositv, deposited in a had inn, and so worn out with fatijiue, that the morrow after his arrival, the report of his death was generally cre- dited. His wife joined him on the Istof November; he re- fused all visits, and died on the luth."— Boukkiknnk torn, vii. p. 159. ]80C.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 411 answer to the attempt of the ilukc, when livinjc, to soften his enraitv. The successor of tlie duke vowed, it is believed, to requite tliesc insults with mortal liatred — did much to express it duriu"; his Ufe — and bequeathed to his followers the legacy of revenge,' which the Black Brunswickers had the means of amply discharging upon the 18th of June, 1815. Some have imputed this illiberal conduct of Buo- naparte to an ebullition of spleen against the object of his pei'sonal dislike ; others have supposed that his resentment was, in whole or in part, affected in order to ground upon it his resolution of confisca- ting the state of Brunswick, and uniting it with the kingdom of Westphalia, which, as we shall pre- sently see, he proposed to ei-ect as an appanage for his brother Jerome. Whether arising from a 'burst of temperament, or a cold calculation of in- terested selfishness, his conduct was equally un- worthy of a monarch and a soldier. At Potsdam and at Berlin, Napoleon showed himself equally as the sworn and implacable enemy, rather than as the generous conqueror. At Pots- dam he seized on the sword, belt, and hat of the Great Frederick, and at Berlin he appropriated and removed to Paris the moimment of Victory, erected by the same monarch, in consequence of the defeat of the French at Rosbach.''' The finest paint- ings and works of art in Prussia were seized upou for the benefit of the French National Museum. The language of the victor corresponded with his actions. His bulletins and proclamations abounded with the same bitter sarcasms against the King, the Queen, and those whom he called the war fac- tion of Prussia. Asci'ibing the war to the unre- pressed audacity of the young nobility, he said, in one of those proclamations, he would permit no more rioting in Berlin, no more breaking of win- dows ; and, in addressing the Count Neale, he threatened, in plain terms, to reduce the nobles of Prussia to beg their bread.' These, and similar expressions of irritated spleen, used in the hour of conquest, level the character of the great victor with that of the vulgar Englishman in the farce, •1 " Within a windnw'd niche of that higli hall, Sate Brunswick's fated chieftain : he did hear That sound tlie first amidst tlie festival. And caught its tone with Death's prophetic ear ; And when they smiled because he deem'd it near, His heart more truly knew that peal too well, AVhich stretch'd his Father on a bloody bier. And roused the Vengeance blood alone could quell. Herush'd into the field, and, foremost tiuhtnip;, fell." ChiMe Harold. 2 " The sword of the Great Frederick was easily found at Potsdam, together with the scarf which he wore (Juring the Seven Years' War ; also the insignia of the Black Eagle. The Emperor took these trophies with transport, saying, ' 1 would rather have these than twenty millions: I shall send them to my old soldiers— I shall present them to the governor of the Invalids : in that hotel they shall remain.' " — Nineteenth Bul- let )n. 3 " The good people of Berlin have been the Mcrifiee of the ■war ; while those who excited it have left them and are be- come fugitives ; 1 shall reduce those noble courtiers to such extremities that they shall be compelled to beg their bread." To Prince Hatzfeld, the Emperor said, " Do not appear in my presence ; I have no need of your services ; retire to your estates." — Tu-enltj-firxt Bulletin. * "\ remained at the door of the Emperor's cabinet to pre- vent any person from being announced befnre the ))rincess. Duroc soon came out and immediately introduced her. She knew not why her husband had been arrested ; and, in the simplicity of her nature, demanded justice for the wrong which she supposed was done to him. When she had finished, the Emperor handfd to her the letter written bv her husband; ■when she had run it over, she seemed motionless, and looked OS if she had lost uensatiun. She stared with haggard eyes at 411 ■who cannot be satisfied witli beating his onsniy, but must scold him also. Napoleon's constant study of the poetry ascribed to Ossian, might have taught him that wrath should fly on eagles' wings from a conquered foe. The soldiers, and even the officers, caught the exam])le of their Emperor, and con- ceived they met his wishes by behaving more im- periously in quarters, and producing more distress* to their hosts, than had been their custom in the Austrian campaign.?. Great aggressions, perhaps, were rarely perpetrated, and would have been punished, as contrary to military discipline ; but a grinding, constant, and unremitting .system of vex- ation and requisition, was bitterly felt by the Prus- sians at the time, and afterwards sternly revenged. It is but justice, however, to record an act of cle- mency of Napoleon amid these severities. He had intercepted a letter containing some private intel- ligence respecting the motions of the French, sent by Prince Hatzfeld, late the Prussian governor of Berlin, to Prince Hohenloe, then still at the head of an army. Napoleon appointed a military com- mission for the trial of Hatzfeld ; and his doom, for continuing to serve his native prince after his capital had been occupied by the enemy, would have been not less certain than severe. His wife, however, threw her.self at Napoleon's feet, who put into her hands the fatal document which contained evidence of what was called her husband's guiJt, with permission to throw it into the fire.'' The French Emperor is entitled to credit for the de- gree of mercy he showed on this occasion ; but it must be granted at the same time, that to have proceeded to sentence and execution upon such a charge, would have been an act of great severity, if not of actual atrocity. If, as has been allesed, the correspondence of Prince Hatzfeld was dated before, not after the capitulation of Berlin, his death would have been an unqualified murder.^ The victor, who had all at his disposal, was now to express his pleasure concerning those satellites of Prussia, which, till her fall, had looked up to her as their natural protector and ally. Of these, Saxony and Hcsse-Cassel were the principal ; and, the Emperor ; but articulated not a word. He said to her, ' Well, madam, is this a calumny — an unjust charge?' The princess, more dead than alive, was going to answer oily with her tears, when the Emperor took the letter from her. .ind said, ' Madam, were it not for this letter there would be no proof against your husband.'—' That is very true.' she rejilied, ' but I cannot deny that it is his writing.'—' Well,' said the Emperor, ' there is nothing to be done but to burn it ;' and he threw the letter into the fire."— Sav.vry, tom. ii., ]). SCf;. The following is Napoleon's own account of what passed, in a letter to Josephine, dated Gtli November, nineo'clock even- ing :—" I received thy letter; in which thou seemest angry with me for speaking ill of women." In the letter here re- ferred to, Josephine had expressed her regret at the disre- spectful terms m which the Queen of Prussia was sjioken ol in the Bulletins of the Grand Army. " It is true 1 utterly abominate intriguing females. I am accustomed to those who are amiable, gentle, and conciliating ; and such I love. H they have spoiled me it is not my fault, but thine. But at least thou wilt see I have been very good to one. who showed herself a feeling, amiable woman— Aladaine Hatzfeld. When I showed her her husband's letter, she replied to me. wee|>iii(; bitterly, ■«'ith heartfelt sensibility and na'iiele: ^la.t.' it ii tut ton sureli/ his u-riting. When she read it, her accent went to my soul — her situation-distressed me I said, If'tll, then, maritime, throw that I tier into the Jire ; I shall then no Innner riox.tess tlie ntea)is tfjiuiii.ihiiif/ t/ a small number of tronjjs. When 1 ap- proaclad Cassci, Marshal Mcrtier had entered the eveiiiiiR before. I iminediatelv hailed tlic bcidv of tlie army before I entered the town, and leaving the French troops under the coinmand of Marshal Mortier, 1 took the route to Holland yriX) the Dutch."— Louis Bdo.va parte, p. 5U. 412 were not entitled to enter into alliances according to the dictates of their own feelings, but were bound to form such as were most suitable to his policy. Jerome was tempted by ambition finally to acquie.sce in this reasoning, and sacrificed the connexion which his heart had chosen, to become the tool of his brother's ever-extending schemes of ambition. The reward was the kingdom of West- phalia, to which was united Hesse-Cassel, with the various provinces which Prussia had possessed in Franconia, Westphalia Proper, and Lower Sax- ony ; as also the territories of the unfortunate Duke of Brunswick. Security could be scarcely suppo- sed to attend upon a sovereignty, whtre the mate- rials were acquired by public rapine, and the crown purchased by domestic infidelity. About the middle of November, Mortier for- mally re-occupied Hanover in the name of the Emperor, and, marching upon Hamburgh, took possession of that ancient free town, so long the emporium of commerce for the north of Europe. Here, as formerly at Leipsic, the strictest search was made for British commodities and property, which were declared the lawful subject of confis- cation. The Motdteur trumpeted forth, that these rigorous measures wereaccom])anied with losses to British commerce which would shake the credit of the nation. This was not true. The citizens of Hamburgh had long foreseen that their neutrality would be no protection, and, in spite of the fraudful as.suranees of the French envoy, designed to lull them into security, the merchants had availed them- selves of the last two years to dispose of their stock, call in their capital, and wind up their trade ; so that the rapacity of the French was in a great mea- sure disappointed. The strict search after British property, and the confiscation which was denounced against it at Hamburgh and elsewhere, were no iso- lated acts of plunder and spoliation, but made parts of one great system for destroying the commerce of England, which was shortly after laid before the world by the celebrated decrees of Berlin.^ It was frequently remarked of Buonaparte, that he studied a sort of theatrical effect in the mode of issuing his decrees and proclamations, the subject matter of which formed often a strange contrast with the date ; the latter, perhaps, being at the capital of some subdued monarch, while the matter promulgated respected some minute regulation affecting the municipality of Paris. But there was no such discrepancy in the date and substance of the Berlin decrees against British enterprise. It was when Buonaparte had destroyed the natiu-al bulwark which protected the independence of the north of Germany, and had necessarily obtained a corresponding power on the shores of the Baltic, that he seriously undertook to promulgate his sweeping plan of destroying the commerce of hi.s Island foe.' 2 " On the I9th November, Hamburgh was taken posses- sion of in the Emperor's name. The demands which Marslial Mortier was necessitated to make were hard. But my rejire- sentatious suspended for a time the order pivcn by Najioleon to seize the Bank. I cannot do otherwise than render a tribute to the ujirishtness of the marshal's cmiduct, who forwarded my representations to the Emperor at Berlin, an- nouncing that he has delayed acting till the arrival of fresh orders. The Emperor read and approved my views."— Bouft- RiKNNE, torn, vii., p. 17!). 3 "The delirium caused by the wonderful results of the Prussian campaign completed the intoxication of Franc*. She jirided herself upon having been aalutcd with the iuim« 1806.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 413 When slight iuconveiiifiices, according to Biio- napavte's expi'cssion, put an end to his liopes of invading Britain, or when, as at other times he more candidly admitted, the defeat at Trafalgar induced him " to throw helve after hatchet," and resign all hope of attaining any succ-ss by means of his navy, ho became desirous of sapping and undermining the bulwark, which he foinid it impos- sible to storm ; and, by directing his efforts to the destruction of British commerce, he trusted gradu- ally to impair the foundations of her national wealth and prosperity. He eri"ed, perhaps, in thinking that, tven if his object could have been fully attain- ed, the full consequences would have followed which his animosity anticipated. Great Britain's prosperity mainly rests on her commerce, but her existence as a nation is not absolutely dependent j upon it; as those foreignei's are apt to imagine, who have only seen the numerous vessels with which she covers the ocean and fills foreign ports, \ but have never witnessed tlie extent of her agri- j cultural and domestic resources. But, entertaining the belief which Na])oleon did, in regard to the indispensable connexion betwixt British commei'ce , and iiritish power, the policy of his war upon the former cannot be denied. It was that of the Abys- syniau hunter, who, dreading to front the elephant in his fury, draws his sabre along the animal's heel- joint, and waits until the exertions of the powerful brute burst the injured sinews, and he sinks pros- trate under his own weight. The celebrated Decrees of Berlin appeared on the 21st November, 180o, interdicting all com- nierce betwixt Great Britain and the continent ; whicli interdiction was declared a fundamental law of the French empire, until the English should consent to certain alterations in the mode of con- ducting hostilities by sea, which should render her naval superiority less useful to herself, and less detrimental to the enemy. This measure was jus- tified upon the following grounds: — That England had either introduced new customs into her mari- time code, or revived those of a barbarous age — that she seized on merchant vessels, and made their crews prisoners, just as if they had been found on board ships of war — declared harbours blockaded which were not so in reality — and extended the evils of war to the peaceful and unarmed citizen. This induction to the celebrated project, after- wards called the Continental System of the Em- peror, was false in the original proposition, and sophistical in those by which it was supported. It was positively false that Great Britain had intro- duced into her maritime law, either by new enact- ment, or by the revival of obsolete and barbarous customs, any alteration by which the rights of neutrals were infringed, or the unarmed citizen prejudiced, more than necessarily arose out of the usual customs of war. The law respecting the blockade of ports, and the capture of vessels at sea, was the same on which every nation had acted for three centuries past, France herself not excepted. It is true, that the maritime code seemed at this period to be peculiarly that of England, because no of the Great Nation by her Emperor, who had triumphed over the Renins and the work of Freritrick. Napoleon believed himself the Son of Destiny, called to break every sceptre. Peace, and even a truce with England, was no l(jn(!ertho\i(;ht of. The idea of destroying the power of Enuland, the sole obstacle to universal monarchy, now brcame liis fixed resolve. It was with this view he established the continental system, 413 nation save herself had the means of enforcing them ; but she did not in this respect possess any greater advantage by s^a than Napoleon enjoyed by land. The reasoning of the Emperor Napoleon upon the inequality and injustice of the maritime mode of e.xercising war, compared with the law of hos- tilities by land, was not more accurate than hia allegation that Britain had iimovated upon the former for the purpose of introducing new, or re- viving old severities. This will appear plain from the following considerations : — At an early period of society, the practice of war was doubtless the same by land or sea ; and the savage slaughtered or enslaved his enemy whe- ther he found him in his hut or in his canoe. But when centuries of civilisation began to mitigate the horrors of barbarous warfare, the restrictive rules introduced into naval hostilities were different from those adopted in the case of wars by land, as the difference of the services obviously dictated. A land army has a precise object, which it can always attain if victorious. If a general conquer a town, he can garrison it ; he can levy contributions ; nay, he may declare that he will appropriate it to himself in right of sovereignty. He can afford to spare the property of private individuals, when he is at liberty to seize, if he is so minded, upon all their public rights, and new-mould them at his pleasure. The seaman, on the other hand, seizes on the merchant vessel and its cargo, by the same right of sujjerior force, iu virtue of which the victor by land has seized upon castles, provinces, and on the very haven, it may be, which the vessel belongs to. If the maritime conqueror had no right to do this, he would gain nothing by his superiority ex- cept blows, when he met with vessels of force, and would be cut off from any share of the spoils of war, which form the reward of victory. The in nocent and unarmed citizen, perhaps the neutral stranger, suffers in botli cases ; but a state of war is of course a state of violence, and its evils, unhap- pily, cannot be limited to those who are actually engaged in hostilities. If the spirit of philanthropy affected in the peroration to Buonaparte's decrees had been real, he might have attained his pretended purpose of softening the woes of war, by proposing some relaxation of the rights of a conqueror by land, in exchange for restrictions to be introduced into the practice of hostilities by sea. Instead of doing so, he, under the pretext of exercising the right of i-eprisals, introduced the following Decrees, unheard of hitherto among belligerent powers, and tending greatly to augment the general distress, which nmst, under all circumstances, attend a state of war. I. The British isles were declared in a state of blockade. II. All commerce and corresjiondence with England was forbidden. All English lettei-s were to be seized in the post-houses. III. Every Englishman, of whatever rank or (juality, found in France, or tlie countries allied with her, was decla- i-ed a prisoner of war. IV. All merchandise, or property of any kind, belonging to English sub- the first decree concerninj! wliic li was dateil from tkriiit. Napoleon i)ersnaded himself, that bv deiirivius; Knuland o( all the outlets for its manntaetuits, he slioiild reduce it to jiovertv, and that it must then submit lo its fate. He iiot only thought of suhjictiiig it, but abu of effecting its destruc- tion. '— ForcHE, torn, i., p. S'JS. 414 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WOEKS. [1806. jects, was declared lawful prize. V. All articles of English manufacture, and artifles produced in her colonies, were in like manner declared contraband and lawful prize. VI. Half of the produce of the above confiscations was to be employed in the relief of those merchants whose vessels had been cap- tured by the English cruizers. VII. All vessels coming 'from England, or the English colonies, were to be refused admission into any harbour. Four additional articles provided the mode of pro- mulgating and enforcing the decree, and directed that it should be communicated to the allies of France. This was the fii-st link of a long chain of arbi- trary decrees and ordinances, by which Napoleon, aiming at the destruction of British finance, inter- mpted the whole commerce of Eui-ope, and de- stroyed for a season, and as far as lay in his power, that connexion between distant nations which unites them to each other by the most natural and advan- tageous means, the supply of the wants of the one country by the superfluous produce of the other. The extent of public inconvenience and distress, which was occasioned by the sudden suppression of commercial communication with England, may be judged of by reflecting, how many of the most ordinary articles of consumption are brought from foreign countries, — in how many instances the use of these articles have brought them into the list of necessaries, — and how, before an ordinary mechanic or peasant sits down to bi-eakfast, distant climes must be taxed to raise the coff'ee and sugar which he consumes.* The painful embarrassment of those deprived of their habitual comforts, was yet exceeded by the clamour and despair of the whole commercial world on the continent, who were thus, under pre- text of relieving them from the vexation of the English cruizers, threatened with a total abroga- tion of their profession. Hamburgh, Bourdeaux, Nantes, and other continental towns, solicited, by petitions and deputations, some relaxation of de- crees which inferred their general ruin. They pleaded the prospect of universal bankruptcy, which this pi'ohibitory system must occasion. " Let it be so," answered the Emperor ; " the more in- solvency on the continent, the greater will be the distress of the merchants in London. The fewer traders in Hamburgh, the less will be the tempta- tion to carry on commerce with England. Britain must be humbled, were it at the expense of throw- • " It is difticult, at this day, to conceive how Europe could, for a siiifile hour, endure that fiscal tyranny whieii exacted the most exorbitant prices for articles, bccorne indispensable reccssaries of life, both to rich and poor, through habits of three centuries. It is so far from being the truth that such system had for its only and exclusive aim to prevent England from disposing of her merchandise, that licenses were sold at a high rate to those who had influence suthcient to procure them ; and gold alone gave that infiuence. The quantity and the quality of articles exported from Erance were exaggerated with incredible impudence. It became necessary, indeed, to purchase such articles, in submission to the will of the Em- peror; but they were bought only to be thrown into the sea. And yet none was found who had the conscience to tell the Emperor that England sold to the continent, but that she bought almost nothing from thence." — Bourrienne, tom. vii., p. 231. 2 " The accusation thus brought might also fall upon me ; and although I consider myself beyond the reach of such ca- lumnies, 1 must declare, iii answer to the frequent insinua- tions made during and even since the reign of my brother, that such an .iccusation is as untrue as it is inconceivable. I 4eclarc I was in no manner a partisan of the Continent:^ 414 ing civilisation back for centuries, and returning to the original mode of trading by barter." But, great as was Buonaparte's power, he Iiad overrated it in supposing, that, by a mere expres- sion of his will, he could put an end to an inter- course, in the existence of which the whole world possessed an interest. The attempt to annihilate commerce, resembled that of a child who tries to stop with his hand the stream of an artificial foun- tain, which escapes in a hundred partial jets from under his palm and between his fingers. The Genius of Commerce, like a second Proteus, as- sumed every variety of shape, in order to elude the impei'ial interdiction, and all maimer of evasions was practised for that purpose.' False papers, false certificates, false bills of lading, were devised, and these frauds were overlooked in the seaports, by the very agents of the police, and customhouse officers, to whom the execution of the decrees was committed. Douaniers, magistrates, generals, and prefects, nay, some of the kindred princes of the House of Napoleon, were well pleased to listen to the small still voice of their interest, rather than to his authoritative commands ; and the British com- merce, though charged with heavy expenses, conti- nued to flourish in spite of the Continental System.' The new, and still more violent measures, whicii Napoleon had recourse to for enforcing his prohibi- tions, will require our notice hereafter. Meantime it is enough to say, that such acts of increasing severity had the natural consequence of rendering his person and power more and more unpopular : so that, while he was sacrificing the interests and the comforts of the nations under his authority to his hope of destroying England, he was, in fact, digging a mine under his own feet, which exploded to his destruction long before the security of Eng- land was materially affected. Napoleon had foreseen, that, in order to enforce the decrees by which, without possession of any naval power, he proposed to annihilate the naval supremacy of England, it would be necessary to augment to a great extent the immense superiority of land forces which France already possessed. It was necessary, he was aware, that to enable him to maintain the prohibitions which he had imposed upon general commerce, as well as to prosecute the struggle in which he was about to be engaged with Russia, a large draught should be made on the population of France. He had, accordingly, by a requisition addressed to the Senate, dated System ; first, because it injured Holland more than it did England, and it was the interest of Holland which concerned me most deeply ; and, in the second place, because this sys- tem, though true in theory, was false in its apjilication. 1 compare it to a sieve; a single hole is sufticicnt to render it incapable of containing any thing. The Continental System being acted upon in most countries, must have produced mora beneficial results in those points where it was not maintained , and thus it was with respect to the advantages it conferred upon English commerce, mentioned by S, at the same hour, you were on the memorable field of Austerlitz. The sacred cohorts of Russia fled, defeated, before you ; or, surrounded, laid down their arms at the feet of their corque- rors. To the moderation, and, perhaps, blameable generosity, which overlooked the third coalition, the formation of a fourth may be ascribed. But the ally on whose military skill their principal hope rested, is already no more. His principal tow ns, his fortresses, liis forage, and ammunitiou magazines, 21J0 180G.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 417 The continuance of war was now to be deter- mined upon ; a war to be waged witli circumstances of more than usual horror, as it involved the suf- ferings of a winter campaign in the northern lati- tudes. The French, having completely conquered the Prussian estates to the east of the Oder, had formed the sieges of Great Glogau, of Breslau, and of Graudentz, and were at the same time pushing westward to occupy Poland. The Russian gene- ral, Bennigsen, had on his side pressed forward for the purpose of assisting the Prussians, and had occupied Warsaw. But finding that their unfor- tunate allies had scarcely the remnant of an army in the field, the Russian general retreated after some skirmishes, and recrossed the Vistula, while the capital of Poland, thus evacuated, was entered on the 2oth November by Murat, at the head of the French vanguard. About the 25th, Napoleon, leaving Berlin, had established himself at Posen, a central town of Poland, which country began to manifest an agita- tion, partly the consequence of French intrigues, partly arising from the animating prospect of re- stored independence. The Poles resumed in many instances their ancient national dress and mannei's, and sent deputies to urge the decision of Buona- parte in their favour. The language in which they entreated his interposition, resembled that of Oriental idolatry. " The Polish nation," said Count Radyiminiski, the Palatine of Gnesna, " pre- sents itself before your Majesty, groaning still under the yoke of German nations, and salutes with the purest joy the regenerator of their dear country, the legislator of the universe. Full of submission to your will, they adore .you, and repose on you with confidence all their hopes, as upon him who has the jmwer of raising empires and destroying them, and of humbling the proud." The address of the President of the Judicial Council- Chamber of the Regency of Poland, was not less energetic. " Already," he said, " we see our dear coiintry saved ; for in your person we adore the most just and the most profound Solon. We commit our fate and our hopes into your hands, and we implore the mighty protection of the most august Csesai'." Not even these Eastern hyperboles could extort any thing from Buonaparte more distinctly indi- cative of his intentions, than the obscure hiuts we have already mentioned. In the meanwhile, Warsaw was put into a state of defence, and the auxiliary forces of Saxony and the new confederates of the Rhine were brought up by forced marches, while strong reinforcements from France repaired tlie losses of the early part of the campaign. Ihs French army at length advanced in full force, and crossed successively the rivers Vistula and Bug, forcing a passage wherever it was dis- puted. But it was not the object of Beimigscn to give battle to forces superior to his own, and he therefore retreated behind the Wkra, and was joined by the large bodies of troops commanded by Geuei'als Buxhowden and Kaminskoy. The etandardsj /flf iiieees of cannon, arc in our power. Neither the Oder, nor Warta, the deserts of Poland, nor the rude sea- son of winter, have been capable of arrestinf;, for a nuiinciit, our progress. You have braved all danger.s, sui mounted them all, and every enemy has fled on your api>roach. In vain did the Russians wisli to defend the capital of antieiit and illus- VOI.. 11, latter took the general connnand. He was a con- temporary of Suwarrow, and esteemed an excel- lent officer, but more skilled in the theory than the practice of war. " Kaminskoy," said Suwarrow, " knows war, but war does not know him — I do not know war, but war knows nie." It appears also, that during this campaign Kaminskoy was aflhctcd with mental alienation. On the 23d December, Napoleon arrived in person upon the Wkra, and ordered the advance of his army in three divisions. Kamini-koy, when he saw the passage of this river forced, deternn'ned to retreat behind the Niemen, and sent orders to his lieutenants accordingly. Bennigsen, therefore, fell back upon Pultusk, and Prince Galitzin upon Golymin, both jiursued by large divisions of the French army. The Russian Generals Buxhowden and D'Anrep also retreated in diff"erent directions, and apparently without maintaining a sufficiently accurate comnumieation either with Bennigsen, or with Galitzin. In their retrograde movements the Russians sustained some loss, which the bulletins magnified to .such an extent, as to represent their army as entirely disorganised, their columns wan- dering at hazard in unimaginable disorder, and their safety only caused by the shortness of the days, the difficulties of a country covered with woods and intersected with ravines, and a tliaw which had filled the roads with mud to the depth of five feet. It was, therefore, predicted, tliat although the enemy might possibly escape from the position in which ho had placed himself, it must necessarily be effected at the certain loss of his artillery, his carriages, and his baggage.^ These were exaggerations calculated for the meridian of Paris. Napoleon was himself sensible that he was approaching a conflict of a different kind from that which he liad maintained with Austria, and more lately against Prussia. The common soldier in both tho.se services was too much levelled into a mere moving piece of ma- chinery, the hundred-thousandth part of the great machine called an army, to have any confidence in himself, or zeal beyond the mere discharge of the task intrusted to him according to the word of com- mand. These troops, however highly disciplined, wanted that powerful and individual feeling, which in armies possessing a strong national character, (by which the Ru.ssiaus are peculiarly distinguished,) induces the soldier to resist to the last mtmient, even when resistance rivatc parties. On these occasions, the personal beauty and gntccfiil manners of tlie Polish ladies were conspicuous. While lime passed away thus agreeably, duty was not neglected. Tlie rnipernr made every exertion to rcvictual and provide for his army." — Savarv, torn, ii., p. I7. upon Benm'gson. This general was not equal in military genius to Suwarrow, but he seems to have been well fitted to command a Russian army. He was active, hardy, and enterprising, and showed none of that peculiarly fatal hesitation, by which officers of other nations opposed to the French ge- nerals, and to Buonaparte in particular, seem often to have been affected, as with a sort of moral palsy, which disabled them for the combat at the very moment when it seemed about to commence. On the contrary, Bennigsen, finding himself in a su- preme command of ninety thousand men, was re- solved not to wait for Buonaparte's onset, but determined to anticipate his motions; wisely con- cluding, that the desire of desisting from active ope- rations, which the French Emperor had evinced by cantoning his troops in winter quarters, ought to be a signal to the Russians again to take the field. Tlie situation of the King of Prussia tended to confirm that determination. This unfortunate mo- narch — well surely did Frederick William then deserve that epithet — was cooped up in the town of Konigsberg, only covered by a small army of a few thousand men, and threatened by the gradual approach of the divisions of Ney and Bernadotte ; so that the King's personal safety appeared to be in considerable danger. Graudentz, the key of the Vistula, continued indeed to hold out, but the Prus- sian garrison was reduced to distress, and the hour of surrender seemed to be approaching. To relieve this important fortress, therefore, and at the same time protect Konigsberg, were motives added to the other reasons which determined Bennigsen to resume offensive operations. A severe and doubt- ful skirmish was fought near Mohrungen,^ in which the French sustained considerable loss. Q'he Cos- sacks spread abroad over the country, making nu- merous prisoners ; and the scheme of the Russian general succeeded so well, as to enable the faithful L'Estocq to relieve Graudentz with reinforcements and provisions. By these daring operations, Buonaparte saw him- self forced uito a winter campaign, and issued ge- neral orders for drawing out his forces, with the ])urpose of concenti'ating them at Willenberg, in the rear of the Russians, (then stationed at Rloh- rungen,) and betwixt them and their own country. He proposed, in short, to force his enemies east- ward towards the Vistula, as at Jena he had com- pelled the Prussians to fight with their rear turned to the Rhine. Bernadotte had orders to engage the attention of Bennigsen upon the right, and detain him in his present situation, or rather, if possible, induce him to advance eastward towards Thorn, so as to facilitate the operation he meditated. The Ru.ssian general learned Buonaparte's in- tention from an intercepted despatch,' and changed his purpose of advancing on Ney and Bernadotte. Marches and counter-marches took place, through iU 3 Fifty-fifth Bulletin of the Grand Army; Savary, torn, i: p. 2'); Jomini, torn, ii., p. 'JS'.i. * " As ill luck would have it, the officer despatched to Ber- nadotte was a young man of no experience, wlm proceeded straight towards the place of his destination, without making any inquiries as to what might be on the road. The conse- quence w.is, he fell into the hands of some Cossacks, who car- ried him and hisdesjiatcli to the Russian gcncral-in-chief This Inflliig accident was attended with serious consequences. Jiut (iir tl)e capture of this othcer, the Russian army must inevit- :\lilv have been distroye ary, torn, ii., p. 4it. Dantzic suirenderect on the improving victories. The Russian generals com- posed plans with skill, and executed them with activity and spirit, for cutting off" separate divisions, and disturbing the French communications. Tlie Russian army had received reinforcements, but they were deficient in numerical amount, and only made up their strength, at the utmost, to their original computation of 90,000 men. This proved unpardonable negligence in the Russian Govern- ment, considering the ease with which men can there be levied to any extent by the mere will of the Emperor, and the vital importance of the war which they were now waging. It is said, however, that the poverty of the Russian Administration was the cause of this failure to recruit their forces ; and that the British being applied to, to negotiate a loan of six millions, and advance one million to account, had declined the transaction, and thereby given great offence to the Emperor Alexander. Napoleon, so much more remote from his own territories, had already, by exertions unparalleled in the history of Europe, assembled two hundred and eighty thousand men between the Vistula and Memel, including the garrison of Dantzic. With such unequal forces the war recommenced. The Russians were the a&sailants, making a com- bined movement on Ney's division, which was sta- tioned at Gutstadt, and in the vicinity. They pur- sued him as far as Deppen, where there was some fighting ; but upon the oth of June," Napoleon ad- vanced in person to extricate his marshal, and Bennigsen was obliged to retreat in his turn. He was hardly pressed on the rear by the Grand Army of France. But even in this moment of peril, Platow, with his Cossacks, made a charge, or, in their phrase, a hourra, upon the French, with such success, that they not only dispersed the skirmishers of the French vanguard, and the ad- vanced troops destined to support them, but com- pelled the infantry to form squares, endangered the personal safety of Napoleon, and occupied the at- tention of the whole French cavalry, who bore down on them at full speed. Musketry and artil- lery were all turned on them at once, but to little or no purpose ; for, having once gained the pur- pose of checking the advance, which was all they aimed at, the cloud of Cossacks dispersed over the field, like mist before the sun, and unitecl behind the battalions whom theu* demonstration had pro- tected. By this means Platow and his followers had got before the retreating division of the Russian army under Bagration, which they were expected to sup- port, and had reached first a bridge over the AUer. The Cossackz .vere alarmed by the immense dis- play of force demonstrated against them, and showed a disposition to throw themselves confus- edly on the bridge, which must certainly have been attended with the most disastrous consequences to the rear-guard, who would thus have been impeded in their retreat by the very troops appointed to sujjport them. The courage and devotion of Pla- tow prevented that great misfortune. lie threw himself from his horse. " Let the Cossack that ia base enough," he exclaimed, "desert his Ilettman !"' The children of the wilderness halted around him, and he disposed them in perfect order to protect 2-!th of May, and, four davs after, Na^folcon conferred on Mar siial Ltftbvre the title of Diilcc of Dantzic. lft;)7.] LTFC OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 423 the retreat of Bagvation ami the rear-guard, and afterwards achieved his own retreat with trifling loss.' The Russian army fell hack upon Heilshcrg, and there concentrating their forces made a most desperate stand. A very hard-fought action [ 1 0th June] liere took place. The Russians, overpowered by superior numbers, and forced from tlie level ground, continued to defend with fury their posi- tion on the heights, which the French made equally strenuous efforts to carry by assault. The combat was repeatedly renewed, with cavalry, infantry, and artillery, but without the fiery valour of the assailants making any effectual impression on the iron ranks of the Russians.''' The battle continued, till the approacli of midnight, upon terms of equa- lity ; and when the morning dawned, the space of ground between the position of the Russians and tliat of the French, was not merely strewed, but literally sheeted over, with the bodies of the dead and wounded.^ The Russians retired innnolested after the battle of Ileilsberg, and crossing the river Aller, placed that barrier betwixt them and the army of Buonaparte, which, though it had suf- fered great losses, had, in consequence of the su- periority of numbers, been less affected by them than the Russian forces. In the condition of Ben- nigsen's ai'my, it was his obvious policy to pro- tract the war, especially as reinforcements, to the number of thirty thousand men, were approaching the frontier from the interior of the empire. It was probably with this view that he kept his army on. the right bank of the Aller, with the exception of a few bodies of cavalry, for the sake of observa- tion and intellin;ence. On the 13th, the Russian army reached Fried- land, a considerable town on the west side of the Aller, communicating with the eastern, or right bank of the river, by a long wooden bridge. It was the object of Napoleon to induce the Russian general to pass by this narrow bridge to the left bank, and then to decoy him into a general action, in a position where the difficulty of defiling through the town, and over the bridge, must render retreat almost impossible. For this purpose he showed such a proportion only of his forces, as induced General Bennigsen to believe that the French troops on the western side of the Aller consisted only of Oudinot's division, which had been severely handled in the battle of Heilsberg, and which he now hoped altogether to destroy. Under this deception he ordered a Russian division to pass the bridge, de- file through the town, and march to the assault. The French took cai-e to offer no such resistance as should intimate their real strength. Bennigsen was thus led to reinforce this division with another — the l>attle thickened, and the Russian general at length transported all his army, one division ex- cepted, to the left bank of the Aller, by means of the wooden bridge and thi-ee pontoons, and arraj'ed them in front of the town of Friedland, to over- power, as he supposed, the crippled division of the 1 Sir Robert Wilson's Campaigns in Poland, p. 30. - i-eventy-cif>lUh Bulletin of tlie Grand Army; Joniini, torn. ii., p. -IdS ; Salary, torn, ii., )i. .'i2. 3 " Next day, June II, the Russians stopped all diy in front of Hcilsberf! : both parties removed tlieir wounded , and we had as many as thoueh we had fnuylit a prcat battle. Tlie ICmpcror w.is very dissatisfied."— Savarv, torn, ii., p. 53. ■• •' The Emperor ordered nic to advance alone, aInnK the wood on our rislit, to seek a point wlieiicc the bridge of Fried- French, to which alone he believed himself op- posed.* • But no sooner had he taken this irretrievable step than the mask was dropped. The French skirmishers advanced in force ; heavy columns of infantry began to show themselves ; batteries of camion were got into position ; and all circum- stances concurred, with the report of prisoners, to assure Bennigsen, that he, with his enfeebled forces, was in presence of the grand French army. His position, a sort of plain, surrounded by woods and broken ground, was difficult to defend ; with the town and a lai'ge river in his rear, it was dan- gerous to attempt a retreat, and to advance was prevented by the inequality of his force. Bennig- sen now became anxious to maintain his commu- nication with Wehlau, a town on the Pregel, which was the original point of retreat, and where he hoped to join with the Prussians under General L'Estocq. If the enemy should seize the bridge at Allerberg, some miles lower down the Aller than Friedland, this plan would become impossible, and he found himself therefore obliged to diminish his forces, by detaching six thousand men to defend that point. With the remainder of his force he resolved to maintain his present position till night. The French advanced to the attack about ten o'clock. The broken and wooded country which they occupied, enabled them to maintain and renew their efforts at pleasure, while the Russians, in their exposed situation, could not make the slight- est movement without being observed. Yet they fought with such obstinate valour, that at noon the French seemed sickening of the contest, and about to retire. But this was only a feint, to repose such of their forces as had been engaged, and to bring up reinforcements. The cannonade continued till about half past four, when Buonaparte brought up his full force in person, for the purpose of one of those desperate and generally irresistible efforts to which he was wont to trust the decision of a doubtful day. Columns of enormous power, and extensive depth, appeared partially visible among the interstices of the wooded country, and, seen from the town of Friedland, the hapless Russian army looked as if surrounded by a deep semicircle of glittering steel. The attack upon all the line, with cavalry, infantry, and artillery, was general and simultaneous, the French advancing with shouts of assured victory ; while the Russians, weakened by the loss of at least twelve thousand killed and wounded, were obliged to attempt that most dispiriting and dangerous of movements — a retreat through encumbered defiles, in front of a superior enemy. The principal attack was on the left wing, where the Russian position was at length forced. The troops which composed it streamed into the town, and crowded the bridge and pontoons ; the enemy thundered on their rear, and without the valour of Alexander's Imperial Guard, the Russians would have been utterly de- stroyed. These brave soldiers charged with the bayonet the corps of Ney, who led the French land was visible ; and after observing whether the Russians were crossin;; over to our bank or rccrossinc to the right, 1 re- turned to infiirm him, that the Russians, instead of retiiinj;, were all crossiiic to our bank of the river, and that their masses were sensibly auRmentinf;. 'Well,' said the Kmjieror, ' 1 am ready now. I have an hour's advanta.se of them, and will give them battle since they wish it : this is the anniver- sary of Marengo, and tu day fortune is with nic.' "— Savart torn, ii., p. j(j. 4f?4 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1 807 vniisiiavd, (lisov,icrocl liis column, anrl, tliough tliey were overpowered by numbers, prevented the total ruin of the left wing. ■ Meanwhile, the bridge and pontoons were set on fire, to prevent the French, who had forced their wav into the town, from taking possession of them. The smoke rolling over the combatants, increased the horror and confusion of the scene ; yet a con- siderable part of the Russian infantry escaped through a ford close by the town, which was dis- covered in the moment of defeat. The Russian centre and right, who remained on the west bank of the Aller, effected a retreat by a circuitous route, leaving on the right the town "of Friedland, with its burliing bridges, no longer practicable for friend or foe, and passing the Aller by a ford consider- ably farther down'the river. This also was found out" in the very moment of extremity ,^was deep and dangerous, took the infantry up to the breast, and destroyed what ammunition was left in the tumbrils. Thus were the Russians once more united on the right bank of the Aller, and enabled to prose- cute their march towards Wehlau. Amid the ca- lamities of defeat, they had saved all their cannon except seventeen, and preserved their baggage. Indeed, the stubborn character of their defence seems to have paralysed the energies of the victor, who, after carrying the Russian position, showed little of that activity in improving his success, which usually characterised him upon such occasions. He pushed no troops over the Aller in pursuit of the retreating enemy, but suffered Bennigsen to rally his broken troops without interruption. Nei- ther, when in possession of Friedland, did he de- tach any force down the left banic, to act upon the flank of the Russian centre and right, and cut them off fiiom the river. In short, the battle of Fried- land, according to the expression of a French ge- neral, was a battle gained, but a victory lost.' Yet the most important consequences resulted from the action, though the French success had been but partially improved. Konigsberg,^ which had been so long the refuge of the King of Prussia, was evacuated by his foi'oes, as it became plain his Russian auxiliai'ies could no longer maintain tlie war in Poland.^ Bennigsen retreated to Tilsit, towards the Russian frontiers. But the moral con- sequences of the defeat were of far greater conse- quence than could have been either the capture of guns and prisoners, or the acquisition of territory. It had the effect, evidently desired by Napoleon, of disposing the Emperor Alexander to peace. The former could not but feel that he was engaged with a more obstinate enemy in Russia, than any he had yet encountered. After so many bloody battles, he was scarce arrived on the frontiers of an im- mense empire, boundless in its extent, and almost inexhaustible in resources ; while the French, after Buffering extremely in defeating an army that was merely auxiliary, could scarce be supposed capable of undertaking a scheme of invasion so gigantic, as that of plunging into the vast regions of Muscovy. 1 ScventT nintli Bulletin of the Grand Army ; Savary, torn. li., p. ;"i6 ; Jomini, torn, ii., p. 411. * Eightieth Bulletin of the Grand Army. Three davs after the battle, the unfortunate Queen of Prns:ia wrote thus to her father, the elector of Bnrteii :— " Bv the unfortunate haltle of I'ricdland. Koninsbert; fell into the hands of the French. We arc clo^-elv pressed hv the enemv, Such an enterprise would have boon pcciiliarFy hazardous in the situation in which the French Emperor now stood. The English expedition to the Baltic was daily expected. Gustavus was in Swedish Pomerania, at the head of a considerable army which had raised the siege of Stralsund. A spirit of resistance was awakening in Prussia, where the resolute conduct of Blucher had admirers and imitators, and the nation seemed to be reviving from the consternation inflicted by the defeat ol Jena. The celebrated Schill, a partisan of gi-eat courage and address, had gained many advantages, and was not unlikely, in a nation bred to arms, to acquire the command of a numerous body of men. Hesse, Hanover, Brunswick, and the other pro- vinces of Germany, deprived of their ancient jirinces, and subjected to heavy exactions by the conquerors, were ripe for insurrection. All these dangers were of a nature from which little could be apprehended, while the Grand Army was at a moderate distance ; but were it to advance into Russia, especially were it to meet Avith a check there, these sparks of fire, left in the rear, might be expected to kindle a dreadful conflagration. Moved by such considerations. Napoleon had fully kept open the door for reconciliation betwixt the Czar and himself, abstaining from all those personal reflections against him, which he usually showered upon those who thwarted his projects, and intimating more than once, by different modes of communication, that a peace, which should enable Russia and France to divide the world betwixt them, should be placed within Alexander's reach so soon as he was disposed to accept it. The time was now arrived when the Emperor of Russia was disposed to listen to terms of aceotn- modation with France. He had been for some time dissatisfied with his allies. Against Frederick William, indeed, nothing could be objected, save his bad fortime ; but what is it that so soon deprives US of our friends as a constant train of bad luck, rendering us always a burden more than an aid to them? The King of Sweden was a feeble ally at best, and had become so unpopular with his sub- jects, that his dethronement was anticipated ; and it was probably remembered, that the Swedish province of Finland extended so near to St. Peters- bui'gh, as to be a desirable acquisition, which, in the course of a treaty with Buonaparte might be easily attained. The principal ally of the Czar had been Britain. But he was displeased, as we have already noticed, with the economy of the English Cabinet, wlio had declined, in his instance, the loans and sub -idles, of which they used to be liberal to allies of far less importance. A subsidy of about eighty thousand ])ounds, was all which he had been able to extract from thorn. England had, indeed, sent an army into the north to join the Swedes, in forming the siege of Stralsund ; but this was too distant an operation to produce any effect upon the Polish campaign. Alexander was also affected by the extreme sufferings of his subjects. His army had and if the dansjer should become in any decree more immi- nent. I shall be comiiellcd to leave Mcmel with my children. I shall so to Risa, should the aspect of affairs become more alarming. God will Rive me the power to survive the moment when I shall rross the borders; all my firmness will then be required, b\itl look to Heaven for support, from whence conies all ynod and evil ; and it is my firm belief, that no more is im po-ed ujion us than wc are able to bear." 1807.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 42.-) been to liim, as to most young sovereigns, a parti- cular object of attention ; and he was justly proud of his noble regiments of Guards, which, maltreat- ed as they had been in the desperate actions of which we have given some account, remained scarce the shadov of themselves, in numbers and appearauce. His "ame, moreover, suffered little in withdrawing frc m a contest in which he was engaged as an auxiliary only ; and Alexander was no doubt made to comprehend, that he might do more in behalf of the King of Prussia, his ally, by negotiation, than by continuation of the war. The influence of Napoleon's name, and the extraordinary splendour of his talents and his exploits, must also have had an effect upon the youthful imagination of the Russian Emperor. He might be allowed to feel pride (high as his own situation was) that the Destined Victor, who had subdued so many princes, was willing to acknowledge an equality in his case ; and he might not yet be so much aware of the nature of ambition, as to know that it holds the world as inadeciuate to maintain two co-ordi- nate sovereigns. The Russian Emperor's wish of an armistice was first hinted at by Benuigsen, on the '21st of June, was ratified on the 23d of the same month, and was soon afterwards followed, not only by peace with Russia and Prussia, on a basis which seemed to preclude the possibility of future misun- derstanding, but by the formation of a personal intimacy and friendship between Napoleon and the only sovereign in Europe, who had the power necessary to treat with him on an equal footing. The negotiation for this important pacification was not conducted in the usual style of diplomacy, but in that which Napoleon had repeatedly shown a desire to substitute for the conferences of inferior agents, by the intervention, namely, of the high- contracting parties in person. Tiie armistice was no sooner agreed upon, than preparations were made for a personal interview betwixt the two Emperors.' It took place upon a raft prepared for the purpose, and moored in the midst of the river Niemen, which bore an immense tent or pavilion. At half-past nine, 25th June, 1807, the two Emperors, in the midst of thousands of spectators, embarked at the same moment from tlie opposite banks of the river. Buonaparte was attended by IMurat, Berthier, Bessiei'es, Duroc, and Caulaincourt ; Alexander, by his brother the Archduke Constautine, Generals Beunigsen and Ouwarrow, with the Count de Lieven, one of his aides-de-camp. Arriving on the raft, they disem- barked and embraced, amid the shouts and accla- mations of both armies, and entering the pavilion whioh had been prepared, held a private confe- rence of two hours. Their officers, who remained at a distance during the interview, were then reci- procally introduced, and the fullest good under- • "I saw in the hands of M.de Talleyrand, who bad just ar- rived at Konigsber;;, the letter in which tlie Emperor directed him to come to Tii-.it. and which contained tliis observation, 'If j peace bo not concluded in a fortnight, I cross the Niemen.' At [ the same time, I received orders to ])rej)are the bridge equi- | page. I mentioned this circumstance to M. de Tallevrand. : ' Do not hurry yourself,' replied l:e : ' where is the utility of I piing beyond the Niemen? what. are we to find beyond that river? the Km]>eror must renounce his views resiiecting Po- land : that country is good for nothing : we can only orjiaiiize , disorder there : we have now a favourable opportunity of ma- i kinp! an end of this business, and we must not let it escape.' At first I was at a loss to comprehend all this ; and it was not luitil our diplomatist unfolded his projects with respect to | standing seemed to be established between the i sovereigns, who liad at their disposal so great a I portion of the universe.''^ It is not to be doubted, I that on this momentous. occasion Napoleon exerted j all those personal powers of attraction, which, exercised on the part of one otherwise so distin- guished, rarely failed to acquire the good- will of all with whom he had intercourse, when he was disposed tr employ them.' He possessed also, in I an eminent uegree, the sort of eloquence which can make the worse appear the better reason, and I which, turning into ridicule the arguments derived from general principles of morality or honesty, which he was accustomed to term idiosyncrasy, makes all reasoning rest upon existing circum- stances. Thus, all the maxims of truth and honour might be plausibly parried by those arising out of immediate convenience ; and the direct interest, or what seemed the direct interest, of the party whom he wished to' gain over, was put in imme- diate opposition to the dictates of moral sentiment, and of princely virtue. In this manner he might plausibly represent, in many points, that the weal of Alexander's empire might require him to strain some of the maxims of truth and justice, and to do a little wrong in order to attain a great national advantage. The town of Tilsit was now declared neutral. Entertainments of every kind followed each other in close succession, and the French and Russian, nay, even the Prussian officers, seemed so delighted with each other's society, that it was difficult to conceive that men, so courteous and amiable, had been for so many months drenching trampled snows and muddy wastes with each other's blood. The two Emperors were constantly together in public and in private, and on those occasions their inti- macy approached to the character of that of' two young men of rank, who are comrades in sport or frolic, as well as accustomed to be associates in affairs, and upon occasions, of graver moment. They are well known to have had private and con- fidential meetings, where gaiety and even gallantry seemed to be the sole purpose, but where politics were not entirely forgotten.'* Upon the more public occasions, there were guests at the imperial festivities, for which they contained small mirth. On the 28th, the unfortu- nate King of Prussia arrived at Tilsit, and was presented to his formidable victor. Buonaparte did not admit him to the footing of equality on which he treated the Emperor Alexander, and made an early intimation, that it would only be for the purpose of obliging his brother of the North, that he might consent to relax his grasp on the Prussian territories. Those in the King's own possession were reduced to the petty territory of Memel, with the fortresses of Colberg and Grau- dentz. It was soon plain, that the terms on which Spain, that I understood the hints he had thrown out."— Sa- VARV. torn, ii., p. yi. - Eighty-sixth Bulletin of the Grand Army; Savary, torn, ii., p. 75 ; Jomiiii, lorn, ii., p. 4-'.3. 3 flic impresi-ion which Buonaparte's presence and conver- sation, aided by the preconceived ideas ot his talents, made on all who ajiproiiched his peison, was of the most striking kind. The captain of a British man-of-war, who was present at his occupving the island of Elba, disturbed on that occasion the soleniiiity and gravity of a levee, at which several British func- tionaries' attended, by bearing a homely, but certainly a strik- ing testimony to his powers of attraction, while he cxclaimeU, that " Boney was a d— d good follow, after ;tJl !"— S. * I.as Casts, torn, iv., p. 21U. 42G RCOTTS MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1807. he was to he restored to a part of his dominions, would deprive Prussia of almost all the accessions which had been made since 1773, under the system and by the talents of the Great Frederick, and re- duce her at once from a first-rate power in Europe to one of the second class. The beautiful and unfortunate Queen, whose high spirit Jiad hastened the war, was anxious, if possible, to interfere with such weight aa female intercession might use to diminish the calamities of the peace. It was but on the first day of the fore- going April, that when meeting the Emperor Alexander at Konigsberg, and feeling the full difference betwixt that interview and those at Berlin which preceded the war, Alexander and Frederick William had remained locked for a time in each other's arms ; the former shedding tears of compassion, the latter of grief. On the same occa- sion, the Queen, as she saluted the Emperor, could only utter amidst her tears the words, " Dear cou- sin !" intimating at once the depth of their distress, and their affectionate confidence in the magnanimity of their ally. This scene was melancholy, but that which succeeded it at Tilsit was more so, for it was embittered by degradation. The Queen, who ar- rived at the place of treaty some days after her Imsband, was now not only to support the presence of Napoleon, in whose official prints she was per- sonally abused, and who was the author of all the misfortunes which had befallen her country ; but if she would in any degree repair these misfor- tunes, it could only be by exciting his compassion, and propitiating his favour. " Forgive us," she said, " this fatal war — the memory of the Great Frederick deceived us — we thought ourselves his equals because we are his descendants — alas, wo have not proved such !" With a zeal for the wel- fare of Pinissia, which must have cost her own feel- ings exquisite pain, she used towards Napoleon those arts of insinuation, by which women possessed of high rank, great beauty, wit, and grace, fre- quently exercise an important influence. Desirous to pay his court, Napoleon on one occasion offered her a rose of uncommon beauty. The Queen at first seemed to decline receiving the courtesy — then accepted it, adding the stipulation — " At least with Magdeburg."' Buonaparte, as he boasted to Josephine, was proof against these lady-like artifi- ces, as wax -cloth is agairist rain. " Your Majesty will be pleased to remember," he said, " that it is I who offer, and that your Majesty has only the task of accepting."'-' It was discourteous to remind the imfortunate princess how absolutely she was at the mercy of the victor, and unchivalrous to dispute that a lady, accepting a courtesy, has a right to conceive her- self as conferring an obligation, and is therefore entitled to annex a condition. But it is true, on the other hand, as Napoleon himself urged, that it would liave been playing the gallant at a high price, 1 " The Queen often called to her recollection that part of English history which states that Mary, the daughter of Henry VIII., after the takinc of Calais, which had so long been an apjianage to the English crown, and which had often been attempted in vain by the Duke of Guise, during her reign, and Its subsequent cession to France, — was accustomed to say, ' That if her heart could be o))fned, the name of Calais would be fo'ind there traced in letters of blood.' The same might be said of tlic Queen of Prussia in regard to Magdeburg." — M.\D. DE Bkko. - Las Cases, torn, iv., p. 21.T » " The Queen of Prussia died on the inth July, 1810. The if he had exchanged towns and provinces in return for civilities. It is not believed that the Queen of Prussia succeeded, to any extent, in obtaining a modification of the terms to which her husband was subjected ; and it is certain, that she felt so deeply the distress into which her country was plunged, tliat her sense of it brought lier to an untimely grave. The death of this interesting and beautiful Queen,' not only powerfully affected the mind of her husband and family, but the Prussian nation at large ; who, regarding her as having died a victim to her patriotic sorrow for the national misfortunes, recorded her fate as one of the many injuries for which they were to call France and Napoleon to a severe accompting. The terms imposed on Prussia by the treaty of Tilsit,* were briefly these : — Tliat portion of Poland acquired Viy Prussia in the partition of 1772, was disunited froiu that king- dom, and erected into a se]>arate tei'ritory, to be called the Grand Duchy of Warsaw. It was to be held by the King of Saxony, under the character of Grand Duke ; and it was stipulated that he was to have direct communication with tliis new acqui- sition by means of a military road across Silesia, a privilege likely to occasion constant jealousy betwixt the courts of Berlin and Warsaw. Thus ended the hope of the Poles to be restored to the condition of an independent nation. They merely exchanged the dominion of one German master for another — Prussia for Saxony, Frederick William for Augus- tus — the only difference being, that the latter was descended from the ancient Kings of Poland. They were, however, subjected to a milder and more easy yoke than that which they had hitherto borne ; nor does it appear that the King (as he had been created) of Saxony derived any real addition of authority and consequence from the Grand Duchy of Warsaw. It seems, indeed, probable, that the erection of this sovereignty was the effect of a composition between the Emperors ; Napoleon, on the one hand, renouncing all attempts at the libe- ration of Poland, which he could not have perse- vered in without continuing the war with Russia, and perhaps with Austria also ; and Alexandei consenting that Prussia should be deprived of her Polish dominions, under the stipulation that tliey wore to be transferred to Saxony, from whose vici- nity his empire could apprehend little danger. The constitution arranged for the Grand Duchy, also, was such as was not liable to lead to distur- bances among those pi-ovinces of Poland which were united with Austria and Russia. Slavery was abolished, and the equality of legal rights among all ranks of citizens was acknowledged- The Grand Duke held the executive power. A Senate, or Upper House, of eighteen members, and a Lower House of nuncios, or deputies, amounting to a hundred, passed into laws, or rejected at their pleasure, such propositions as the Duke laid before them. But following letter was written by her a few days after the sign- ing of the treaty of Tilsit : — " Peace is concluded ; but at how painful a price ! Our frontiers will not henceforth extend be- yond the Elbe : the King, however, after all. has proved him- self a greater man than his adversary. He has been com- pelled by necessity to negotiate with his enemy, but no alli- ance has taken place between them. This will one day or other bring a blessinj; upon Prussia. Again, I say, the King's just dealiiig will bring good fortune to Prussia; this is my tirm belief." ■* For a copy of the Treaty of Tilsit, see .Annual Register, vol. xlix., p. 7i(t. 1 M)7.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BDONAPARTE. 427 the Diets, tlie Pospolite, the L'lherum Veto, and all the other turbulent privileges of the Polish nobles, continued abolished, as they had been under the Piiissian government. Buonaparte made it his boast that he had re- turned the Prussian territories, not to the House of Brandenburgh, but to Alexander ; so that if Frederick William yet reigned, it was only, he said, by the friendship of Alexander, — " a term," he added, " which he himself did not recognise in the vocabulary of sovereigns, under the liead of state affairs." Alexander, howevei-, was not alto- gether so disintei-este'd as Buonaparte, with some- thing like a sneer, thus seemed to insinuate. There was excepted from the Grand Duchy of Warsaw, and added to the territory of Russia at the expense of Prussia, the province of Bialystock, serving materially to improve the frontier of the empire. Thus the Czar, in some degree, profited by the distress of his ally. The apology for his conduct must rest, first, on the strength of the temptation to stretch his empire towards the Vistula, as a great natural boundary ; secondly, on the plea, that if he had declined the acquisition from a point of deli- cacy. Saxony, not Prussia, would have profited by his self-denial, as the territory of Bialystock would, in that event, have gone to augment the Duchy of Warsaw. Russia ceded the lordship of Jever to Holland, as an ostensible compensation for her new acquisition. 1 Dantzic, with a certain suiTounding ten-itory, was, by the treaty of Tilsit, recognised as a free city, under the protection of Prussia and Saxony. There can be little doubt, that the farther provi- sion, that France should occupy the town until the conclusion of a maritime peace, was intended to secure, for the use of Napoleon, a place of arms, so important in case of a new breach betwixt liim and Russia. It followed, as a matter of course, that the Em- peror Alexander and the King of Prussia ratified all the' changes which Napoleon had wrought on Europe, acknowledged the thrones which he had ei'ected, and recognised tlie leagues which he had formed. On the other hand, out of deference to the Emperor, Buonaparte consented that the Dukes of Saxe-Coburg, Oldenburg, and Mecklenburg- Schwerin, German princes connected with Alex- ander, should remain in possession of their terri- tories ; the French, however, continuing to occupy the seaports of the two countries last named, until a final peace betwixt Franco and England. While the?e important negotiations were pro- ceeding, a radical change took place in the councils of the British nation ; what was called the Fox and Grenville administration being dissolved, and their place supplied by one formed under the aus- pices of the Duke of Portland, and comprehending Lords Liverpool, Castlereagh, Mr. Canning, and other statesmen, professing the principles of the jate William Pitt. It was an anxious object with tlic new cabinet to reconcile the Cxar to the alliance of England, and atone fur the neglect with which he considered himself as having been treated by their predecessors. With this purpose, Lord Leve- Bou Gower* was despatched with power to make ' " This does not .appear to me to be correct : according to the terms of the treaty, tliis couiilrj- was ceded personally to Die, .ind my first act was to unite it to Holland. 1 establish this fact merely for the sake of truth."— I ouis Bco.vAP/MiTE.p. ai. such offers of conciliation as might maintain or renew anamicableintercourse between Britain and Russia. But the Emperor Alexander had taken his part, at least for the present ; and, being prede- termined to embrace the course recommended by his new ally Buonaparte, he avoided giving audience to the British ambassador, and took his measures at Tilsit, without listening to the offei-s of accom- modation which Lord Gower was empowered to propose. By the treaty of Tilsit, so far as made public, Russia offered her mediation betwixt Britain and France, on condition that the first named kingdom should accept the proffer of her interference within a month. So far, therefore, the Czar a]ipeared to a certain extent careful of the interest of his late ally. But it is now perfectly well understood, that among other private articles of this memorable treaty, there existed one by which the Emperor bound himself, in case of iBritain's rejecting the proposed mediation, to recognise and enforce what Buonaparte called the Continental System, by shut- ting his ports against British vessels, and engaging the Northern Courts in a new coalition, having for its object the destruction of English maritime superiority. In a word, the anned Northern Neu- trality, originally formed imder the auspices of Catherine, and in an evil hour adopted by the un- fortunate Paul, was again to be established under the authority of Alexander. Denmark, smarting under the recollections of the battle of Copenhagen, only waited, it was thought, the signal to join such a coalition, and would willingly consent to lend her still powerful navy to its support ; and Sweden was in too weak and distracted a state to resist the united will of France and Russia, either regarding war with Britain, or any other stipulations which it might be intended to impose upon her. But as there is no country of Europe to which the com- merce of England is so beneficial as Russia, whose gross produce she purchases almost exclusively, it was necessary to observe strict secrecy upon these further objects. The ostensible proposal of medi- ation was therefore resorted to, less in the hope, perhaps, of establishing peace betwixt France and England, than in the expectation of affording a pre- text, which might justify in the eye of the Russian nation a rupture with the latter power. But in spite of every precaution which could be adopted, the address of the British ambassador obtained possession of the secret which France and Russia deemed it so important to conceal ; and Lord Gower was able to transmit to his court an exact account of this secret article, and particularly of the two Emperors having resolved to employ the Danish fleet in the destruction of the maritime rights of Britain, which had been so lately put upon a footing, that, to Alexander at least, had, till his recent fraternization with Buonaparte, seemed en- tirely satisfactory. There were, no doubt, other secret articles named in the treaty of Tilsit, by which it seems to have been the object of these two great Emperors, as they loved to term themselves, of the North and of the South, to divide the civilized world between them.^ It may be regarded as certain, that Buona- - Now Earl Granville. 3 " In the secret treaty, Alexander and Napoleon shared between them the continental world : all the south wa.s al)an- doned to Napoleon, already master of Italy and arbiter oi 428 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1807. parte opened to Alexander tlie course of unprin- cipled policy wliicli he intended to pursue respecting tlie kingdom of Spain, and procured his acquies- cence in tliat daring usurpation. And it has been affirmed, that he also stipulated for the aid of Russia to take Gibraltar, to recover Malta and Egypt, and to banish the British flag from the Mediterranean. All these enterprises were more or less directly calculated to the dej)re5sion, or rather the destruc- tion of Great Britain, the only formidable enemy who still maintained the strife against France, and so fixr the promised co-operation of Russia must have been in the highest degree grateful to Napo- leon. But Alexander, however much he might be Buonaparte's personal admirer, did not follow his father's simplicity in becoming his absolute dupe, but took care, in return for his compliance with the distant, and in some degree visionary projects r)f Buonaparte's ambition, to exact his countenance and co-operation in gaining certain acquisitions of the highest importance to Russia, and which were found at a future period to have added powerfully to her means of defence, when she once more matched her strength with that of France. To explain this, we must look back to the ancient policy of France and of Europe, when, by supporting the weaker states, and maintaining their dependence, it was the object to prevent the growth of any gigantic and over-bearing power, who might derange the balance of the civilized world. The growing strength of Russia used in former times to be the natural subject of jealousy to the French Government, and they endeavoured to counterbalance these apprehensions by extending the protection of France to the two weaker neigh- bours of Russia, the Porte and the kingdom of Sweden, with which powers it had always been the policy of Fi-ance to connect herself, and whjch con- nexion was not only honourable to that kingdom, but useful to Europe. But, at the treaty of Tilsit, and in Buonaparte's subsequent conduct relating to these powers, he lost sight of this national policy, or rather sacrificed it to his own personal objects. One of the most important private articles of the treaty of Tilsit seems to have provided, that Sweden should be despoiled of her provinces of Finland in favour of the Czar, and be thus, with the consent of Buonaparte, deprived of all effectual means of annoying Russia. A single glance at the map will show how completely the poeeession of Finland put a Swedish army, or the arn^j of France as an ally of Sweden, w ithin a short march of St. Petersburgh ; and how, by consenting to Sweden's being stri])ped of that important province, Napoleon relinquished the grand advantage to be derived from it, in case of his ever being again obliged to contend with Russia upon Russian ground. Yet there can be no doubt, that at the treaty of Tilsit he became privy to the war which Russia shortly after waged against Sweden, in which Alexander deprived that ancient kingdom of her frontier province of Fin- land, and thereby obtained a covering territory of the last and most important consequence to his own ca])ital. The Porte was no less made a sacrifice to the inordinate anxiety, which, at the treaty of Tilsit, GcrtinaiiY. i>>"}>i.fed by General lieynier — Battle vf Maida, 4ih July 1806 — Di-feat of the French — Calabria evacuated by the British — Erroneous Commerciai Vievs^ and Military Plans, of the British jilinistry — ' Sec the treaty between Prussia and France, AnDDal Re- gister, vol. xlix., p. TH. 430 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [180G Unsuccessful Altacic on Buenos Aip'es — General Whitelockc — is cashiered — Expedition ar/ainst Titrke:/, and its Dependencies — Admired Duck- Korth's Squaaron sent ae/ainst Constantinople — Passes and rej^asses the Dardanelles, teithout ac- complishimi any thimj — J^xpedition against Alex- andria — Rosetta attacked — British troops de- feated — and withdraicn, from Egypt, September, 1807 — Cura^oa and Cape'of (rood Hope taken by JUnqland — British Epcdition against Copenhagen — its Citadel, Forts, and Fleet, surrendered to the British — Effects of this proceeding upon France and littssia — Coalition of France, Russia, Aus- tria, and Prussia, against British Commerce. The treaty of Tilsit is an important point in the history of Napoleon. At no time did his power seem more steadfastly rooted, more feebly assailed. The canker-worm by which it was ultimately to be destroyed, was, like that of the forest-tree, in- trenched and hidden in the bosom of him whom it was destined to sap and consume. It is a fitting time, therefore, to take a general survey of the internal character of his government, when the ar- rangements seemed to be at his own choice, and ere misfortune, hitherto a stranger, dictated his course of proceeding, which had before experienced no control save his own will. We propose, there- fore, in the next chapter, to take a brief review of the character of Buonaparte's government during this the most flourishing period q{ his power. But, ere doing so, we must shortly notice some circumstances, civil and military, which, though they had but slight immediate effect upon the ge- neral curi'ent of events, yet serve to illustrate the character of the parties concerned, and to explain future incidents which were followed by more im- portant consequences. These we have hitherto omitted, in order to present, in a continuous and uninterrupted form, the history of the momentous warfare, in the course of which Prussia was for the time subjugated, and Russia so far tamed by the eventful struggle, as to be willing to embrace the relation of an ally to the conqueror, whose course she had proposed to stem and to repel. Among these comparatively minor incidents, must be reckoned the attempt made by the British Government to rescue the Calabrian dominions of the Neapolitan Bourbons from the intrusive govern- irent of Joseph Buonaparte. The character of the in\>rtbitants of that mountainous country is well known. Bigots in their religion, and detesting a foreign yoke, as is usual with natives of a -wild and almost lawless region ; sudden in their passions, and readily having recourse to the sword, in revenge whether of public or private injury ; enticed also by the prospect of occasional booty, and retaining a wild species of attachment to Ferdinand, whose manners and habits were popular with the Italians, and especially with those of the inferior order, the Calabrians were readily excited to take arms by the ageiits sent over to practise among them by the Sicilian court. Lawless at the time, cruel in their mode of conducting war, and incapable of being subjected to discipline, the bands which they formed amongst themselves, acted rather in the manner, and upon the motives of banditti, than of patriots. They occasionally, and individually, showed much coui-age, and even a sort of instinctive skill, which taught them liow to choose their ambusheSj defend their passes, and thus maintain a sort of predatory war, in which the French sustained considerable losses. Yet if their efforts remained unassisted by some regular force, it was evident that these in- surrectionary troops must be destroyed in detail by the disci])lined and calculated exertions of the French soldiers. To prevent this, and to gratify, at the same time, the anxious wishes of the Court of Palermo, Sir John Stuart, who commanded the British troops which had been sent to defend Sicily, undertook an expedition to the neighbour- ing shore of Italy, and disembarked in the Gulf of. St. Euphemia, near the frontier of Lower Cala- bria, in the beginning of July, 1806, with some- thing short of five thousand men. The disembarkation was scarcely made, ere the British commander learned that General Reynier, who commanded for Joseph Buonaparte in Cala- bria, had assembled a force nearly equal to his own, and had advanced to Maida, a town about ten miles distant from St. Euphemia, with the purpose of giving him battle. Sir John Stuart lost no time in moving to meet him, and- Reynier, confident in the numbers of his cavalry, the quality of his troops, and his own skill in tactics, abandoned a strong position on the further bank of the river Amata, and on the 4th July came down to meet the British in the open plain. Of all Buonaparte's generals, an Englishman would have desired, in especial, to be opposed to this leader, who had published a book on the evacuation of Egypt,' in which he denied every claim on the part of the British to skill or courage, and imputed the loss of the province exclusively to the incapacity of Menou, under whom Reynier, the author, liad served as second in command. Ho was now to try his own fate with the enemy, for whom he liad expressed so much contempt. At nine in the morning, the two lines were opposite to each other, when the British light in fantry brigade, forming the right of the advanced line, and the h"<^ Le'gere on the French left, a favourite regiment, found themselves confronted. As if by mutual consent, when at the distance of about one hundred jards, the opposed corps threw in two or three close fires reciprocally, and then rushed on to charge each other with the bayonet. The British connnanding officer, perceiving that his men were embarrassed by the blankets which they carried at their backs, halted the line that they niight throw them down. The French saw the pause, and taking it for the hesitation of feai-, ad- vanced with a quickened pace and loud acclama- tions. An officer, our informer, seeing their veteran appearance, moustached countenances, and regu- larity of order, could not forbear a feeling of anx- iety as he glanced his eye along the Bi-itish line, which consisted in a great measure of young and beardless recruits. But disembarrassed of their load, and receiving the order to advance, they cheered, and in their turn hastened towards the enemy with a rapid pace and levelled bayonets. The French officers were now seen encouraging their nn n, whose courage began to falter when they found they were to be the assailed party, not the assailants. Their line halted ; they could not be brought to advance by the utmost efforts of theii • '' Dc rKgYptc ai'ics hi Bataillc d'Hcliopt'lU. i8on.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 431 oliicers, and when the British were witliin bayonet's length, they broke and ran ; but too late for safetj', for they were subjected to tlie most dreadful slaugh- ter. An attempt made by Reynier to redeem the day with his cavalry, was totally unsuccessful.' He was beaten on all points, and in such a manner as left it indisputable, that the British soldier, man to man, has a superiority over his enemy, similar to that which the Britisli seaman possesses upon his peculiar element.'-' It would be in vain to inquire whether this superiority, wliich we do not hesitate to say has been made manifest, with very few exceptions, wherever the British have met foreign troops upon equal terms, arises from a stronger conformation of bodv, or a more determined turn of mind ; but it seems certain that the British soldier, inferior to the Frenchman in general intelligence, and in indi- vidual acquaintance with the trade of war, has a decided advantage in the bloody shock of actual conflict, and especially when maintaiued by the bayonet, body to body. It is remarkable also, that the charm is not peculiar to any one of the three united nations, but is common to the natives of all, different as they are in habits and education. The Guards, supplied by the city of London, may be contrasted with a regiment of Irish recruited among their ricii meadows, or a body of Scotch from, their native wildernesses ; and while it may be difiicult to assign the palm to either over the other two, all are found to exhibit that species of dogged and desperate courage, which, without staying to mea- sure force or calculate chances, rushes on the enemy as the bull-dog upon the bear. This great moral encouragement was the chief advantage derived from the battle of Maida ; for such was the tumult- uous, sanguinary, and unmanageable character of tiie Calabrian insurgents, that it was judged im- jiossible to continue the war with such assistants. The malaria was also found to affect the British troops ; and Sir John Stuart, re-embarking his little army, returned to Sicily, and the efforts of tlie British were confined to the preservation of that island. But the battle of Maida was valuable as a corollary to that of Alexandria. We have not learned whether General Reynier ever thought it e'lually worthy of a commentary.^ Tlie eyes of the best-informed men in Britain were now open to the disadvantageous and timid policy, of conducting this momentous war by petty expeditions and experimental armaments, too in- adequate to the service to be productive of any thing but disappointment. The paltry idea of making war for British objects, as it was called, that is, withholding from the general cause those efforts which might have saved our allies, and going in search of some petty object in which Britain might see an individual interest, was now univci-sally acknowledged ; although it became more difhcult than ever to select pomts of attack • For Sir John Stuart's detail of the memorable battle of Maida, see Annual Kcsister, vol. xlviii., p. 5yO; sec also Jo- mini, tom. ii., p. 238. 2 " The French soldiers had a great contempt for the En;;- lisli troojisat the beBinnin;;or the war, caused, perhaps, bvthe failure of the exi)editions under the Duke of Vork, the great want of alertness in the English advanced posts, and the mis- fortunes which befell vour armies. In this they were fools, as the English were well' known to be a brave nation. It was lirobablv by a similar error that Reynier was beaten by GenerafStuart ; as the French imagined you would run away and be driven into the sea. Reynier was a man of talent, but where our limited means might command success. It was also pretty distinctly seen, that the plan of opening a market for British manufactures, by conquering distant and unhealthy provinces, was as idle as immoral. In the latter quality, it some- what resembled the proceedings of the surgeon mentioned in Le Sage's satirical novel, who con- verted passengers into patients by a stroke of his poniard, and then hastened, in his medical capacity, to cure the wounds he had inflicted. In point of profit, we had frequently to regret, that the colo- nists, whom we proposed to convert by force of arms into customers for British goods, were too inide to want, and too poor to pay for them. No- thing deceives itself so willingly as the love of gain. Our principal merchants and manufacturers, among other commercial visions, had imagined to them- selves an unlimited market for British commo- dities, in the immense plains surrounding Buenos Aj'res, which are, in fact, peopled by a sort of Christian savages called Gauclios, whose principal furniture is the skulls of dead horses, whose only food is raw beef and water, whose sole employment is to catch wild cattle, by hampering them with a Gaucho"s noose, and whose chief amusement is to ride wild horses to death.* Unfortunately, they were found to prefer their national independence to cottons and muslins. Two several attempts were made on this miser- able country, and neither redounded to the honour or advantage of the British nation. Buenos Ayres wa,s taken possession of by a handful of British troops on the 27tli June, 1806, who were attacked by the inhabitants and by a few Spanish troops ; and, surrounded in the market place of the town, under a general and galling fire, were compelled to lay down their arms and surrender prisoners of war. A small remnant of the invading forces re- tained possession of a town on the coast, called Maldonado. In October, 1806, an expedition was sent out to reinforce this small body, and make some more material impression upon the continent of South America, which the nation wei'e under the delusion of considering as a measure extremely to the advantage of British trade. Monte Video was taken, and a large body of troops, under com- mand of General Wliitelocke, a man of factitious reputation, and who had risen high in the army without having seen much service, inarched against Buenos Ayres. This person proved both fool and coward. He pushed his columns of attack into the streets of Buenos Ayres,, knowing that the flat roofs and terraces were manned by excellent though irregular marksmen ; and, that the British might have no means of retaliation, they were not permit- ted to load their muskets,— as if stone walls could have been carried by the bayonet. One of the columns was obliged to surrender ; and although another had, in spite of desperate opposition, pos- sessed themselves of a strong position, and that a more fit to give counsel to an army of twenty or thirty thou- sand men, than to command one of five or si.x. It is difbcult to conceive how little the French soldiers tliought of yours, until they were taught the contrary."— Nai-oleo.v, 'fuice, &c., vol. ii., p. 47.- 3 Reynier died. at Paris in 1814, at the age of forty-four. Besides his work on Egy]it, he published " Conjectures Bur les anciens habitans de I'Egypte," and " Sur Ics Sphinx qui accompagncut les Pyrainides." * See the very extraordinary account of the Pampas, pub- lished by Captain Head of the eiigiutcrs. 432 SCOTT'S JIISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [180G-7. few shells niiglit have pi'ohahly ended the sort of defence which had been mahitained, Whiteloeke tlioun;ht it best to conchide a treaty with tlie enemy for recovery of the British prisoners, and so to renounce all further attempts on the colony. For this misconduct he was cashiered by the sentence of a court-martial.' An expedition against Turkey and its depen- dencies, was as little creditable to the councils of Britain, and eventually to her arms, as were her attempts on South America. It arose out of a war betwixt England and the Porte, her late ally against France ; for, so singular had been the turns of chance in this extraordinary conflict, that allies became enemies, and enemies returned to a state of close alliance, almost before war or peace could be proclaimed between them. The time was long past when the Sublime Ottoman Porte could regard the quarrels and wars of Christian powers with the contemptuous indifference with which men look on the strife of the meanest and most unclean animals.''' She was now in such close contact with them, as to feel a thi-i)ling interest in their various revolu- tions. The invasion of Egypt excited the Porte against France, and disposed tlieni to a close alliance with Russia and England, until Buonaparte's assump- tion of the Imperial dignity ; on which occasion tbe Turks, ovei-awed by the pitch of power to which lie had ascended, sent an embassy to congratulate his succession, and expressed a desire to cultivate his friendship. Napoleon, whose eyes were sometimes almost involuntarily turned to the East, and who besides desired, at that period, to break off.the good under- standing betwixt the Porte and the Cabinet of St. Petersburgh, despatched Sebastian! as his envoy to Constantinople ; a man well known for his skill in Oriental intrigues, as was displayed in the cele- brated Report which had so much influence in breaking through the peace of Amiens. The effect of this ambassador's promises, threats, and intrigues, was soon apparent. The Turks had come under an engagement that they would not change the Hospodars, or governors, of Moldavia and Wallachia. Sebastiani easily alarmed Turkish pride on the subject of this stipulation, and induced them to break through it. The two Hospodars were removed, in dettanee of the agreement made to the contrary ; and although the Turks became aware of the risk to which tliey had exposed themselves, and offered to replace the governors whom they had dismissed, Russia, with precipitate I'esentment, declared war, and invaded the two provinces in question. They overran and occupied them, but to their own cost ; as an army of fifty thousand men thus rashly engaged against the Turks, might have been of the last consequence in the fields of Eylau, Heilsberg, or Friedland. In the meanwhile, Great Britain sent a squadron, under Sir Thomas Duckworth, to compel the Porte to dismiss the French ambassador, and return to the line of politics which Sebastiani had induced them to abandon. Admiral Duckworth passed the Dardauelles in spite of the immense cannon by ' See Annual KeRister, vol. xlix., p. 223. 2 In the time of Louis XIV., when the French envoy at the court of Constantinople came, in a great hurry, to intimate as important intelligence, some victory of his master over the I'russians, " Can you suppose it of consequence to his Serene which they are guarded, and which hurled frora their enormous muzzles massive fragments of mar- ble instead of ordinary bullets. But if ever it was intended to act against the Turks by any other means than intimidation, the opportunity was suf- fered to escape ; and an intercourse by message and billet was permitted to continue until the Turks had completed a line of formidable fortifica- tions, while the state of the weather was too un- favourable to allow even an effort at the destruc- tion of Constantinople, which had been the alter- native submitted to the Turks by the English admiral. The English repassed the Dardanelles in no very creditable manner, hated for the threats which they had uttered, and despised for not having attempted to make their menaces good.-' Neither was a subsequent expedition to Alexan- dria more favourable in its results. Five thousand men, under General Eraser, were disembarked, and occupied the town with much ease. But a division, despatched against Rosetta, was the cause of renewing in a different part of the world the calamity of Buenos Ayres. The detachment was, incautiously and unskilfully on our part, decoyed into the streets of an Oriental town, where the enemy, who had manned the terraces and the flat roofs of their houses, slaughtered the assailants with much ease and little danger to themselves. Some subsequent ill-combined attempts were made for reducing the same place, and after sustaining a loss of more than a fifth of their number, by climate and combat, the British troops were withdrawn from Egypt on the •23d of September, 1807. It was no great comfort, under these repeated failures, that the British were able to secure the Dutch island of Curayoa. But the capture of the Cape of Good Hope was an object of deep import ance ; and the more so, as it was taken at a small expense of lives. Its consequence to our Indian trade is so great, that we may well hope it will be at no future time given up to the enemy. Upon the whole, the general policy of England was, at this period, of an irresolute and ill-combined cha- racter. Her ministers showed a great desire to do something, but as great a doubt what that some- thing was to be. Thus, they either mistook tha importance of the objects which they aimed at, or undertaking them without a sufficient force, failed to carry them into execution. If the wealth and means, more especially the brave troops, frittered away in the attempts at Calabria, Buenos Ayres, Alexandria, and elsewhere, had been united with the forces sent to Stralsund, and thrown into the rear of the French army before the fatal bat- tle of Friedland, Europe might, in all probability, have escaped- that severe, and, for a time, decisive blow. The evil of this error, which had pervaded our continental efforts from the beginning of the origi- nal war with France down to the period of which we are treating, began now to be felt from expe- rience. Britain gained nothing whatever by her partial efforts, not even settlements or sugar- islands. The enemy maintained against her reve- nties and commerce a constant and never-ceasing Highness, said the Grand Yizier, wUh mhnite contetrjpt, " whether the dog bites the hog, or tlie hog biles the (hig •'" 3 §ee " Particulars from Sir J. Duckwortli to Lord Colling- wood, relative to the affairs of the Dardanelles," Annual Its- gister, vol. xlix., p. G5y. ■■ 1807.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 433 >var — her resistance was equally stubborn, and it was evident that the strife on both sides was to be mortal. Ministers were, therefore, called upon for bolder risks, the nation for greater sacrifices, than had yet been demanded ; and it became evident to every one, that England's hope of safety lay in her own exertions, not for petty or selfish objects, but such as might have a decided influence on the ge- neral events of the war. The urgent pressui'e of the moment was felt by the new Administi'ation, whose principles being in favour of the continuance of the war, their efforts to conduct it with energy began now to be manifest. The first symptoms of this change of measures were exhibited in the celebrated expedition to Copenhagen, which manifested an energy and de- tenriination not of late visible ni the military ope- rations of Britain on the continent. It can hardly be made matter of serious doubt, that one grand object by which Buonaparte meant to enforce the continental system, and thus reduce the power of England without battle qr invasion, was the re- establishment of the great alliance of the Northern Powers, for the destruction of Britain's maritime superiority. This had been threatened towards the conclusion of the American war, and had been again acted upon in 1801, when the unnatural compact was dissolved by the cannon of Nelson, and the death of the Emperor Paul. The treaty of Tilsit, according to the information which the British ambassador had procured, certainly con- tained an article to this purpose, and ministers received from other quarters the most positive in- formation of wliat was intended. Indeed, the Em- peror Alexander had shown, by many indications, that in the new friendship which he had formed with the Emperor of the East, he was to embrace his resentment, and further his plans, against Eng- land. The unfortunate Gustavus of Sweden could scarcely be expected voluntarily to embrace the proposed northern alliance, and his ruin was pro- bably resolved upon. But the accession of Denmark was of the utmost consequence. That country still possessed a fleet, and the local situation of the island of Zealand gave her the key of the Baltic. Her confessed weakness could not have peraiitted her for an instant to resist the joint influence of Russia and France, even if her angry recollection of the destruction of her fleet by Nelson, had not induced her inclinations to lean in that direction. It was evident that Denmark would only be permitted to retain her neutrality, till it suited the purposes of the more powerful parties to compel her to tlirow it off. In this case, and finding the French troops approaching Holstein, Jutland, and Fiume, the British Government, acting on the information which they had received of the purpose of their enemies, conceived themselves entitled to require from Denmark a pledge as to the line of conduct which she proposed to adopt on the approach of hostilities, and some rational security that such a pledge, when given, should be redeemed. A formidable expedition was now fitted out, humanely, as well as politically, calculated on a scale of such magnitude, as, it might be expected, would render impossible the resistance which the Danes, as a high-spirited people, might offer to such a harsh species of expostulation. Twenty-seven sail of the line, and twenty thousand men, under tiie command of Lord Cathcart, were sent to the VOL. II. Baltic, to support a negotiation with DenmarK, which it was still hoped might terminate without hostilities. The fleet was conducted with great abi- lity through the intricate passages called the Belts, and was disposed in such a manner, that ninety pendants flying round Zealand, entirely blockaded the shores of that island. Under these auspices the negotiation was com- menced. The British envoy, Mr. Jackson, had the delicate task of stating to the Crown Prince in person, the expectation of England that his royal highness should explain unequivocally his senti- ments, and declare the part which he meant to take- between her and France. The unpleasant condi- tion was annexed, that, to secure any protestation which might be made of friendship or neutrality, it was required that the fleet and naval stores of the Danes should be delivered into the hands of Great Britain, not in right of property, but to be restored so soon as the state of affairs, which induced her to require possession of them, should be altered for more peaceful times. The closest alliance, and every species of protection which Britain could afford, was proffered, to obtain compliance with these proposals. Finally, the Crown Pi-ince was given to understand, that so great a force was sent in order to afford him an apology to France, should he choose to urge it, as having been compelled to submit to the English demands ; but at the same time it was intimated, that the forces would be actually employed to compel the demands, if they should be refused. In the ordinary intercourse betwixt nations, these requisitions, on the part of Britain, would have been, with respect to Denmark, severe and un- justifiable. The apology arose out of the peculiar circumstances of the times. The condition of Eng- land was that of an individual, who, threatened by the approach of a superior force of mortal enemies, sees close beside him, and with arms in his hand, one, of whom he had a right to be suspicious, as having co-operated against him on two former oc- casions, and who, he has the best reason to believe^ is at the very moment engaged in a similar alliance to his prejudice. The individual, in the case sup- posed, would certainly be warranted in requiring to know this third party's intention, nay, in disarm- ing him, if he had strength to do so, and retaining his weapons, as the best pledge of his neutrality. However this reasoning may be admitted to justify the British demands, we cannot wonder that it failed to enforce compliance on the part of the Crown Prince. Thei'e was something disgraceful in delivering up the fleet of the nation under a menace that violence would otherwise be employed; and although, for the sake of his people and his capital, he ought, in prudence, to have forborne au ineffectual resistance, yet it was impossible to blame a high-minded and honourable man for making the best defence in his power. So soon as the object of the Danes was found to be delay and evasion, while they made a hasty pre- paration for defence, the soldiers were disembarked, batteries erected, and a bombardment commenced, which occasioned a dreadful conflagration. Some forces which had been collected in the interior of the island, were dispersed by the troops under Sir Arthur Wellesley, a name already famous in India, but now for the first time heard in European war- fare. The unavailing defence was at last discoa- 2 r 434 SCOTTS MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1807. tinned, and upon the 8th September the citadel and forts of Copenhagen were s\n-rendered to the Bri- tish general. The Danish ships were fitted out for sea with all possible despatcii, together with the naval stores, to a very large amount ; which, had they fallen into the hands of the French, must have afforded them considerable facility in fitting out a fleet.' As the nature and character of the attack upon Copenhagen were attended by circumstances which were very capable of being misrepresented, France — who, through the whole war, had herself shown the most total disregard for the rights of neutral nations, with her leader Napoleon, the invader of Egypt, when in profound peace with the Porte ; of Hanover, when in amity with the German em- pire ; and who was at this very moment meditating the appropriation of Spain and Portugal — France was filled with extreme horror at the violence prac- tised on tlie Danish capital. Russia was also offended, and to a degree which showed that a feeling of disappointed schemes mingled with her affectation of zeal for the rights of neutrality.^ But the daring and energetic spirit with which Eng- land had formed and accomplished her plan, struck a wholesome terror into other nations, and showed neutrals, that if, while assuming that character, they lent their secret countenance to the enemies of Great Britain, they were not to expect that it was to be done with impunity. This was, indeed, no small hardship upon the lesser powders, many of whom would, no doubt, have been wall contented to have observed a strict neutrality, but for the threats and influence of France, against whom they had no means of defence ; but the furious conflict of such two nations as France and England, is like the struggle of giants, in which the smaller and more feeble, who have the misfortune to be in the neigh- bourhood, are sure to be borne down and trodden upon by one or both parties. The extreme resentment expressed by Buona- parte, when he received intelligence of this critical and decisive measure, might serve to argue the dej)th of his disappointment at such an unexpected anticipation of his purposes. He had only left to him the comfort of railing against Britain in the Monlteur ; and the breach of peace, and of the law of nations, was gravely imputed to England as an inexpiable crime, by one who never suffered his regard either for his own word, or the general good faith observed amongst nations, to interfere with any wish or interest he had ever entertained.^ The conduct of Russia was more singular. An English officer of literary celebrity was employed by Alexander, or those who were supposed to share his most secret counsels, to convey to the British Ministry the Emperor's expressions of the secret satisfaction which his Imperial Majesty felt at the skill and dexterity which Britain had displayed in anticipating and preventing the purposes of France, by her attack upon Copenhagen.* Her ministers 1 See " Papers relating to the Expedition to Copenhagen," Pari. Debates, vol. x., p. 221 ; and " Proceedings before Co- penhaRen," Annual Register, vol. xlix., p. Giil. p " Rub&ia felt Beveruly the lo.ss which Denmark had sus- tained. The Danish fleet was a good third of the guarantee of the neutrality of the Ualtie."— Savarv, torn, ii., p. 112. <• •• The attack upon Cojienhagen by the English was the t' u^"" (Ji^'en to the secret stipulations of Tilsit, in virtue of ■tthich the navy of Denmark was to be placed at the disjio.^al if France. Since the cataslroohe of Paul the First, 1 never were invited to communicate freely with the Czar, as with a prince, who, though obliged to give way to circumstances, was, nevertheless, as much at- tached as ever to the cause of European indepen- dence. Thus invited, the British Cabinet entered into an explanation of their views for establishing a counterbalance to the exorbitant power of France, by a northern confederacy of an offensive and de- fensive character. It was supposed that Sweden would enter with pleasure into such an allian'^e, and that Denmark would not decline it if encouraged by the example of Russia, w ho was proposed as the head and soul of the coalition. Such a communication was accordingly made to the Russian ministers, but was received with the utmost coldness. It is impossible now to determine, whether there had been some over-confidenco in the agent ; whether the communication had been founded on some hasty and fugitive idea of a breach with France, which the Emperor had afterwards abandoned ; or finally, whether, as is more pro- bable, it originated in a wish to fathom the extent of Great Britain's resources, and the purposes to which she meant to devote them. It is enough to observe, that the countenance with which Russia received the British coitimunication, was so differ- ent from that with which she had invited the confi- dence of her ministers, that the negotiation proved totally abortive. Alexander's ultimate purpose was given to the world, so soon as Britain had declined the offered mediation of Russia in her disputes with France. In a proclamation, or manifesto, sent forth by the Emperor, he expressed his repi ntance for having entered into agreements with England, which he had found prejudicial to the Russian trade ; he complained (with justice) of the manner in whicli Britain had conducted the war by petty expedi- tions, conducive only to her own selfish ends ; and the attack upon Denmark was treated as a violation of the rights of nations. He therefore annulled every convention entered into between Russia and Britain, and especially that of 1801 ; and he avowed the principles of the Armed Neutrality, which he termed a monument of the wisdom of the Great Catherine.* In November 1807, an ukase, or im- perial decree, was issued, imposing an embargo on British vessels and property'. But, by the favour of the Russian nation, and even of the officers employed by Government, the shipmasters were made aware of the impending arrest ; and not less than eighty vessels, setting sail with a favour- able wind, readied Britain with their cargoes in safety. Austria and Prussia found themselves under the necessity of following the example of Russia, and declaring war against British commerce ; so that Buonaparte had now made an immense stride towards his principal object, of destroying every species of intercourse whicli could unite England with the continent. saw Napoleon abandon himself to more violent transports. What most struck him in this vigorous enterprise, was the promptness of the resolution of the English ministry." — FoucHE, torn, i., p. .312. * Lord Hutchinson. See Parliamentary Debates, vol. x., p. G02. 5 See Declaration of the Emperor of Russia, dated St. Pe^ tersburgh, 2()th (,31st) October, 1807, Annual Register, vol xlix., p. 761 ; and Pari. Debates, vol. x., p. 218. LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPAETE. 435 CHAPTER XXXVIIl. Vieio of the Internal Government of Napoleon at the period of the Peace of Tilsit — The Tribunate abolished — Council of State — Prefectures— Their nature and objects described — The Code Napoleon — Its Provisions — Its merits and Defects — Com- parison beiwidt that Code and the Jurisprudence of England — Laudable efforts of Napoleon to carry it into effect. At this period of Buonaparte's elevation, when his power seemed best established, and most per- manent, it seems proper to take a hasty view, not indeed of the details of his internal government, which is a subject that would exhaust volumes ; but at least of its general character, of the means by which his empire was maintained, and the na- ture of the relations which it established betwixt tlie sovereign and his subjects. The ruling, almost the sole principle on which the government of Buonaparte rested, was the simple proposition upon which despotism of every kind has founded itself in every species of society ; namely, that the individual who is to exercise the authority and power of the state, shall, on the one hand, dedicate himself and his talents exclusively to the public service of the empire, while, on the other, the nation subjected to his rule shall requite this self-devotion on his part by the most implicit obedience to his will. Some despots have rested this claim to universal submission upon family descent, and upon their right, according to Filmer's doctrine, of representing the original father of the tribe, and becoming the legitimate inheritors of a patriarchal power. Others have strained scripture and abused common sense, to establish in their own favour a right through the especial decree of Pro- vidence. To the hereditary title Buonaparte could of course assert no claim ; but he founded not a little on the second principle, often holding himself out to others, and no doubt occasionally consider- ing himself, in his own mind, as an individual des- tined by Heaven to the high station which he held, and one who could not therefore be opposed in his career, without an expi'ess struggle being main- tained against Destiny, who, leading him by the hand, and at the same time protecting him with her shield, had guided him by paths as strange as perilous, to the post of eminence which he now occupied. No one had been his tutor in the les- sons which led the way to his preferment — no one had been his guide in the dangerous ascent to power — scarce any one had been of so much con- sequence to his promotion, as to claim even the merit of an ally, however humble. It seemed as if Napoleon had been wafted on to this stupendous pitch of grandeur by a power more effectual than that of any human assistance, nay, which surpassed what could have been expected from his own great talents, unassisted by the eSpecial interposition of Destiny in his favour. Yet it was not to this principle alone that the general acquiescence in the unlimited power which he asserted is to be im- puted. Buonaparte understood the character of the French nation so well, that he could offer them an acceptable indemnification for servitude ; first, in the height to which he proposed to raise tlicir national pi'e-eminence ; secondly, in the municipal establishments, by means of which he administered their government, and which, though miserably defective in all which would have been demanded by a nation accustomed to the administration of equal and just laws, afforded a protection to life and property that was naturally most welcome to those who had been so long, under the republican system, made the victims of cruelty, rapacity, and the most extravagant and unlimited tyranny, ren- dered yet more odious as exercised under the pre- text of liberty. To the first of these arts of government we have often adverted ; and it must be always recalled to mind whenever the sources of Buonaparte's power over the public mind in France come to be treated of. He liimself gave the solution in a few words, when censuring the imbecility of the Directors, to whose power he succeeded. " These men," lie said, " know not how to work upon the imagina- tion of the French nation." This idea, which, in phraseology, is rather Italian than French, ex- presses the chief secret of Napoleon's authority. He held himself out as the individual upon whom the fate of France depended — of whose hundred decisive victories France enjoyed the glory. It was he whose sword, hewing down obstacles which her bravest monarchs had accounted insurmount- able, had cut the way to her now undeniable su- premacy over. Europe. He alone could justly claim to be Absolute Monarch of France, who, raising that nation from a perilous condition, had healed her discords, reconciled her factions, turned her defeats into victory, and, from a disunited people, about to become the pi'ey to civil and ex- ternal war, had elevated her to the situation of Queen of Europe. This had been all accomplished upon one condition ; and, as we have stated else- whei'e, it was that which the Tempter offered in tlie wilderness, after his ostentatious display of the kingdoms of the earth — " All these will I give thee, if thou wilt fall down and worship me." Napoleon had completed the boastful promise, and it flattered a peojjle more desirous of glory than of liberty ; and so much more pleased with hearing of national conquests in foreign countries, than of enjoying the freedom of their own indivi- dual thoughts and actions, that they unreluctantly surrendered the latter in order that their vanity might be flattered by the former. Thus did Napoleon avail himself of, or, to trans- late his phrase more literally, play upon the ima- gination of the French people. He gave them pub- lic festivals, victories, and extended dominion ; and in return, claimed the right of carrying their child- ren in successive swarms to yet more distant and yet more extended conquests, and of governing, according to his own pleasure, the bulk of the na- tion which remained behind. To attain this purpose, one species of idolatry was gradually and ingeniously substituted for an- other, and the object of the public devotion was changed, while the worship was continued. France had been foi-mei'ly governed by political maxims — she was now ruled by the name of an individual. Formerly the Republic was every thing — Fayette, Dumouriez, or Pichegru, were nothing. Now, the name of a successful general was of more mfluence than the whole code of the Rights of Man. France had submittc'ardon if she was comlemned by the Court of Appeal. — S.— See also Las Cases, tom. i., p. 2^8. •* L.is Cases, tom. i., p. 281. LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 437 talent and virtue, had been eminently useful, as H-e iiave seen, in bringing about the Concordat, and had been ei-eated, in recompense, minister of reli- gious affiiirs, and counsellor of state. In the sub- sequent disinites betwixt the Pope and Buonaparte, a relation of the minister had been accused of cir- culating the bulls, or spiritual admonitions of the Pope ; and Portalis had failed to intimate the cir- cumstance to the Emperor. On this account, Na- poleon, in full council, attacked him in the severest terms, as guilty of having broken his oath as a counsellor and minister of state, deprived him of both offices, and expelled him from the assembly, ta one who had betrayed his sovereign.' If any of the meml.iei-s of the Council of State had ventu- red, when this sentence rung in their ears, to come betwixt the dragon and his wrath, for the purpose of stating that a hasty charge ought not instantly to be followed with immediate censure and punish- ment ; that it was possible M. Portalis might have been misled by false information, or by a natural desire to screen the offence of his cousin ; or, finally, that his conduct might have been influenced by views of religion which, if erroneous, were yet sin- cere and conscientious — we should then have be- lieved, that the Council of State of Buonaparte formed a body, in which the accused citizen might receive some protection against the despotism of the government. But when, or in what country, could the freedom of the nation lie intrusted to the keeping of the immediate counsellors of the throne ? It can only be safely lodged in some body, the authority of which emanates directly from the na- tion, and whom the nation therefore will protect and support, in the existence of their right of op- position or remonstrance. The deliberations of the Council of State, or such resolutions as Buonaparte chose to adopt without communication with them, (for it may be easily supposed that they were not admitted to share his more secret political discussions,) were, as in other countries, adjusted with and executed by the osten- fcible ministers. But, that part of the organisation of the Imperial government, upon which Buonaparte most piqued himself, was the establishment of the Prefectures, ■which certainly gave facilities for the most effectual agency of despotism that was ever exercised. There is no mistaking the object and tendency of this arrangement, since Buonaparte himself, and his most bitter opponents, hold up the same picture, one to the admiration, the other to the censure, of the world. These prefects, it must be understood, were each the supreme governor of a department, answering to the old lieutenants and governors of counties, and representing the Imperial person within the limits of the several prefectures. The individuals were carefully selected, as persons whose attachment was either to be secured or re- warded. They received large and, in some cases, exorbitant salaries, some amounting to fifteen, twenty, and even thirty tliousand francs. This heavy expense Napoleon stated to be the conse- « Las Cases, torn, i., p. 282. At St. Helena, Napoleon re- nroac-hcd liimself for the expulsion of M. Portalis. "I was." tie said, " perhaps too severe ; 1 should have checked nivself before I ordered liiiu to begone. He attempted no jiwtifica- tiou, Miul tlierefore the scene should have ended, merely bv my savitu;, (( is uvll. His punishment should have awaited him at home. Anger is always unbecoming in a sovereign. qvience of the de])raved state of moral feeling in France, which made it necessary to attach men by their interests rather than their duties ; but it wa-s termed by his enemies one of the leading principles of his government, which treated the public good as a chimera, and erected private and jiersonal in- terest into the paramount motive upon which alone the state was to be served by efficient functionaries. The prefects were chosen in the general case, as men who:-e birth and condition were totally uncon- nected with that of the department in which each was to preside ; les (Upayser, to place them in a country to which they were strangers, being an especial point of Napoleon's policy. They were entirely dependent on the will of the Emperor, who removed or cashiered them at pleasure. The ad- ministration of the departments was intrusted to these important officers. " With the authority and local resources placed at their disposal," said Buonaparte, " the prefects were themselves emperors on a limited scale ; and as they had no force excepting through the impulse which they received from the throne, as they owed their whole power to their innnediate commission, and as they had no authority of a personal charac- ter, they were of as much use to the crown as the former high agents of government, without any of the inconveniences which attached to their prede- cessors."''' It was by means of the prefects that an impulse, given from the centre of the government, was communicated without delay to the extremities of the kingdom, and that the influence of the crown, and the executitm of its commands, were transmit- ted, as if by magic, through a population of forty millions. It appears that Napoleon, while describ- ing with self-complacency this terrible engine of unlimited power, felt that it might not be entirely in unison with the opinions of those favourers of liberal institutions, whose sympathy at the close of life he thought worthy of soliciting. " My creating that power," he said, " was on my part a case of necessity. I was a dictator, called to that office by force of circimistances. There was a necessity that the filaments of the government which extended over the state, should be in complete harmony with the key-note which was to influence them. The organisation which I had extended over the empire, required to be maintained at a high degree of ten- sion, and to possess a prodigious force of elasticity, to enable it to resist the terrible blows directed against it without cessation.""' His defence amounts to this — " The men of my time were extravagantly fond of power, exuberantly attached to place and wealth. 1 therefore bribed them to become my agents by force of places and pensions. But I was educating the succeeding race to be influenced by better motives. My son woidd have been sur- rounded by youths sensible to the influence of jus- tice, honour, and virtue ; and those who were called to execute public duty, would have considered their doing so as its own reward." The freedom of France was therefore postponed till the return of a Golden Age, when personal ag- But. perhaps, I was excusable in my council, where I mifihl consider myself in the liosom of my own family; or perhaps, after a'l, I may he justly condemned for this act. F>ery one has his fault; nature will exert her bway over U» all." — Las Casks, toin. iv., p. [iit). - Las Cases, toni. iv., p. 105. 3 Las Cases, torn, iv., p. 1U5. 438 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WOllKL'. pi'a'ifHsement and personal wealtli sliould cease to have any influence upon regenerated humanity. In tlie meanwhile, she had the dictatorship and the prefects. TJie impulse, as Napoleon terms it, by which the crown put in action these subordinate agents in the departments, was usually given by means of a cir- cular letter or proclamation, communicating tlie particular measure which government desired to be enforced. This was subscribed by the minister to whose department the affair belonged, and conclu- ded with an injunction upon tlie prefect, to be active in forwarding the matter enjoined, as he valued the favour of the Emperor, or wished to show him- self devoted to the interests of the crown. ' Thus conjured, the prefect transmitted the order to tlie sub-prefect and mayors of the communities within liis department, who, stimulated by the same mo- tives that had actuated their principal, endeavoured each to distinguish himself by his active compliance ■with the will of the Emperor, and thus merit a favouralile report, as the active and unhesitating agent of his pleasure. It was the further duty of tlie prefects, to see that all honour was duly performed tow-ards the liead of the state, upon the days appointed for public rejoicings, and to remind the municipal authorities of the necessity of occasional addresses to the go- vernment, declaring their admiration of the talents, and devotion to the person of the Emperor. These effusions were duly published in the Moniteur, and, if examined closely, would afford some of the most extraordinary specimens of composition which the annals of flattery can produce. It is sufficient to say, that a mayor, we believe of Amiens, affirmed, in his ecstasy of loyal adoration, that the Deity, after making Buonaparte, must have reposed, as after the creation of the universe. This, and simi- lar flights of rhetoric, may appear both impious and ridiculous, and it might have been thought that a person of Napoleon's sense and taste would have softened or suppressed them. But he well knew the influence produced on the public mind, by ring- ing the changes to different time on the same un- varied subject. The ideas which are often repeated in all variety of language and expression, will at length produce an effect on the public mind, espe- cially if no contradiction is permitted to reach it. A uniform which may look ridiculous on a single individual, has an imposing effect when worn by a large body of men ; and the empiric, wliose extra- vagant advertisement we ridicule upon the first perusal, often persuades us, by sheer dint of repeat- ing his own praises, to make trial of liis medicine. Those who practise calumny know, according to tlie vulgar expression, that if tliey do but throw dirt sufiicient, some part of it will adhere ; and act- ing on the same principle, for a contrary purpose, Buonaparte was well aware, that the repetition of his praises in these adulatory addresses was calcu- lated finall}' to make an impression on the nation at large, and to obtain a degree of credit as an ex- pression of public opinion. Faber, an author too impassioned to obtain un- • " Vour Emperor," is Ihe usual conclusinn, " relies upon t.ie zeal wliich you will display on this business, in order to Jjrove your devotion to his person, and your attachment to the litterciits of the throne." Each of the prefects amplifies the circular. The warmest expressions and the strongest colours are employed ; no figure of rhetoric is forgotten, aud the cir- limited credit, has given several instances of igno- rance amongst the prefects ; many of whom, being old generals, were void of the information necessary for the exerci.se of a civil office, and all of whom, having been, upon principle, nominated to a sphere of action with tlie local circumstances of wliich they were previously unacquainted, were sufficiently liable to error. But the same author may be fully trusted, when he allows that the prefects could not be accused of depredation or rapine, and that such of them as improved their fortune during the date of their office, did so by economising upon their legitimate allowances.^ Such was the outline of Napoleon's provincial administration, and of the agency by which it was carried on, without check or hesitation, in every province of France at the same moment. The machinery has been in a great measure retained by the royal government, to whom it appeared jire- ferable, doubtless, to the violent alterations wliich an attempt to restore the old appointments, or create others of a different kind, must necessarily have occasioned. But a far more important change, introduced by the Emperor, though not originating with him, was the total alteration of the laws of the kingdom of France, and the introduction of that celebrated code to which Napoleon assigned his name, and on the execution of which his admirers have rested his claim to be considered as a great benefactor to the country which he governed. Bacon has indeed informed us, that when laws have been heaped upon laws, in such a state of confusion as to render it necessary to revise them, and collect their spirit into a new and intelligible system, those who ac- complish such an heroic task have a good right to be named amongst the legislators and benefactors of mankind. It had been the reproacli of France before the Revolution, and it was one of the great evils which tended to produce that immense and violent change, that the various provinces, towns, and subordinate divisions of the kingdom, having been united in different periods to the general body of the country, had retained in such union the exercise of their own particular laws and usages ; to the astonishment, as well as to the great annoy- ance of the traveller, who, in journeying through France, found that, in many important particulars, the system and character of the laws to «hich lie was subjected, were altered almost as often as he changed his post-horses. It followed, from this discrepancy of laws and subdivision of jurisdiction, that the greatest hardships were sustained by the subjects, more especially when, the district being of small extent, those authorities who acted there were likely neither to have experience, nor cha- racter sufiicient for exercise of the trust reposed in them. The evils attending such a state of things had been long felt, and, at various periods before the Revolution, it had been proposed repeatedly to institute a uniform system of legislation for the whole kingdom. But so many different interests were compromised, and such were, besides, the cular is transmitted to the sub-prefects of the department. The sub-prefects in their turn season it with still stronger language, and the mayors improve ujion that of the sub-prc" fects." — Fabeb, Xoticcs sur C Inlerkur de la France, p. 13 - Faber, Notices, p. 31 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 439 pressing occupations of the successive administra- tions of Louis XVI., and his f;randt';ithcr, tliat the project was never seriously adopted or entered upon. When, however, the whole system of provinces, districts, and feudal jurisdictions, great and small, had fallen at the word of the Abbe Sieyes, like an enchanted castle at the dissolution of a spell, and their various laws, whether written or consuetudi- nary, were Ijuried in the ruins, all France, now united into one single and integral nation, lay open to receive any legislative code which the National Assembly might dictate. But the revolutionary spirit was more fitted to destroy than to establish ; and was more bent upon the pursuit of political objects, than upon affording the nation the protec- tion of just and equal laws. Under the Directory, two or three attempts towards classification of the laws had been made in the Council of Five Hundred, but never had gone farther than a preliminai'y and general report. Cambace'res, an excellent lawyer and enlightened statesman, was one of the first to solicit the attention of the state to this great and indispensable duty. The various successive autho- rities had been content with passing such laws as affected popular subjects of the day, and which (like that which licensed universal divorce) pai'took of the extravagance that gave them origin. The project of Cambace'res, on the contrary, embraced a general classification of jurisprudence through all its branches, although too nnich tainted, it is said, with the prevailing revolutionary opinions of the period, to admit its being taken for a basis, when Buonaparte, after his elevation, determine<4to su- persede the Republican by Monarchical forms of government. After the revolution of the 18th Brumaire, Na- poleon saw no way more certain of assuring the popularity of that event, and connecting his own authority with the public interests of France, than to resume a task which former rulers of the Re- public had thought too heavy to be undertaken, and thus, at once, show a becoming confidence in the stability of his own power, and a laudable desire of exercising it for the permanent advantage of the nation. An order of the Consuls, dated 24tli Ther- midor, in the year VIII., directed the minister of justice, with a committee of lawyers of eminence, to examine the several projects, four in number, which had been made towards compiling the civil code of national law, to give their opinion on the plan most desirable for accomplishing its formation, and to discuss the bases upon which legislation in civil matters ought to be rested. The preliminary discourse upon the first project of the Civil Code, is remarkable for the manner in which the reporters consider and confute the general and illusory views entei'tained by the im- informed part of the public, upon the nature of the task to which tliey had been called. It is the com- mon and vulgar idea, that the system of legislation may be reduced and simplified into a few general maxims of equity, sufficient to lead any judge of understanding and integrity, to a just decision of all questions which can possibly occur betwixt man and man. It follows, as a corollary to this proposition, that the various multiplications of au- thorities, exceptions, particular cases, and especial provisions, which have been introduced among civilized nations, by the address of those of the le- gal profession, are just so many expedients to em- barrass the simjile course of justice with arbitrary modifications and refinements, in order to procure wealth and consequence to those educated to the law, whose assistance must be used as its inter- preters, and who became rich by serving litigants as guides through the labyrinth of obscurity wiiich had been raised by themselves and their prede- cessors. Such were the ideas of the law and its professors, which occurred to tire Parliament of Praise- God- Barebones, when they proposed to Cromwell to abrogate the whole common law of England, and dismiss the lawyers, as drones who did but encum- ber the national hive. Such was also the opinion of many of the French statesmen, w ho, as rash in judging of jurisprudence as in politics, imagined that a system of maxims, modified on the plan of the Twelve Tables of the ancient Romans, might serve all the purposes of a civil code in modern France. They who thought in this manner had entirely forgotten, how soon the laws of these twelve tables became totally insufficient for Rome herself —how, in the gradual change of manners, some laws became obsolete, some inapplicable — how it became necessary to provide for emerging cases, successively by the decrees of the Senate, the ordinances of the people, the edicts of the Consuls, the regulations of the Praitors, the answers or opinions of learned Jurisconsults^ and finally, by the rescripts, edicts, and novels of the Emperors, until such a mass of legislative matter was assem- bled, as scarcely the efforts of Theodosius or Jus- tinian were adequate to bring into order, or reduce to principle. But this, it may be said, was the very subject complained of. The simplicity of the old laws, it may be urged, was gradually corrupted ; and hence, by the efforts of interested men, not by the natural progress of society, arose the compli- cated system, which is the object of such general complaint. The answer to this is obvious. So long as society remains in a simple state, men have occasion for few and simple laws. But when that society begins to be subdivided into ranks ; w hen duties are in- curred, and obligations contracted, of a kind un- known in a ruder or earlier period, these new conditions, new duties, and new obligations, must be regulated by new rules and ordinances, wiiich accordingly are introduced as fast as they are wanted, either by the course of long custom, or by precise legislative enactment. There is, no doubt, one species of society in which legislation may bo much simplified ; and that is, where the whole law of the country, with the power of enforcing it, is allowed to reside in the bosom of the King, or of the judge who is to administer justice. Such is the system of Turkey, where the Cadi is bound by no laws nor former precedents, save what his con- science may discover from perusing the Koran. But so apt are mankind to abuse unlimited power, and indeed so utterly unfit is human nature to pos- sess it, that in all countries where the judge is possessed of such arbitrary jurisdiction, he is found accessiljle to bi-ibes, or liable to be moved by threats. He has no distinct course prescribed, no beacon on which to direct his vessel ; and trims, therefore, his sails to the pursuit of his own profit. The French legislative commissioners, with these views, wisely judged it their duty to produce their civil code, upon such a system as might afford, as 440 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE Yv^ORKS, far as possiljlo, protection to the various kinds of I'iglits known and acknowledged in the existing state of society. Less than this they could not do ; nor, in our opinion, is their code as yet adequate to attain that principal object. By the implied social contract, an individual smrrenders to the community his right of protecting and avenging himself, under the reserved and indispensable condition that the public law shall defend him, or punish those by whom he has sustained injury. As revenge has been said, by Bacon, to be a species of wild justice, so the individual pursuit of justice is often a modi- fied and legitimate pursuit of revenge, which ought, indeed, to be qualified by the moral and religious sentiments of the party, but to which law is bound to give free way, in requital for the bridle which she imposes on the indulgence of man's natural passions. Tlie course of litigation, therefore, can- not be stopt; it can only be diminished, by pro- viding beforehand as many regulations as will embrace the greater number of cases likely to occur, and trusting to the authority of the judges acting upon the spirit of the law, for the settlement of such as cannot be decided according to its letter. The organisation of this great national work was proceeded in with the caution and deliberation which the importance of the subject eminently deserved. Dividing the subjects of legislation ac- cording to the usual distinctions of jurisconsults, the commissioners commenced by the publication and application of the laws in general ; passed from that preliminary subject to the consideration of personal rights under all their various relations ; then to rights respecting property ; and, lastly, to those legal forms of procedure, by which the rights of citizens, whether arising out of personal circum- stances, or as connected with property, ai'e to be followed forth, explicated, and ascertained. Thus adopting the division, and in some degree the forms, of the Institutes of Justinian, the commis- sion proceeded, according to the same model, to consider each subdivision of this general arrange- ment, and adopt respecting each such maxims or •brocards of general law, as were to form the future basis of French jurisprudence. Their general prin- ciples being carefully connected and fixed, the ingenuity of the commissioners was exerted in deducing from them such a number of corollaries and subordinate maxims, as might provide, so far as human ingenuity could, for the infinite number of questions that were likely to emerge on the practical application of the general principles to the varied and intricate transactions of human life. It may be easily supposed, that a task so difficult gave rise to much discussion among the commissioners ; and as their report, when fully weighed among themselves, was again subjected to the Council of State, before it was proposed to the Legislative Body, it must be allowed, that every means which could be devised were employed in maturely considering and revising the great body oi national law, which, finally, under the name of the Code Napoleon, was adopted by France, and ' " What liti'^ations would thus have been prevented ! On the first e\aniiiirttioii of a cause, a lawyer would have rejoctcd It, had it been at all doubtful. There would have been little leav tliat a man, liviu'; by his labour, would have undertaken to conduct a lawsuit, from mere motives of vanity; and if he h:ul, he would himself have been the only sufferer in case o» continues, under the title of the Civil Code, to ba the law by which her subjects still possess and enforce their civil rights. It would be doing much injustice to Napoleon, to suppress the great personal interest which, amid so many calls upon his time, he nevertheless took in the labours of the commission. He frequently attended their meetings, or those of the Council ol State, in which their labours underwent revision ; and, though he must be supposed entirely ignorant of the complicated system of jurisprudence as a science, yet his acute, calculating, and argumenta- tive mind enabled him, by the broad views of genius and good sense, often to ged rid of those subtleties by which professional persons are occa- sionally embarrassed, and to treat as cobwebs, difficulties of a technical or metaphysical charac- ter, which, to the jurisconsults, had the appearance of bonds and fetters. There were times, however, on the other hand, when Napoleon was led, by the obvious and vulgar views of a question, to propose alterations wliich would have been fatal to the administration of jus- tice, and the gradual enlargement and improvement of municipal law. Such was his idea, that advo- cates and solicitors ought only to be paid in the event of the cause being decided in favour of their client,' — a regulation which, had he ever adopted it, would have gone far to close tlie gates of jus- tice ; since, what practitioner would have forfeited at once one large portion of the means of his exis- tence, and consented to rest the other upon the uncei-tainty of a gambling transaction 1 A lawyer is no more answerable for not gaining his cause, than a horse-jockey for not winning the race. Neither can foretell, with any certainty, the event of the struggle, and each, in justice, can onl}' be held liable for the utmost exertion of his skill and abilities. Napoleon was not aware that litigation is not to be checked by preventing lawsuits froni coming into court, but by a systematic and sage course of trying and deciding points of importance, which, being once settled betwixt two litigants, cannot, in the same shape, or under the same cir- cumstances, be again the subject of dispute among others. The Civil Code of Napoleon is accompanied by a code of procedure in civil cases, and .a code relat- ing to commercial affairs, which may be regarded as supplemental to the main body of municipal law. There is, besides, a Penal Code, and a code respecting the procedure against persons accused under it. The whole forms a grand system of jurisprudence, drawn up by the most enlightened men of the age, having access to all the materials which the past and the present times afford ; and it is not surprising that it should have been received as a great boon by a nation who, in some sense, may be said, previous to its establishment, to have been without any fixed or certain municipal law since the date of the Revolution. But while we admit the full merit of the Civil Code of France, we are under the necessity of observing, that the very symmetry and theoretical failure. But my idea was opposed by a multitude of objec- tions, and as I had no time to lose, I postponed the further consideration of the subject. Yet I am still convinced that the scheme mi^ht, with certain moditications, have been turned to the best account."— Napoleon, L,as Cases, lopi. vii., p. 19.'', LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 441 consistency, -which form, at fii'st view, its principal beauty, render it, when examined closely, less fit for the actual purposes of jurisprudence, than a system of national law, which, having never under- gone the same operation of compression, and abridgement, and condensation, to which that of Franco was necessarily subjected, spreads through a multiplicity of volumes, embraces an immense collection of precedents, and, to the eye of inexpe- rience, seems, in comparison of the compact size and regular form of the French code, a labyrinth to which no clue is afforded. It is of the greater importance to give this subject some consideration, because it has of late been fashionable to draw comparisons between the jurisprudence of England and that of France, and even to urge the necessity of new-modelling the former upon such a concise and systematic plan as the latter exhibits. In arguing this point, we suppose it will be granted, that that code of institutions is the most perfect, which most effectually provides for every difficult case as it emerges, and therefore averts, as far as possible, the occurrence of dovibt, and, of course, of litigation, by giving the most accurate and certain interpretation to the general rule, when applied to cases as they ai'ise. Now, in this point, which comprehends the very essence and end of all jurisprudence — the protection, namely, of the rights of the individual — the English law is pre- ferable to the French in an incalculable degree ; because each principle of English law has been the subject of illustration for many ages, by the most learned and wise judges, acting upon pleadings conducted by the most acute and ingenious men of each successive age. This current of legal judg- ments has been flowing for centuries, deciding, as they occurred, every question of doubt which could arise upon the application of general principles to particular circumstances ; and each individual case, so decided, fills up some point which was previously disputable, and, becoming a rule for similar ques- tions, tends to that extent to diminish the debate- able ground of doubt and argument with which the law must be surrounded, like an unknown territory when it is first partially discovered. It is not the fault of the French jurisconsults, that they did not possess the mass of legal autho- rity arising out of a regular course of decisions by a long succession of judges competent to the task, and proceeding, not upon hypothetical cases sup- posed by themselves, and subject only to the inves- tigation of their own minds, but upon such as then actually occurred in practice, and had been fully canvassed and ai'gued in open court. The P^rench lawyers had not the advantage of referring to such a train of decisions ; each settling some new point, or ascertaining and confirming some one which had been considered as questionable. By the Revolu- tion, the ancient French courts had been destroyed, together with their records ; their proceedings only served as matter of history or tradition, but could not be quoted in support or explanation of a code which had no existence until after their destruction. The commissioners endeavoured, we have seen, to supply this defect in their system, by drawing from their general rules such a number of corollary pro- positions as might, so far as possiljle, serve for their application to special and particular cases. But rules, founded in imaginary cases, can never have the same weight with precedents emerging in actual practice, where the previous exertions of the law- yers have put the case in every possible light, and where the judge comes to the decision, not as the theorist, whofe opinion relates only to an ideal hypothesis of his own mind, Ijut as the solemn arbiter of justice betwixt man and man, after hav- ing attended to, and profited by, the collision and conflict of opposite opinions, urged by those best qualified to state and to illustrate them. The value of such discussion is well known to all wlio have experience of courts of justice, where it is never thought surprising to hear the wisest judge confess, that he came into court with a view of the case at issue wholly different from that which he was induced to form after having given the requisite attention to the debate before him. But this is an advantage which can never be gained, unless in the discussion of a real case ; and therefore the opinion of a judge, given tola re coijnita, must always be a more valuable precedent, than that which the same learned individual could form upon an abstract and hypothetical question. It is, besides, to be considered, that the most fertile ingenuity with which any legislator can be endued, is limited within certain bounds ; and that, wIkju he has racked his brain to provide for all the ideal cases which his prolific imagination can sup- ply, it will be found that he has not anticipated or provided for the hundredth part of the questions which are sure to occur in actual practice. To make a practical application of what we have stated, to the relative jurisprudence of France and England, it may be remarked, that the Title V. of the 1st Book of the Civil Code, upon the subject of Marriage, contains only one hundred and sixty-one propositions respecting the rights of parties, arising in different circumstances out of that contract, the most important known in civilized society. ]f w« deduce from this gross amount the great number of rules which are not doctrinal, but have only reference to the forms of procedure, the result will be greatly diminished. The English law, on the other hand, besides its legislative enactments, is guarded, as appears from Roper's Index, by no less than a thousand decided cases, or precedents, each of which affords ground to rule any other case in similar circumstances. In this view, the cer- tainty of the law of England compared to that of France, bears the proportion of ten to one. It is, therefore, a vulgar, though a natural and pleasing error, to prefer the sini])licity of an inge- nious and philosophic code of jurisprudence, to a system which has grown up with a nation, aug- mented with its wants, extended according to its civilisation, and only become cumbrous and com- plicated, because the state of society to which it applies has itself given rise to a complication of relative situations, to all of which the law is under the necessity of adapting itself. In this point of view, the Code of France may be compared to a warehouse built with nuich attention to architectu- ral uniformity, showy in the exterior, and jileasing from the simplicity of its plan, but too small to hold the quantity of goods necessary to sup]ily the public demand ; while the Common Law of Eng- land resembles the vaults of some huge Gotiiic building — dark, indeed, and ill-arranged, but con- taining an immense store of connnoditics, which those acquainted with its recesses seldom fail to be able to produce to such a« have occasion for lliem. 442 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. Tlie practiqiios, or adjudged cases, in fact, form a breakwater, as it were, to protect the more foiiiial bulwark of tlie statute law; and although they can- not be regularly jointed or dovetailed together, each independent decision fills its space on the mound, and offers a degree of resistance to innovation, and protection to the law, in proportion to its own weight and importance. The certainty of th.c English jurisprudence, (for, in spite of the ordinary opinion to the contrary, it has acquired a comparative degree of certainty,) rests upon the multitude of its decisions. The views which a man is disposed to entertain of his own rights, inidor the general provisions of the law, are usually controlled by some previous deci- sion on the case ; and a reference to precedents, furnished bv a person of skill, saves, in most instances, the expense and trouble of a lawsuit, which is thus stifled in its very birth. If we are rightly informed, the number of actions at common law, tried in England yearly, does not exceed be- twixt five-and-twenty and tliirty on an average, from each county ; an incredibly small number, when the wealth of the kingdom is considered, as well as the various and complicated transactions incident to the advanced and artificial state of society in which we live. But we regard the multitude of precedents in English law as eminently favourable, not only to tlie certainty of the law, but to the liberty of the subject ; and especially as a check upon any judge, who might be disposed to innovate either upon the rights or liberties of the lieges. If a general theoretical maxim of law be jiresented to an im- conscientious or partial judge, he may feel himself at liberty, by exerting his ingenuity, to warp the right cause the wrong way. But if he is bound down by the decisions of his wise and learned pre- decessors, that judge would be venturous indeed, who should attempt to tread a diff"erent and more devious path than that which is marked by the venerable traces of their footsteps ; especially, as he well knows that the professional pei-sons around him, who might be blinded by the glare of his ingenuity in merely theoretical argument, are per- fectly capable of observing and condemning every departure from precedent.^ In such a case he becomes sensible, that, fettered as he is by previous decisions, the law is in his hands, to be adminis- tered indeed, but not to be altered or tampered with ; and that if the evidence be read in the court, there are and must be many present, who know as well as himself, what must, according to precedent, be the verdict, or the decision. These are considerations which never can restrain or fetter a judge, who is only called upon to give his own explanation of the general principle briefly expressed in a short code, and susceptible therefore of a variety of interpretations, from which he may at pleasure select that which may be most favour- able to his unconscientious or partial purposes. It follows, also, from the paucity of laws afford- ed by a code constructed not by the growth of time, but suggested by the ingenuity of theorists Buddenly called to the task, and considering its innnense importance, executing it in haste, that many provisions, most important for the exercise The intelligent reader will easily be aware, that we mean not to say that every decision of their predecessors is necessa- rily binding on the judges of the day. Laws themselves be- of justice, must, of course, be neglected in the French Code. For example, the whole law of evidence, the very key and corner-stone of justice between man and man, has been strangely over- looked in the French jurisprudence. It is plain, that litigation may proceed for ever, imless there be some previous adjustment (called technically an issue) betwixt the parties, at the sight of the judge, tending to ascertain their averments in point of fact, as also the relevancy of those averments to the determination of the cause. In England, chiefly during the course of last century, the Law of Evidence has grown up to a degree of perfec- tion, which has tended, perhaps more than any other cause, at once to prevent and to shorten liti- gation. If we pass from the civil to the penal mode of procedure in France, the British lawyer is yet more shocked by a course, which seems in his view totally to invert and confound every idea which he has received upon the law of evidence. Our law, it is well known, is in nothing so scru- pulous as in any conduct towards the prisoner, which may have the most indirect tendency to en- trap him into bearing evidence against himself. Law sympathizes in such a case with the frailties of humanity, and, aware of the consequence which judicial inquiries must always have on the mind of the timid and ignorant, never pushes the examina- tion of a suspected person farther than he himself, in the natural hope of giving such an account of himself as may procure his liberty, shall choose to reply to it. In France, on the contrary, the whole trial some- times resolves into a continued examination and cross-exaiuination of the prisoner, who is not only under the necessity of giving his original state- ment of tlie circumstances on which he founds his defence, but is confronted repeatedly with the wit- nesses, and repeatedly required to reconcile his own statement of the case with that which these have averred. With respect to the character of evidence, the same looseness of practice exists. No distinction seems to be made between that which is hearsay and that which is direct — that which is spontaneously given, and that which is extracted, or perhaps suggested, by leading questions. All this is contrary to what we aie taught to consider as the essence of justice towards the accused. The use of the rack is, indeed, no longer admitted to extort the confession, but the mode of judicial ex- amination seems to us a species of moral torture, under which a timid and ignorant, though innocent man, is very likely to be involved in such contra- dictions and inextricable confusion, that he may be under the necessity of throwing away his life by not knowing how to frame his defence. We shall not protract these remarks on the Code Napoleon ; the rather that we must frankly con- fess, that the manners and customs of a country make the greatest difference with respect to its laws, and that a system may work well in P'l-ance, and answer all the purposes of jurisprudence, which in England would be thought very inadequate to the purpose. The humane institution which allows the accused the benefit of counsel, is a privilege which the English law docs not permit to the accused, and may have its own weight in counter- come obsolete and so do the decisions which have maintained and enforced them.— S. LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. u: balancing some of the inconveniences to which he is subjected in France. It seems also probable, that the deficiences in tlie Code, arising from its recent origin and compressed form, must be gra- dually remedied, as in England, by the coui-se of decisions pronounced by intelligent and learned judges ; and that what we now state as an objec- tion to the system, wiU gradually disappear under tlie influence of time. Considered as a production of human science, and a manual of legislative sagacity, the Code may chal- lenge general admiration for the clear and wise manner in which the axioms are drawn u]) and ex- pressed. There are but few peculiarities making a difference betwixt its principles and tliose of the Roman law, which lias in most contracts claimed to be considered as the mother of judicial regula- tion. The most remarkable occurs, perhaps, in the articles regulating what is called the Family Coun- cil — a subject which does not seem of importance sufficient to claim much attention. The Civil Code being thus ascertained, provision was made for its regular administration by suitable courts ; the judges of which did not, as before the Revolution, depend for their emoluments upon fees payable by the litigants, but were compensated by suitable salaries at the expense of the public. As France does not supply that class of persons who form what is called in England the unpaid magis- tracy, the Fi'ench justices of peace received a small salary of from 800 to 1800 francs. Above them in rank came judges in the first instance, whose sala- ries amounted to 3000 francs at the utmost. The judges of the supreme tribunals enjoyed about four or five thousand francs ; and those of the High Court of Cassation had not more than ten thousand francs, which scarcely enabled them to live and keep some rank in the metropolis. But, though thus underpaid, the situation of the French judges was honour- able in the eyes of the country, and they main- tained its character by activity and impartiality in their judicial functions. The system of juries had been introduced in criminal cases, by the acclamation of the Assembly. Buonaparte found them, however, scrupulously restive and troublesome. There may be some truth in the charge, that they were averse from conviction, where a loop-hole remained for acquit- ting the criminal ; and that many audacious crimes remained unpunished, from the punctilious view which the juries took of their duty. But it was from other motives than those of the public weal that Napoleon made an early use of his power, for the purpose of forming special tribunals, invested with a half-military character, to try all such ci-imes as assumed a political complexion, with power to condemn without the suffrage of a jury.' We have already alluded to this infringement of the most valuable political rights of the subject, in giving some account of the trials of Georges, Pichegru, and Moreau. No jury would ever have brought in a verdict against the latter, wliose sole crime was his communication with Pichegru ; a point of ' " 111 the Code Napoleon, and even in the Criminal Code, tame good principles reinnin, derived from the Constituent Asscniblv ; the institution of juries, for instance, the anchorof Frencli liope : but of what value were legal institutions, when extraordinary tribunals, named by the Emperor, special courts, and military commissions, judged all political otTeiices -the very offences on which the unchangeable ae^is of the law is most required."— Mad. de Stael. torn, ii., p. 3t)4. suspicion certainly, but no proof whatever of posi- tive guilt. Political causes being out of the field, the trial by jury was retained in the French Code, so far as regarded criminal questions ; and the general administration of justice seems to have been very well calculated for protecting the right, and punishing that which is wrong. The fiscal operations of Buonaparte were those of which the subjects complained the most, as in- deed these are generally the grievances to which the people in every country are the most sensible. High taxes were imposed on the French people, reiidered necessary by the expenses of the govern- ment, which, with all its accomjjaniments, were very considerable ; and although Buonaparte did all in his power to throw the charge of the eter- nal wars which he waged upon the countries he overran or subdued, yet so far does the waste of war exceed any emolument which the armed hand can wrest from the sufferers, so imperfect a pro- portion do the gains of the victor bear to the losses of the vanquished, that after all the revenue which was derived from foreign countries, the contiiuial campaigns of the Emperor proved a constant and severe drain upon the produce of French industry. So rich, however, is the soil of France, such are the extent of her resources, such the patience and activity of her inhabitants, that she is qualified, if not to produce at once the large capitals which England can raise upon her national credit, yet to support the payment of a train of heavy annual imposts for a much longer period, and with less practical inconvenience. The agriculture of France had been extremely improved since the breaking up of the great estates into smaller portions, and the abrogation of those feudal burdens which had pressed upon the cultivators ; and it might be con- sidered as flourishing, in spite of war taxes, and, what was worse, the conscription itself.^ Under a fixed and secure, though a severe and despotic government, property was protected, and agricul- ture received the best encouragement, namely, the certainty conferred on the cultivator of reaping the crop which he sowed. It was far otherwise with commerce, which the maritime war, can-ied on so long and with such uimiitigated severity, had very much injured, and the utter destruction of whicii was in a manner perfected by Buonaparte's adherence to the conti- nental system. This, indeed, was the instrument by which, in the long run, he hoped to ruin the commerce of his rival, but the whole weight of which fell in the first instance on that of Franco, whose seaports showed no other shipping save coasters and fishing vessels; while the trade of Marseilles, Bourdeaux, Nantes, and other great commercial towns, had, in a great measure, ceased to exist. The government of the Emperor was proportionally unpopular in those cities ; and al- though men kept silence, because surrounded by the spies of a jealous and watchful despotism, tlicir dislike to the existing state of things could not entirely be concealed.'' - " Apriculture was continually improving during the wliole course of the Revolution. Foreigners thought it ruined in France, ifi 181-1, however, the English wire compelled to admit, that we had little or nothing to learn from them."— Napoleon-, Las Cittvs, torn, iv., p. 211(1. 3 " Foreign trade, whicli in its results is infinitely inferior to agriculture, was an object of subordinate importance in my mind. Foreign trade is made for agriculture aud home iiidua 444 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. Oil the other hand, capitahsts, who had sums invested in tlie public funds, or who were concerned with tlie extensive and beneficial contracts for the equipment and supply of Napoleon's large armies, with all the numerous and influential persons upon whom any part of the gathering in or expenditure of the public money devolved, were necessarily devoted to a government, under which, in spite of the Emperor's vigilance, immense profits were often derived, even after those by whom they were made had rendered to the ministers, or perhaps the generals, by whom they wei e protected, a due portion of the spoil. Economist and calculator as he was, to a most superior degree of excellence, Napoleon seems to have been utterly unable, if he really sincerely desired, to put an end to the pecu- lations of those whom he trusted with power. He frequently, during his conversations at St. Helena, alludes to the venality and corruption of such as he employed in the highest offices, but whose sor- did practices seem never to have occurred to him in the way of objection to his making use of tlieir talents. Fouche, Talleyrand, and others, are thus stigmatized ; and as we well know how long, and upon how many different occasions, he employed those statesmen, we cannot but suppose that, what- ever may have been his sentiments as to the vien, he was perfectly willing to compound with their peculation, in order to have the advantage of their abilities. Even when practices of this kind were too gross to be passed over, Napoleon's mode of censuring and repressing them was not adapted to show a pure sense of morality on his own part, or any desire to use extraordinary rigour in prevent- ing them in future. This conclusion we form from the following anecdote which he communicated to Las Cases : — Speaking of generals, and praising the disinte- restedness of some, he adds, Massena, Augereau, Binine, and others, were undaunted depredators. Upon one occasion, the rapacity of the first of these generals had exceeded the patience of the Emperor. His mode of punishing him was pecu- liar. He did not dispossess him of the command, of which he had rendered himself unworthy by such an unsoldier-like vice — he did not strip the depredator by judicial sentence of his ill-won gains, and restore them to those from whom they were plundered — but, in order to make the General sen- sible that he had proceeded too far, Buonaparte drew a bill upon the banker of the delinquent, for the sum of two or three millions of francs, to be placed to Massena's debit, and the credit of the drawer. Great was the embarrassment of the banker, who dared not refuse the Imperial order, while he humbly hesitated, that he could not safely honour it without the authority of his principal. '• Pay the money," was the Emperor's reply, " and let Massena refuse to give you credit at his peril." The money was paid accordingly, and planed to that General's debit, without his venturing to start any ob.ections.' This was not punishing pecula- tiosij but partaking in its gains ; and the spirit of the transaction approached nearly to that described try, anil not the two latter for the former. The interests of these three luiHlamental cases are diverniiif;, and frequently cniifiietiiiK, I always promoted them in their natural grada- tion ; but I could not and oU};ht not to have ranked them all on an equality. The difficulties, and even the total stagnation of foreign trade during my reign, arose out of the force of cir- by Le Sage, where the Spanish minister of state insists on sharing the bribes given to his secretary. Junot, in like manner, who, upon liis return from Portugal, gave general scandal by the dis- play of diamond.s, and other wealth, which he had acquired in that oppressed country, received from Buonaparte a friendly hint to be more cautious in such exhibitions. But his acknowledged rapacity was never thought of as a reason disqualifying him for being presently afterwards sent to the govern- ment of Hlyria. We are informed, in another of the Emperor's communications, that his Council of State was oi admirable use to him in the severe inquisition which he was desirous of making into the public accounts. The proceedings of this Star Chamber, and the fear of being transmitted to the cognition of the Grand Judge, usually brought the culprits to composition ; and when they had disgorged one, two, or three millions, the government was enriched, or, according to Buonaparte's ideas, the laws were .satisfied.'-^ The truth seems to be, that Buonaparte, though he contemned wealth in his own person, was aware that avarice, which, after all, is but a secondary and sordid species of ambition, is the most powerful motive to mean and vulgar minds ; and he willingly advanced gold to those who chose to prey upon it, so long as their efi"orts facilitated his possessing and retaining the unlimited authority to which he had reached. In a country where distre.ss and disaster of every kind, public and private, had enabled many to raise large fortunes by brokerage and agiotage, a nionied interest of a peculiar character was soon formed, whose hopes were of course rested on the wonderful ruler, by whose gigantic ambition new schemes of specu- lation were opened in constant succession, and whose unrivalled talents seemed to have found the art of crowning the most difficult undertakings with success. It might be thought that the manufacturing interest must have perished in France, from the same reasons which so strongly and unfavourably afflicted the commerce of that country. In ceasing to import, there must indeed have been a corres- ponding diminution of the demand for goods to be exported, whether these were the growth of the soil, or the productions of French labour. Accord- ingly, this result had, in a great degree, taken place, and there was a decrease to a large amount in those goods which the French were accustomed to e.xport in exchange for the various commodities supplied to them by British trade. But, though the real and legitimate stimulus to manufactures had thus ceased. Napoleon had substituted an arti- ficial one, which had, to a certain extent, supplied the place of the natural trade. We must remark, that Napoleon, practically and personally frugal, was totally a stranger to the science of Political Economy. He never received or acted upon the idea, that a liberal system of commerce operates most widely in diff'using the productions which are usually the subjects of exchange, and in aff'ording to every country the greatest sliare of tlie bounties ciimstanccs, and the accidents of the time. One brief interval of peace would iumiediately have restored it to its natural level."— Nai'Oleo.v, Las Cases, torn, iv., p. 280. 1 Las Cases, torn, ii., p. 230. 2 Las Cases, torn, ii , p. 256. LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPAETE. 445 of nature, or the produce of industry at the easiest rates. On the contrary, he had proceeded to act against the commerce of Enijland, as, in a mihtai'y capacity, lie would have done in rejrard to the water which su]iplied a besieged city, lie strove to cut it of}", and altogether to destroy it, and to supply the absence of its productions, by such substitutes as France could furnish.* Hence, the factitious en- couragement given to the French manufactures, not by the natural demand of the country, but by the boimties and prohibitions by which they were guarded. Hence, the desperate efforts made to produce a species of sugar from various substances, especially from the beet-root. To this unnatural and unthrifty experiment, Buonaparte used to at- tach so much conseqvience, that a ]nece of the new composition, which, with much time and trouble, had been made to approximate the quality of ordi- nary loaf-sugar, was preserved in a glass-case over the Imperial mantel-piece ; and a pound or two of beet-sugar, highly-refined, was sent to foreign courts, to illustrate the means by which Napoleon consoled his subjects for the evils incumbent on the continental system. No way of flattering or gratifying the Empei-or was so certain, as to ap- pear eager in supporting these views ; and it is said that one of his generals, when tottering in the Imperial good graces, regained the favour of his master, by planting the whole of a considerable estate with beet-root. In these, and on similar occasions. Napoleon, in his eager desire to produce the commodity desiderated, became regardless of those considerations which a manufacturer first ascertains when about to commence his operations, namely, the expense at which the article can be produced, the price at which it can be disposed of, and its fitness for the market which it is intended to supply. The various encouragements given to the cotton mainifacturers, and others, in France, by which it was desigued to supply the want of British goods, proceeded upon a system equally illiberal and impolitic. Still, however, the expensive boun- ties, and forced sales, which the infiuence of go- vernment afforded, enabled these manufacturers to proceed, and furnished employment to a certain number of men, who were naturally grateful for the protection which they received from the Em- peror. In the same manner, although no artificial jet-d'eau, upon the grandest scale of expense, can so much refresh the fiice of nature, as the gentle and general influence of a natural showei-, the for- mer will nevertheless have the effect of feeding and nourishing such vegetable productions as are with- in the reach of its limited influence. It was thus, that the efforts of Napoleon at encouraging arts and manufactures, though proceeding on mistaken principles, produced, in the first instance, results apparently beneficial.^ We have already had occasion to observe the immense public works which were undertaken at the expense of Buonaparte's governinent. Tem- ples, bridges, and aqueducts, are, indeed, the coin with which arbitrary princes, in all ages, have en- deavoured to ccmpensate for the liberty of which I " The system of oomnicri:ial licences was no diiubt nnis- chiovoiis. Heaven t'orliid that 1 should have laid it down as a principle. It was the invention of the En^;lish ; with mc it was only a momentary resoiuce. Even the continental system, in its extent and riROur, was by me regarded as a measure occa- Bioned by the war andtemporarv circumstances." — Napoleon, Las Cases, tom. iv., pp. :;8n, 2l53. the people are deprived. Such nionumei.ts are popular with the citizens, because the enjoyment of tiiem is common to all, and the monarch is ])ar- tial to a style of ex])enditurc promising more plau- sibly than any other, to extend the memory of hig present greatne.ss far into the bosom of futurity, Buonaparte was not, and could not be insensible to either of these motives. His mind was too much enlarged to seek enjoyment in any of the ordinai'y objects of exclusive gratification ; and undoubtedly, he who had done so much to distin- guish himself during his life above ordinary mor- tals, must have naturally desired that his public works should preserve his fame to future ages. Accordingly, he undertook and executed some of the most s))lendid labours of modern times. The road over the Simplon, and the basins at Antwerp, may be always appealed to as gigantic specimens of his public spirit. On the other hand, as we have before hinted, Napoleon sometimes aimed at producing immediate effect, by proposals and plans hastily adopted, as hastily decreed, and given in full form to the go- vernment journal ; but which were either aban- doned immediately after having been commenced, or perhaps, never advanced farther than the plan announced in the Monitear. Buonaparte's habits of activity, his powers of deciding with a single glance upon most points of either military or civil engi- neering, were liberally drawn upon to strike his subjects with wonder and admiration. During the few peaceful intervals of his reign, his impatience of inaction found amusement in traversing, with great rapidity, and often on the shortest notice, the various departments in France. Travelling with incredible celerity, though usually accompanied by the Empress Josephine, he had no sooner visited any town of consequence, than he threw himself on horseback, and, followed only by his aide-de- camp and his Mameluke Rustan, who with diffi- culty kept him in view, he took a flying survey of the place, its capacities of improvement, or the in- conveniences which attached to it. With this local knowledge, thus rapidly acquired, he gave audience to the nnmicipal authorities, and overwhelmed them very often with liberal and long details concerning the place round which he had galloped for the first time, but in ^\hieh they had spent their days. Amazement at the extent and facility of the Em- peror's powers of observation, was thus universally excited, and his hints were recorded in the Muni- teur, for the admiration of France. Some public work, solicited by the municipality, or suggested by the enlightened benevolence of the Emperor himself, was then jirojccted, but which, in many, if not most cases, remained unexecuted ; the imperial funds not being in all circumstances adequate to thesplendour of Napoleon's undertakings, or, which was the more frequent case, some new absorbing war, or project of ambition, occasioning every other object of expenditure to be i)ostponed; Even if some of Buonaparte's most magnificent works of public s])lendour had been comjiletetL there is room to doubt whether they would have - " Industry or manufactures, and internal trade, made im- mense progress dunng my reiyn. The aiiplication of chuniistrs to the manufactures, caused them to advance with giant strides. 1 gave an impulse, the efiects of which e.vlended throughout Europe." — Napoleon, Las Cases, tom. iv., p. 2aO. 44 G SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. been attended with real advantage to his power, bearing tlie least proportion to the influence which their grandeur necessarily produco3 upon the ima- gination. We look with admiration, and indeed with astonishment, on the spleudid dock-yards of the Scheldt ; but, had they been accomplished, what availed the building of first-rates, which France could hardly find sailors to man ; which being maimed, dared not venture out of the river ; or, hazarding themselves upon the ocean, were sure to become the prizes of the first British men-of- war with whom they chanced to encounter? Al- most all this profuse expense went to the mere pur- poses of vain glory ; for more mischief would have been done to British commerce, which Buonaparte knew well was the assailable point, by six priva- teers from Dunkirk, than by all tlie ships of the line which he could build at the new and most ex- pensive dock-yard of Antwerp, with Bi-est and Toulon to boot. In such cases as these. Napoleon did, in a most efficient manner, that which he ridiculed the Direc- tory for being unable to do — he wrought on tlie imagination of the French nation, which indeed had been already so dazzled by the extraordinaiy things he had accomplished, that, had he promised them still greater prodigies than were implied in the magnificent works which he directed to be founded, they might still have been justified in expecting the performance of his predictions. And it must be admitted, looking around the city of Paris, and travelling through the provinces of France, that Buonaparte has, in the works of peaceful gran- deur, left a stamp of magnificence, not unworthy of the soaring and at tlie same time profound spirit, which accomplished so many wonders in warfare. The personal and family life of Napoleon was skilfully adapted to his pre-eminent station. If he had foibles connected with pleasure and passion, they were so carefully veiled to remain unknown to the world — at least, they were not manifested by any of those weaknesses which might serve to lower the Emperor to the stamp of common men. His conduct towards the Empress Josephine was regular and exemplary. From their accession to grandeur till the fatal divorce, as Napoleon once termed it, they shared the privacy of the same apartment, and for many years partook the same bed. Josephine is said, indeed, to have given her husband, upon whom she had many claims, some annoyance by her jealousy, to which he patiently submitted, and escaped the reproach thrown on so many heroes and men of genius, that, proof to every thing else, they are not so against the allure- ments of female seduction. What amours he had were of a passing character. No woman, except- ing Josephine and her successor, who exercised their lawful and rightful influence, was ever known to possess any power over him.' The dignity of his throne was splendidly and magnificently maintained, but the expense was still limited by that love of order which arose out of Buonaparte's powers of arithmetical calculation, habitually and constantly employed, and the trust- ing to which, contributed, it may be, to that external regularity and decorum which he always ' I..13 Cases, torn, iii., p. 2117. * Tie watch, half completed, remained in the hands of supported. In speaking of liis own peculiar taste, Buonaparte said that his favourite work was a book of logarithms, and hischoicest amusement was work- ing out the problems. The individual to whom the Emperor made this singular avowal mentioned it with surprise to an officer near his person, who assured him, that not only did Napoleon amuse himself with arithmetical ciphers, and the theory of computation, but that he frequently brought it to bear on his domestic expenses, and diverted him- self with comparing the price at which particular articles were charged to him, with the rate which they ought to have cost at the fair market price, but which, for reasons unnecessary to state, was in general greatly exceeded. Las Cases mentions hia detecting such an overcharge in the gold fringe which adorned one of his state apartments. A still more curious anecdote respects a watch, which the most eminent artist of Paris had orders to finish with his utmost skill, in a style which might become a gift Irom the Emperor of France to his brother the King of Spain. Before the watch was out of the artist's hands. Napoleon received news of the battle of Vittoria. " All is now over with Joseph," were almost his first words after receiving the in- telligence. " Send to countermand the order for the watch." 2 Properly considered, this anecdote indicates no indifference as to his brother's fate, nor anxiety about saving a petty sum ; it was the rigid calcula- tion of a professed accountant, whose habits of ac- curacy induce him to bring every loss to a distinct balance, however trivial the off"-set may be. But although the Emperor's economy descended to minute trifles, we are not to suppose that among such was its natural sphere. On the contrary, in the first year of the Consulate, he discovered and rectified an error in the statement of the revenue, to the amount of no less than two millions of francs, to the prejudice of the state. In another instance, with the skill which only a natural taste for calcu- lation brought to excellence by constant practice could have attained, he discovered an enomioug overcharge of more than sixty thousand francs in the pay -accounts of the garrison of Paris. Two such discoveries, by the head magistrate, must have gone far to secure regularity in the departments in which tliey were made, in future. Attending to this remarkable peculiarity thrown much light on the character of Buonaparte. It was by dint of his rapid and powerful combinations that he succeeded as a general ; and the same laws of calculation can be traced through much of his pub- lic and private life. The palace chai'ges, and ordinary expenses of the Emperor, were completely and accurately regulated by his Imperial Majesty's own calculation. He boasted to have so simplified the expenditure of the ancient kings of France, that his hunting esta- blishment, though maintained in the utmost splen- doui', cost a considerable sum less than that of tlie Bourbons. But it must be recollected, first, that Napoleon was free from the obligation which sub- jected the Bourbons to the extravagant expenses which attended the high appointments of their household ; secondly, that under the Imperial go- vernment, the whole establishment of falconry was the artist, and is now the property of the Duke of Welling- ton.— S. LIFE OF NAPOLEOX BUONAPAHTE. 447 nbolished ; a sport which is, in the opinion of many, more strikingly picturesque and interesting than any other variety of the chase, and which, as it infers a royal expense, belongs properly to sove- reign princes. The Imperial court was distinguished not only by a severe etiquette, but the grandees, By whom its principal duties were discharged, were given to understand, that the utmost magnificence of dress and equipage was required from them upon public occasions. It was, indeed, a subject of complaint amongst the servants of the Crown, that though Buonaparte was in many respects attentive to their interests, gave them opportunities of acquiring wealth, invested them with large dotations and endowments, and frequently assisted them with an influence not easily withstood in the accomplish- ment of advantageous marriages ; yet still the great expenditure at which they were required to support their appearance at the Imperial court, prevented their realizing any fortune which could provide effectually for their family. This expense Buona- parte loved to represent, as a tax which he made his courtiers pay to support the manufactures of France ; but it was extended so far as to show plainly, that, determined as he was to establish his nobility on such a scale as to grace his court, it was far from being his purpose to permit them to assume any real power, or to form an existing and influential barrier between the cnjwn and the people. The same inference is to be drawn from the law of France concerning succession in landed property, which is in ordinary cases equally divided amongst the children of the deceased ; a circum- stance which must effectually prevent the rise of great hereditary influence. And although, for the support of dignities granted by the Crown, and in some other cases, an entail of a portion of the favoured person's estate, called a Majorat, is per- mitted to follow the title, yet the proportion is so small as to give no considerable weight to those upon whom it devolves. The composition of Buonaparte's court was sin- gular. Amid his military dukes and mareschals were mingled many descendants of the old noblesse, who had been struck out of the lists of emigration. On these Buonaparte spread the cruel reproach, " I offered them rank In my army — they declined the service ; — I opened my antechambers to them • — they rushed in and filled them." In this the Emperor did not do justice to the ancient noblesse. of France. A great many resumed Iheir natural situation in the military ranks of their country, and a still greater number declined, in any capacity, to bend the knee to him, whom they could only con- sider as a successful usurper. The ceremonial of the Tuileries was upon the most splendid scale, the public festivals were held w ilh the utmost magnificence, and the etiquette was of the most strict and indefeasible character. To all this Buonaparte himself attached consequence, as ceremonies characterising the spirit and dignity 01 his government ; and he had drilled even his own mind into a veneration for all those outward forms connected with royalty, as accui-ately as if they had been during his whole life the special subject of his attention. There is a curious ex- ample given by Monsieur Las Cases. Buonaparte, u\ good-humoui-ed trifling, had given his follower the titles of your highness, your lordship, and so forth, amidst which it occuiTed to him, in a fit of abstraction, to use the phrase, " Your Majesty." Tlie instant that the word, sacred to his own ears, had escaped him, the humour of frolic was ended, and he resumed a serious tone, with the air of one who feels that he has let his pleasantry trespass upon an unbecoming and almost hallowed subject. There were many of Buonaparte's friends and followers, bred, like himself, under the influence of the Revolution, who doubted the policy of his entering into such a strain of imitation of the an- cient courts of Europe, and of his appearing anxious to emulate them in the only points in which he must necessarily fail, antiquity and long observance giving to ancient usages an effect upon the ima- gination, which could not possibly attach to the same ceremonial introduced into a coiu-t of yester- day. These would willingly have seen the dignity of their master's court rested upon its real and pre-eminent importance, and would have desired, that though republican principles were abandoned, something of the severe and manly simplicity of Republican manners should have continued to characterise a throne whose site rested upon the Revolution. The courtiers who held such opinions were at liberty to draw consolation from the per- sonal appearance and habits of Napoleon. Amid the gleam of embroidery, of orders, decorations, and all that the etiquette of a court demands to render ceremonial at once accurate and splendid, the per- son of the Emperor was to be distinguished by his extreme simplicity of dress and deportment. A plain uniform, with a hat having no other ornament than a small three-coloured cockade, was the dress of him who bestowed all these gorgeous decora- tions, and in honour of whom these costly robes of ceremonial had been exhibited. Perhaps Napoleon might be of opinion, that a person under tlie com- mon size, and in his latter days somewhat corpu- lent, was unfit for the display of rich dresses ; or it is more likely he desired to intimate, that although he exacted f\-om others the strict observance of etiquette, he held that the Imperial dignity placed him above any reciprocal obligation towards them. Perhaps, also, isi limiting his personal expenses, and avoiding tliiit of a splendid royal wardrobe, Buonaparte might indulge that love of calculation and order, which we have noticed as a leading point of his character. But his utmost eff'orts could not carry a similar spirit of economy among the female part of his Imperial family ; and it may be a consolation to persons of less consequence to know, that in this respect the Emperor of half the world was nearly as powerless as they may feel themselves to be. Josejdiine, with all her amiable qualities, was profuse, after the general custom of Creoles, and Pauline de Borghese was no less so. The eff'orts of Napoleon to limit their expenses, sometimes gave rise to singidar scenes. Upon one occasion, the Emperor found in company of Jose- phine a certain milliner of high reputation and equal expense, with whom he had discharged his wife to have any dealings. Incensed at this breach of his orders, he directed the marckande dcs modes to be conducted to the Bicetre ; but the number of carriages which brought the wives of his principal courtiers to consult her in captivity, convinced hira that the popularity of the milliner was too power- ful even for his Imperial authority ; so he wisely dropped a contention which must have appeared 448 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PKOSE WORKS. ludicrous to the public, and the artist was set at liberty, to cliarm and pillage the gay world of Paris at her own pleasure.' On anotheroceasion,the irregularityof Josephine in the article of expense, led to an incident which reminds us of an anecdote in the history of some Oriental Sultan. A creditor of the Empress, be- come desperate from delay, stopped the Imperial caleche, in which the Emperor was leaving St. Cloud, with Josephine by his side, and presented his account, with a request of payment. Buona- parte did as Saladin would have done in similar circumstances — he forgave the man's boldness in consideration of the justice of his claim, and caused the debt to be immediately settled. In fact, while blaming the expense and irregularity which occa- sioned such demands, his sense of justice, and his family affection, equally inclined him to satisfy the creditor. The same love of order, as a ruling principle of his government, must have rendered Buonaparte a severe censor of all public breaches of the decen- cies of society. Public -morals are in themselves the accomplishment and fulfilment of all laws ; they alone constitute a national code. Accordingly, the manners of the Imperial court were under such regulation as to escape public scandal, if they were not beyond secret suspicion.^ In the same manner, gambling, the natural and favourite vice of a court, was not practised in that of Buonaparte, who dis- countenanced high play by every means in his power. But he suffered it to be licensed to an im- mense and frightful extent, by the minister of police ; nor can we give him the least credit when lie affirms, that the gambling-houses which paid such immense rents to Fouche, existed without his knowledge. Napoleon's own assertion cannot make us believe that he was ignorant of the principal source of revenue which supported his police. lie compounded, on this as on other occasions, with a good-will, in consideration of the personal advan- tage Avhich he derived from it. In the public amusements of a more general kind, Buonaparte took a deep interest. He often attended the theatre, though commonly in private, and without eclat. His own taste, as well as poli- tical circumstances, led him to encourage the amusements of the stage ; and the celebrated Talma, whose decided talents placed him at the head of the Fi-ench performers, received, as well in personal notice from the Emperor, as through the more substantial medium of a pension, an assu- rance, that the kindness which he had shown in early youth to the little Corsican student had not been forgotten The strictest care was taken that nothing should be admitted on the stage which could a«aken feelings or recollections unfavourable to the Imperial Government. When the acute wit of the Parisian audience seized on some expression or incident which had any analogy to public affairs, the greatest pains were taken, not only to prevent the circumstance from i-ecurring, but even to hin- der it from getting into general circulation. This secrecy respecting what occurred in public, could not bt attained in a free country, but was easily accomplished m one where the public papers, the ' Las Cases, torn, vii., p. 120. 2 Wc again repeat, that we totally disbelieve the gross in- fiimics imputed to Napoleon within his own family, although general organs of intelligence, were under the strict and unremitted vigilance of the government. There were periods when Buonaparte, in order to gain the appi'obation and sympathy of those who claim the exclusive title of lovers of liberty, was not unwilling to be thought the friend of libe- ral opinions, and was heard to express himself in favour of the liberty of the press, and other checks upon the executive authority. To reconcile his opinions (or rather what he threw out as his opi- nions) with a practice diametrically opposite, wag no easy matter, yet he sometimes attempted it. On observing one or two persons, who had been his silent and surprised auditors on such an occasion unable to suppress some appearance of incredulity, he immediately entered upon his defence. " I am," he said, " at bottom, and naturally, for a fixed and limited government. You seem not to believe me, perliaps because you conceive my opinions and practice are at variance. But you do not consider the necessity arising out of persons and circum- stances. Were I to relax the reins for an instant, you would see a general confusion. Neither you nor I, probably, would spend another night in the Tuileries." Such declarations have often been found in the mouths of those, who have seized upon an unlawful degree of authority over their species. Cromwell was forced to dissolve the Parliament, though he besought the Lord rather to slay him. State neces- sity is the usual plea of tyrants, by which they seek to impose on themselves and others ; and, by resorting to such an apology, they pay that tribute to truth in their language, to which their practice is in the most decided opposition. But if there are any to whom such an excuse may appear valid, what can be, or must be, their sentiments of the French Revolution, which, instead of leading to national liberty, equality, and general happiness, brought the country into such a condition, that a victorious soldier was obliged, contrary to the con- viction of his own conscience, to assume the despo- tic power, and subject the whole empire to the same arbitrai'y rules which directed the followers of his camp ? The press, at no time, and in no civilized coun- try, was ever so completely enchained and fettered as at this period it was in France. The public journals were prohibited from inserting any article of public news which had not first appeared in the Monitextr, the organ of Government ; and this, on all momentous occasions, was personally examined by Buonaparte himself. Nor were the inferior papers permitted to publish a word, whether in the way of explanation, criticism, or otherwise, which did not accurately correspond with the tone ob- served in the leading journal. They might, with the best graces of their eloquence, enhance the praise, or deepen the censure, which characterised the leading paragraph ; but seizure of their paper, confiscation, imprisonment, and sometimes exile, were the unfailing reward of any attempt to correct what was erroneous in point of fact, or sophistical in point of reasoning. The Monitcur, therefore, was the sole guide of public opinion ; and by his constant attention to its contents, it is plain that sanctioned by the evidenccof the Memoirsof Fouch6. Neither Buonaparte's propensities nor his faults were those of a vo- luptuary.—?. LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 419 Napoleon relied as mueii on its influence to direct the general mind of the people of France, as he did upon the power of liis arms, military reputa- tion, and extensive resources, to overawe the other nations of Europe. CHAPTER XXXIX. St/stem of TJdu cation introduced into France bi/ Napoleon — National University — its nature and objects — Lyceums — Proposed Establishment at Meudon. The reputation of Buonaparte as a soldier, was tlie means which raised him to tlie Imperial dignity; and, unfortunately for himself, his ideas were so constantly associated with war and victory, tliat peaceful regulations of every kind were postponed, as of infei'ior importance ; and tims war, which in the eye of reason ouglit always, even when most necessary and justifiable, to be regarded as an ex- traordinary state into wliich a nation is plunged by compulsion, was certainly regarded by Napoleon as almost the natural and ordinary condition of humanity. He had been bred on the battle-field, from which his glor^' first arose. " The earthquake voice of victory," according to the expression of Britain's noble and lost bard, " was to him the brcatli of life."' And although his powerful mind was capable of applying itself to all the various relations of human affairs, it was with war and de- solation that he was most familiar, and the tendency of his government accordingly bore an aspect de- cidedly military. The instruction of the youth of France had been the subject of several projects during the Republic; "^. 131. See also Mouiitcncy's Hi» toiical EiKjuiiy relative to Naiiolcon, p. 2U. LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 451 able of Ijearing; arms are liable to be employed in the defence of the state ; and nothing can be more politic, than that the obligation which is incumbent upon all, should be, in the fii-st instance, imposed uiKin the youth, who are best qualified for military service by the freshness of their age, and whose absence from the ordinary business of the country will occasion the least inconvenience. But it is obvious, that such a measure can only be vindicated in defensive war. and that the conduct of Buona- parte, who applied the system to the conduct of dis- tant offensive wars, no otherwise necessary than for the satisfaction of his own ambition, stands liable to the heavy charge of having drained the very life-blood of the people intrusted to hischarge,not for the defence of their own country, but to extend the ravages of war to distant and unoffending regions. The French conscription was yet more severely felt by the extreme rigour of its conditions. No distinction was made betwixt the married man, whose absence might be the ruin of his family, and the single member of a numerous lineage, who could be easily spared. The son of the widow, the child of the decrepid and helpless, had no right to claim an exemption. Three sons might be carried off in three successive years from the same desolated parents ; there was no allowance made for having already supplied a reci'uit. Those unable to serve were mulcted in a charge propor- tioned to the quota of taxes which tliey or their parents contributed to the state, and whicli might vary from fifty to twelve hundred francs. Sub- stitutes might indeed be offered, but then it was both difficult and expensive to procure them, as the law required that such substitutes should not only have the usual personal qualifications for a military life, but should be domesticated within the same district as their principal, or come within the con- scription of the year. Suitable persons were sure to know their own value, and had learned so well to profit by it, that the}' were not to be bribed to serve without excessive bounties. The substitutes also had the practice of deserting upon the road, and thus cheated the principal, who remained answerable for them till they joined their coloin-s. On the whole, the difficulty of obtaining exemp- tion by substitution was so great, that very many young men, well educated, and of respectable fa- milies, were torn fi-om all their more propitious prospects, to bear the life, discharge the duties, and die the death, of common soldiers in a march- ing regiment. There was no part of Napoleon's government enforced with such extreme rigour as the levy of the conscriptions.* The mayor, upon whom tlie duty devolved of seeing the numlicr called for selected by lot from the class to whom they be- longed, was compelled, under the most severe penalties, to avoid showing the slightest indul- gence^ — the brand, the pillory, or the galleys, awaited the magistrate himself, if he was found to have favoured any individuals on whom the law of conscription had claims. Tlie same laws held out the utmost extent of their terrors against refrac- tory conscripts, and the public functionaries were every where in search of thera. When arrested, ' " The Emperor constantly insisted on siibjcctins the whole nation to tlie laws of the conscrijition. ' 1 am inexor- able on the subject of exemption,' said he. one day in the Council of State, ' it would be criminal. Jlow could I acquit they were treated like convicts of tlie most infa- mous description. Clothed in a dress of infamy, loaded with chains, and dragging weights which were attached to them, they were condemned like galley slaves to work upon the public fortifications. Their relations did not escape, but were often rendered liable for fines and penalties. But perhaps the most horrible part of the fate of the conscript, was, that it was determined for life. Two or three, even four or five years spent in military service, might have formed a more endu- rable, though certainly a severe tax upon human life, with its natural prospects and purposes. But the conscription effectually and for ever changed the character of its victims. The youth, when ho left his father's hearth, was aware that he was bid- ding it adieu, in all mortal apprehension, for ever ; and the parents who had parted with him, young, virtuous, and ingenuous, and with a tendency, per haps, to acquire the advantages of education, could only expect to see him again (should so unlikely an event ever take place) with the habits, thoughts, manners, and morals, of a private soldier. But whatever distress was inflicted on the country by this mode of compulsory levy, it was a weapi>u particularly qualified to serve Buonaparte's pur- poses. He succeeded to the power which it gave the government, amongst other spoils of the Revolu* tion, and he used it to the greatest possible extert. The conscription, of course, comprehended re- cruits of every kind, good, bad, and indiff'erent: but chosen as they were from the mass of the people, without distinction, they were, upon the whole, nuich superior to that description of persona among whom volunteers for the army are usually levied in othercountries, which comprehends chiefly the desperate, the reckless, the profligate, and those whose unsettled or vicious habits render them unfit for peaceful life. The number of young men of some education who were compelled to serve in the ranks, gave a tone and feeling to the French army of a very superior character, and explains why a good deal of intellect and power of observation v as often found amongst the private sentinels. The habits of the nation also being strongly turned towards war, the French formed, upon the whole, the most orderly, most obedient, most easily com- manded, and best regulated troops, that ever took the field in any age or country. In the long and protracted struggle of battle, their fiery courago might sometimes be e:«liausted before that of the determined British ; but in all that respects the science, practice, and usages of war, the French are generally allowed to have excelled their more stubborn, but less ingenious rivals. They excelled especially in the art ol shifting for themselves ; and it was one in which the wars of Napoleon required them to be peculiarly adroit.^ The French Revolution first introduced into Europe a mode of conducting hostilities, which transferred almost the whole burden oi the war to the country which had the ill-fortune to be the seat of its operations, and rendered it a resource rather than a drain to the successful belligerent. This we shall presently explain. At the commencement of a campaign, nothing my conscience with having exposed the lift of one ninn. for the advantase of another? 1 do not even think I vrouW cxcmvl my own son.' "—Las Casks, torn, vii , p. 1:17. 2 Mad. de Stael, torn, ii., p. 301. 452 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WOEKS. could be so complete as the arraiijjenient of a French army. It was formed into ]arn;e bodies, called corjis d'annec, each eommmaiided by a Ivinp:, viceroy, mareschal, or general officer of high pre- tensions, founded on former services. Each corps d'arme'e formed a complete army within itself, and had its allotted proportion of cavalry, infantry, artillery, and troops of every description. The corps d'armcc consisted of from six to ten divisions, each commanded by a general of division. The divisions, again, were subdivided into brigades, of which each, comprehending two or three regiments, (consisting of two or more battalions,) was com- manded by a genei"al of brigade. A corps d'arme'e might vary in number from fifty to eighty thou- sand men, and upwards ; and the general of such a body exercised the full military authority over it, without the centred of any one excepting the Emperor himself. There were very few instances of the Emperor's putting the officers who were capable of this high charge under command of each other ; indeed, so very few, as might almost imply some doubt on his part, of his commands to this effect being obeyed, had they been issued. This system of dividing his collected forces into separate and neaidy independent armies, the gene- rals of which were each intrusted with and respon- sible for his execution of some separate portion of an immense combined plan, gave great celerity and efficacy to the French movements ; and, superin- tended as it was by the master-spirit which plan- ned the camjiaign, often contributed to the most brilliant results. But whenever it became neces- sary to combine two corps d'arme'e in one opera- tion, it requii-ed the personal presence of Napoleon himself. Tims organized, the Frencli army was poured into some foreign country by forced marches, with- out any previous arrangement of stores or maga- zines for their maintenance, and with the purpose of maintaining them solely at the expense of the inhabitants. Buonaparte was exercised in this system •. and the combination of great masses, by means of such forced marches, was one great prin- ciple of his tactics. This species of war was car- ried on at the least possible expense of money to his treasury ; but it was necessarily at the greatest possible expenditure of human life, and the incal- culable increase of human misery. Napoleon's usual object was to surprise the enemy by the rapi- dity of his marches, defeat him in some great battle, and then seize upon his capital, levy contributions, make a peace with such advantages as lie could ob- tain, and finally return to Paris. In these dazzling campaigns, the army usually began their march with pi'ovisions, that is, bread or biscuit for a certain number of days, on tjie sol- diers' backs. Cattle also were for a time driven along with them, and slaughtered as wanted. These articles were usually provided from some large town or populous district, in which the troops might have been cantoned. The horses of the cavalry were likewise loaded with forage, for the consump- tion of two or thi'ce days. Thus provided, the army set forward on its expedition by forced marches. In a very short time the soldiers became impatient of their burdens, and either wasted them by prodi- gal consumption, or actually threw them a«ay. It was then that the officers, who soon entertained just apjirehensions of the troops suffering scarcity before another regular issue of provisions, gavo authority to secure sup])lies by what was called la niaraude, in other words, by plunder. To ensure that tliese forced supplies should be collected and distributed systematically, a certain number of soldiers from each company weie despatched to obtain provisions at the villages and farm-houses in the neighbourhood of the march, or of the ground upon which the army was encamjied. These soldiers were authorised to compel the inhabitants to deliver their provisions without receipt or pay- ment ; and, such being their regular duty, it may be well supposed that they did not confine themselves to provisions, but exacted money and articles of value, and committed many other similar abuses. It must be owned, that the intellectual character of the French, and the good-nature which is the real ground of their national character, rendered their conduct more endurable under the evils of this system than could have been expected, pro- vided always that provisions wei-e plenty, and the country populous. A sort of order was then observed, even iu the disorder of the tnaraude, and pains were taken to divide regularly the provisions thus irregularly obtained. The general temper of the soldiery, when unprovoked by resistance, made them not wholly barbarous ; and theii' original good discipline, the education which many had re- ceived, with the habits of docility which all had acquired, prevented them from breaking up into bands -of absolute banditti, and destroying them- selves by their own irregularities. No troops ex- cept the French could have subsisted in the same manner ; for no other army is sufficiently under the command of its officers. But the most hideous features of this system were shown when the army marched through a thinly-peopled counti'y, or when the national cha- racter, and perhaps local facilities, encouraged the natives and peasants to offer resistance. Then the soldiers became animated alike by the scarcity of provisions, and in-itated at the danger which they sometimes incurred in collecting them. As their hardships increased, their temper became relentless and reckless, and, besides indulging in every other species of violence, they increased their own distresses by destroying what they could not use. Famine and sickness were not long of vi- siting an army which traversed by forced marches a country exhausted of provisions. These stern attendants followed the French columns as they struggled on. ' Without hospitals, and without magazines, every straggler who could not regain his ranks fell a victim to hunger, to weather, to weariness, to the vengeance of an incensed pea- santry. In this manner, the French army suffered woes, which, till these trepiendous wars, had never been the lot of troops m hostilities carried on between civilized nations. Still Buona])arte's ob- ject was gained ; he attained, amid these losses and sacrifices, and at the expense of them, the point which he had desired ; displayed his masses to the terrified eyes of a surprised enemy ; reaped the reward of his despatch in a general victory ; and furnished new subjects of triumph to the Jl/owi- tcur. So much did he rely upon the celerity of movement, that if an officer asked time to execute any of his commands, it was frequently his remark- able answer, — " Ask me for any thing except time." That celerity depended on the uncompromising LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. Bystem of forced ir.arclie?, without established ma- gazines ; and we liave described how wasteful it must liave been to human life.' But when the battle was over, the dead were at rest, and could not complain ; the living were victors, and soon forgot their sufferings ; and the loss of the recruits who had been wasted in the campaign, was sup- plied by another draught upon the youth of France, in the usual forms of the conscription. Buonaparte observed, with respect to his armv, an adroit species of po'icy. His mareschals, his generals, his officers of high rank, were liberally honoured and rewarded by him ; but he never treat- ed them with personal familiarity. The forms of etiquette were, upon all occasions, strictly main- tained. Perhaps he was of opinion that the original equality in which they had stood with regard to each other, would have been too strongly recalled by a more familiar mode of intercourse. But to the common soldier, who could not misconstrue or in- trude upon his familiarity, Buonaparte observed a different line of conduct. He permitted himself to be addressed by them on all suitable occasions, and paid sti'ict attention to their petitions, complaints, and even their remonstrances. What they com- plained of was, in all instances, inquired into and reformed, if the complaints were just. After a battle, he was accustomed to consult the regiments which had distinguished themselves, concerning the merits of those who had deserved the Legion of Honour, or other military distinction. In these moments of conscious importance, the Sufferings of the whole campaign were forgotten ; and Napoleon seemed, to the soldiery wlio surrounded him, not as the ambitious man who had dragged them from their homes, to waste their valour in foreign fields, and had purchased victory at the expense of sub- jecting thenr. to every privation, but as the father of the war, to whom his soldiers were as children, and to whom the honour of the meanest private was as dear as his own. Every attention was paid, to do justice to the claims of the soldier, and provide for his prefer- ment as it was merited. But with all this encou- ragement, it was the remark of Buonaparte him- self, that the army no longer produced, under the Empire, such distinguished soldiers as Pichegru, Kleber, Moreau, Masscna, Desaix, Hoche, and he liimself above all, who, starting from the ranks of obscurity, like ruimers to a race, had astonished the world by their progress. These men of the highest genius, had been produced, as Buonaparte thought, in and by the fervour of the Revolution ; and he appears to have been of opinion, that, since things had returned more and more into the ordi- nary and restricted bounds of civil society, men of the same high class were no longer created. There is, however, some fallacy in this statement. Times of revolution do not ci-eate great men, but revolu- tions usually take place in periods of society when ^eat principles have been under discussion, and the views of the young and of the old have been turned, by the complexion of the times, towards matters of gi-and and serious consideration, which elevate the character and raise the ambition. When the collision of mutual violence, the explosion of the revolution itself actually breaks out, it ncitb.er does nor c.-.n create talent of any kind. But it brings forth, (and in general destroys,) in the coui-se of its progress, all the talent which the predisposition to discussion of piddic affairs had already encou- raged and fostered ; and when that talent has perished, it cannot be replaced from a race educa- ted amidst the furies of civil war. The abilities of the Long Parliament ceased to be seen under the Commonwealth, and the same is true of t!ie French Convention, and the Empire which succeeded it. Revolution is like a conflagration, which throws temporary light upon the ornaments and architec- ture of the house to which it attaches, but always ends by destroying them. It is baid also, probably with less authoiity, that Napoleon, even when surroiuided by those Impe- rial Guards, whose disci])line had been so sedulous- ly carried to the highest pitch, sometimes regretted the want of the old Revolutionary soldiers, whose war-cry, " Vive la Republique !" identified each individual with the cause which he maintained. Napoleon, however, had no cause to regret any cir- cumstance which referred to his military power. It was already far too great, and had destroyed the proper scale of government in France, by giv- ing the military a decided superiority ever all men of civil professions, while he- himself, with the ha- bits and reasoning of a despotic general, had assu- med an almost unlimited authority over the fairest part of Europe. Over foreign countries, the mi- litary renown of France streamed like a comet, inspiring universal dread and distrust : and whilst it rendered indis])ensable similar preparations for resistance, it seemed as if peace had departed from the earth for ever, and that its destinies were here- after to be disposed of according to the laws of brutal force alone. CHAPTER XLI. Effects of the Peace of Tihit — Napoleon's rteivs of a State of Peace — Contrasted tcith those of England — The Continental Si/stem — Berlin and Milan De- crees — British Orders in Council — Spain — Retro- spect of the Relations of that Covritri/ tcith Prance since the Perohttion — Godoy — His Influence — Character — and Political Vieirs — Ferdinand, Prince of Aftnrias, applies to Napoleon fur Aid - — Affa i rs of Porini/al — 7 Vert ty of Fo n ta i u blea u — Peparture of the Prince RerotcctioM of France."— Nevks, torn, i., p. 31.'i. 2 And autliorof an horoic poem on the Conquest of Mexico. ^ Lao Cases, torn iv., p. IBS ; Southey, vol. i., p. 1«8 ; Sa- vary, torn, ii., p. 144. * " So far from being opposed to it, M. de Talleyrand even \lviscd it. It was he who dictated all the preliminary steps, upon the remonstrances made by himself and his master, by the awful arbiter of their destiny. Iz- quierdo, the Spanish amba,ssador, was directed to renew his applications to the Emperor, for the especial purpose of assuring him that a match with his family would be in the highest degree accept- able to the King of Spain. Charles wrote with liis own hand to the same purpose. But it was Na- poleon's policy to appear haughty, distant, indif- ferent, and offended ; and to teach the contending father and son, who both looked to him as their judge, the painful feelings of mutual suspense. In the meantime, a new levy of the conscription put into his hands a fresh army ; and forty thousand men were stationed at Bayonne, to add weight to his mediation in the affairs of Spain. About this period, he did not hesitate to avow to the ablest of his counsellors, Talleyrand and Fouche', the resolution he had formed, that the Spanish race of the House of Bourbon should cease to reign. His plan was opposed by these sagacious statesmen, and the opposition on the part of Talley- rand is represented to have been obstinate.* At a later period. Napoleon found it more advantageous to load Talleyrand with the charge of being his adviser in the war with Spain, as well as in the tragedy of the Duke d'Enghien. In Fouelie"s Me- moirs, there is an interesting account of his conver- sation with the Emperor on that occasion, of which we see room fully to credit the authenticity. It places before u.s, in a striking point of view, argu- ments for and against this extraordinary and deci- sive measure. '- Let Poi-tugal take her fate," said Fouche', "she is, in fact, little else than an English colony. But that King of Spain has given you no reason to complain of him ; he has been the hum- blest of your prefects. Besides, take heed you are not deceived in the disposition of the Spaniards. You have a party amongst them now, because they look on you as a great and powerful potentate, a prince, and an ally. But you ought to be aware that the Spanish people possess no part of the Ger- man phlegm. They are attached to their laws ; their government ; their ancient customs. It would be an error to judge of the national character by that of the higher classes, which are there, as else- where, corrupted and indifferent to their country. Once more, take heed you do not convert, by such an act of aggression, a submissive and useful tri- butary kingdom, into a second La Vende'e." Buonaparte answered these prophetic remarks, by ob.servations on the contemptible character of the Spanish government, the imbecility of the King, and the worthless character of the minister ; the conmion people, who might be influenced to oppose him by the monks, would be dispersed, he said, by one volley of cannon, " The stake I play for is immense — I will continue in my own dynasty the family system of the Bourbons, and unite Spain for ever to the destinies of France. Remember that the sun never sets on the immense Empire of Charles V."'^ Fouche urged another doubt ; whether, if tho and it was -nith the view of promptly earryinc the measure into effect, that he so iirscntly pressed the conclusion of peace at Tilsit. He was the first who thoui^ht of the Sjianish expr. dition ; he laid ihe springs which it was necessary to bring into play to complete the work." — Jl^moires Uc Savarv, torn ii., p. 139. 5 M^moires de Fouche, torn, i., p. 313. 1807-8.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 459 flames of opposition should grow violent in Spain, liussia might not be encouraged to resume her connexion with England, and thus place the em- pire of Napoleon betwixt two fires ? This si.spieion Buonaparte ridiculed as that of a minister of police, whose habits taught him to doubt the very existence of sincerity. The Emperor of Russia, he said, was completely won over, aud sincerely attached to him.' Thus, warned in vain of the wrath and evil to come, Napoleon persisted in his purpose. But, ere yet he had pounced upon the tempting prey, in which form Spain presented herself to his eyes. Napoleon made a hurried expedition to Italy. This journey had several motives. One was, to interrupt his communications with the royal family of Spain, in order to avoid being pressed to explain the precise nature of his pretensions, until he was prepared to support them by open force. Another was, to secure the utmost personal advantage which could be extracted from the treaty of Fontainbleau, before he threw that document aside like waste paper ; it being his purpose that it should remain such, in so far as its stipulations were in behalf of any others than himself. Under pretext of this treaty, he expelled from Tuscany, or Etrui'ia, as it was now called, the widowed Queen of that terri- tory. She now, for the first time learned, that by an agreement to which she was no party, she was to be dispossessed of her own original dominions, as well as of those which Napoleon himself had guaranteed to her, and was informed that she was to receive a compensation in Portugal. This in- creased her affliction. " She did not desire," she said, " to sliare the spoils of any one, much more of a sister and a friend." Upon arriving in Spain, and liaving recourse to her parent, the King of Spain, for redress and explanation, she had the additional information, that the treaty of Fontain- bleau was to be recognised as valid, in so far as it deprived her of her territories, but was not to be of any effect in as far as it provided her with in- demnification.^ At another time, or in another history, this would have been dwelt upon as an aggravated system of violence and tyranny over the unprotected. But the far more important affiiirs of Spain threw those of Etruria into the shade. After so much preparation behind the scenes, Buonaparte now proposed to open the first grand act of the impending drama. He wrote from Italy to the King of Spain, that he consented to the proposal which he had made for the marriage be- twixt the Prince of Asturias and one of his kins- women ; and having thus maintained to the last the ajipearances of friendship, he gave orders to the French army, lying at Bayoune, to enter Spain on ditterent points, and to possess themselves of the strong fortresses by which the frontier of that kingdom is defended. CHAPTER XLII. JPampciuna, Barcelona, Monfjoui/, and St. Sebas- tians, are fraudulentlij seized bi/ the French — > " I am sure of Alexander, who is very sincere. I now exercise over liim a kind of charm, indei)eiicleiitly of tlm guarantee offered me hy those aliout him, of wIhjiu I am equally certain."— Folciie, torn, i., p. 315. King Charles proposes to sail fur South America — Insurrection at jiranjuez — Charles resicjns thf Crown in favour of Ferdinand — Murat enter* Madrid — Charles disavows his resitpmtion — Ge- neral Sarary arrives at Mndrid^Napoleon's Letter to Murat, touching the Invasion of Spain — Ferdinand sets out to meet JVapoleon — Halts at Vittoria, and learns too late Napoleon^s de- signs against him— Joins Buonaparte at Bayonne — Napoleon opens his designs to Escoiquiz and Cetallos, both of whom he finds intractable — He sends for Charles, his Queen, and Godoy, to Ba- yonne — Ferdinand is induced to abdicate the Crown in favour of his Father, who resigns it next day to A'apoleon — This transfer is reluctantly confirmed by Ferdinand, who, with his Brothers, is sent to splendid, impriso7iment at Vallenfay — Joseph Buonaparte is appointed to the throne of Spain, and joins Napoleon at Bayonne — Assem- bly of Notables convoked. Not a word was spoken, or a motion made, to oppose the entrance of this large French army into the free territories of a friendly power. Neither the King, Godoy, nor any other, dared to complain of the gross breach of the treaty of Fontainblcau, which, in stipulating the formation of the army of reserve at Bayonne, positively provided that it should not cross the frontiers, unless with consent of the Spanish government. Received into the cities as friends and allies, it was the first object of the invaders to possess themselves, by a mixture of force and fraud, of the fortresses and citadels, Mhich were the keys of Spain on the French fron- tier. The details are curious. At Pampeluna, [Feb. 9,] a body of French troops, who apparently were amusing themselves with casting snowballs at each other on the espla- nade of the citadel, continued their sport till they had an opportunity of throwing themselves upon the draw-bridge, possessing the gate, and admitting a body of their comrades, who had been kept in I'eadiness ; and the capture was thus efteeted.^ Duhesme, who commanded the French troops detached upon Barcelona, had obtained permission from the SpaniNh governor to mount guards of French along with those maintained by the native soldiers. He then gave out that his troops were about to march ; and, as if previous to their moving, had them drawn up in front of the citadel of the place. A French general rode up under pretence of reviewing these men, then passed forward to the gate, as if to speak to the French portion of the guard. A body of Italian light troops rushed in close after the French officer and his suite ; and the citadel was surrendered. Another division summoned the fort of Montjouy, the key, as it may be termed, of Barcelona, which shared the same fate. St. Sebastians was overpowered by a body of French, who had been admitted as patients into the hospital. Thus the fir.st fruits of the French invasion were the unresisted possession of these four fortresses, each of which might have detained armies for years under its walls.'' Nothing could exceed the consternation of the 2 Memoir of the Queen of Etruria, p. 70; Southey, vol. L, p. 1!W. ••' Southey, vol. i., p. 196. ■> Southey, vol. i., p. 201. 4G0 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1808. Spanish nation when they saw their frontier in- vaded, and four of the most impregnable forts in the world thus easily lost and won. There was in- dignation as well as sorrow in every countenance ; and even at this late hour, had Charles and his SQn attempted an appeal to the spirit of the people, it would have been vigorously answered. But Godoy, who was the oljjeet of national hatred, and was aware that he would instantly become the victim of any general patriotic movement, took care to reconimend only such measures of safety as he himself niiglit have a personal share in. He had at once comprehended Napoleon's intentions of seiz- ing upon Spain ; and could discern no better course for the royal family, than that they should follow the example to which their own invasion of Portu- gal had given rise, and transport themselves, like the House of Braganza, to their South American provinces. But what in the Prince of Brazil, sur- rounded by such superior forces, was a justifiable, nay, a magnanimous effort to avoid personal capti- vity, would have been in the King of Spain the pusillanimous desertion of a post, which he had yet many means of defending. Nevertheless, upon Godoy's suggestion, the voy- age for America was determined on, and troops were hastily collected at Madrid for the sake of securing the retreat of the royal family to Cadiz, where they were to embark. The terror and con- fusion of the King's mind was artfully increased by a letter from Napoleon, fxpressing deep resent- ment at the coldness which Charles, as he alleged, had exhibited on the subject of the proposed match with his house. The intimidated King returned for answer, that he desired nothing so ardently as the instant conclusion of the marriage, but at the same time redoubled his preparations for departure. This effect was probably exactly what Napoleon intended to produce. If the King went off to Ame- rica, his name might be used to curb the party of the Prince of Asturias ; and the chance of influ- encing the countries where the precious metals ai"e produced, would be much inci'eased, should they fall under the dominion of the weak Charles and the profligate Godoy. Meantime, the resolution of tlie king to depart from the royal residence of Aranjuez to Cadiz, with the purpose of going from thence to New Spain, began to get abroad among the people of all ranks. The Council of Castile remonstrated against the intentions of the sovereign. The Prince of Asturias and his brother joined in a strong pro- test against the measure. The populace, partaking the sentiments of the heir-apparent and council, treated the departure of the king as arising out of some scheme of the detested Godoy, and threat- ened to prevent it by force. The unfortunate and perplexed monarch changed his opinions, or his language at least, with every new counsellor and every new alarm. On the 17th of March, the walls of the palace Were covered with a royal proclamation, professing his Majesty's intentions to remain with and share tile fate of his subjects. Great crowds assembled ' " Maria T.ouisa," said Charles to tlie Queen, in the pre- sence III Cuvallos and of all the other ministers of state, " we will retire to one of the provinces, and Ferdinand, who is a ■vuuns man, will take upon himself the burden of the govern- ment."— South ev, vol. i , p. iW. 2 " This wretched minion now felt that there are times joyfully beneath the balcony, on which the royal family appeared and received the thanks of their people, for their determination to abide amongst them. But, in the course of that same evening, the movements among the guards, and the accu- mulation of carriages and baggage, seemed plainly to indicate immediate intentions to set forth. While the minds of the spectators were agitated by appearances so contradictory of the royal pro- clamation, an accidental quarrel took place betwixt one of the King's body-guard and a bystander, when the former fired a pistol. The literal flash of the weapon could not more effectually have ignited a powder-magazine, than its discharge gave anima- tion at once to the general feelings of the crowd. The few household troops who remained steady, could not check the enraged multitude ; a regiment was brought up, commanded by Godoy's brother, but the men made a prisoner of tlieir commanding officer, and joined the multitude. A great scene of riot ensued, the cry was universal to destroy Go- doy, and some, it is said, demanded the abdication or deposition of the King. Godoy's house was plundered in the course of the night, and outrages committed on all who were judged his friends and counsellors. In the morning the tumult was appeased by the news that the King had dismi.ssed his minister- But the crowd continued strictly to search for him, and at length discovered him. He was beaten, wounded, and it was with some difficulty that Ferdinand saved him from instant death, on a promise tiiat he should be reserved for punishment by the course of justice. The people were de- lighted with their success thus far, when, to com- plete their satisfaction, the old, weak, and unpopular King, on the 19th March, resigned his crown to Ferdinand, the favourite of his subjects, professing an unconstrained wish to retire from the seat o!' government, and spend his life in peace and quiet in some remote province. This resolution was unquestionably hurried forward by the insurrec- tion at Aranjuez ; nor does the attitude of a son, who grasps at his father's falling diadem, appear good or graceful. Yet it is probable that Charles, in making his abdication, executed a resolution on which he had long meditated,' and from which he had chiefly been withheld by the intercession of the Queen and Godoy, who saw in the continuation of the old man's reign the only means to prolong their own power. The abdication was formally intimated to Napoleon, by a letter from the King himself. While the members of the royal family were distracted by these dissensions, the army of France was fast approaching Madrid, under the command of Joachim Murat, the brother-in-law of Buona- parte. He was at Aranda de Duero upon the day of the in.surrection at Aranjuez, and his approach to Madrid required decisive measures on the part of the government. Ferdinand had formed an administration of those statesmen whom the public voice pointed out as the best patriots, and, what was thought synonymous, the keenest opponents of Godoy.^ There was no time, had there been suffi- when desiiotism itself proves even-h?nded as justice. H(- was sent prisoner to the castle of Villa Viciosa : with that measure wherewith lie had dealt to others, it was now meted to him ; a judicial inquiry into his conduct was ordered, and before any trial — before any inquiry — the whole of his ftfy perty was confiscated." — South ey, vol. i., p. Jdi. 1808.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 4G1 cient spirit hi the councils of the new Prnice, to request tins military intruder to stay upon his road ; he was a guest who would have known but too well how to make force supply tlic want of ■welcome. But this alarming visitor was, they next learned, to l)e followed hard upon the heel by one still more formidable. Napoleon, who had hurried back to Paris from Italy, was now setting out for Bayonne, with the purpose of proceeding to Mad- rid, and witnessing in person the settlement of the Spanish Peninsula. To render the approach of the Emperor of France yet more appalling to the young King and his infant government, Beauharnois, the Fiench ambassador, made no recognition of Ferdinand's authority, but observed a mysterious and ominous silence, when all theotlier representatives of foreign powers at ^Madrid, made their addresses of congra- tulation to the new sovereign. Murat next appeared, in all the pomp of war ; brought ten thousand men within the walls of Madrid, [2'3d March,] where tliey were received with ancient hospitality, and quartered more than thrice that number in the vicinity. This commander also wore a doubtful and clouded brow, and while he expressed friend- ship for Ferdinand, and good-will to his cause, declined any definite acknowledgment of his title as king. He was lodged in the palace of Godoy, siipported in the most splendid style, and his every wish watched that it might be attended to. But nothing more could be extracted from him than a reference to Napoleon's determination, which he advised Ferdinand to wait for and be guided by. In the idle hope (suggested by French councils) that a compliment might soothe either the Sultan or the satrap, the sword of Francis I., long pre- served in memory of his captivity after the battle of Pavia, was presented to Murat with great cere- mony, in a rich casket, to be by his honoured hands transmitted to those of tlie Emperor of France.' The hope to mitigate Buonaparte's severe resolves by such an act of adulation, was like that of him who should hope to cool red-hot iron by a drop of liquid perfume. But though jNIurat and Beauharnois were very cliary of siiying any thing which could commit their principal, they were liberal of their private advice to Ferdinand as his professed friends, and joined in recommeriding that he should send his second brother, the Infant Don Carlos, to greet Napoleon upon his entrance into Spain, as at once a mark of respect and as a means of propitiating his favour. Ferdinand consented to this, as what he dared not well decline. But when it was proposed that he himself should leave his capital, and go to meet Buonaparte in the north of Spain, already com- pletely occupied by French troops, he demurred, and by the advice of Cevallos, one of the wisest of his counsellors, declined the measure proposed, until, I " The Grand Duke of Berg demanded the sword of Francis I. from tlie arsenal of Madrid. Xliis mode of recovcrins it was not calculated to soothe the mortirication of seeiiiR it trans- ferred to the hands of a conqueror. Tne ^paniards were sen- sible to this aftrunt, and it diminished the i)o|)ulantj' of the Grand Duke of lier^'." — Savary, tom. ii., p. lUy. - Southey, vol. i., p. 2.'!.5. 3 " Every letter was tilled with anxious solicitations ; of the throne there seemed to be neither thousht nor care ; with the mob at Aranjuez before her eves, and the recollection of .Marie Antoinette in hr-r heart, this wretched woman was sick of roy- nlty ; she asked only an allowance for the Kiiiij, herself, and fioioy, upon which they might live all three tnsether a coiTier ill which thev might fjuietly finish their days."— Soi'> at least, he should receive express information of Napoleon's having crossed the frontier. To meet the French Emperor iti Spain might be courtesy, but to advance into France would be meanness, as well as imprudence.'-^ Meantime, ISIurat, under pretence of hearing all parties in the family quarrel, ojiened, unknown to Ferdinand, a correspondence with his father and mother. The Queen, equally attached to her pa- ramour, and filled with unnatural hatred to her son, as Godoy's enemy, breathed nothing but vengeance against Ferdinand and his advisers ;^ and the King at once avowed that his resignation was not the act of his voluntary will, but extorted by compulsion, in consequence of the insurrection of Aranjuez, and its consequences. Thus, the agents of Buonajmrte obtained and transmitted to him documents, which, if Ferdinand should prove intractable, might afford ground for setting his right aside, and transacting with his father as still the legitimate possessor of the throne of Spain. A new actor soon appeared on this busy stage. This was Savary, who was often intrusted with Buonaparte's most delicate negotiations.'' He came, it was stated, to inquire particularly into the cha- racter of the insurrection at Aranjuez, and of the old King's abdication. He affected to believe that the explanations which Ferdinand afforded on these subjects, would be as satisfactory to his sovereign as to himself; and having thus opened the young King's heart, by perfectly approving of his cause atid conduct, he assumed the language of a friendly adviser, and urged and entreated, by every species of argument, that Ferdinand should meet Buona- j)arte on the road to ^Madrid ; and the young sove- reign, beset with difficulties, saw no resource but iti compliance.* The capital was surrounded by an army of forty thousand foreigners. The commu- nications of Murat with France were kept open by thirty thousand more ; while, exclusive of the Spa- nish troop=, whom the French had withdrawn to distant realms in the character of auxiliaries, the rest of the native forces, dispersed over the whole realm, and in many cases observed and mastered by the French, did not perhaps exceed thirty thousand men. J f Ferdinand remained in Madrid, therefore, he was as nitieh under the mastery of the French as he would have been when advancing northward on the journey to meet Buonaparte ; while to leave his ca])ital, and raise his standard against France in a distant province, seemed an idea which despe- ration only could have prompted. Murat, whose views of personal ambition were interested in the complete accomplishment of the subjugation of Spain, seems to have seen no objec- tion remaining when military resistance was placed out of the question. But the penetration of Napo- leon went far deeper; and, judging from a letter written to Murat on the 2yth March,^ it seems to THKV, vol. i., p. 2.33. 5-ce the Letters in Savary, tom. ii., p. 175, and Annual Kesister, vol. 1., p. -'4". * For the instructions given by Napoleon to Savary, see hii Memoires, tom. ii., p. 164. 5 Alemoires de Savary, tom. ii., p. 182; Souther, vol. i., p. 244. <> " The Emperor constantly recommended the Grand Duke of Berf; to act with the utmost caution. He was 110 doubt ap- nieheiisive of his fits of zeal and aniliilion ; for my de)iiirture. liad been jjieceded bys-everal couriers, and I had scarcely set out when fresh iiisliuctions were despatched. This letter abundantly shows the doubts which existed in Napoleon's mind, and the point of view in which the question pre&enteil it.self to him."— Savary, tom. ii., p. I(k>. 462 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1808. have induced Iiim to pause, while he surveyed all the probable chances which might attend the pro- secution of his plan. The resignation of Charles IV. had, lie observed, greatly complicated the affairs of Spain, and thrown him into much per|)lexity. " Do not," ho contiiuied, " conceive that you arc att2. 3 Southey, vol. i., p. 2G9. ■* " I believe this was one of the occasions on which the J'.mpcror was most anxious to have M. de Talleyrand near tjm, and that he would have sent for him, had he ni>t been ti/aid of offending M. de Champagny. Casesof this kind often happened to the Emperor. He sometimes oftended by mere trifles men who were of an irritable disposition, and, at other times, he sacrificed his own interests through the fear of of- fending the self love of a good servant. If M. de Talleyrand had come to Bayonne while there was yet time to bring about an adjustment, the aflfiiirsof Spain would have taken a differ- ent turn. He would not have been so hasty ; for he would Viave taken care to have many conferences before he com- mitted any thing to writing. M'. de Talleyrand had the excel- lent quality of being quite impassive ; when he found that the disposition of the Emperor's mind was not what he thought Cevallos being found as intractable as Escoiquiz, the conduct of the negotiation, if it could be called so on the part of Ferdinand, was intrusted to Don Pedro de Labrador. Labrador, however, insisted on knowing, as an indispensable preliminary, whether King Ferdinand were at libertj" ; and if so, why he was not restored to his own country I Champagny* replied, that such return could scarce be permitted, till the Emperor and he came to an understanding. Cevallos, in his turn, presented a note, expressing on what terms Ferdinand had put himself in the power of Buonaparte, and declaring his master's intention of immediate de(«rture. Aft a practical answer to this intimation, tne guards on the King and hi.s bi-other were doubled, ^,iid be- gan to e.xercise some restraint over their persons. One of the Infants was even forcibly stopped by a gendarme. The man was punished ; but the re- sentment and despair, shown by the Spaniards of the King's retinue, might have convinced Napo- leon how intimately they connected the honour of their country with the respect due to their royal family. Buonaparte found, by all these experiments, that Ferdinand and his coun.sellors were likely to be less ti'actable than he had expected ; and that it would be necessary, however unpopular King Charles and still more his wife and minister were in Spain, to bring them once more forward on this singular stage. He therefore sent to Murat to cause the old King, with the Queen and Godoy, to be transported to Bayonne without delay. The arrival of Charles excited much interest in the French assembled at Bayonne, ■^^■llo flocked to see him, and to trace in his person and manners the descendant of Louis XIV. In external qualities, indeed, there was no- thing wanting. He possessed the regal port and dignified manners of his ancestors ; and, though speaking French with difficulty, the expatriated monarch, on meeting with Napoleon, showed the easy manners and noble mien of one long accus- tomed to command all around him.^ But in spirit and intellect there was a woeful deficiency. Napo- leon found Charles,'' his wife, and minister, the willing tools of his policy ; for Godoy accounted Ferdinand his personal enemy ; the mother hated him as wicked women have been known to hate their children when they are conscious of having forfeited their esteem ; and the King, whose own feelings resented the insurrection of Aranjuez, was best suited to the consideration of the subject to which he wished to call his attention, he never said a word about it un- til he had led him back to that tranquil state wliich benefited the business. If an order was given in a moment of irritation, he found means to make its execution be evaded ; and it sel- dom happened that he was not thanked for a delay which was almost always attended with good cftects."— Savarv, torn, ii., p. 221. 5 " I was present when Charles alighted from his carriage. He spoke to every body, even to those he did not know ; and on seeing his two sons at the foot of the stairease, where they were wailing for him, he pretended not to y repose. There were many classes of peasantrj-, — shepherds, mule- teers, traders between distant provinces — who led a wandering life by profession, and, from the inse- cm-e state of the roads, were in the habit of carry- ing arms. But even the general habits of the cul- tivators of the soil led them to part with the ad\an- tages of civilized society upon more easy terms than the peasantry of a less primitive country. The few and simple rights of the Spaniard were under the protection of the alcalde, or judge of his village, in whose nomination he had usually a vote, and whose judgment was usually satisfactorj*. If, however, an individual experienced oppression, he took his cloak, sword, and musket, and after or without avenging the real or supposed injury, plunged into the deserts in which the peninsula abounds, joined one of the numerous band?* of contraband traders and outlaws by which they v.-ere haunted, and "did all this without expei-ionc- ing any violent change, either of sentiment or man- ner of life. As the habits of the Spaniard rendered hira a ready soldier, his disposition and feelings made him a willing one. He retained, with other traits of his ancestry, much of that Castilian pride, which mixed botli with the virtues and defects of his nation. The hours of his indolence were often bestowed on studying the glories of his fathers. He was well acquainted with their struggles against the !Moors, their splendid conquests in the New World, their long wars with France ; and when the modern Castilian contrasted his own times with those which had passed away, he felt assur- ances in his bosom, that, if Spain had descended from the high pre-eminence she formerly enjoyed in Europe, it was not the fault of the Spanish peo- ple. The present crisis gave an additional stimulus to their natural courage and their patriotism, be- cause the yoke with which they were threatened was that of France, a people to whom their own national character stands in such opposition, as to excite mutual hatred and contempt. Nothing, indeed, can be so opposite as the stately, grave, romantic Spaniard, with his dislike of labour, and his rigid rectitude of thinking, to the lively, bust- ling, sarcastic Frenchman, indefatigable in prose- cution of whatever he undertakes, and calculating frequently his means of accomplishing his purpose, with much more ingenuity than integrity. The* bigotry of the Spaniards was no less strikingly contrasted with the scoffing, and, at the same time, proselytizing scepticism, which had been long a distinction of modern France. To conclude, the Spaniards, easily awakened to anger by national aggression, and pecuHarly sensi- ble to such on the part of a rival nation, were yet nioi-e irresistibly excited to resistance and to i-e- venge, by the insidious and fraudulent manner in which they had seen their country stript of her defenders, deprived of her fi-ontier fortresses, her capital seized, and her royal family kidnapped, by an ally who had not alleged even a shadow of pre- text for such enormous violence. Such being the character of the Spaniards, and such the provocation they had received, it was im- possible that much time should elapse ei-e their indignation became manifest. The citizens of Madrid had looked on with gloomy suspicion at the course of public events which followed Ferdi- nand's imprudent jrurney to Bayonne. By degrees 4G8 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1808 diraost all the rest of the royal family were with- drawn thitlier, and Godoy, upon whose head, as a great public criminal, the people ardently desired to see vengeance inflicted, was also transferred to the same place.' The interest excited in the fate of the poor relics of the royal family remaining at Madrid, which consisted only of the Queen of Et- ruria and her children, the Infant Don Antonio, brother of the old king, and Don Francisco, young- est brother of Ferdinand, grew deeper and deeper among the populace. On the last day of April, Murat produced an order to Don Antonio,''* who still held a nominal power of regency, demanding that the Queen of Etruria and her children should be sent to Bayonne. ! This occasioned some discussion, and the news get- ting abroad, the public seemed generally deter- mined that they would not permit the last remains of their royal family to travel that road, on which, as on that which led to the lion's den in the fable, tliey could discern the trace of no returning foot- steps. The tidings from thence had become gra- dually more and more imfavourable to the partisans of Ferdinand, and the courier, who used to arrive every night from Bayonne, was anxiously expected on the evening of April the 30th, as likely to bring decisive news of Napoleon's intentions towards liis royal visitor. No courier arrived, and the popu- lace retired for the evening, in the highest degree gloomy and discontented. On the next day (Ist of May) the Gate of the Sun, and the vicinity of the Post-office, were crowded with men, whose looks menaced violence, and whose capas, or long cloaks, were said to conceal arms. The French garrison got under arms, but this day also passed off with- out bloodshed. On tlie 2d of May, the streets presented the same gloomy and menacing appearance. The crowds which filled them were agitated by reports that the whole remaining members of the royal family were to be removed, and they saw the Queen of Etruria and her children put into their carriages, together with Don Francisco, the young- est brotlier of Ferdinand, a youth of fourteen, who appeared to foci his fate, for he wept bitterly. The general fury broke out at this spectacle, and at once and on all sides, the populace of Madrid ^ assailed the French troops with the most bitter animosity. The number of French who fell was very considerable, the weapons of the assailants being chiefly their long knives, which the Spaniards use with such fatal dexterity.'' Mui'at poured troops into the city to suppress the consequences of an explosion, which had been long expected. The streets were cleared with vol- leys of grape shot and with charges of cavalry, but ' " The Marquis de Cartcllar, to whose custody Godoy had been committed, was instructed to deliver him uji, and lie was removed by nij^lit. Had the people been aware that this mi- mslcr was thus to be conveyed away from their vengeance, that indignation which soon' afterwards burst out would pro- bably have manifested itself now, and Godoy would have pe- rished by their hands."— Southey, vol. i., p. 2/9. - From his brother King Charles. 3 " It is certain that, including the peasants shot, the whole number of Spaniards slain did not amount to one hundred and twenty persons, while more than seven hundred French fell. Of the imperial guards seventy men were wounded, and this fact alone would suffice to prove that there was no premedita- tion on the part of Murat ; for if he was base enough to sacri- fice his own men with such unconcern, he would not have exposed the select soldiers of the French empire in preference lo the coMscripts who abounded in his armv. The afi'air itself VIS ---rLainly acculentiil, and not v,r,- blood_v for the patriot'* it required near three or four hours' hard tighung to convince the citizens of Madrid, that they were engaged in an attempt entirely hopeless. About the middle of the day, some members of the Spa- nish Government, joining themselves to the more humane part of the French generals, and particu- larly General Harispe, interfered to separate tlie combatants, when there at length ensued a cessation of these strange hostilities, maintained so long with such fury by men almost totally unarmed, against the flower of the French army. A general amnesty was proclaimed, in defiance of which Murat caused seize upon and execute several large bands of Spaniards, made prisoners in the scuffle. They were shot in parties of forty or fifty at a time ; and as the inhabitants were com- pelled to illuminate their houses during that dread- ful night, the dead and dying might be seen lying on the pavement as clearly as at noon-day. These military executions were renewed on the two or three following days, probably with more attention to the selection of victims, for the insurgents were now condemned by French military courts. The number of citizens thus murdered is said to have amounted to two or three hundred at least.'* On the 5th May, Murat published a proclamation, relaxing in his severity. This crisis had been extremely violent, much more so, perhaps, than the French had ever expe- rienced in a similar situation ; but it had been encountered with such celerity, and put down with such rigour, that Murat may well have thought that the severity was sufficient to prevent the re- currence of similar scenes. The citizens of Madrid did not again, indeed, undertake the task of fruit- less opposition ; but, like a bull stupified by the fir-st blow of tlie axe, suff'ered their conquerors to follow forth their fatal purpose, without resistance, but also without submission. News came now with sufficient speed, and their tenor was such as to impress obedience on those ranks, who had rank and title to lose. Don Anto- nio set off" for Bayonne ; and on the 7th of May arrived, and was promulgated at Madrid, a decla- ration by the old King Charles, nominating Murat Lieutenant-General of the kingdom. The abdica- tion of tlie son, less expected and more mortifying, was next made public, and a proclamation in his name and those of the Infants, Don Carlos and Don Antonio, recommended the laying aside all spirit of resistance, and an implicit obedience to the irre- sistible power of France.^ The destined plan of government was then un- folded by Murat to the Council of Castile, who, first by an adulatory address,^ and then by a de- putation of their body despatched personally to but policy induced both sides to attribute secret motives, and to exaggerate the slaughter." — Napier, vol. i., p. ild. * " In the first moment of irritation, Murat ordered all the prisoners to be tried by a military commission, which con- demned them to death ; but the municipality representing to him the extreme cruelty of visiting this angry ebullition of the )ieople with such severity, he forbade any executions on the sentence ; but forty were shot in the Prado, by direction of General Grouchy, before Murat could cause his orderB to ho effectually obeyed." — N aimer, vol. i., p. 25. 5 Southey, vol. i., p. .'J24. 6 " Your Imperial Majesty," said they, " who foresees all things, and executes them still more swiftly, has chosen for the provisional government of Spain, a prince educated for the art of government in your own great school. He has sui^ ceeded in stilling the boldest storms, by the nioderatiun and wisdom of his incasurea.'' 1808.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 4G0 Bayonne, hailed the expected resuscitation of the Spanish monarchy as a certain and infallible conse- quence of the throne being possessed by a relation of the great Napoleon. Other bodies of consequence were prevailed upon to send similar addresses ; and one in the name of the city of Madrid, its streets still slippery with the blood of its citizens, was despatched to express the congratulations of the capital.^ The summons of Murat, as Lieute- nant-General of King Charles, and afterwards one from Buonaparte, as possessed of the sovereign power by the cession of that feeble monarch, con- voked the proposed meeting of the Notables at Bayonne on 15th June ; and tlie members so sum- moned began to depart from such places as were under the immediate influence of the French armies, in order to give their attendance upon the proposed convocation. The news of the insurrection of Madrid, on the 2d May, had in the meantime communicated itself with the speed of electricity to the most remote provinces of the kingdom ; and every where, like an alarm-signal, had inspired the most impassioned spirit of opposition to the invaders. The kingdom, from all its provinces, cried out with one voice for war and vengeance ; and the movement was so universal and simultaneous, that the general will seemed in a great measure to overcome or despise every disadvantage, which could arise from the suddenness of the event, and the iniprepared state of the country.^ The occupation of Madrid might have been of more importance to check and derange the move- ments of the Spanish nation at large, if that capital had borne exactly the same relation to the kingdom which other metropolises of Europe usually occupy to theirs, and which Paris, in particular, bears towards France. But Spain consists of several separate provinces, formerly distinct sovereignties, N\ liich having been united under the same sovereign by the various modes of inheritance, treaty, or con- quest, still retain their separate laws ; and though agreeing in the general features of the national chai'acter, have shades of distinction which dis- tinguish them from each other. Biscay, Galicia, Catalonia, Andalusia, Valencia, and other lesser dominions of Spain, each had their capitals, their internal government, and the means of providing themselves for resistance, though Madrid was lost. The patriotic spirit bi-oke out in all parts of Spain at once, excepting where the French actually pos- sessed large garrisons, and even there the spirit of the people was sufficiently manifest. The call for resistarice usually began among the lower class of the inhabitants. But in such instances as their natural leaders and superiors declared themselves frankly for the same cause, the insurgents arranged themselves quietly in the ranks of subordination natural to them, and the measures which the time ' A letter was also transmitted to Napoleon from the Cardi- nal Archliishop of Toledo, the last of the Bourbons who re- mained in Spain : " May your Imperial and Koyal Majesty," he said, " be Rraciously pleased to look upon me as one of your most dutiful subjects, and instruct me concerning your liiKh purposes." s " The firing on the end of May was heard at Mostoles, a little town about ten miles south of Madrid ; and the alcalde, who knew the situation of tlie capital, desjiatched a liullctin to the south, in tliese words : ' The country is in da;ii;cr ; Ma- drid is pcrishiug through the perfidy of the French ; all Sjia- niards, come to deliver it ! ' No other summons was sent Biiroad than this !"— Soi'thky, vol. i., p. :i:Mi. ^ Tlie mob brought cannon against his house, shattered the rendered necessary were adopted with vigour and unanimity. In other instances, when the persona in possession of the authority opposed themselves to the wishes of the people, or gave them reason, by tergiversation and affectation of delay, to believe they were not sincere in the cause of the country, the fury of the people broke out, and they indulged their vindictive temper by the most bloody excesses. At Valencia, in particular, before the insurrection could be organized, a wretched priest, called Calvo, had headed the rabble in the massacre of upwarc's of two hundred French residing within the city, who were guiltless of any offence, except their being of that country. The governor of Cadiz, Solano,' falling under popular suspicion, was, in like man- ner, put to death ; and similar bloody scenes sig- nalized the breaking out of the insurrection in I different parts of the Peninsula. Yet among these bursts of popular fury, there were mixed great signs of calmness and national sagacity. The arrangements made for organizing their defence, were wisely adopted. The supreme power of each district was vested in a Junta, ov Select Committee, who were chosen by tlie people, and in general the selection \\as judiciously made. These bodies were necessarily independent in their respective governments, but a friendly communica- tion was actively maintained among them, and by common consent a deference was paid to the Junta of Seville, the largest and richest town in Spain, after Madrid, and whose temporary governors chanced, generally speaking, to be men of integrity and talents. These provisional Juntas proceeded to act with much vigour. The rich were called upon for pa- triotic contributions. The clergy were requested to send the church plate to the mint. The poor were enjoined to enter the ranks of the defenders of the coimtry, or to labour on the fortifications which the defences rendered necessary. All these calls were willmgly obeyed. The Spanish soldier}-, j wherever situated, turned invariably to the side of j the country, and the insurrection had not broken I out many days, when the whole nation assumed a j formidable aspect of general and permanent resist- ance. Let us, in the meantime, advert to the con- I duct of Napoleon. That crisis, of which Buonaparte had expressed so much apprehension in his prophetic letter to Murat — the commencement of that war, which was to be so long in arriving at a close — had taken place in the streets of Madrid on the second of IMay ; and the slaughter of the inhabitants, with the subse- quent executions by the orders of Murat, had given the signal for the popular fermentation throughout Spain, which soon attained the extent we have just described. The news'* arrived at Bayonne on the very day on which the terrible scene took place between the doors, and rushed jn. Seeing that they were bent upon his death, Solano escaped by the roof, and took shelter in the house of an English merchant, whose lady concealed him in a secret closet. The mistress of the house, Mrs. Strange, in vain endeavoured to save hin, by the most earnest entreaties, and by interposing between him and his merciless assailants. She was wounded in the arm ; and Solano, as he was dragged away, bade her farewell till eternity! They hauled him to- wards the gailows, that his death might be ignominious; others were too ferocious to wait for this, — they cut and stab- bed him, while he resigned himself with comjiosure and dig- nity to his fate.— Sec Neli.erto, Mem., torn. lii., and Carr < Travels, p. 47- * "The Emperor could not restrain hit paicioii oa reading 470 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1808. Queen and her son ; and the knowledge that Wood had been spilled, became an additional reason for urging Ferdinand to authenticate the cession wliicli Napoleon had previously received from the hand of the weak old king. To force forward the trans- action without a moment's delay ; to acquire a right such as he could instantly make use of as a pretext to employ his superior force and disciplined army, became now a matter of the last importance : and Cevallos avers, that, in order to overcome Fer • dinand's repugnance. Napoleon used language of the most violent kind, commanding his captive to choose betwixt death and acquiescence in his plea- sure. The French Emperor succeeded in tliis point, as we have already shown, and he now proceeded to the execution of his ultimate purpose, without condescending to notice that the people of Spain were a party concerned in this change of rulers, and that they were in arms in all her provinces for the purpose of opposing it. To the French public, the insurrection of Madrid was described as a mere popular explosion, although, perhaps for the purpose of striking terror, the num- bers of the Spanish who fell were exaggerated from a few hundreds to " some thousands of the worst disposed wretches of the capital," ' whose destruc- tion was stated to be matter of joy and congratula- tion to all good citizens. On the yet more formid- able insurrections through Spain in general, the Monitetir observed an absolute silence. It appeared as if the French troops had been every where re- ceived by the Spanish people as liberators ; and as if the proud nation, which possessed so many ages of fame, was waiting her doom from the pleasure of the French Emperor, with the same passive spirit exhibited by the humble republics of Venice or Genoa. Buonaparte proceeded on the same plan of dis- guise, and seemed himself not to notice those signs of general resistance which he took care to conceal from the public. We have already mentioned the proceedings of the Assembly of Notables, whom he affected to consider as the representatives of the Spanish nation, though summoned by a foreign prince, meeting within a foreign land, and possess- ing no powers of delegation enabling them, under any legal form, to dispose of the rights of the mean- est hamlet in Spain. Joseph, who arrived at Ba- yonne on the fifth of June, was recognised by these obsequious personages ; received their homage ; agreed to guarantee their new constitution, and promised happiness to Spain, while he only alluded to the existence of discontents in that kingdom, by expressing his intention to remain ignorant of the jiarticulars of such ephemeral disturbances.''^ At length Napoleon, who had convoked this com- pliant bod}', thought proper to give them audience before their return to their own country. It is baid he was tired of a farce to which few were dis- these details. Instead of returning home, he went straislit to Charles IV. I accompanied liim. On"cntering, he said to the King, ' See what I have received from iladrid. I cannot understand this.' The King read the Grand Duke of Berg's despatch ; and no sooner finished it, than witli a firm voice, he said to the Prince of the Peace, ' Emanuel, send for Carlos and Ferdinand.' They were in no haste to obey the call ; and, in the meantime, Chari-js IV. observed to the Emperor—' I am much deceived if these youths liave not had something to do with this business. I am very vexed, but not surprised at it.'" — Savary, torn, ii., p. 2l-7. ' " Plusieurs milliers des plus m.iuvais sujects di; pays."— Moniteur. 2 Southev, vol. i., p. Am. posed to give any weight or consequence. At least he \\as so much embarrassed by a consciousness of the wide distinction between the real condition in which he was placed, and that which he was desi- rous of being thought to hold, that he lost, on this occasion, his usual presence of mind ; was embar- rassed in his manner ; repeated from time to time phrases which had neither meaning nor propriety ; and took a brief adieu of his astonished audience, who were surprised to see how much the conscious- ness of the evil part he was acting had confused his usual audacity of assertion, and checked the fluency of his general style of elocution.' The brothers then parted, and Joseph prepared to accomplish the destinies shaped out for him by his brother, while Napoleon returned to the capital of his augmented empire. The former did not tra- vel fast or far, although the Moniteurs announced nothing save the general joy testified by the Spa- niards at his reception, and the serenades perform- ed by the natives on their guitars from night till morning under the windows of their new sovei-eign. The sounds by which he was in reality surrounded, were of a sterner and more warlike cliaracter. The tidings of insui'rection, imperfectly heard and reluctantly listened to, on the northern side of the Pyrenees, were renewed witli astounding and over- powering reiteration, as the intrusive King ap- proached the scene of his proposed usurpation. He was in the condition of the huntsman, who, ex- pecting that the tiger is at his mercy, and secured in the toils, has the unpleasing surprise of finding him free, and irritated to frenzy. It was judged proper, as Joseph possessed no talents if a military order, that he should remain at Vittoria imtil the measures adopted by his brother's generals might secure him a free and safe road to the capital. It is singular, that the frontier town which thus saw liis early hesitation at entering upon his undertak- ing, was also witness to its disgraceful conclusion, by the final defeat which he received there in 1813.4 No doubts or forebodings attended the return of Napoleon to Paris. The eyes of the French were too much dazzled by the splendid acquisition to the Great Empire, which was supposed to have been secured by the measures taken at Bayonne, to per- mit them to examine the basis of violence and in- justice on which it was to be founded. The union of France and Spain under kindred monarchs, had been long accounted the masterpiece of Louis XI V.'s policy ; and the French now saw it, to out- ward appearance, on the point of accomplishment; at the simple wish of the wonderful man, who had erected France into the Mistress of the World, and whose vigour in forming plans for her yet augnimit- ing grandeiu", was only equalled by the celerity with which they were carried into execution. Buonaparte had indeed availed himself to the 3 Soulhey, vol. i., p. 4.jii. 4 " From Vittoria, Joseph sent abroad a proclamation : ' I come among you,' he said, ' with the utmost confidence, sur- rounded by estimable men, who have not concealed from you any thing which they believed to be useful for your interests, filind passions, deceitful vices, and the intrigues of the com- mon enemy of the continent, whose only view is to separate the Indies from Spain, have precipitated some among you into the most dreadful anarchy, ily heart is rent at tlie tliought. Yet this great evil may in a moment cease. Spaniards, unite yourselves! come around my thi-one! and do not suffer intes- tine divisions to rob me of the time, and consume the mean whicli I would fain employ solely I'or your happiness.'" 1808.] LIFE OF NAFOLEON BUONAPARTE. 471 atniost of that art of seducing and acting upon the imagination of the Fi-ench people, in which he ac- cused the Directory of being deficient. He had btrung the popular feeling in such a manner, that it was sure to respond to almost every note which lie chose to strike xipon it. T!ie love of national glory, in itself a praiseworthy attribute, becomes a vice when it rests on success accomplished by means inconsistent with honour and integrity. These unfavourable parts of the picture he kept in shade, while, as an artful picture-dealer, he threw the full lights on those which announced the aug- mented grandeur and happiness of France. The nation, always willing listeners to their own praises, were contented to see with the eyes of their ruler ; and at no period in his life did Buonaparte appear to be in such a genuine degree the pride and admi- ration of France, as when returning from Bayonne, after having, in his attempt to seize upon the crown of Spain, perpetrated a very great crime, and at the same time committed an egregious folly. The appearance of brilliant success, however, had its usual effect upon the multitude. In his re- turn through Pau, Thoulouse, Montauban, and the other towns in that district, the Emperor was re- ceived with the honours due to a demi-god. Their antique and gloomy streets were arched over with laurels, and strewed with fowers ; the external walls of their houses were covered with tapestry, rich hangings, and splendid paintings ; the popula- tion crowded to meet the Emperor, and the mayors, or prefects, could scarce find language enough to exaggerate what was the actual prevailing tone of admiration towards Napoleon's person. Bourdeaux alone exhibited a melancholy and silent appearance. But Nantes and La Vende'e, so distinguished as faithful to the Bourbon cause, seemed to join in the general feeling of the period ; and the popula- tion of these countries rushed to congratulate him, who had with a strong hand plucked from the throne the last reigning branch of that illustrious house. The gods, says a heathen poet, frequently punish the folly of mortals by granting their own ill-chosen wishes. In the present case, they who rejoiced in the seeming acquisition of Spain to the French empire, could not foresee that it was to cost the lives of a million of Frenchmen ; and he who received their congratulations was totally un- aware, that he had been digging under his ov, n feet the mine by which he was finally to be destroyed. CHAPTER XLIV. Plans of Defence of the Spanish Juntas — defeated by the ardottr of the Insurrectionary Armies — Cruelty of the French Troops, and Inveteracy of the Spaniards — Successes of the Invaders — iMfeat of Rio Secco — Exidtation of Napoleon — Joseph enters Madrid — His reception — Duhesme com- pelled to retreat to Barcelona, and Moncey from ' Before Mural had well recovered from a severe attack of the Madrid cliolic an intermittent fever supervened, and when that was removed, he was ordered by his physicians to the warm baths of Barepes. - " As some xjcrsoii was immediately wanted to supply the place of the Grand Duke of Berg, he directed me to proceed to Madrid, where I found myself in a more extraordinary si- liintion than any ceneral ofiicer had ever been placed in. My mission w.^8 for the purp.mo of periLsing all Uie reports ad- before Valencia — Defeat of Dupont ha Outlines at Baylen — His Army stirrenders Prisoners oj War — Effects of this Victory and Capitulation — Unreasonable Expectations of the British Public — Joseph leaves Madrid, and retires to Vittoria — Defence of Zara> er tlie dead and dving, snatched a match from the hand of a dead artilleryman, and fired off a six-and- twenty pounder; then jumping upon the gun, made a solemn vow never to quit ii alive during the siege."— Southev, vol. ii., p. 14. — Lord Byron states, that when he was at Seville, in IIJIIO, the Maid nrZar.agoza was seen walking daily on the Prado. decorated with medals, and orders, hy command of the Junta. She has further had the honour of being j'uinttd by Wilkie. and baffled so effectually, the assaults of an enemy provided with all those military advantages, of which they themselves were totally desi.itute. On the loth of June, the French attempted to carry the place by a <:onp-de-ma'in, in which they failed with great loss. On the 27111, reinforced and supplied with a train of mortars, they made a more regular effort, and .succeeded in getting pos- session of a suburb, called the Terrero. They then began to invest the place more closely, showered bombs on its devoted edifices, and amid the confla- gration occasioned by these missiles of destruction, attempted to force the gates of tlie city at difl'crent points. All the Zaragossians rushed to man their defences — condition, age, even sex, made no differ- ence ; the monks fought abreast with the laity, and several women showed more than masculine courage."* Lefebvre was incensed by a defence of a place, which, according to all common rules, was unten- able. He forgot the rules of war in his turn, and exposed his troops to immense loss by repeatedly attempting to carry the place at the bayonet's point, ^leanwhile ammunition ran scarce — but the citizeiLS contrived to manufacture gunpowder in consider- able ([uantities. Famine came — its pressm-e was submitted to. Sickness thinned the ranks of the defenders — those who survived willingly perfoiTned the duty of the absent. It was in vain that the large convent of Santa Engi-acia, falling into the hands of the besiegers, enabled them to push their posts into the town itself. The French general announced this success in a celebrated summons : — " Sancta Encjracia — Capitulation!" — " Zarauplicity of Buonaparte on his return to Paris — Official iStatements in the Moniteur — Reports issued by Champagny, Minister of the Foreujn Depai-tment — French Relations with the different Powers of Europe — Spirit of Resistance throur/h- out Germany — Russia — Napoleon and Alexan- der meet at Erfurt on 27th September, and sepa- rate in apparent Friendship on \~th October — ' " The armistice, the negotiations, the convention itself, and the execution of its provisions, were all commenced, con- ducted, and concluded, at the distance of thirty miles from Cintra, with which place they had not the slightest connexion, political, military, or local ; yet Lord Byron has gravely as- serted, in prose and verse, that the convention was signed at the Marquis of Marialva's house at Cintra ; and the author of • The Diary of an Invalid,' improving upon the poet's disco- very, detected the stains of the ink spilt by Junot upon the occasion." — Nap/er. - See Report of the Board of Inquiry, Annual Register, ml. 1., p. ii72. 3 See especially Parliamentary Debates, iFcb. 21, 180!»,l Tol. xii., p. 897- VOL. II. Actual feelings of the Autocrats — Their joiia Letter to the fCing of Great Britain proposinq a general p^ ace on the principle of uti possidetis — Why rejected — Procedure in Spain — Catalonia — Return of Roman a to Spain — Armies of Blake, Castanos, and Palafoz — Expedition of General Moore — His desponding Vieirs of the S2}anish Cause— His Plans — Defeat of Blake — and Cas- tanos — Treachery of Morla — Sir John Moore re- treats to Corunna — Disasters on the March- Battle of Corunna, and Death of Sir John Moore. During no part of his history did Buonaparte appear before the public in a meaner and more contemptible light, than immediately after tiie commencement of the Spanish revolution. In tlie deeper disasters of his life, the courage with which he stiniggled against misfortune, gave to his failing efforts the dignity of sinking greatness ; but, on the present occasion, he appeai-ed before France and before Europe in the humiliating condition of one, who had been tempted by selfish greed to commit a great crime, from which he had derived the full harvest of ignominy, without an iota of the expected profit. On the contrary, blinded by the unconscientious desire of acquisition, he had shown himself as shortsighted concerning results, as he was indifferent respecting means.* In this as in other memorable instances, iniquity had brought with it all the consequences of folly. For some time after his triumphal return to Paris, Buonaparte preserved a total silence on the affairs of the peninsula, excepting general assur- ances that all was well ;* and that the few partial commotions which had been excited by the agents of England, had been every where suppressed by the wisdom of the Grand Council, and the ready concurrence of the good citizens, who saw no safety for Spain save in the renewal of the family com- pact of the Bourbons, in the more fortunate dynasty of Napoleon. To accredit this state of things, many pieces of news were circulated in the pro- vinces which lay nearest to Spain, tending to de- press the spirit and hopes of the insurgents. Thus, M. de Champagny was made to write to the prefect of the department of La Gironde, [8th June,] that George III. of England was dead ; that George IV., on succeeding, had made an instant and total change of ministry ; and that a general pacifica- tion might be instantly expected. The same article, with similar legends, was inserted officially in the Madrid Gazette.^ But a system of fiction and imposition resembles an untempered sword-blade, which is not only subject to break at the utmost need of him who wields it, but apt to woiuul him with the fragments as they spring asunder. The truth began to become •< Gouvion St. Cvr. .lournal ries Operations de I'Arni^e de Catalogue en 1808 et IIKKJ, p. 18. 5 " The Iflth of August was ])asRed in gaiety and amuse- ments, because the aft'airs of Andrilusia had not been made ))ublic ; and no suspicion was entertained that our custoniarv run of prosperity had received .i check. It was only divulged some time afterwards; and it is truly curious to watch how the courtiers, whose trade is any thing else but to fight, criti- cised those military men who had, on that occasion, clouded with cares that brow, before which the courtiers were all so ready to bend the knee."— Savakv, torn, ii., p. 21)6. 6 Of June I4th— the very number which contained Najxi. Icon's proclamation of Joseph as King of Spain and the Imlios. ■J i 482 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1808. too glaring to be concealed. It could not be dis- guised that the kingdom of P^-tugal had been restored to independence — that Juiiot and his army had been driven from Lisbon — that Dupont had surrendered in the south of France — that King Joseph had been expelled from Madrid — and that iu almost all the harbours of the Peninsula, which, in the month of March, had been as it were her- metically sealed against the British shipping and commerce, the English were now received as friends and allies. Nor was it possible to conceal, that these blots on the French arms had all taken place in consequence of the unprincipled ambition, which, not satisfied with disposing of the produce and power of Spain, by using the name of her native princes, had prompted Napoleon to exasperate the feelings of the people by openly usurping the su- preme power, and had thus converted a submissive isnd complaisant ally into a furious and inexorable enemy. It was no easy matter, even for the talents and audacity of Napoleon, to venture before the French nation with an official account of these errors and their consequences, however palliated and modified. Accordingly, we must needs say, that not the confession of a felon, when, compelled to avow his general guilt, he seeks to disguise some of its more atrocious circumstances, and apologise for others, sounds to us more poor and humiliating, than the uncandid, inconsistent, and unmanly expo- sition which Napoleon was at length compelled to mumble forth in his official document, when the truth could no longer be concealed, and was likely indeed to be circulated even with exaggerations. Suddenly, on the 4th of September, there ap- peared in the Moniteur, which previously had been chiefly occupied by scientific details, lyrical poetry, or theatrical criticism, a minute and garbled account of the insurrection in Spain. The sanguinary con- duct of the insurgents was dwelt upon ; the successes obtained by the French armies were magnified ; the losses which they had sustained were extenuated or glossed over. Dupont was represented as having behaved like a fool or a traitor. The sufferings of Zaragossa, during the siege, were dwelt upon with emphasis ; but on its result the official account remained silent. The most was made of the victory of Medina del Rio Seco, and the retreat of King Joseph from Madrid was ascribed to his health's disagreeing with the air of that capital. There were two reports on the subject of Spanish affairs, both from Champagny, minister of the foreign department, and both addressed to the Emperor. The first was designed to justify the attempt of Napoleon on Spain. It was dated at Bayonne, as far back as the 24th of April, a period when Buo- naparte was very little inclined to enter into any reasoning on his right, since, believing he had the power to accomplish his purpose, he did not doubt that the advantage and honour which France would derive from the subjugation of Spain, would sufficiently plead his cause with the Great Nation. But when his first eff'orts had failed, and further exertions were found inevitably necessary, it be- came of consequence to render the enterprise popular, by showing that the measures which led to it were founded on policy at least, if not upon moral justice. To say the truth, the document is contented with arguing the first point. Something is hinted of the Spanish administration having been supposed to nourish hostile purposes towards France,, anil Godoy's manifesto at the time of the Prussian war is alluded to ; but the principle mainly rested upon, and avowed by M. Chatnpagny, is, in plain language, a gross and indecent sophism. " That which policy renders necessary," says the statesman, " justice must of course authorise;" thus openly placing interest in diametrical opposition to that which is honourable or honest ; or, in other words, making the excess of the temptation a justification for the immorality of the action. This is the same prin- ciple' which sends 'the robber on the high-road, and upon which almost every species of villany is committed, excepting those rare enormities which are practised without any visible motive on the part of the perpetrators. To apply his reasoning to the case, Champagny sets forth the various advantages which France must derive from the more intimate imion with Spain — the facilities which such a union afforded for enforcing the con- tinental system against Great Britain — the neces- sity that Spain should be governed by a prince, on whose faithful attachment France could repose unlimited confidence — and the propriety of recom- mencing the work which had been the leading object of the policy of Louis the Fourteenth. Hav- ing thus shown that the seizing upon the crown and liberties of Spain would be highly advanta- geous to France, the reporter holds his task ac- complished, and resumes his proposition in these remarkable words : — " Policy demands a grand measure from your Majesty — Justice authoi'ises it — the troubles of Spain render it indispensably necessary." The second report of M. de Champagny held a different and more ominous tone. It was dated Paris, 1st September, and darkly indicated that the gold and machinations of the English had fomented popular intrigues in Spain, which had frustrated the attempt of his Imperial Majesty to render that country happy. The reporter then, in the tone with which a priest addresses the object of his worship, reverentially expostulates with Na- poleon, for permitting anarchy to spread over great part of Spain, and for leaving Britain at liberty to say, that her flag, driven from the coasts of the Baltic and of the Levant, floats triumphantly, nevertheless, on the coasts of the kingdom which is the nearest neighbour to France. Having thus indirectly communicated the general fact, that Spain was in insurrection, and that the English fleet rode triumphant on her coasts, the reporter resumes a noble confidence in the power and autho- rity which he was invoking. " No, never. Sire, shall it be thus. Two millions of brave men are ready, if necessary, to cross the Pyrenees, and chase the English from the Peninsula ; if the French would combat for the liberty of the seas, they must begin by rescuing Spain from the influ- ence of England." Much more there is to the same purpose, serving to infonn the French people by implication, if not in direct tenns, that the Emperor's plans upon Spain had been disconcerted ; that he had found unanimous i-esistance where he had expected un- conditional submission ; and that the utmost sacri- fices would be necessary on the part of France, to I " A principle which the very thief, on his career to the gallows, dares not avow to himself." — Southey, vol. ii., p. 363. ■SOS.] LIFE OF XAPOLEON JiUONAPARTE. 483 enable her ruler to perlect the measures which lie had so rashly undertaken. But besides the pi-es- sure of Spanish affaii-s, those of Austria were also hinted at, as ref^uiriiig France to increase her armies, and stand upon her guai-d, as that power tiad been of late sedulously employed in increasing hor military strength. The ultimate conclusion founded on these reasonings, was the necessity of anticipating another conscription of eighty thousand men. The Senate, to whom these reports were sent down, together with a message from the Emperor, failed not to authorise this new draught on the French population ; or, it may be said, on her very flesh and life-blood. Like the judge in the drama, but without regret or expostulation, they enforced the demand of the unrelenting creditor. " The court allowed it, and the law did give it." — " The will of France," said these subservient senators, " is the same with the will of her Emperor. The war with Spain is politic, just, and necessary." Thus armed with all the powers which his mighty empire could give, Napoleon girded himself per- sonally to the task of putting down by force the Spanish insuri-ection, and driving from the Penin- sula the British auxiliaries. But while preparations were making on an inmiense scale for an enterprise of which experience had now taught him the diffi- culty, it was necessary for him, in the first place, to ascertain how his relations with the few powers in Europe who had some claim to independence, had been affected by the miscarriage of his Spanish scheme. Since the treaty of Presburg, by which she lost such a proportion of her power, Austria had Iain like a prostrated combatant, whom want, not of will, but of strength, prevents from resuming the contest. In 1806, her friendship became of conse- quence to Napoleon, then engaged in his contest with Prussia and Russia. The cession of Branau, and some territories about the mouth of the Cattaro, wei-e gi'anted to Austria by France, as in guerdon of her neutrality. But in 1807 and 1808, the go- vernment of that country, more vexed and humi- liated by the territory and influence which she had lost, than thankful for the importance she had been permitted to retain, began to show the utmost activity in the war department. Abuses were re- formed ; more perfect discipline was introduced ; old soldiers were called to muster ; new levies were made on a large scale ; armies of reserve were formed, through the Austrian dominions, of the laiidicehr and national guards, and they were subjected to service by conscription, like the militia of England. The Austrian armies of the line were increased to great magnitude. The Hungarian Diet had voted twelve thousand recruits for 1807, and eighty thousand for 1808 ; while eighty thou- sand organised soldiers, of whom thii'ty thousand were cavalry, constituted the formidable reserve of tills warlike nation. Every thing seemed to announce war, although the answers of the Court to the remonstrances of France were of the most pacific tendency. Yet it was not alone the hostile preparations of Austria which seemed to trouble the aspect of ' "A Baron de Nostiz, Stein, tlie Trussian counsellorc)f state. Generals Shamhost and (jneizenau, and Colonel Scliill, ipgiear to have been the principal contriTers and patrons of Iheoe societies, so characteristic of Gtrn\ans, wno, regular and Cermany. Napoleon had defeated her cfTorts and defied her armies, when her force was still more imposing. But there was gi-adually awakening and extending through Germany, and especially its northern provinces, a strain of opinion incompati- ble with the domination of France, or of any other foreign power, within the ancient empire. The disajipearance of various petty states, which had been abolished in tlie convulsion of the Frencli usurpation, together with the general system of op- pression under which the whole country suffered, though in different degrees, had broken down the divisions which separated the nations of Germany from each other, and, like relations who renew an inteiTupted intimacy under the pressure of a com- mon calamity, the mass of the people forgot that they were Hanoverians, Hessians, Saxons, or Prus- sians, to remember that they were all Germans, and had one common cause in which to struggle, one general injury to revenge. Less fiery than the Spaniards, but not less accessible to deep and impassioned feeling, the youth of Germany, espe- cially such as were engaged in the liberal studies, cherished in secret, and with caution, a deep hatred to the French invaders, and a stern resolution to avail themselves of the first opportunity to achieve the national liberty. The thousand presses of Germany could not he altogether silenced, though the police of Napoleon was unceasingly active in suppressing political publications, whei-ever they could exercise influ- ence. But the kind of feeling which now prevailed among the German youth, did not require the support of exhortations or reasoning, directly and in express terms adapted to the subject. While a book existed, from the Holy Scriptures down to the most idle romance ; while a line of poetry could be recited from the works of Scliiller or Goethe, down to the most ordinary stall ballad — iuuendoes, at once secret and stimulating, might be drawn from them, to serve as watch-words, or as war-cries. The prevailing opinions, as they spread wider and w ider, began fo give rise to mysterious associations, the object of which was the liberation of Germany. That inost generally known was called the Bund, or Alliance for Virtue and Justice. The young academicians entered with great zeal into these fraternities, the rather that they had been previ- ously prepared for them by the Burschenschafts, or associations of students, aiul that the idea of secret councils, tribunals, or machinations, is familiar to the reader of German iiistory, and deeply interest- ing to a people whose temper is easily impressed by the mysterious and the tei-rible. The profes- sors of the Universities, in most cases, gave way to or guided these patriotic impressions, and in teaching their students the sciences or liberal arts, failed not to impress on them the duty of devoting themselves to the liberation of Germany, or, as it was now called, Teutonia.' The Frencli, whose genius is in direct opposition to that of the Germans, saw all this with contempt and ridicule. They laughed at the mummery of boys affecting a new sort of national freemasonry, and they gave the principle of patriotic devotion to the independence of Germany the name of Ideology ; plodding, even to a proverb, in their actions, possess the most extravafiant imacinations of any people on the face of lh» earth."— Nai'IEb, vol. i , p. 31C. 484 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [180ft. by wnich nickuame the French ruler used to dis- tinguish every species of theory, which, resting in uo respect upon the practical basis of self-interest, could, he thought, prevail with none save hot- brained boys and crazed enthusiasts. Napoleon, however, saw and estimated the in- creasing influence of these popular opinions, more justly than might have been inferred from his Lan- guage. He knew that a government might be crushed, an army defeated, an inimical administra- tion changed, by violence; but that the rooted principle of resistance to oppression diffuses itself the wider the more martyrs are made on its behalf. The Heir of the Revolution spoke on such subjects the language of the most legitimate of monarchs, and exclaimed against the system of the Tugend- bund, as containing principles capable of disorga- nising the whole system of social society. The menacing appearance of Austria, and the extension of anti-Gallican principles and feelings through Germany, made it more especially neces- sary for Buonaparte to secure his hold upon the Emj)eror of Russia. Trusting little in so important a case to his ministers. Napoleon desired personally to assure himself by a 'direct communication with the Emperor Alexander, which was willingly ac- ceded to. We have elsewhere assigned some rea- sons, why such direct conference, or con-espondence betwixt sovereigns, tends to degrade their charac- ter, without adding any additional security to the faith of their treaties. It is unbecoming their rank to take upon themselves the task of advancing, re- ceding, renouncing, resuming, insisting, and evad- ing, which nmst occur more or less in all political negotiations. At the same time, they are flattering to princes, as if inferring that they are able to act personally, and free of mmisterial control ; and in so far have their charms. Buonaparte and Alexander met at Erfurt on 27 th September, with the same appearance of cor- diality with which they had parted — their friend- ship seemed uninjured by a shadow of suspicion. The most splendid festivities celebrated their meet- mg, and the theatres of Paris sent their choicest performers to enliven the evenings. ' Amid all these gaieties politics were not neglect- ed, and Buonaparte found his great ally as tractable as at Tilsit. Alexander not only ratified the trans- actions of Spain, but also the subsequent act, by which Napoleon appropriated to himself the king- dom of Etruria, wiiich, according to the firet draught of the Spanish scheme exhibited at Tilsit, was to have been assigned to the disinherited Fer- dinand. The Czar stipulated, however, on his own part, that Buonaparte should not in any shape in- terfere to prevent Russia from aggrandizing her- self at the expense of Turkey. He promised, also, to take an ally's share with Buonaparte, if the quar- rel with Austria should come to arms. To tliis in- deed he was bound by treaties ; nor was there any ' " The two Emperors passed some days together in the enjoyment of the charms of perfect intimacy, and of the most familiar communications of^ private life. ' We were,' said Napoleon, ' two young men of qualitj', who, in their common ple:i»ures, had no secret from each other.' Napoleon had sent for the most distinguished performers of the French theatre. A celebrated actress. Mademoiselle B , at- tracted the attention of his guest, who had a momentary fancy to get acquainted with her. He asked his companion whether any inconvenience was likely to be the result. • None,' answered the latter ; ' only," added he, intentionally, ' it is a certain and rapid mode of making yourself known to bU Paris. After to-morrow, post-day, the most minute details way of ridding himself from their obligation. Tlie conferences of Erfurt ended on the 17th of October, and, as they had begun, amid the most splendid festivities. Among these was an entertainment given to the Emperor on the battle-ground of Jena, where Pmssia, the hapless ally of Alexander, re- ceived such a dreadful blow. It is probable, however, notwithstanding all the show of cordiality betwixt the Emperors, that Alexander did not require the recollections which this battle-field was sure to inspire, to infuse into his mind some tacit jealousy of his powerful ally. He even already saw the possibility of a quarrel merging between them, and was deeply desirous that Austria should not waste her national strength, by rushing into a contest, in which he would be under the reluctant necessity of acting against her. Neither did Napoleon return from Erfurt with the same undoubting confidence in his imperial all}'. The subject of a match between the Emperor of France and one of the Russian Archduchesses had been resumed, and had been evaded, on account, as it was alleged, of the difference in their religions. The objections of the Empress Mother, as well as of the reigning Empress, were said to be the real reasons — objections founded on the character of NajJoleon, and the nature of his right to the great- ness which he enjoyed.^ Such a proposal could not be brought forward and rejected or evaded, with how much delicacy soever, without injury to the personal feelings of Napoleon ; and as he must have been conscious, that more than the alleged reason of religion entered into the cause of declining his proposal, he must have felt in proportion offended, if not affronted. Still, however, if their cordiality was in any degree diminished, the ties of mutual interest, which bound together these two great au- tocrats, were as yet sufficient to assure Napoleon of the present assistance of Russia. To confirm this union still farther, and to make their present friendship manifest to the world, the two Emperors joined in a letter to the King of Great Britain, pro- posing a general peace ; and it was intimated that they would admit the basis of uti possidetis, which would leave all the contracting powers in posses- sion of what they had gained during the war. The proposal, as must have been foreseen, went off, on Britain demanding that the Spanish government and the King of Sweden should be admitted as parties to the treaty.^ But the letter of the Emperors had served its turn, when it showed that the ties between France and Russia were of the most intimate nature ; and, confident in this. Napoleon felt himself at liberty to employ the gigantic force which he had already put in preparation, to the subjugation of Spain, and to chasing away the "hideous leopards,"* as he \\as pleased to term the English banners, from the Peninsula. In the meantime, the Spaniards had not been will be despatched, and in a short time not a statuary at Paris but will be qualified to give a model of your person from head to foot.' The danger of such a kind of publicity appeased the monarch's rising passion ; * for,' observed Napolaon, ' he was very circumspect with regard to that point, and he recollected, no doubt, the old adage, when the mask falls, the hero dis- appears." " — Las Cases, toin. ii., p. 219. - Las Cases, torn, ii., p. 220. 3 For the correspondence with the Russian and French gnveniments, relative to the overtures from Erfurt, see Par- liamentary Deb.Ttes, vol. xii., p. 9.'J * It was one of the minpte and childish particulars in which Buonaparte showed a spleen against thu British nation, that 1808.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 485 unfaithful to the cause they had undertaken. They had vested the supreme management of the affairs of their distracted kingdom in a Central or Su- preme Junta, which, composed of delegates from all the principal Juntas, fixed their residence at the recovered capital of Madrid, and endeavoured, to the best of their power, to provide for resistance against the invaders. But their efforts, though neither in themselves unwise nor mistimed,' were seriously impeded b}' two great causes, arising both from the same source. The division of Spain, as already observed, into several disunited and almost unconnected provinces and kingdoms, though it had contributed much to the original success of the insurrection, while each province, regardless of the fate of others, or of the capital itself, provided the means of individual re- sistance, rendered them, when the war assumed a more general character, unapt to obey the dictates which emanated from the Supreme Junta. Gene- ral Cuesta, whose devoted and sincere patriotism was frustrated by the haughtiness, self-importance, and insubordination of his character, was the first to set an unhappy example of disobedience to what had been chosen as the residence of the supreme authority. He imprisoned two members of the Supreme Junta, because he thought the choice which had been made of them was derogatory to his own authority, as Captain-General of Castile and Leon, and thus set a perilous example of dis- union among the patriots, for which his real energy and love of his country were scarce afterwards suf- ficient to atone.' But besides this and other instances of personal disregard to the injunctions of the Junta, there was another deep and widely-operating error which flowed from the same source. Each province, ac- cording to the high sense which the inhabitants entei'tained of their individual importance, deemed itself adequate to the protection of its own peculiar territory, and did not or would not, see the neces- sity of contributing an adequate proportion of the provincial force to the defence of the nation in general. Those who had shown themselves man- fully eager, and often successful, in the defence of their own houses and altars, were more deaf than prudence warranted to the summons which called them to the frontier, to act in defence of the king- dom as a whole. They had accustomed themselves, unhappily, too much to undervalue the immense power by which they were about to be invaded, and did not sufficiently see, that to secure the more distant districts, it was necessary that the war should be maintained by the united force of the realm. What added to this miscalculation, was a point in the national character of which William III. of England, when commanding an allied army to which Spain furnished a contingent, had a cen- tury before bitterly complained. " The Spanish generals were so proud of the reputation of their troops and their country," said that experienced warrior, "that they would never allow that they wore in want of men, ammunition, gims, or the other necessaries of war, until tlie moment of emer- lie would not hear the heraldic achievement, which the Eng- lish flag hail displayed for five hundred years, to he termed I.ions, liul ulwavs called them Leo]):irds'. The spirit which this ehullitioii of ^jiite manifested, could only be compared to that exhibited by the poor citizen, wlien lie revenged him- self, as he thought, upon the cognizance of the Earl of Oxford, by calling the nobleman's Swan a Gouse. — !S. gency came, when they were too apt to be found unprovided in all with which they had represented themselves as being well supplied." The same unhappy spirit of over-confidence and miscalculation now greatly injured the patriotic cause. Levies and supplies, which it had been de- termined to raise, were too often considered as completed, when the vote which granted them had been passed, and it was deemed unworthy and un- patriotic to doubt the existence of what the national or provincial council had represented as indispen- sable. In this manner the Spaniards misled both themselves, and their allieSj the British, upon the actual state of their resources ; and it followed of eotu'se, that British officers, once deceived Ijy their representations in such instances, were disposed to doubt of the reality of their zeal, and to hesitate trusting such representations in future. Notwithstanding these unhappy errors, the Sjia- nish force, assembled for the defence of the king- dom, was perhaps not inadequate to the task, had they been commanded by a general whose superior energies could have gained him undisputed autho- rity, and who could have conducted the campaign with due attention to the species of warfare whicli the time and the character of the invading army demanded. But unhappily, no Robert Bruce, no Washington, arose in Spain at this period ; and the national defence was committed to men whose military knowledge was of a bounded character, though their courage and zeal admitted of no dis- pute. Yet favourable incidents occurred to balance these great inconveniences, and for a time the want of unity amongst themselves, and of military talent in the generals, seemed to a certain extent com- pensated by the courage of the Spanish leaders, and the energy of their followers. The warlike population of Catalonia are, Ijke the T}Tolese, natural marksmen, who take the field in irregular bodies, called Somatenes, or Miquelets.^ The inhabitants of this country arose in arms al- most miiversally ; and, supported by a small body of four thousand men from Andalusia, contrived, without magazines, military chest, or any of the usual materials necessary to military manoeuvres, to raise the siege of Gerona,' which had been form- ed by General Duhesme, and to gain so many ad- vantages over the enemy, that probably,an auxiliary force of English, under such a general as the Earl of Peterborough, adventurous at once and skilful, might, like that gallant leader, have wrested Bar- celona, with Monjouy, from the hands of the French, and left the invaders no footing in that important district. The troops might have been supplied from Sicily, where a great British force was stationed, and there was no want of good and experienced officers, competent to the ordinary duties of a ge- neral. But that genius, which, freeing itself from the pedantry of professional education, can judge exactly how far insurrcctionai'y allies are to be trusted ; that inventive talent, which finds resources where the ordinary aids and appliances are scarce, or altogether wanting, is a gift of very rare occur- rence ; and unfortunately, there are no means of 1 Napier, vol. i., p. 3()3 ; Soathcy, vol. ii , p. 30O. 2 Gouvinn St. Cyr says of them that they arc the best lisbl troops in }i\iio\w.—Jotinial, p. 54. a Southcy, vol. ii , p. .'ii.T i8G SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE AVOUKS. [1808. dietingiiishiiig the officers by wlioiii it is possessed, unless chance puts them into a situation to display their qualifications. Another circumstance favourable for the Spanish cause, was the return of General Roniana to Spain, to co-operate in the defence of his country. This nobleman, one of the best soldiers whom Spain liad at the time, and a man, besides, of patriotic virtue and excellent talents, commanded that auxiliary body of ten thousand Spanish troops which Buo- naparte had prevailed on Godoy to unite with the French army in the north of Europe, in order to secure their absence when he should put his schemes of invasion into execution against their country. These forces, or a large proportion of them, were secluded in the isle of Funen, in the Baltic, witli a view to conceal from them all that it did not suit Buonaparte should be known of the events which were agitating Spain. Nevertheless, a dexterous and daring agent, a Catholic priest of Scotch ex- traction, named Robertson, going ashore in disguise, succeeded in opening a communication' between the Spanish general and the Bi'itish admiral Keates, in consequence of which, and by using bold and skilful combinations, Romana was able to extricate the greater part of his troops from the pi-ecarious situation in which they were placed, and finally in embarking them for Spain. It was the intention of this judicious officer to have made this little force of nine or ten thousand men the foundation of a i-ogular army, by forming every regiment into a triple battalion. This he was unable to accomplish, but still his body of veterans inspired the Spaniards with hope and trust. Three armies had been formed in Spain, design- ed to co-operate with each other ; the sum of their numbers was calculated at 130,000 men, but they certainly did not exceed 100,000 at the very ut- most. Their commissariat was in a ^vTetehed state, and even before the war commenced, the hardships of scarcity were felt in their camps. Three gene- rals, each with independent authority, (an evil of the country and time,) commanded the Spanish armies. Blake, on the western frontier, extended liis line from Burgos to Bilboa, disputing the pos- session of, and finally maintaining himself in, that capital of Biscay. The headquarters of the central arm}', under Castanos, were as far back as Soria ; while the eastern army, under Palafox, extended between Zaragossa and Sanguesa. So that the wings of the army were advanced towards the frontier ; and the centre being drawn back, the whole position had the form of a crescent, with the concave side opposed to the enemy. Strongly posted within the position of Northern Spain, which they retained, the French armies, about sixty thousand nien strong, lay protected by the fortresses which thsy occupied, and awaited the approach of Napo- leon, with such a predominating force as should enable them to resume the offensive. The co-oj)e- ration of a British auxiliary force became now an object of the first consequence ; and the conduct of Britain had given every reason to expect that she ' " Rolifrtson was qualified for this dangerous service by liis skill as u linguist One .Sjiiinish verse was fjiveii him; to have taken any other credentials might have proved fatal, and there was an anecdote connected with this which would sufficiently antluntieatc liis mission. During Mr. Frcre's rc- ■idencc as anitjaHMidor in Spain, Koniana, who was an accom- piiahed scholar, had recommended to Ins perusal the Gests of Cid, as one of the most ancient and curious poems in the \\oul(l make in the Spanish cause, exertions to which she had been yet a stranger. When the t\\o Emperors of France and Russia met at Erfurt, it had been resolved, as we have said, to offer peace to Great Britain, either in snmo hope that it might have been made upon terms con- sistent with Buonaparte's pretensions to universal dominion, and Alexander's views upon Turkey, or in order to assume to themselves the credit of a disposition to pacific measures. A letter was ac- cordingly despatched to the King of Engkmd, signed by both Emperors, expressive of their wish for a general peace. The official note in which the Bri- tish administration replied to this ovta-ture, decla- red that the King of England was willing to treat for peace in conjunction with his allies, the King of Sweden, and those now possessing the supreme power in Spain, and exercising it iti the name of Ferdinand VII.^ The admission of any claim in favour of either of these powers, would have inter- fered with the plans botli of France and Russia. The latter had for her object the possession of Fin- land, and the former judged that peace with Eng- land was chiefly desirable for gaining time to over- come all resistance in Spain ; but must become useless if the independence of that country was to be stipulated in the treaty. The negotiation, there- fore, broke off on these terms, while Britain, by her share in it, showed a manful resolution to iden- tify her cause with that of the Spanish patriots. The actions of England bore a part with her professions. It was determined, as we have already seen, to reinforce the Portuguese army with an additional force of ten thousand men, and the whole was placed under the command of General Moore, a darling name in the British army, and' the only one (excepting the victor of Yimeiro, had his rank in the service permitted the choice) to whom the public would have looked with confidence for the discharge of a trust so uiiusually weighty. But although the requisite degree of vigour was shown by the English government, yet they were not yet sufficiently accustomed to the necessity of acting with rapidity in executing their resolutions. The ai-rival of General Moore's army had been expected so early as the 21st August, by those having best access to know the purposes of Govern- ment ; yet Sir John Moore and his army were not in motion, to take part in the Spanish cause, till the beginning of October ; and every day which was thus lost in itiireadiness and indecision was of the most precious import to the cause of Spain. This procrastination could not be imputed to the general, nor even to the Administration. It was the consequence of want of alertness in the differ- ent departments, which had been little accustomed to hurry and exertion, and also of the hesitation apt to influence those who venture for the first time on a great and decisive measure. Even when the expedition arrived, there was uncertainty and delay. , Sir John INloore also, in all other x-espects one of the most eminent military characters, had em- lanfruase. One day he liai)pened to call when Mr. Frere was reading it, and liad just made a conjectural emendatiori in one of the lines : Komana instantly perceived the propriety of the pro]>osed reading, and this line, therefore, when he was reminded of it, would prove that Mr. Kobertson had communicated with liis friend the Britisli ambassador." - Sdiitiiev, vol. ii., ]). 3.'!7. 2 I'arliamcntnry Debates, vol. xii., p. !)7. I 1808.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 407 braced an unfavourable idea of the event of the Spanish struggle. He saw tlie faults and imperfec- tions of their system, and they were of a kind which appeared most peculiarly perilous. Independent generals — an unpaid and ill-fed soldiery' — a Su- preme Junta which could not obtain obedience — were features which argued a speedy and disas- trous conclusion to the contest, when opposed to the disciplined army of France, with which General Moore was so well acquainted, and to whose merits he could give the testimony of experience. His fears, therefore, predominating over his hopes, yet his wishes alike, and his duty, prompting liini to do something for the support of the Spanish cause, he was anxious so to direct his efforts, that he might retreat, in case of need, without suffering any considerable loss. For this purpose, it would liave been his desire to have carried round the British army to Cadiz, to assist in the defence of Andalusia, where tiie sea, in case of disaster, would always be open for their retreat. But the English ministers had formed a bolder and more decisive plan of the campaign ; — a plan which might have been decisive of the fate even of Buonaparte him- self, at least of his Spanish projects of ambition, if either the Spaniards had acted with the skill which distinguished the victors of Baylen, or the enthu- siasm which animated the defenders of Zaragossa, or if the British troops had been able to enter into communication with their armies before they were broken and overwhelmed by the Emperor of the French. This plan directed, that the British forces should proceed at once to the north of Spain, where the principal scene of action was necessarily laid, and thus co-operate with Blalie, and the other Spanish armies, ^hich were destined to cover the capital, and witlistand the first effort of the inva- ders. It was left to the judgment of the commander, either to advance into Spain by land from the frontiers of Portugal, or to transport his troops by sea to Corunna, with the purpose of marching through the i)rovince of Galicia, and entering in that manner upon the scene of action. To accomplish the purpose of government. Sir John Moore deemed it most convenient to divide liis forces. He sent ten thousand men, under Sir David Baird, by sea to Corunna, and determined to march himself at the head of the rest of the army, about sixteen thousand, to the north of Spain, from the frontiers of Portugal. The general science of war, upon the most extended scale, seems to have been so little understood or practised by the English generals at this time, that, instead of the country being carefully reconnoitred by officers of skill, tlie march of the army was arranged by such hasty and inaccurate information as could be col- lected from the peasants. By their report, Gene- i-al Moore was induced to divide his army info five divisions,^ which were directed to move upon Sala- manca, where, or at Valladolid, they were to form a junction with the forces of Sir David Baird, ex- pected from Corunna. The advance commenced about the 7tli of November ; but indiap])ily ere these auxiliaries appeared on the field, the armies of the Spaniards, whom they were destined to sup- port, were defeated, dispersed, and almost annihi- lated. There was no hesitation, no mark of indecision, no loss of precious time, on the part ot Napoleon. He traversed the earth, as a comet docs the sky, working changes wherever he came.* The conven- tion at Erfurt broke up on the 14th October ; on the 25th of the same month he opened, in person, the session of the Legislative Body ; and on the second following day, he set ofi' for the frontiers of Spain.* Here he had prepared, in ample extent, all the I means of conquest ; foi", though trusting, or affect- ing to trust, a great deal to the influence of his fortune and his star, it was his wise and uniform policy to leave nothing to chance, but always to provide means, adequate to the purpose which he meditated. Nearly a hundred thousand men had been gra- dually poui'ing into the position which the French occupied upon the Ebi'o.* The headquarters at Vittoria, honoured with the residence of the intru- sive King, was soon more illustrious by the arrival of Buonaparte himself, a week before the British army had commenced its march from Portugal or Corunna. To destroy the army of Blake, which lay ojjposed to the right flank of the French, before the Spanish general could be supported by Sir John Moore's forces, became for Buonaparte a matter of instant and peremptory importance. After some previous fighting, a French division, under Marshal Victor, brought the Spanish general to action at the jjosi- tion of Espiuosa. The battle continued for three hours in the evening, and was renewed the next day, when the French turned the Spanish position, and Blake, totally defeated, withdrew from the field, with the purpose of making a stand at Rey- nosa, where he had his supplies and magazines.* Meantime the activity of Buonaparte had struck another fatal blow on a different part of the Spanish defensive line. An army designed to cover Burgos, and support the right flank of Blake's army, had been foi-med under the command of the Count de B.elvidere, a young nobleman of coui-age, but with- out expei'ience. He had under his command some remnants of the old Spanish army of the line, with the Walloons and Spanish guards, and a battalion of students, volunteers from Salamanca and Leon. Here also the French were successful. The youths, whom patriotism had brought to the field, could not be frightened from it by danger. They fell in their ranks, and their deaths spread mourning through many a respectable family in Spain. Burgos was taken, in consequence of Count Bel- videre's defeat ; and it was by the same calamity rendei'ed easy for the Duke of Dalmatia [Soult] to co-operate with the French genei-als, who wei-e operating against the unfortunate Blake, with a view to drive him from his place of refuge at Key- • " Wliat 'the general science of war upon an extonded BCiile' may mean, I cannot pretend to say ; but that Sir David Baird \/aa sent by the Government from Eiiyland direct to Cornnna, and that Sir John Moore was not induced, by the reports of the peasants, to divide his army, may be ascer- tained by a reference to Sir Jolm Moore's correspondence."— Napier, vol. i., p. XV-i. - " In a few davs 1 go," he said, " to put myself at the head •f my armies, and, with the aid of God, to crown the Kiii}; of Sp.ain in Madrid, and to plant my eagles on the towers of Lisbon." a " He reached Bayonne, and afterwards Vittoria, with tlie rai)idity of an arrow. He performed tlic latter jour.\ey on horseback in t wo davs, reaching Tolosa on tlie tirst, and on the second Vittoria."— Savakv, torn, ii., p. 11. -> Najiier, vol.i., p. ."il?; Soutliey, vol. ii., p. ;«t7- * Fifth linllctin of the French Army in Spaiu ; Napier, vol i., p. 391 ; Southey, vol. ii., p. 'JOO. 488 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1808. nosa. Surrounded on every side, the Spanish ge- neral saw no safety for the remnant of his forces, excepting in a retreat to Saint Andero, accom- pHshed under such circumstances of liaste and confusion, that his array might bo considered as totally disorganised and dispersed. The disasters of Blake were the more to be lamented, that they involved the destruction of that fine body of sol- diers whom Romana had led from the Baltic, and who, injudiciously brought into action by single battalions, perished ingloriously among the cliffs at Espinosa.' The whole left wing of the Spanish army of defence, which so lately stretched from Bilboa to Burgos, and in support of which the British forces ivere advancing, was now totally annihilated, and the central army, under Castanos, whose left flank was now completely uncovered, was exposed to imminent danger. The veteran would fain have reserved his forces for a more fortunate time, by falling back and avoiding a battle. But he had Icon joined by Palafox, who had under his inde- pendent authority the army of AiTagon ; and the Supreme Junta, acting in that particular according to the custom of the French Convention, had de- spatched a commissioner to his camp, to see that that general performed his duty. This official per- son, with Palafox and other generals, joined in overpowering Castanos's reasoning, and, by the imputations of cowardice and treachery, compelled him to venture an action.'^ The battle took place at Tudela, on tlie 22d No- vember, with all the results which Castanos had dreaded. A great number of Spaniards were killed ; guns and baggage were taken ; and, for the first time, a considerable number of prisoners fell into the hands of the French.^ Castanos, with the routed troops of his proportion of the army, escaped to Calatuyud, while Palafox retreated again on the heroic city of Zaragossa, which was destined to suffer further distresses, and acquire additional renown. The rood of the invader was now open to Madrid, unless in so far as it might be defended by some forces stationed at the pass of Samosierra, a mountainous defile about ten miles from the city, or as his entrance into the capital might be opposed by the desperate resolution of the citizens theni- selves. A part of the population placed their hopes on the defence afforded by this defile, not aware liow easily, in modern warfare, such passes are either stormed or turned. But most of the citizens assumed the fierce and lowering appearance, which, in the Spaniard, announces an approaehing burst of furious violence. Many thousands of peasants arrived from the neighbouring country, to assist, they said, in the defence of the capital ; and, ani- mated by the success of the Zaragossans, menaced war to the knife's point. There were about eight thousand troops of the line in Madrid ; resistance was undoubtedly possible, and the people seemed 1 Seventh Bulletin ; Southey, vol. ii., p. 393; Jomini torn. lii..I>,!»7. 2 " These great advantages, the result of Napoleon's admi- rable combinations, the fruits of ten days of active exertion, obtained si> easily, a>id yet so decisive of the fate ot the cam- paign, prove the weakness of the system ui)on which the Spa- nish and Britisli governments were at this time acting ; if that can be ciUed a system, where no one general knew what an- other had done — was doing— or intended to do."— Napier, Tol. i., p. a'M. 5 Napier, vol. i., p. 401 ; Scventli Bulletin ; .lomini, torn. iii.. p. 9. determined upon it. A summons from the Supreme Junta called the inhabitants to arms, and the com- mencement of the preparations for defence was begun with unanimous vigour. For this purpose tlie pavement of the streets was taken up and con- verted into barricadoes ; the houses were secured, and loopholed for musketry ; and the whole body of the population toiled at erecting batteries, not only in the day-time but by torch-light. Had Palafox commanded in Madrid, the experi- ment of resistance would, at all risks, have been attempted. But the governor was Don Thoma.s Morla, the same who succeeded Solano at Cadiz. His subsequent conduct seems to show, that, de- spairing of the cause of his country, he already meditated an intended change to the side of the usurper ; so that the citizens of Madrid, at the moment when they had recourse to his skill an<> autliority, received neither encouragement nor in- structions, nor means of defence. We shall pre- sently see in what manner tlie generous intentions of the people were cheated and baffled. Amidst the accumulation of disasters which over- whelmed the Spanish cause, Sir John Moore ari'ived at Salamanca, and Sir David Baird at Astorga, where the latter general halted. The situation of General Moore was extremely embarrassing, and gave him cause for the deepest anxiety. He knew the strength and character of the French armies, and was unwilling to repose too much confidence, in the Spaniards, whose wisdom, he contended, was not a wisdom of action or exertion. On the other hand, he well knew the enthusiasm of the English for the Spanish cause, and the high expectations which were founded on his own talents, and on the galkintry of one of the finest armies which ever left Britain ; and he felt that something was to be attempted worthy of the character of both. The general voice of the officers and soldiers was also clamorous for being employed. But the defeat of Castanos at Tudela seems to have extinguished the last hope in Sir John Moore's mind, and he at one time determined upon commencing liis retreat to Portugal. Before finally adopting this measure, he thought proper, however, to consult Mr. Frere, the British Minister, whether he thought any good would result from the daring measure of njarching on Madrid, instead of retreating to Portugal. The correspondents differed, as might have been ex- pected, from their difference of temperament and habits. Mr. Frere, a scholar and a poet, well known in the world of letters, being attached with enthu- siasm to the cause of Spain, was a willing believer in the miracles tliat might be wrought by the higher and nobler qualities, wliich found a chord in unison in his own bosom.* He advised, as a Spartan would have 'done, that General Moore should throw all upon the cast, and advance to the succour of Ma- drid. Tlie general, upon whom the responsibility * "They are resolute," said Mr. Frere, " and I believe every man of them determined to perish with the country ; they will not at least set the e.xample, which the ruling powers ana higher orders of other countries have e.xliibited, of weakness and timidity." " 1 have no hesitation," he added, "in taking upon myself any responsibility which may attach itself to thia advice, as I consider the fate of Spain as depending absolutely, for the present, upon the decision which you may adopt. I say, for the present, for such is the spirit and character of tiia country, that even if abandoned by the Britisli, I should by no means despair of thtir ultimate success." 1 808.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 489 lievolvcd, viewed the measure in a different light, and his military liabits did not permit liim to place much confidence in a defence to l)e maintained by irregular forces against the disciplined armies of France. Yet, urged by liis own feelings, and the importunity of the Spanish government, lie resolved to try, by an effort against the north-western part of the French army, to answer the double purpose of preventing them from pressing on Romana, who, with indefatigable zeal, was collecting the scattered remains of the Galician army, which liad been destroyed under Cuesta, and also of hindering the French from advancing southward to complete the subjugation of the Peninsula. But while General Moore determined to hazard this bold measure, he saw painfully the danger of drawing upon himself, by adopting it, a predominant force of the enemy, before wliom his retreat might be difficult and perilous. Yet he finally ordered Sir David Baird, whose retreat to Corunna was already commenced, again to occupy Astorga, and expressed his intention of hazarding an advance, at whatever risk. But he added these ominous words ; " I mean to proceed bridle in hand, for if the bubble bursts, and Madrid falls, we shall have a run for it."' The fate of Madrid was soon decided ; but, as is generally believed, not without great treachery on the part of those who had been most apparently zealous for its defence. The passes of Guadarama and SamosieiTa had fallen into the possession of the French. The latter, on which the people of Madrid had fixed their eyes as on a second Thermopylas or Roncesvalles, was cleared of its defenders by a charge of Polish lancers ! Tliose melancholy tid- ings, as they were in correspondence with General Moore's expectations, did not prevent his intended movement on the French lines of communication. By this means he might co-operate with General Romana and his army, and if pressed by superior numbers of the French, the retreat lay through Galicia to Corunna, where the transports were at- tending for the reception of the troops. General Moore left Salamanca on the 12th De- cember, and proceeded towards Mayorga, wdiere, on the 20th, he formed a junction with Sir David Baird. Advancing upon Sahagun, the troops re- ceived encouragement from a gallant action main- tained by the 15th Hussars, five hundred of whom took, cut down, and dispersed, nearly double their own number of French cavalry. All now imagined they were to attack Soult, who had concentrated his forces behind the river Carrion to receive the assault. The British army was in the highest pos- sible spirits, when news were suddenly received that Soult had been considci^bly reinforced ; that Buonaparte was marching from Madrid at the head of ten thousand of his Guards ; and that the French armies, who liad been marching to the soutli of Spain, had halted and assumed a dircciion to the north-west, as if to enclose and destroy the British army.* This was exactly the danger which Moore had never ceased to apprehend, even when executing the movement that led to it. A retreat into, if not through Galicia, was the only mode of avoiding the perils by which the British were sur- rounded. The plan of defending this strong and mountainous province, or at least of effecting a retreat through it with order and deliberation, had been in view for several weeks ; Sir David BairdV division of the army passed through it in their advance to Astorga ; yet, so imperfect at that time was the British general staff", that no accurate know- ledge seemed to have been possessed of the roads through the country, of the many strong military positions which it presents, or of the particular military advantages which it aff'ords for defensive war. Another deficiency, incidental to our service at that period, was the great deficiency of the com- missariat department, which had been pointed out so forcibly by Sir Arthur Welleslcy, but wliich had not yet been remedied.^ Sufficient exertions in this department might have brought forward supplies from Corunna, and collected those which . Galicia itself afforded ; and the troops, retiring gi-adually from position to po- sition, and maintained from their own resources, would have escaped the loss and dishonour of a retreat which resembled a flight in every particu- lar, excepting the terror which accompanies it. Besides these great deficiencies, a disadvantage of the most distressing kind, occurred, from the natural and constitutional aversion of the British army to retrograde movements. Full of hope and confidence when he advances, the English soldier wants the pliability, lightness, and elasticity of character, which enables the Frenchman to distin- guish himself during a retreat, by his intelligence, discipline, and dexterity. Chafed, sullen, and dis- contented, the soldiers next became mutinous and insubordinate ; and incensed against the Spaniards, by whose want of zeal they thought they had been betrayed, they committed the most unjustifiable excesses on the unresisting inhabitants. Despite the repeated orders of the commander-in-chief, endeavouring to restrain the passions and soothe the irritation of the soldiers, these disgraceful out- rages were continued. It is matter of some conso- lation, that, losing their character for discipHne, they retained that for courage. The French, who had pressed on the British rear, near to Benevente, and thrown across the ri\or a large body of the Imperial cavalry, were driven back and defeated on the 29th December; and, leaving General Lefebvre Desuouettes a prisoner, in future were contented with observing, without pressing upon, the English i-etrcat.* At Astorga, 30th December, the commanderin- ' Southey, vol. ii., p. 481. 2 " In my life," says one who was present, " I never wit- nessed sucli an instantaneous! :'-witlierin[» effect upon anybody of living creatures! A few ninrmurs only were heard, but every countenance was changed, and they who, the minute before, were full of that confideDce which ensures victory, were at once deprived of all he.-irtand hope." — South KV, vol. ii.. p. i'xr a Sir Arthur Wellesley, while exculpating from blame the individuals cfimposinp t!ie commissariat of the I'nrtuguesc sxpedition, added these words:—" The fact is, Itiat 1 wished ,0 draw the attention of the government to this important branch of the jiublic service, whiih is but little understood i-i this country. The evils of which 1 complained, are probably owing to the nature of our political situation, which im veiiu us from undertaking great military operations, in winch the subsistence of armies becomes a subject of serious coiisidera tioiiand difticultv ; and tliise evils consisted in the inexpe- rience of almost every imiividual, of the mode of procunrg, conveving, and distributing supplies." He requested that tlin e.xplaiiation might stand in the minutes.— Southey, vol- i., p. 34(1. — S. * " This news was brought to the Emperor at Valdcr.is, and gave him great pain owing to the particular value hcsitupjii 490 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. chief found about 5000 Spaniards under Komana, tlie relics of the Galician army. These troops wanted clothing, accoutrements, arms, ammunition, and pay — they wanted, in short, every thing, excepting that courage and devotion to the cause af their country, which would have had a better fate, had fortune favoured desert. The Spanish general still proposed to make a stand at this rallying point ; but whatever miglit be Romana's own skill, and the bravery of his fol- lowers, his forces were not of a quality such as to induce Sir John Moore to halt his retreat, which he now directed avowedly upon Corunna. The scarcity of provisions required forced marches, and combined, with want of general knowledge of the country in a miUtary sense, to hurry forward the soldiers, who too readily took a 1 vantage of these irregular movements to straggle and plunder, inflicting on the friendly natives, and receiving from them in return, the mutual evils which are given and received by invaders in an enemy's country. The weather dark and rainy — the roads blockaded by half-melted snow — the fords become almost impassable — augmented the difficul- ties of a retreat, resembling that by which a defeated army is forced into a country totally unknown to them, and through which the fugitives must find tlieir way as they can. The baggage of the army, and its ammunition, were abandoned and destroyed. The sick, the wounded, were left to the mercy of the pursuers ; and the numbers who in that hour of despair gave way to the national vice of intoxi- cation, added largely to the ineffective and the helpless. The very treasui'e-chests of the army were thrown away and abandoned. There was never so complete an example of a disastrous retreat. One saving circumstance, already mentioned, tended to qualify the bad behaviour of the troops ; namely, that when a report arose that a battle was to be expected, the courage, nay, the discipline of the soldiers, seemed to revive. This was especially the case on the 6th January, when the French ven- tured an attack upon our rear-guard near Lugo. So soon as a prospect of action was presented, stragglers hastened to join their ranks — the dis- obedient became at once subordinate, as if on the parade ; and it was made manifest that tlie call to battle, far from having the natui-al effect of intimi- dating to utter dispersion troops already so much disordered, was to the English army the means of restoring discipline, steadiness, and confidence. The French having declined the proffei-ed en- gagement. Sir John Moore continued his retreat under the same disadvantageous circumstances, until he arrived at Corunna, the original object of his destination. He was preparing to era jark his fiirces in the transports, which lay ]5repared for their reception, when his pursuer, Suuit, now press- ing boldly forward, made it evident that this could tlie chasseurs of the guard. He did not, however, condemn the courageous determination of their colonel, but he regret- ted that he had not shown more self-command."— Sa vary, torn, ii., part ii.. p. 21. ' Southev, vol. ii , p. 524. " As the soldiers iilaced hira in a bhinket. his sword got entangled, and the hilt entered the wound. Cajitain Hardinge attempted to take it ofl", but the dying man sto|)ped him, saving, ' It is as well as it is ; I had rather it should go out of the field with me." And in that manner, so becoming to a soldier, Moore was borne from the figlit."— NAriEft, vol. i., p. 497. « "Sir John Moore lived to hear that the battle was won. [1800 not be accomplished unless either by a convention with him, or by the event of a battle, which might disqualify him from opposing the embarkation. Sir John Moore, with the dignity becoming his character, chose the latter alternative, and occu- pied a position of no great strength in front of the town, to protect the embarkation. The attack was made by the French on the 16th January, in heavy columns, and with their usual vivacity ; but it was sustained and repelled on all hands. The gallant general was mortally wounded in the action, just as he called on the 42d Highland regiment to " remember Egypt," and reminded the same brave mountaineers, that though ammunition was scarce, " they had their bayonets." ' Thus died on the field of victory, which atoned for previous misfortunes, one of the bravest and best officers of the British army. His body was wrapped in his military cloak, instead of the usual vestments of the tomb ; it was deposited in a grave hastily dug on the ramparts of the citadel of Co- runna ; and the army completing its embarkation upon the subsequent day, their late general was " left alone with his glory." Thus ended, in the acquisition of barren laurels, plentifully, blended with cypress, the campaign, wliich had been undertaken by so beautiful and efficient an army, uader so approved a commander. The delay in sending it to the scene of action was one great cause of its failure, and for that the gal- lant general, or his memory, cannot be held re- sponsible. Such a force at Salamanca, while the Fi'ench were unequal in numbers to the Spanish armies, might have had the most important conse- quences. At a later period, when the patriotic armies were every where defeated, we confess tliat General Moore, witli the ideas which he enter- tained of the Spaniards, does not seem to us to have been called upon to place the fate «f the British army — auxiliai'ies, it must be observed, not principals in the war — on the same desperate cast by which the natives were compelled to abide. Tim disasters of the retreat appear to rest on want of knowledge of the gi-ound they were to traverse, and on the deficiency of the commissariat, which, tliough the army must be entirely dependent on it, was not at that time sufficiently under the control of the commander-in-chief. We owe it to his me- mory to say, that at the close of his own valuable life, he amply redeemed in his last act the charac- ter of the armv which he commanded.'-' CHAPTER XLVII. General Bdllard occupies Madrid — Napoleon re- turns to France — Cause of his hurried return — VifAC of the Circumstances leading to a Rupture ivith Austria — Feelings of Russia upon this occa- sion — Secret intrigues of Talleyrand to preserve ' Arc the French beaten ? ' was the question which he repeated to every one who came into his apartment; and, addressing his old friend. Colonel Anderson, he said, ' You know that 1 always wished to die this way.' His strength was fast failing, and life was almost extinct, when, with an unsubdued spirit, he exci.aimed, ' I hope the people of England will be satisfied ! I hope my country will do me justice ! ' The battle was scarcely ended, when his corpse, wrapped in a military cloak, was in- terred by the officers of the staff in the citadel of Corunna. The guns of the enemy paid his funeral honours ; and Soult, with a noble feeling of respect for his valour, raised a iDOBfl- niciit to his memory."— NAriKR, vol. i., p. illl). 1809.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 491 Peace — Immense r.vertions made bi/ Austria — Counter efforts of Buonaparte — The Austrian Army enters Bavaria, 9th April, 1809 — Naio- leon hastens to meet them — Avstrians defeated at Abensherg on the '2Qth — and at Echniihl on the 22fi — They are driven out of Ratisbon on the 23d — The Archduke Charles retreats into Bohemia — JVapoleon pushes forward to Vienna — which, after a brief defence, ia occupied by the French on the \2th of May — R<:trospect of the events of the War in Poland, Italy, the North of Germany, and the Tyrol — Enterprises of Schill — of the Duke of Brunsicick Oels — Moremeiits in the Tyrol — Cha- racter and Manners of the Tyrolese — Retreat of the Archduke John into Hungary. Having thus completed the episode of Sir John Moore's expedition, we resume the progress of Napoleon, to whom the successive victories of Reynosa, Burgos, and Tudela, had offered a tri- umphant path 10 Madrid. On the 1st of December, liis head-quartei-s being at tlie village of Saint Augustino, he was within sight of that capital, and almost within hearing of tlie bells, whose liollow and continued toll announced general insurrection, and the most desperate resistance. Nor was the zeal of the people of Madrid inadequate to the oc- casion, had it been properly directed and encou- raged. They seized on the French officer who brought a summons of surrender, and were with difficulty prevented from tearing him to pieces. Op the 3d, the French attacked Buen Retiro, a palace which had been fortified as a kind of citadel. A thousand Spaniards died in tlie defence of this stronghold. On the 4th, Morla opened a capitu- lation with Napoleon. He and Yriarte, another noble Spaniard, of whom better things had been hoped, came to testify their repentance for the rash part they liad undertaken, and to express their sense that the city could in nowise be defended ; but, at the same time to state, that the populace and volunteers were resolute in its defence, and that some delay would be necessary, to let their zeal cool, and their fears come to work in their turn. Buonaparte admitted these deputies to his own presence, and with the audacity which sometimes characterised his language, he read tliem a lecture on tlieir bad faith,' in not observing the treaty of Baylen — on their bad faith, in suffering Frenchmen to be assassinated — on tlieir bad faith, in seizing upon the French squadron at Cadiz. This rebuke was gravely urged by the individual, who had kid- napped the royal family of Spain while they courted his protection as his devoted vassals — who had seized the fortresses into whicli his troops had been received as friends and allies — who had floated the streets of Madrid with the blood of its population — and, finally, who had taken it upon him to assimie the supreme authority, and dispose of the crown of Spain, under no better pretext than that he had the will and the power to do so. Had a Spaniard been at liberty to reply to the Lord of Legions, and reckon with him injury for injury, falsehood for falseliood, drop of blood for drop of blood, what an awful balance must have been struck against him !* ' " Injustice and bad faith," exclaimed the Emperor, " al- ways recoil upon those who are guilty of either." — Fourteenth BiiUcliii. * " ' The Spanitli ulcer destroyed me,' was an expression of In the meantime, those citizens of Madrid who had determined on resistance, began to see that they were deserted by such as should have headed them in the task, and their zeal became cooled under the feelings of dismay and distrust. A military convention was finally concluded, in virtue of which General Belliard took possession of the city on the 4th of December. The terms were so favourable, as to show that Buonaparte, while pretending to despise the sort of resistance wliicli the population might have effected, was well pleased, nevertheless, not to drive them to extremity. He then published a proclamation, setting forth his desire to be the regenerator of the Spanish empire. But in case his mild and liealing mediation should be again refused, he declared he would treat them as a con- quered people, and place his brother on another throne. " I will, in that case, set the crown of Spain on my own head, and I shall know how to make it respected ; for God," concluded this extra- ordinary docunieiit, " has given me the power and the will to surmount all difficulties.'" ^ There were now two operations which nearly concerned Buonaparte. The first was the disper- sion of the remaining troops of Castanos, which had escaped the fatal battle of Tudela, and such other armed bodies as continued to occupy the south of Spain. In this the Frencli had for some time an easy task ; for the Spanish soldiers, sur- prised and incensed at their own disasters, were, in many instances, the assassins of their generals, and the generals had lost all confidence in their mutinous followers. But before pursuing his suc- cesses in the south, it was Buonaparte's first reso- lution to detach a part. of the French army upon Portugal, by the way of Talavera, and by occupy- ing Lisbon, intercept the retreat of Sir John Moore and his English army. The advance of the English general to Salamanca interfered with this last de- sign. It .seemed to Napoleon, that he did not yet possess forces sufficient at the same time to con- front and turn back Sir John Moore, and, on the other hand, to enter Portugal and possess himself of Lisbon. The latter part of the plan was post- poned. Placing himself at the head of his Guards, Napoleon, as we have seen, directed his march to- wards Valladolid, and witnessed the retreat of Sir John Moore. He had tlie pleasure of beholding with his own eyes the people whom he hated most, and certainly did not fear the least, in full retreat, ami was observed scarcely ever to have appeared so gay and joyous as during the pursuit, which the Frencli officers termed tlie race of Benevente.' But he had also the less pleasing spectacle of the skirmish, in which tlie general commanding the cavalry of his Imperial Guard was defeated, ami his favourite, General Lefebvre, made prisoner. He halted with his Guards at Astorga, left Ney with 18,000 men to keep the country in subjection, and assigned to Soult the glorious ta^k of pursuing the English and completing their destruction. We liave already seen how far he proved able to ac- complish his commission. Meanwhile, the Emperor himself returned to Valladolid, and from thence set off for France with the most precipitate haste. His last act was to deep anguish which escaped from Napoleon in liis own houi of misfortune." — Napier, vol. i., p. 414. 3 Nineteenth Bulletin of the French Army in Ppain. ■• Savary, torn, ii., i>urt ii., p. ;0; 'J nentystcond Uulktjii. 492 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1809. aeclare his brother Joseph generahssimo over the French armies ; yet, notwithstanding this mark of trust and confidence, there is reason to believe that Buonaparte repented already his liberality, in assigning to another, though his own brother, an appanage so splendid, and which was likely to cost BO much blood and treasure. Something to this purpose broke out in his proclamation to the people of Madrid ; and he was more explicit when speak- ing confidentially to the Abbe de Pradt, whom, in returning from Benevente, the Emperor met at Valladolid. They were alone ; it was a stormy night ; and Buonaparte, opening the window from time to time, to ascertain the possibility of travelling, only turned from it to overwhelm Monsieur de Pradt with ques- tions on the state of the capital which he had just left. The abbe' did not disguise their disaffection ; and when Napoleon endeavoured to show the in- justice of their complaints, by insisting on the blessings he had conferred on Spain, by the dimi- nution of tithes, abolishing feudal servitudes, and correcting other abuses of the old government, De Pradt answered by saying, that the Spaniards did not thank Napoleon for relief from evils to which they were insensible ; and that the country was in the situation of the wife of Sganarelle in the farce, who quarrelled with a stranger for interfering with her husband when he was beating her. Buona- parte laughed, and continued in these remarkable words : — " I did not know what Spain was. It is a finer pountry than I was aware, and I have made Joseph a more valuable present than I dreamed of. But you will see, that by and by the Spaniards will commit some folly, which will place their country once more at my disposal. I will then take care to keep it to myself, and divide it into five great viceroyships." ' While the favourite of fortune nourished these plans of engrossing and expanding ambition, the eagerness of his mind seems to have communicated itself to his bodily frame ; for, when the weather permitted him to mount on horseback, he is said at once, and without halting, save to change horses, to have performed the journey from Valladolid, to Burgos, being tliirty-five Spanish leagues, or about seventy English miles and upwards, in the space of five hours and a half.^ The jncredible rapidity with which Napoleon pressed his return to France, without again visiting Madrid, or pausing to hear the fate of the English army, surprised those around him. Some conjec- tured that a conspiracy had been discovered against his authority at Paris ; others, that a band of Spa- niai'ds had devoted themselves to assassinate him ; a third class assigned different causes ; but it \\ as soon found that the despatch which lie used had its cause in the approaching rupture with Austria.^ This breach of friendship appears certainly to have been sought by Austria without any of those plausible reasons of complaint, on which nations generally are desirous to bottom their quarrels. She ' De Pradt, p. 211. 2 •' Never did any sovereign ride at such a rate. He ordered his saddle horses to be placed in relays on the road, with a picket of chasseurs at each relay, so as tc leave a distance of only three or four leagues from one relaj to another. He often made these arrangements himself, and in the utmost ■ccrccy. Tlie horses belonging to the grooms carried port- manteaus with comi)lete changes of dres'i, and with portfolios eontainingpapers, pens, ink, maps, and telebc(iics."—SA vary, torn. U., part ii., p. 30. did not allege that, with respect to herself or hci dominions, France had, by any recent aggression, given her cause of offence. The Abbe de Pradt remarks upon the occasion, with his usual shrewd- ness, that if Napoleon was no religious observer of the faith of treaties, it could not be maintained that other states acted much more scrupulously in re- ference to him. Buonaparte himself has alleged, what, in one sense of the word was tiiie, that many of his wars were, in respect to the immediate causes of quarrel, merely defensive on his side. But this was a natural consequence of the style and sti-ucture of his government, which, aiming directly at universal empire, caused him to be looked upon by all nations as a common enemy, the legitimate object of attack whenever he could be attacked with advantage, because he himself neglected no opportunity to advance his pretensions against the independence of Eui'ope. The singular situation of Great Britain, unas- sailable by his arms, enabled her to avow this doc- trine, and to refuse making peace with Napoleon, on terms how favourable soever for England, un- less she were at the same time recognised as having authority to guarantee the security of such states as she had a chance of protecting, if she remained at war. Thus, she refused peace when offered, under the condition that France should have Sicily ; and, at the period of which we treat, she had again recently declined the terms of pacification proposed by the overture from Erfurt, which infeiTed the abandonment of the Spanish cause. This principle of constant war with Buonaparte, or rather with the progress of his ambition, guided and influenced every state in Europe, which had yet any claim for their independence. Their military disasters, indeed, often prevented their being able to keep the flag of defence flying ; but the cessions which they were compelled to make at the moment of defeat, only exasperated their feelings of resent- ment, and made them watch more eagerly for tlie period, when their own increasing strength, or the weakness of the common enemy, might enable them to resume the struggle. Napoleon's idea of a peace was, as we have elsewhere seen, that the party with whom he treated should derive no more f roiji the articles agreed upon, than the special pro- visions expressed in his favour. So long, for in- stance, as he himself observed all points of the treaty of Presburg, the last which he had dictated to Austria, that power, according to his view of the transaction, had no farther right either of re- monstrance or intervention, and was bound to view with indift'erence whatever changes the Fi'cnch Emperor might please to work on the general state of Europe. This was no doubt a convenient inter- pretation for one who, aiming at universal monar- chy, desired that there should be as little interfer- ence as possible with the various steps by which he was to achieve that great plan ; but it is entirely contradictory of the interpretation put upon treaties by the jurists ; and were the jurists of a contrary 3 " The Emperor returned amongst us in a sudden and un- expected manner; whether, as those about him assured me, that a band of Spanish fanatics had sworn to assassinate liiin (1 believed it, and had, on my side, given the same advice ;) or whether he was still acted upon by the fixed idea of a coa- lition in I'aris against his authority, 1 think both these mo- tives united had their weight with him ; hut they were dis- guised by referring the urgency of his sudden return to tlm preparations of Austria,"— Fouche, torn, i., p. .'ild. 1809.J LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 493 opinion, it is in diametrical opposition to tlio feel- ings of human nature, by which the policy of states, and the conduct of individuals, are alike dictated. Buonaparte being, as his conduct showed him, en- gaged in a constant train of innovation upon the liberties of Europe, it followed, that the states whom he had not been able entirely to deprive of independence, sliould, without farther, or more par- ticularly national cause of war, be perpetually on the watch for opportunities to destroy or diminish his ten'ible authority. In this point of view, the question for Austria to consider was, not the jus- tice of the war, but its expediency ; not her riglit of resisting the common enemy of the freedom of Europe, but practically, whether she had the means of effectual opposition. The event served to show that Austria had over-estimated her own resources. It is true, that an opportunity now presented itself, which seemed in the highest degree tempting. Buonaparte was absent in Spain, engaged in a dis- tant Conquest, in which, besides the general unpo- pularity of his cause, obstacles had arisen which were strangers to any previous part of his history, and resistance had been offered of a nature so seri- ous, as to shake the opinion hitherto entertained of his invincibility. On the other hand, Austria had instituted in her states organic laws, by which she secured herself the power of being able to call out to arms her immense and military population ; and her chief error seems to have been, in not postpon- ing the fatal struggle until these new levies had acquired a better disciplined and more consolidated form. Of this the Emperor of Russia was fully sensible, and, as wc have already noticed, he saw with great apprehension Austria's purpose of op- posing herself singly to the arms of France ; since, Ivowever close the intimacy which, for the present, subsisted betwixt Alexander and Napoleon, it was impossible for the former to be indifferent to the vast risk which Europe must incur, should France finally annihilate the independence of Austria. A series of intrigues, of a very singular nature, was accordingly undertaken at Paris, in the hope of preserving peace. Talleyrand, who, perhaps on Napoleon's own account as well as that of France, was unwilling that another great continental war should arise, was active in endeavouring to discover means by which peace might be preserved.' In the evening, it was his custom to meet the Counts Metternich and Romanzow at the assemblies of the Prince of Tour and Taxis, and there, totally un- known to Buonaparte, to agitate the means of pre- venting war ; — so certain it is, that even the ablest and most absolute of sovereigns was liable, like an ordinary prince, to be deceived by the statesmen around him. But the ingenuity of these distin- guished politicians could find no means of recon- ciliating the interests of Austria — seeing, as she thought, an opportunity of forcing from Napoleon, in his hour of weakness, what she had been com- pelled to surrender to him in his hour of strength — and those of Buonaparte, wlio knewlhat so soon as he should make a single sacrifice to compidsion, ' Jomini, torn, iii., p. 1.33 ; Savary, torn, ii., part ii., p. 32. 2 Jomini, torn, iii., p. 15.i. 8 " A conscription was immediately called out ; the soldiers were equipped m all haste, and sent off' in carriaRcs to their deMination. The guard, which was still at Hurgos, wasordered to repair to Germany. Never had Na)>oleon been taken so much by surprise : this war completely astonished him. — he would bo hold as having degraded that high military reputation which was tlie foundation of his power. It may reasonably be supposed, that, with the undecided war of Spain on his" hands, he would willingly have adjourned the contest ; but with him, the sound of the trumpet was a summons to be complied with, in the most complicated state of general embarrassment. The exertions made by Austria on this import- ant occasion were gigantic, and her forces were superior to those which she had been able to sura ■ mon out at any former period of her history. In- cluding the army of reserve, they were computed as high as five hundred and fifty thousand men. which the Archduke Charles cnce more commanded in the character of generalissimo.* It is said that this gallant prince did not heartily approve of the war, at least of the period chosen to commence it, but readily sacrificed his own opinion to the desire of contributing his utmost abilities to the service of his brother and of his country. Six corps d'arme'e, each about tliirty thousand strong, were destined, under the archduke's imme- diate command, to maintain the principal weight of the war in Germany ; a seventh, under the Arch- duke Ferdinand, was stationed in Galicia, and judged sufficient to oppose themselves to what forces Russia, in compliance with her engagements to Napoleon, might find herself obliged to detach in that direction ; and two divisions, under the Archduke John, were destined to awaken hostili- ties in the north of Italy, into which they were to penetrate by the passes of Carinthia and Carniola. Buonaparte had not sufficient numbers to oppose the.se formidable masses ; but he had recourse to his old policy, and trusted to make up for deficiency of general numerical force, by such rapidity of movement as should ensure a local superiority on the spot in which the contest might take place.^ He summoned out the auxiliary forces of the Confede- ration of the Rhine, and of the King of Saxony. He remanded many troops who were on their march for Spain, and by doing so virtually adjourn- ed, and, as it proved, for ever, the subjugation of that coimtry. He had already in Germany the corps of Davoust, and of General Oudinot. The garrisons which France had established in Prussia, and in the northern parts of Germany, were drain- ed for the purpose of reinforcing his ranks ; but the total amount of his assembled forces was still great- ly inferior to those of the Archduke Charles.* On the 9th of April, 1809, the archduke crossed the Inn ; and thus a second time Austria com- menced her combat with France, by the invasion of Germany. Some confidence was placed in the general discontent which prevailed among the Germaii.s, and especially those of the Confederation of the Rhine, and their hatred of a system which made them on every occasion the instruments of French policy. The archduke averred in his manifesto, that the cause of his brother was that of general independence, not individual aggrandise- ment ; and he addressed himself particularly to those his brothers of Germany, who w ere now com- ' There must," he said to us, ' be some plans in preparation which I do not penetrate, for there is madness in cleclarinR war aRainst me. They fancy mc dead. I expect a courier from Russia : if matters ro on there as I have reason to hope they do, I will give them work." "— Savarv lom. ii., part ii., p. .■)4 4 Jomini, torn, in., p. 156. 494 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1809. pelled by circumstances to serve in tlio opposite ranks. Whatever effects might have been produced by such an address, supposing it to have had time to operate" the result was disconcerted by the promptitude, which with Buonaparte was almost always the harbinger of success. While the Austrian army moved slow, and with frequent halts, encumbered as they were with their baggage and supplies. Napoleon had no sooner learned by the telegraph the actual invasion of Ba- varia, than he left Paris on the instant, [11th April,] and hurried to Frankfort ; without guards, without equipage, almost without a companion, save the faithful Josephine, who accompanied him as far as Strasbourg, and there remained for some time watching the progress of the campaign, the event of which was destined to lia ve such a melancholy influence on her own happiness. The Archduke Charles's plan was to act upon the offensive. His talents were undoubted, his army greatly superior in numbers to the French, and favourably disposed, whether for attack or defence ; yet, by a series of combinations, the most beautiful and striking, perhaps, which occur in the life of one so famed for his power of forming such, Buonaparte was enabled, in the short space of five days, totally to defeat the formidable masses which were opposed to him. Napoleon found his own force unfavourably dis- posed, on a long line, extending between the towns of Augsburg and Ratisbon, and presenting, through the incapacity it is said of Berthier, an alarming vacancy in the centre, by operating on which the enemy might have separated the French army into two parts, and exposed each to a flank attack.' Sensible of the full, and perhaps fatal consequences, which might attend this error. Napoleon deter- mined on the daring attempt to concentrate his ai'my by a lateral march, to be accomplished by the two wings simultaneously. With this view he posted himself in the centre, where the danger was principally apprehended, commanding Massena to advance by a flank movement from Augsburg to Pfaffenhofen, and Davoust to approach the centre by a similar manceuvre from Ratisbon to Neustadt. These marches nuist necessarily be forced, that of Davoust being eight, that of Massena betwixt twelve and thirteen leagues. The order for this daring operation was sent to Massena on the night of the 17th, and concluded with an earnest recom- mendation of speed and inteUigence. When the time for executing these movements had been 20th A 1 ^llo^^^d, Buonaparte, at the head of the centre of his forces, made a sudden and deperate assault upon two Austrian divisions, com- manded by the Archduke Louis and General Hiller. So judiciously was this timed, that the appearance of Davoust on the one flank kept in cheek those other Austrian corps d'armee, by whom the divi- ' Jomini, lorn, iii., p. 15A "At Donawert we found the Prince of Neufchatcl ; but, very shoitly after our arrival, the Emperor fell into a passion, which we were at a loss to account for : he was addressing Berthier in these words : ' What you have done appears to me so extraordinary, that, if you were not my friend, I should suspect you of betraying me; for Da- voust IS really situated at j)resent much more for the conve- nience of the Archduke Charles than for mine.' This was actually the case: the Prince of Neufchatel had put a wrong construction upon the Emperor's order, and so interpreted it as to expose us to tlie danger of a moat serious disaster at the very commencemtnt of the canii)aign."— Savaky, torn, ii., part ii., p. 4ii sions attacked ought to have been supported ; while the yet more formidable oj)erations of Mas- sena, in the rear of the Archduke Louis, acJiieved the defeat of the enemy. This victory, gained at Abensberg upon the 20th April, broke the line of the Austrians, and exposed them to farther mis- fortunes.''' The Emperor attacked the fugitives the next day at Landshut, where the Austrians lost thirty pieces of cannon, nine thousand prisoners, and much ammunition and liaggage.^ On the 2'2d April, after this fortunate com- mencement of the campaign, Buonaparte directed his whole force, scientifically arranged into differ- ent divisions, and moving by different routes, on the principal army of the Archduke Charles, which, during these misfortunes, he had concentrated at Eckmiihl. The battle is said to have been one of the most splendid which the art of war could dis- play. An hundred thousand men and upwards were dispossessed of all theii* positions by the com- bined attack of their scientific enemy, the divi- sions appearing on the field, each in its due place and order, as regularly as the movements of the various pieces in a game of chess. All the Austrian wounded, great part of their artillery, fifteen stand of colours, and 20,000 prisoners, remained in the power of the French.* The retreat was attended with corresponding loss ; and Austria, again baffled in her hopes of reacquiring her influence in Ger- many, was once more reduced .to combat for her existence amongst nations. On the subsequent day, the Austrians made some attempt to protect the retreat of their army, by defending Ratisbon. A partial breach in the ancient walls was hastily effected, but for some time the French who advanced to the storm, were destroyed by the musketry of the defenders. There was at length difficulty in finding volunteers to re- new the attack, when the impetuous Lannes, by whom they were commanded, seized a ladder, and rushed forward to fix it himself against the walls. " I will show you," he exclaimed, " that your ge- neral is still a grenadier." The example prevailed, the wall was surmounted, and tlie combat was continued or renewed in the streets of the town, which was speedily on fire. A body of French, rushing to charge a body of Austrians, which still occupied one end of a burning street, were inter- rupted by some waggons belonging to the enemy's train. " They are tumbrils of poAvder," cried the Austrian commanding, to the French ; " if the flames reach them, both sides perish." The combat ceased, and the two parties joined in averting a calamity which must have been fatal to both, and finally, saved the amnnmition from the flames. At length the Austrians were driven out of Ratisbon, leaving much cannon, baggage, and prisoners, in the hands of the enemy.* In the middle of this last melee, Buonaparte, 2 Jomini, torn, iii., p. 167 ; SaVary, torn, ii., part ii., p. H7. 3 "At Landshut the Emperor was fortunately overtaken by Massena, to whom he had written these flattering words, ' Acti- vity, activity !— quickness! I rely upon you.' The marshal, whose zeal was excited by these words, had accelerated his movement, and arrived on the field of battle just at the close of the action." — Savabv, tom. ii., part ii., p. 57. ■• Second Bulletin of the French Army ; Jomini, tom. iii,, p. 173. 5 Third Bnlleim ; Jomini, torn, iii., p. 17S ; Savary, torn. ii.. ]iart ii., p. 03. ] SOS.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 4r):> %vho was speaking witli Iiis adjutant, Duroc, observ- ing the aft'air at some distance, was strucli on the toe of the left foot by a spent mnsket-ball, which occasioned a severe contusion. " That must have been a Tyrolese," said the Emperor coolly, " who has aimed at me from such a distance. These fel- lows fire with wonderful precision." Those around remonstrated with him for exposing his person ; to which he answered, " What can I do ? I must needs see how matters go on." The soldiers crowded about him in alarm at the report of his wound ; but lie would hardly allow it to be dressed, so eager was he to get on horseback and put an end to the solicitude of his army, by showing himself publicly among the troops.' Thus within five days — the space, and almost the very days of the month, which Buonaparte had assigned for settling the affairs of Germany — the original aspect of the war was entirely changed ; and Austria, who had engaged in it with the proud hope of reviving her original influence in Europe, was now to continue the struggle for the doubtful chance of securing her existence. At no period in his momentous career, did the genius of Napoleon appear more completely to prostrate all opposition ; at no time did the talents of a single individual ex- ercise such an influence on the fate of the universe. The forces which he had in the field had been not only unequal to those of the enemy, but they were, in a military point of view, ill-placed, and imper- fectly combined. Napoleon arrived alone, found himself under all these disadvantages, and we re- peat, by his almost unassisted genius, came, in the course of five days, in complete triumph out of a struggle which bore a character so unpromising.* It was no wonder that others, nay, that he himself, should have annexed to his person the degree of superstitious influence claimed for the chosen in- struments of Destiny, whose path must not be crossed, and whose arms cannot be arrested. While the relics of the Archduke Charles's army were on full retreat to Bohemia, Napoleon employed the 23d and 24111 of April, to review his troops, and distributed with a liberal hand honours and i-ewards. It was in this sphere that he was seen to greatest advantage ; for although too much of a soldier among sovereigns, no one could claim with better right to be a sovereign among soldiers. It was on this occasion, that, striking a soldier familiarly on the cheek, as he said, " I create you a knight," he asked the honoured party his name. " You ought to know it well," answered the sol- dier ; " since I am the man, who, in the deserts of Syria, when you were in extremity, relieved you from my flask." Napoleon instantly recollected the individual and the circumstance. " I make you," he said " a knight, with an annuity of twelve hundred francs — what will you do with so much money ? " — " Drink w ith my comrades to the health of him tliat is so necessary to us." The generals had their share in the Imperial 1 " I was present at the accident. The Emperor's surRcon, M. Vvan, was immediately sent for, who dressed the wound before us, and before all the soldiers who happened to be near at the time : the more they were ordered to keep oft', the nearer they approached. A moment of confusion ensued ; which was nothing more than a consequence of the attachment the trooiis bore him. Had the hall struck the instep, instead of the toe, it must have penetrated the foot. His lucky star was an;uii true to him on this occasion."— Savakv. torn, ii., part ii., bounty, particularly Davoust, to whose brilliant execution of the manoeuvres commanded by Napo- leon, the victory was directly to be attributed. He was created Duke of EckmUhl. It was a part ot Napoleon's policy, by connecting the names of fields of victory with the titles of those who contri- buted to acquire it, to ally the recollections of their merits with his own grateful acknowledgment of them. Thus the title of every ennobled marshal was a fresh incentive to such officers as were am- bitious of distinction. After the fatal battle of Eckmuhl, the Arch- duke Charles eftected, as we have seen, his retreat into the mountainous country of Bohemia, full of defiles, and highly capable of defei>ce, where he could remodel his broken army, receive reinforce- ments of every kind, and make a protracted defence, should Napoleon press upon him in that direction. But the victories of these memorable five days had placed the French Emperor in full possession of the right bank of the Danube, and of the high-road to the city of Vienna, which is situated on the same side of the river. True to his principle of striking directly at the heart of his antagonist, Napoleon determined to march on the metropolis of Austria, instead of pursuing the archduke into the mountains of Bohemia.' By the latter course, the war might have been long protracted, a con- tingency which it was always Napoleon's policy to avoid ; and, alarmed for the preponderance which France was about to acquire, Russia herself, now acting tardily and unwillingly as the ally of Napo- leon, might have assumed a right of mediating, which she had strength enough to enforce if it should be declined. On the other hand, the Austrian General Hiller, defeated at Landshut, and cut off from communi- cation with the archduke, had been able to unite himself with a considerable reserve, and assumed the mien of defending the high-road to the capital. Buonaparte had thus an enemy of some conse- quence in front, while the army of Charles might operate from Bohemia upon the communications in his rear ; and a universal national insurrection of the Tyrolese threatened not only entirely to expel the French and Bavarians from their moun- tains, but even to alarm Bavaria herself. Insur- rections were also beginning to take place all through Germany, of a character which showed, that, had the tide of war turned against France, almost all the north of Germany would have been in arms against her. These dangers, which would have staggered a man of less determination, only confirmed Napoleon in his purpose of compelling Austria to make peace, by descending the Danube, and effecting a second occupation of her capital. All was shortly in motion for the intended enter- prise. General Hiller, too weak to attempt the defence of the Inn, retreated to Ebersberg, a vil- lage with a castle upon the river Traun, which was in most places unfordable, and had elevated rocky 2 " On the night of the 22d of April (the eleventh day since his departure from Paris,) the Emperor established his head- quarters in a palace which the Archduke Charles had occu- pied during the whole day : it was, iiidcid, only at a late houi in the afternoon that the archdukegave up the ideaof passiiiR another night there, since we supped otf the dishes which had been prepared for himself and suite." — Savarv, tom. ii., pari ii., p. Ul. 3 Jomini, tom. iii., p. 177. 496 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1800 banks, scarpeu by the hand of Nature. One bridge communicating with the town, was the only mode of approaching the position, which, viewed in front, seemed almost impregnable. It was occupied by Hiller with more thau thirty thousand men, and a formidable train of artillery. He ti-usted to be able to maintain himself in this strong line of defence, luitil he should renew his comnuuiications with the Archduke Charles, and obtain that prince's co-ope- ration in the task of covering Vienna, by defending the course of the Danube. Upon the 3d of May, the position of Ebersberg was attacked by Massena, and stormed after a most | desperate resistance, which probably cost the victors as many men as the vanquished. The hardiness of this attack has been censured by some military critics, who pretend, that if Massena had confined liis front attack to a feint, the Austrian general would have been as effectually dislodged, and at a much cheaper rate, by a corresponding movement upon liis flank, to be executed by General Lannes, who passed the river Traun at Wels for that pur- pose. But Massena, either from the dictates of his own impetuous disposition, or because he had un- derstood the Emperor's commands as positively enjoining an attack, or tliat he feared Lannes might be too late in arriving, when e\erv moment was precious, because every moment might re-establish the communication between the archduke and Hiller — attempted and succeeded in the desperate resolution of disposting the Austrian general by main force.' General Hiller retreated to Saint Polten, then crossed the Danube by the bridge at Mautern, which he destroyed after his passage, and, march- ing to foi'm his junction with the Archduke Charles, left the right side of the Danube, and consequently the high-road to Vienna, open to the French. Na- poleon moved forward with a steady yet rapid pace, calculating upon gaining the advance neces- sary to arrive at the Austrian capital before the archduke, yet at the same time marching without precipitation, and taking the necessary measures for protecting his communications. Tlie city of Vienna, properly so called, is sur- rounded by the ancient fortifications which with- stood the siege of the Turks in 1683. The sub- urbs, which are of great extent, are surrounded by some slighter defences, but which could only be made good by a large army. Had the archduke, with his forces, been able to throw himself into Vienna before Buonaparte's arrival under its walls, no doubt a formidable defence might have been made.2 The inclination of the citizens was highly patriotic. They fired from the ramparts on the advance of the French, and rejected the summons of sm-render. The Archduke Maximilian was governor of the place, at the head of ten battalions of troops of the line, and as many of Landwehr, or militia. A shower of bombs first made the inhabitants sensible of the horrors to which they must neces- sarily be exposed by defensive war. The palace of the Emperor of Austria was in the direct front of this terrible fire. The Emperor himself, and the greater part of his family, had retired to the ' Fifth Bulletin of the Grand French Army ; Savary, torn. H-, part U., p. 6t); Jomini, torn, iii., p, 181 * Savary. torn, ii., part ii., p. 73. city of i>u(la in Hungary ; but one was left behind confined by indisposition, and this was Maria Louisa, the young archduchess, who shortly after- wai'ds became Empress of France. On intimation to tins purpose being made to Buonaparte, the palace was respected, and the storm of these ter- rible missiles directed to other quarters.' The in- tention of defending the capital was speedily given up. The Archduke Maximilian, with the troopa of the line, evacuated the city ; and, on the 1 2tli, General O'Reilly, commanding some battalions of landwehr, signed the capitulation with the French. Napoleon did not himself enter Vienna ; he fixed — for the second time — his headquarters at Schoen- brun, a palace of the Emperor's, in the vicinity of the capital. In the meanwhile, the Archduke Cliarles, unable to prevent the fall of Vienna, was advancing to avenge it. In the march which he made through Bohemia, he had greatly increased his army ; and the events in the north of Germany and the Tyrol had been so dangerous to French influence, that it required all the terrors of the battle of Eckmiihl to keep the unwilling vassals of the conqueror in a state of subjection. Before, therefore, we trace the course of remarkable events which w^ere about to take place on the Danube, the reader is requested to take a brief view of the war on the Polish fron- tier, in Italy, in the north of Germany, and in the Tyrol ; for no smaller portion of the civilized world was actually the scene of hostilities during this momentous period. In Poland, the Archduke Ferdinand threw him- self into the Grand Duchy of Warsaw, as the part of Poland which formerly belonged to Prussia ; obtained possession of Warsaw itself, and pressed northward with such vivacity, that, while Prince Poniatowski was hardly able to assemble a small defensive army between the Narew and the Vis- tula, the archduke approached Thorn, and was in a situation to summon Prussia to arms. The call would doubtless have been readily obeyed, had the Archduke Charles obtained any shadow of success in the commencement of the campaign. But the French had possession of all the most important Prussian fortresses, which rendered it imprudent, indeed almost impossible, for that power to offer any effectual means of resistance, until the arms of Austria should assume that decided preponder- ance, which they were not on this occasion doomed to attain.* The feeling of indignation against the foreign yoke had, however, penetrated deeply into the Vjosom of the Prussians. The doctrines of the Tugend-bund had been generally received among the higher and middling classes — the lower listened to the counsels only of their own patriotism and coui:age. The freedom of Europe — the indepen- dence of Germany — the delivery of Prussia from a foreign bondage— the obtaining security' for what was most dear and valuable to mankind, determined Schill, a Prussian major of hussars, to attempt, even witliout the commands of his King, the libe- ration of his country. During the former unhappy war, Schill, like 3 De Bourrienne, torn, viii., p. 190. * Jomiiii, torn, iii., p. 23C. 1809.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 497 Bluclier, conducted himself witli the most patriotic devotion, and had, when courage and conduct were rare, been distinguished by botii in his service as a partisan officer. On the present occasion, his at- tempt may be likened to a rocket sliot up into the firmament, w hich, by its descent upon a magazine, may give rise to the most appaUing resuUs ; or which, bursting in empty space, is only remem- bered by its brief and brilliant career. Chance allotted to Schill the latter and more unfavourable conclusion ; but his name must be enrolled in the Ust of those heroes who have ventured their lives to redress the wrongs of their country, and the remembrance of whose courage often forms the strongest impulse to others to reassume the heroic undertaking, for which they themselves have strug- gled in vain. The movement which this daring soldier had projected, was connected with a plan of general in- surrection, but was detected by a premature disco- very. Colonel Doernberg, an officer of the West- phalian guard, was engaged in the conspiracy, and had undertaken to secure the person of Jerome Buonaparte. His scheme was discovered ; and among his papers were found some which implicated Schill in these insurrectionary measures. Jerome, of course, made his complaint to the King oi Prus- sia, who was in no capacity to refuse to deliver up the accused officer. Obliged thus to precipitate his plan of insurrection, Schill put himself at the head of his regiment, which was animated by his own spirit, and marched out of Berlin to proclaim the independence of his country. He showed the ut- most speed and dexterity in his military manceu- vi-es, and soon assembled a small army of 5000 or 6000 men, sufficient to take posses>ion of various towns, and of the little fortress of Doniitz. Katt, another insurgent, placed himself at the head of an insurrection in Cassel ; and a yet more formidable leader, distinguished alike by iiis birth, his bravery, and his niisforttmes, appeared in the field. This was the Duke of Brunswick Oels, son of him who was mortally wounded at Jena. The j'ouug prince had ever since before his eyes the remembrance of his father, to whom Buonaparte's enmity would not permit even the leisure of an hour to die in his own palace. The breaking out of the war betwixt France and Austria seemed to promise him the road to revenge. The duke con- tracted with Austria to levy a body of men, and he was furnished by England with the means to equip and maintain them. His name, his misfortunes, his character, and his purpose, tended soon to fill his ranks ; the external ai)pcarance of which indi- cated deep sorrow, and a determined purpose of vengeance. His uniform was black, in memory of his father's death ; the lace of the cavalry was dis- posed like the ribs of a skeleton ; the helmets and caps bore a death's head on their front. The brave young soldier was too late in appear- ing in the field. If he could have united his forces with those of Schill, Doernberg, Katt, and the other insurgents, he might have effected a general rising in the north ; but the event of Eckmiihl, and the taking of Vienna, had already checked the awakening spirit of Germany, ^d subsequent mis- fortunes tended to subdue, at least for Ihc time, the tendency to universal resistance whicli would otherwise certainly have been manifested. It was about the middle of May when the Duke of VOL. II. Brunswick advanced from Bohemia into Lusatia, and by that time the corps of Schill and others were existing only as separate bands of partisans, surrounded or pursued by the adherents of France, to whom the successes of Buonaparte had given fresh courage. General Thielman opposed himself to the duke, at the head of some Saxon troops, and was strong enough to prevent his forcing his way into the middle of Germany, where his presence might have occasioned great events. Still, however, though the plans of the insurgents had been thus far disap- pointed or checked, their forces remained on foot, and formidable, and the general disposition of the nation m their favour rendered them more so. While the insuiTectional spirit which animated the GeiTuans smouldered in some places like sub- teri-anean fire, and partially showed itself by erup- tions in others, the mountains of the Tyrol were in one general blaze through their deepest recesses. Those wild regions, which had been one of the oldest inheritances of Austria, had been torn from her by the treaty of Presburg, and confeiTed on the new kingdom of Bavaria. The inclination of the inhabitants had not been consulted in this change. The Austrians had always governed them with a singular mildness and respect for their customs ; and had thus gained the affection of their Tyrolese subjects, who could not therefore understand how an allegiance resembhng that of children to a pa- rent, should have been transferred, without their consent, to a stranger sovereign, with whom they had no tie of mutual feeling. The nation was the more sensible of these natural sentiments, because the condition of the people is one of the most pri- mitive in Europe. The extremes of rank and wealth are unknown in those pastoral districts ; they have almost no distinction among then- inhabit- ants ; neither nobles nor serfs, neither office-bearers nor dependents; in one sense, neither rich nor poor. As great a degree of equality as is perliaps consist- ent with the existence of society, is to be found in the Tyrol. In temper they are a gay, animated people, fond of exertion and excitation, lovers of the wine-flask and the dance, extempore poets, and frequently good musicians. With these are united the more hardy qualities of the mountaineer, accustomed to the life of a shepherd and huntsman, and, amidst the Alpine precipices, often placed in danger of life, while exercising one or other of the occupations. As marksmen, the Tyrolese are ac- counted the finest in Europe ; and the readiness with which they olieycd the repeated summons of Austria during fonncr wars, .showed that their rustic employments had in no respect diminished their ancient love of military enterprise. Their magistrates in peace, and leaders in war, were no otherwise distinguished from the rest of the nation than by their sagacity and general intelligence, and as these qualities were ordinarily found among inufkeepers, who, in a country like the Tyrol, have the most general opportunities of obtaining infor- mation, many of that class were leaders in the me- morable war of IJIOO. These men sometimes could not even read or write, yet in general, exhibited so much common sense and presence of mind, such . iH -'•^ 1809.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 400 Biicli Other materials as he coulil obtain. The dili- goiiee of the engineer officer, Aubry, was distin- guished on this occasion. The Frcncli were oblij^cd to use fisliers' caissons filled with bullets, instead of anchors, and to make many other substitutions for the accomplishment of their objects. They laboured without interruption ; for the Austrians, though they made various demon- strations upon Krems and Linz, as if they them- selves meant to cross the Danube above Vienna, yet did nothing to disturb Napoleon's preparation for a passage at Ebersdorf, although troops might have been easily thrown into the Island of Lobau, to dispute the occupation, or to interrupt the work- men. It is impossible to suppose the Archduke Charles ignorant of the character of the groimd in the neighbourhood of his brother's capital ; we must therefore conjecture, that the Austrian general had determined to let Buonaparte accomplish his pur- pose of passing the river, in order to have the advantage of attacking him when only a part of his army had crossed, and of compelling him to fight with the Danube in his rear, which, in case of disaster, could only be repassed by a succession of frail and ill-constructed bridges, exposed to a thousand accidents. It is doing the archduke no discredit to suppose he acted on such a resolution, for we shall presently see he actually gained the advantages we have pointed out, and which, could they have been prosecuted to the uttermost, would have involved the ruin of Buonaparte and his army. The materials having been brought together from every quarter, Napoleon, on the 19th May, visited the isle of Lobau, and directed that the completion of the bridge should be pressed with all possible despatch. So well were his orders obeyed, that, ou the next day, the troops were able to commence their passage, although the bridge was still far from being complete. They were received by skirmishers on the left bank ; but as these fell back without any obstinacy of i-esistance, it became still more obvious that the archduke did not mean to disjnite the passage, more especially as he had not availed himself of the important means of doing so which the locality presented.' At the point where the extremity of the last bridge of the chain (for there were five in number, corresponding to the five streams,) touched the left bank of the Danube, the French troops, as they passed over, entered upon a little plain, extending between the two villages of Asperne and Essling. Asperue lies farthest to the left, a thousand toises distant from the bridge ; Essling is at the other ex- tremity of the plain, about one thousand five hun- dred toises from the same point. The villages, being built of mason-work, with gardens, terraces, and court-yards, formed each a little fortified place, of which the churchyard of As])erne, and a large granary at Essling, might be termed the citadels. A high-road, bordered by a deep ditch, extended between these two strong posts, which it connected as a curtain connects two bastions. This position, if occuj)ied, might indeed be turned on either flank, but the character of the ground would render the operation difficult. Still lartlier to the right la}' another village, called Enzcrsdorf. It is a thousand toises from As- ' Tenth Bulletin of ,lic rrciicli Aniiy; Savary, turn, ii., I'art ii.; p. 711; Ji'iiiini, loin, iii., p. Iti-'i-lDd. perne to Essling, and somewhat less from Esslint; to Enzersdorf. Before the^e v'illages rose an almost imperceptible ascent, which extended to two ham- lets called Raschdorf and Breitenlee, and on the left lay the wooded heights of Bisamberg, bound- ing the landscape in that direction. Having passed over near thirty thousand infantry, with about ;iix thousand horse. Napoleon directed a redoubt to be constructed to cover the extremity of the bridge on the left side. Meantime, liis troops occupied the two villages of Asperne and Esslhig, ^nd the line which connected them. The reports brought in during the night were contradictory, nor could the signs visible on the horizon induce the generals to agree concerning the numbers and probable plans of the Austrians. On the distant heights of Bisamberg many lights were seen, which induced Lannes and others to conceive the enemy to be there concentrated. But much nearer the French, and in their front, the horizon also exhibited a pale streak of about a league in length, the reflected light of numerous watch-fires, which the situation of the ground pre- vented being themselves seen. From these indications, while Lannes was of opinion they had before them only a strong rear- guard, Massena, with more judgment, maintained they were in presence of the whole Austrian ai'my. Napoleon was on horseback by break of day on the ■21st, to decide by his own observation ; but all the ground in front was so thickly masked and covered by the Austrian light cavalry, as to render it vain to attempt to reconnoitre. On a sudden, this living veil of skirmishers was withdrawn, and the Aus- trians were seen advancing with their whole force, divided into five colunms of attack, headed by their best generals, their numbers more than double those of the French, and possessing two hundred and twenty pieces of artillery. The combat com- menced by a furious attack on the village of As- perne, which seemed only taken that it might be retaken, only retaken that it might be again lost. The carnage was dreadful ; the obstinacy of the Austrians in attacking, could not, however, over come that of the French in their defence. Essling was also assaulted by the Austrians, though not with the same pertinacity ; yet many brave men fell in its attack and defence. The battle began about four afternoon ; and when the evening approached, nothing decisive had been done. ■ The Archduke brought his reserves, and poured them in successive bodies upon the dis- puted village of Asperne. Every garden, terrace, and farm-yard, was a scene of the most obstinate struggle. Waggons, oarts, harrows, ploughs, were employed to construct barricades. As the different parties succeeded on different points, those who were victorious in front were often attacked in the rear by such of the other jiarty as had prevailed in the next street. At the close of the day, ^lassena remained partially master of the place, on fire as it was with bombs, and choked with the slain. The Austrians, however, had gained possession of the church and churchyard, and claimed the supe- riority on the left accordingly. Essling was the ol)ject, during the last part of this bloody day, of three general attacks ; against all which the French made decisive head. At one time, Lannes, who defended the jiost, was so hard pressed, that he nuist have given way, iiad not 500 SCOTTS MISCELLANEOUS PROSE AYORKS. [1809. Xapoleon relieved him and obtained him breathing time, by a well-timed though audacious charge of cavalry. Night separated the combatants. TJie French could not in any sense be said to have been beaten ; but it was an unusual thing for them, fighting under Napoleon's eye, to be less than completely victorious. The Austrians could as little be called victors; but even the circum- stance of possessing themselves of the mout im- portant part of Asperne, showed that the advantage had been with, rather than against them ; and both armies were affected with the results of the day, rather as they appeared v. hen compared with those of their late encounters, than as considered in their own proper character. The feeling of the Austrians was exultation ; that of the French not certainly discouragement, but unpleasant surprise. On the S'Jd, the work of carnage recommenced. Both armies had received reinforcements during the night — Napoleon from the left bank, the Arch- duke from reserves in his rear. The French had at first the advantage — they recovered the church of Asperne, and made a number of Austrians pri- soners in the village. But the attacks on it were presently renewed with the same fury as on the preceding day. Napoleon here formed a resolu- tion wortliy of his military fame. He observed that the enemy, while pressing on the village of As- perne, which was the left-hanil point of support of the French position, kept back, or, in military language, refused the right and centre of his line, which he was therefore led to supjwse were weakened for the purpose of supporting the assault upon Asperne. He determined, for this reason, to advance the whole French right and centre, to assail the Austrian position on this enfeebled point. This movement was executed in echellon, advancing from the French right. Heavy masses of infantry, svith a numerous artillery, now advanced with fury. The Austrian line was forced back, and in some danger of being broken. Regiments and brigades began to be separated from each other, and there was a danger that the whole centre might be cut ofT from the right wing. The Archduke Charles hastened to the spot, and in this critical moment discharged at once the duty of a general and of a common soldier. He brought up reserves, replaced the gaps which had been made in his line by the fury of tlie French, and seizing a standard, himself led the grenadiers to the charge. At this interesting point, the national accounts of the action differ considerably. The French despatches assert, that, notwithstanding the per- sonal gallantry of their general, the Austrians were upon the point of a total defeat. Those of the Archduke, on the contrary, affirm that the re- sistance of the Austrians was completely success- ful, and that the French were driven back on all points.' All agree, that just at this crisis of the combat, the bridge which Buonaparte had esta- blished over the Danube was swept away by the flood. This opportune incident is said, by the Austrian 1 " Asperne was ten times taken, lost, and again conquered. EsslinK, after repeated attacks, could not be maintained. At eleven at niglit the villages were in flames, and we remained masters of tlie field of b:>ttle. The most complete victory crowned our army." — AKslrian Oficial liuUclin.—'^ee Siijj- plemeiU to Vie London Gaziite, Uiti Jiilii. • Tenth Bulletin of the French Army: .lomini, torn, iii., pp. a)3, 2J4; Scvary, lorn, ii., part ii., p. U-'; Kaj>p, p. 123. accounts, to have been occasioned by fire-ships sent down the river. Tlie French have denied the existence of the fire-i-hips, and, always unwilling to allow much effect to tlie result of their adver- saries' exertions, ascrile tlie destruction of the floating bridge to the trunks of trees and vessela borne down by a sudden swell of the Danube.- General Pelet,' indeed admits, with some reluc- tance, that timber frames of one or more wind- mills, filled with burning combustibles, descended the river. But whether the Austrians had exe- cuted the very natural plan of launching such fire- works and driftwood on the stream, or whether, as the ancient heathen might liave said, the aged and haughty river shook from his shoulders by his own exertions the yoke which the strangers had imposed on him, the bridge was certainly broken, and Buo- naparte's army was extremely endangered.* He saw himself compelled to retire, if he meant to secure, or rather to restore, his communication with the right bank of the Danube. The French movement in retreat was the signal for the Aus- trians' advance. They recovered Asperne ; and had not the French fought with the most extraor- dinary conduct and valour, they must have sus- t;tined the greatest loss. General Lannes, whose behaviour had been the subject of admiration dur- ing the whole day, was mortally wounded by a ball, which shattered both his legs. Massena sus- tained himself in this crisis with much readiness and presence of mind ; and the preservation of the army was chiefiy attributed to him. It is said, but perhaps falsely, that Napoleon himself showed on this occasion less alertness and readiness than was his custom. At length, the retreat of the French was pro- tected by the cannon of E.ssling, which was again and again furiously assaulted by the Austrians. Had they succeeded on this second point, the French army could hardly have escaped, for it was Essling alone which protected their retreat. Fortunately for Buonaparte, that end of the bridge which con- nected the great isle of Lobau with the left bank on which they were fighting still remained unin- jured, and was protected by fortifications. By this means he was enabled to draw back his shattered arm}' during the night into the great island, eva- cuating the whole position which he had held on the right bank. The lo.ss of both armies was dread- ful, and computed to exceed twenty thou.=and men on each side, killed and wounded. General St. Hilaire, one of the best French generals, was killed in the field, and Lannes, mortally wounded, was brought back into the island. He was much la- mented by Buonaparte, who considered him as his own work. " I found him," he said, " a mere swordsman, I brought him up to the highest point of talent. I found him a dwarf, I raised him up into a giant." The death of this general, called the Roland of the army, had something in it inex- pressibly shocking. With botli his legs shot to pieces, he refused to die, and insisted that the sur- geons should be lianged who were unable to cire 3 .Memoircs sur la Guerre de 180J. * " The enemy had a complete view of our body in its whole extent ; and contriving to fill with stones the largest boats they could find, they sent them down the current. This contri- vance proved but too successful." — Savary, torn, ii., part ii.» p. 85. IROO.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 501 a niareschal and Duke de Moiitebello. While he thus chiiinj to life, he called upon the Emperor, with the instinctive hope that Napoleon at least could defer the dreadful hour, and repeated his name to the last, with the wild interest witli which an Indian prays to the object of his superstition.' Buonaparte showed much and creditable emotion at beholding his faithful follower in such a condi- tion. - The news of this terrible action flew far and wide, and was represented by the Austrians as a glorious and complete victory. It might have well proved so, if both the villages of Asperne and Essling could have been carried. As it was, it cannot properly be termed more than a repulse, by which the French Emperor's attem])t to advance liad been defeated, and he himself driven back into an island, and cut off by an inundation from the oppo- site bank, on which his supplies were stationed ; and so far, certainly, placed in a very precarious condition. The hopes and wishes of all Europe were op- posed to the domination of Buonaparte ; and Hope, it is well known, can build fair fabrics on slighter foundations than this severe check afforded. It had been repeatedly prophesied, that Napoleon's fortune would some time or other fail in one of those hardy measures, and that by penetrating into the depth of his enemy's country, in order to strike a blow at his capital, he miglit engage himself be- yond his means of recovery, and thus become tlie victim of his own rashness. But the time was not yet arrived which fate had assigned for the fulfil- ment of this prophecy. More activity on the part of the Austrian prince, and a less vigorous deve- lopment of resources and energy on that of Napo- leon, might have produced a different result ; but, unhappily, the former proved less capable of im- {)roving his advantage, than the latter of remedying lis disasters. On the morning of the 23d, the day after the bloody battle of Asperne, Buonaparte, with his wounded, and the remnant of his forces, was cooped up in the marsliy island of Lobau, and another nearer to the left bank, called Enzersdorf, from the village of that name. This last island, which served as an outwork to the larger, is separated from the left bank, which was occupied by the Austrians, only by a small channel of twenty toises in breadth. The destruction of the bridges had al- together divided Buonaparte from the right bank, and from his rear, under Diivoust, which still re- • " He twined himself round me with all he had left of life; ho would hear of no one but mc, he thought but of me, it was a kind of instinct."— Napoleon, [.us Cases, torn, ii., p. .35.'!. On the.'ilst May, Napoleon wrote to Josephine — " I.a perte Due de MonteboUo, qui est mort ce matin, m' a fort afflig^. ^iiiisi timl Jiiiit .' .' Si tu peux contribucr a consoler la pauvre M.ir^chale, fais-le." — Leitrcs a Joseiiliim; tom ii., p 67- 2 •' The Emperor perceived a litter cfoming from the field of battle, with Marshal l.anncs stretched upon it. He ordered him to be carried to a retired spot, where they might be alone and uninterrupted: with his face bathed in tears, he ap- proached and embraced his dying friend."— Savary, tom. ii., part ii., ]). a?. 3 "'Ihe two arms of the rianiibc which traversed the island, and had hitherto been found dry, or at least lordable, had become dangerous torrents, requiring hanging bridges to be thrown over them The Emperor crossed them in a skiff, having Berthier and myself in his comjiany. When arrived on the l>aMk of the Danube, the Emperor sat down under a tree, and, being joined by Massena, ne formed a smixU 4"o«n- C'il, in order to collect the oi)inion of those aboul liiiu as to what had liest be done iinder existing circumstances. Let ilje reader picture to himself the Emperor Kitting between mained there.' The nature of the grour.J, on the left side of the Danube, opposite to the isle of Enzersdorf, admitted cannon being placed tf) com- mand the passage, and it is said that General Hiller ardently pressed the plan of ])assing the stream by open force at that point, and attacking successively the islands of Enzersdorf and Lobau, and offered to answer with his head for its success. The ex- treme loss sustained by the Austrian army on the two })receding days, appears to have been the cause that this proposal was rejected. It has been also judged possible for Prince Charles to have |)assed the Danube, either at Presburg or higher up, and thus placed himself on the right bank, for the pur- pose of attacking and destroying the reserves which Buonaparte had left at Ebersdorf under Davoust, and from which he was separated by the inunda- tion. Yet neither did the Archduke adopt this plan, but, resuming the defensive, from which he had only departed for a few hours, and concluding that Napoleon would, on his part, adopt the same plan which he had formerly pursued, the Austrian engineers were chiefly engaged in fortifying the ground between Asperne and Essling, while the army quietly awaited till it should suit Napoleon to renew his attempt to cross the Danube. With unexampled activity, Buonaparte had as- sembled materials, and accomplished the re-esta- blishment of his communications with the right bank, by the morning of the second day after the battle. Thus was all chance destroyed of the Austrians making any farther profit of the inter- ruption of his communications. With equal speed incessant labour converted the isle of Lobau into an immense camp, protected by battering cannon, and secured either from surprise or storm from the Austrian side of the river ; so that Killer's plan became equally impracticable. The smaller islands were fortified in the like manner ; and, on the first of July, Buonaparte pitched his headquarters'* in the isle of Lobau, the name of which was changed to Napoleon Island, as in an immense citadel, from which he had provided the means of sallying at pleasure upon the enemy. Boats, small craft, and means to construct, on a better plan than formerly, three floating bridges, were prepared and put iu order in an incredibly short space of time.* The former bridge, repaired so strongly as to have little to fear from the fury of the Danube, again comiected the islands occupied by the French with the left- hand bank of that river; and so imperfect were the Austrian means of observation, though the eam- Massena and Berthier on the bank of the Danube, with the bridge in iront, of which tlure scarcely remained any vestige, Davoust's corps on the other side of tlie broad river, and, he- hind, in the island of Lobau itself, the whole army separated from the enemy by a mere arm of the Danube, thirty or forty toises broad, and dei'rived of all means of extricating hiniseli from this position, and lie will admit that the lofty and iiower- ful mind of the Emperor could alojie be proof against aiscou- ragenient."— Savarv, tom. \i., part ii., p. 8;i. •^ ■' Malevolence has dcliglited iDrepteseuting the Emyieror as of a mistrustful character; and yet on this occasion, where ill-intentianed rueii might have made any attempt upon his person, his only guard at headquarters was the Portuguese legion, which watched as carefully over him as the veterans of the army of Italy oould have done." — Savarv, tom, ii., part ii., p. id. 5 " General Hcrtrrind, the Emperor's aide-de-camp, W5(s thf officer who executed this splendid work. He was one of tho best engineer Iacdonald-no more enmity Detwccn us— we must hence- fot ;h be friends ; a:. J, as a pledge of my sincerity, I will send you your marshals slatf. which vou so gloriously earned in yentcrday's battle."'— S.wary, torn, ii., jiart ii., [i. 128. turned all the fortifications which he had formed for the purpose of opposing -their passage, and whicli were thus rendered totall;,' useless. The villages of Essling and Enzersdorf had been carried, ana the French line of battle was formed upon the extremity of the Archduke's left wing, menacing him, of course, both in flank and rear. The Arch- duke Chai'les endeavoured to remedy tlie conse- quences of this surprise by outflanking the French right, while the Frencli made a push to break the centre of the Austrian line, the key of which posi- tion was the village of Wagram. Wagram «as taken and retaken, and oidy one house remained, which was occupied by the Archduke Charles, when night closed the battle, which had been bloody and indecisive. * Courier after courier were despatched to the Archduke John, to hasten his adyance. On the next day, being the 6th July, was fought the dreadful battle of Wagram, in which, it is said, that the Archduke Charles committed the great military error of extending his lines, and weaken • ing his centre. His enemy was too alert not to turn such an error to profit. Lauriston, A\'ith a hun- dred pieces of cannon, and Macdonald,^ at the liead of a chosen division, charged the Austrians in the centre, and broke through it. Napoleon himself showed all his courage and talents, and was ever in the hottest of the action, though the appearance of his retinue drew on him showei's of grape, by which he was repeatedly endangered."* At length the Austrian army seems to have fallen into disorder; the left wing, in particular, conducted ilself ill ; cries of alarm were heard, and the exam- ple of precipitate flight was set by those who should have been the last to follow it, when given by others. The French took twenty thousand prisoners ; and so complete was the discomfiture, that though the Archduke John came up with a part of his army before the affair was quite over, so little chance was there of redeeming the day, that he was glad to retire from the field unnoticed by the enemy.^ All hope of farther resistance was now aban- doned by the Austrian princes and government ; and they concluded an armistice with Buonaparte at Znaim, by which tliey agreed to evacuate the Tyrol, and put the citadels of Brunn and Gratz into the hands of Napoleon, as pledges for their sincerity in desiring a peace.® With this armistice sunk all the hopes of the gallant Tyrolcse, and of the German insurgents, who had sought by force of arms to recover the independence of their country. But the appearance of these patriots on the stage, though productive of no immediate result of importance, is worthy of particular notice as indicative of a recovery of national spirit, and of an awakening from that cold and passive slavery of mind, which makes men as patient under a change of masters, as the dull ani- * " Out of seventy-two hours of the 4th, 5th, andCth July, the Emperor was at least sixty hours on horseback. In the heighth of the danger, be rode in front of the line upon a horse as white as snow (it was called the Euphrates, and hail been sent to bira as a present from the Sophi of Persia.) He pro- ceeded from one extrennty of the line to tlie other, and re- turned at a slow pace : it will easily be believed, that shots were flying about him in every direction. I kept behind, with my eyes riveted upon liim, expecting at every moment to sea him ilrop from his horse." — Savary, torn. ii. part ii., p. 120. 5 Twenty-fifth Bulletin; Jomini, tom. iii., j). 267; Savaiy, torn, ii., part ii., \i. II7. " Twcntv seventh Rnlleliii. 1809."! LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. r)03 mal wlio follows uitli indifference any person who has the end of his halter in his hand. We, there- fore, referring to what we have said of the revival of luiblic feeling in Germany, have briefly to notice the termination of the expeditions of Schill and the Duke of Brunswick, together with the insurrection of the Tyrolese. The career of the gallant Schill had long since dosed. After traversing many parts of Germany, he had failed in augmenting his little force of about 5000 men, against whom Jerome Buonaparte had assembled a large army from all points. In his marches and skirmishes, Schill displayed great readiness, courage, and talent ; but so great were the odds against him, that men looked on, won- dered, and praised his coui-age, without daring to espouse his cause. Closely pursued, and often nearly surrounded, by bodies of Dutch, of Westphalians, and of Danes, Schill was at length obliged to throw himself into some defensive position, where he miglit wait the assistance of Great Britain, either to prosecute his adventure, or to effect his escape from the Continent. The town of Stralsund pre- sented facilities for this purpose, and, suddenly appearing before it on the 25tli of May, he took possession of the place ; repaired, as well as he could, its ruined fortifications, and there resolved to make a stand. But the French saw the necessity of treading out this spark, which might so easily have excited a conflagration. A large force of Dutch and Danish troops advanced to Stralsund on the 31st May, and in their turn forced their way into the place. Schill, with his brave companions, drew up in the market- place, and made a most desperate defence, which might even have been a successful one, had not Schill himself fallen, relieved by death from the yoke of the oppressor. The King of Prussia had from the beginning disavowed Schill's enterprise; and w hen the capture of Vienna rendered the Aus- trian cause more hopeless, he issued a proclamation against him and his followers, as outlaws. Availing themselves of this disavowal and denunciation, the victorious Freiich and their vassals proceeded to inflict on the officers of Schill the doom due to un- authorised robbers and pirates — a doom which, since the days of Wallace and Llewellyn, has been frequently inflicted by oppressors on those by whom their tyranny has been resisted. Schill's career was nearly ended ere that of the Duke of Brunswick began. Had it been possible for them to have formed a junction, the result of either enterprise might have been more fortunate. Tiie young duke, while he entered into alliance with Austria, and engaged to put himself at the head of a small flying army, declined to take rank in the Iin]ierial service, or appear in the capacity of one of their generals. He assumed the more dignified character of a son, bent to revenge liis father's d(;ath ; of a Prince of the Empii'e, determined to recover by the sword the inheritance of which he had been forcibly deprived by the invasion of Strangers. Neitlier his talents nor his actions were unequal to the part which he assumed. He defeated the Saxons repeatedly, and showed nmch gallantry and activity. But either from the character of the Austrian general, Am Ende, who should liave co- ' Le Royaume de Wesfphalic, par uii Tcmoin Ctulairc, l*. WJ ; Altn'ioiriii do Haji]), p. l-i'.i. operated with the duke,orfrom some secret jealousy of an ally who aspired to personal independence, the assistance which the duke should have received from the Aiistrians was always given tardily, and sometimes altogether withheld at the moment of utmost need.' Nevertheless, the Duke of Brunswick occupied, temporarily, Dresden, Leipsic, Lindenau — compell- ed the intrusive King of Westphalia to retreat, and at the date of the armistice of Znaim, was master of a considerable part of Franconia. There, of course, terminated the princely adventurer's careei of success, as he was, in consequence of the terms of that convention, entirely abandoned by the Aus- trian armies. Being then at Schleitz, a town in Upper Saxony, the Duke of Brunswick, instead ol listening to the timid counsellors who advised him to capitulate with some one of the generals com- manding the numerous enemies that surrounded him, resolved to cut his way through them, or die in the attempt, rather than tamely lay down the arms he had assumed for the purpose of avenging his father's death and the oppression of liis country. Deserted by many of his officers, the brave prince persevered in his purpose, dispersed some bodies of cavalry that lay in his way, and marched upon Halberstadt, which he found in possession of some Westphalian infantry, who had halted tliere for the purpose of forming a junction with the French general Reubel. Determined to attack this body before they could accomplish their purpose, the duke stormed the gates of the place, routed the Westphalians, and made prisoners upwards of six- teen hundred men ; while the citizens welcomed him with shouts of " Long live the Duke of Bruns- wick ! — Success to the sable Yagers !" From Halberstadt he proceeded to Wolfenbuttel, and thence to Brunswick, the capital of his father's states, and of his own patrimony. The hopeless state in which they saw their young duke arrive, did not prevent the citizens from ofiering their respect and their services, though certain that in doing so they were incurring the heavy hatred of those, who would be again in possession of the go- vernment within a very short period. The duke left his hereditary dominions the next day, amid the regrets of the inhabitants, openly testified by gestures, good w ishes, and tears ; and forcing his way to the shores of the Baltic, through many dangers, had at length the good fortune to embark his Black Legion for Britain, undishonoured by submission to the despot who had destroyed his father's house. His life, rescued probably from the scaffold, was reserved to be laid down in paving the way for that great victory, in which the arms of Germany and of Brunswick wei"e fully avenged.''* The defence of* the Tyrol, which fills a j)assage in history as heroic as that which records the ex- ploits of William Tell, was also virtually decided by the armistice of Znaim. Not that this gallant people abandoned their cause, because the Aus- trians, in whose belialf they had taken arms, had withdrawn their forces, and yielded them up to their fate. In the month of July, an arniy of 40,000 French and Bavarians attacked the Uyrol from the German side ; while from Italy, General Kusca, \\ith 18,000 men, entered from Clagenfurth, on - Le Royaume de Westphalie, par un Timoin Onilaire ; Jomiiii, torn, iii., p. 287. 504 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE YfORKS. [1800. file eastern side of the Tyrolese Alps. Undis- mayed by this double and formidable invasion, they assailed the invaders as they penetrated into their fastnesses, defeated and destroyed them. The fate of a division of 10,000 men belonging to. the French and Bavai ian army, which entered the Upper Iimthal, or Valley of the Inn, will explain in part the means by which these victories were obtained. The invading troops advanced in a long column up a road bordered on the one side by the river Inn, there a deep and rapid torrent, where cliffs of immense height overhang both road and river. The vanguard was permitted to advance unopposed as far as Prutz, the object of their expedition. The rest of the army were therefore induced to trust themselves still deeper in this tremendous pass, where the precipices, becoming more and more narrow as they advanced, seemed about to close above their heads. No sound but of the screaming of the eagles, disturbed from their eyries, and the roar of the river, reached the ears of the soldier, and on the precipices, partly enveloped in a lazy mist, no human forms showed themselves. At length the voice of a man was heard calling across the raviue, " Shall we begin T' — "No," was retunied in an authoritative tone of voice, by one who, like the fii-st speaker, seemed the inhabitant of some upper region. The Bavarian detachment halted, and sent to the general for orders ; when presently was heard the terrible signal, " In the name of the Holy Trinity, cut all loose!" Huge rocks, and trunks of trees, long prepared and laid in heaps for the purpose, began now to descend rapidly in every direction, while the deadly fire of the Tyrolese, who never throw away a shot, opened from every bush, crag, or corner of rock, which could afford the shooter cover. As this dreadful attack was made on the whole line at once, two- thirds of the enemy were instantly destroyed ; while the Tyrolese, rushing from their shelter, with swords, spears, axes, scythes, clubs, and all other rustic instruments which could be converted into weapons, beat down and routed the shattered remaindei'. As the vanguard, which had reached Prutz, was obliged to surrender, very few of the ten thousand invaders are computed to have extri- cated themselves from the fatal pass. But not all the courage of the Tyrolese, not all the strength of their country, could possibly enable them to defend themselves, when the peace with Austria had permitted Buonaparte to engage his whole immense means for the acquisition of these mountains. Austria too — Austria herself, in whose cause they had incurred all the dangers of war — instead of securing their indemnity by some stipu- lations in the treaty, sent them a cold exhortation to lay down their arms. Resistance, therefore, was abandoned as fruitless ; Hofer, chief commander of the Tyrolese, resigned his command, and the Bavarians regained the possession of a country which they could never have won back by their own efforts. Hofer, and about thirty chiefs of these valiant defenders of their country, were put to death, in poor revenge for the loss their bravery had occasioned. But their fame, as their immortal upirit, was beyond the power of the judge alike and I Gcscliichte Andreas Hofer, Leipsic, UI17 ; Joruini, torn. la., II. iSJU; Savaiy, torn, ii., part ii., p. 1-13. executioner ; and the place whore their bh^od was shed, becomes sacred to the thoughts of freedom, as the precincts of a temple to those cf religion.' Buonaparte was particularly a^^are of the danger around him from that display of n.itional spirit, which, commencing in Spain, exhibited itself in the undertakings of Schill and the Duke of Brunswick, and blazed forth in the defence of the Tyrol. He well knew the character of these insurrections to be awful indications, that in future wars he would not only have the enmity of the governments to encounter, but the hatred of the people ; not merely the efforts of the mercenary soldiei', whose power may be great, yet can always be calculated, but the resistance of the population at large, which cannot be made subject to any exact means of computa- tion, and which amid disorder, and even flight, often finds a road to safety and to revenge. It was Napoleon's policy, of course, to place in an odious and false point of view, every call which the sovereigns of Europe made on the people of that continent, exciting them to rise in their own defence, and stop the French plan of extended and universal dominion. Every summons of this kind lie affected to regard with hori'oi", as including Jacobincal and anti-social principles, and tending to bring back all the worst horrors of the French Revolution. There is a very curious paper in tiie Mon'iteur, upon the promises of liberty and exhor- tations to national union and national vengeance, which were circulated at this period in Germany. These were compared with the cries of Liberty and Equality, with which the French Republicans, in the earl}' days of the Revolution, sapped the de- fences and seduced the feelings of the nations whom they afterwards attacked, having made their demo- cratic doctrines the principal means to pave the way for the success of their arms. The 3loniteu>; therefore, treats such attempts to bring the people forward in the national defence, as similar to the use of poisoned weapons, or other resources inconsistent with the laws of civilized war. General Pelet,*' also, the natural admirer of the sovereign whose victories he had shared, has the same sacred horror at invoking the assistance of a nation at large to defend its independence. He inveighs vehemently against the inexpedience and the impolicy, nay, the ingratitude, of lawful princes employing revolu- tionary movements again.st Napoleon, by whom the French Revolution, with all the evils which its duration boded to existing monarchies, had been finally ended. He asks, what would have been the state of the world had Napoleon in his turn inflamed the popular feelings, and excited the com- mon people, by democratica! reasoning, against the existing governments 1 a sort of reprisals which he is stated to have held in conscientious horror. And the cause of civilisation and good order is invoked, as endangered by a summons to a population to arm themselves against for'eign invasion. These observations, which are echoes of expressions used by Napoleon himself, belong closely to our subject, and require some examination. In the first place, we totally deny that an invita- tion to the Spanish, the Tyrolese, or the Germans, or any other people, whom a victorious enemy has placed under a foreign yoke, has any thing what- - iV!(?ni(iircs sur la Ouerrc dc l.'iilfl. ISOP.] LIFE OF NAFOLEON BUONAPAHTE. )05 cvor In common with tlie democratic doctrines which instigated the lower classes, daring the French Ilovohition, to plunder the rich, banish tlie distinguished, and murder the loyal and virtuous. Next, we must point out the extreme inconsist- ency betwixt the praise assigned to Napoleon as the destroyer of revolutionary practices, the friend and supporter of tottering thrones, and that which is at the same time claimed for him by himself and his advocates, as the actual Messias of the princi- ples of the said Revolution, whose name was to be distinguished by posterity, as being connected with it.* Where could be the sense, or propriety, or consistency, of such a rant as the following, in tlie mouth ol one, who, provoked by the example of the allies to appeal to revolutionary principles, yet con- sidered them as too criminal and too dangerous to be actually resorted to in retaliation ? — " The great principles of our Revolution, these great and beautiful truths, must abide for ever ; so much have we interwoven them with glory, with monuments, with prodigies. Issued from the bosom of the French tribune ; decorated with the laurels of vic- tory ; greeted with the acclamations of the people, &c. &c. &c., they must ever govern. They will be the faith, the religion, the morality, of all nations in the universe. And that memorable era, whatever can be said to the contrary, will ally itself with me ; for it was 1 who held aloft the torch, and conse- crated the principles of that epoch, and whom per- -secution now renders its victim." Surely these pretensions, which are the expressions of Napoleon himself, are not to be reconciled with his alleged regard to the preservation oi the ancient govern- ments of Europe, and the forbearance for which he claims credit, in having refused to employ against these totteriug thrones the great lever of the Revo- lution. But the truth is, that no such forbearance existed ; for Buonaparte, like more scrupulous conquerors, failed not to make an advantage to himself of what- ever civil dissensions existed in the nations with whom he was at war, and was uniformly ready to support or excite insurrections in his enemy's country. His communications with the disaffected in Ireland, and in Poland, are sufficiently public ; his intrigues in Spain had their basis in exciting the people against their feudal lords and royal family ; and, to go no farther than this very war, during which it was pretended he had abstained from all revolutionary practices against the Aus- trians, he published the following address to the people of Hungary ; — " Hungarians, the moment is come to revive your independence. I ofier you l>eace, the integrity of your territory, the inviola- bility of your constitutions, whether of such as are in actual existence, or of those which the spirit of the time may require. I ask nothing from you ; 1 only desire to see your nation free and indepen- dent. Your union with Austria has made your misfortune ; your blood has flowed for her in dis- tant regions; and your dearest interests liave ' " Sir Walter confounds the object of the Revoluliim with its horrors. Napoleon may ■hlU Iiavc said uncontradicted, ' tliat from him would date the era of representative govern- ments '—that is to say, of monarchical Rovernnieiits, but founded upon the !»>•:'<. He mif;ht have added, wiilmut con- tradiction or exafigeration, that lie had put an end to the atro- ci»ics of the Hevolution and to popular fury, the renewal of which he ]>revented. Impartial posterity will, perhaps, re- proach niv brother witli not having kept an even way between always been sacrificed to those of the Austrian hereditary estates. You form the finest part of the empire of Austria, yet you are treated as a province. You have national manners, a national language, you boast an ancient and illustrioug origin. Reassume then your existence as a nation. Have a king of your own choice, who will reside amongst you, and reign for you alone. Unite your- selves in a national Diet in the fields of Racos, after the manner of your ancestors, and make mo acquainted with your determination." -After reading this exhortation, it will surely not be believed, that he by whom it was made felt any scruple at exciting to insurrection the subjects of an established government. If the precise lan- guage of republican France be not made use of, it must be considered, first, that no one would have believed him, had he, the destroyer of the French republic, professed, in distinct terms, his purpose to erect commonwealths elsewhere ; secondly, that the republican language might have excited recol- lections in his own army, and among his own forces, which it would have been highly imprudent to have recalled to their mind. The praise so gratuitously assumed for his hav- ing refused to appeal to the governed against the governors, is, therefore, in the first place, founded on an inaccurate statement of the facts ; and, next, so far as it is real. Napoleon's forbearance has no claim to be imputed to a respect for the rights of government, or a regard for the established order of society, any more than the noble spirit of pa- triotism and desire of national independence, which distinguished Schill, Hofer, and their followers, ought to be confounded with the anti-social doc- trines of those stern demagogues, whose object was rapine, and their sufficing argument the guillotine. CHAPTER XLIX. Conduct of Russia and England during the War irith Austria — Meditated Expedition of British Troops to the Continent — Sent to Walcheren — Its Calamitous Details and Hesidt — Proceedings of Napioleon with regard to the Pope — General Miollis enters Rome — Napoleon publishes a De- cree, uniting the States of the Church to the French Empire — Is Excommunicated — Pius VII. is ban- ished from Home, and sent to Grenoble — after- tcards brought back to Sarona — Buonaparte is attacked by an Assassin — Definitire Treaty of Peace signed at Schoenirun — Napoleon returns to France on the lith November, 1809. The particular conditions of the peace with Austria were not adjusted until the 14th October, 1809, although the armistice was signed nearly three months before. We avail ourselves of the interval to notice other remarkable events, w hicli happened during this eventful summer ; and first. the weakness of I.ouis XVI. and an inflexible firmness : it will reproach him with not having confided the preservation of the rights and the newly-obtained advantages of the nation to fundamental and stable laws, inslcail of making them res* on his own existence : but I am greatly deceived if it will con firm the ])reHiri<»ns of Sir Walter. 1 believe that it will divide the good and the advantages of the French Revolution from its excesses and h'MTors, the end and suppression of which it will attribute to Nuooleon." — Louis BroNArAnxK, p 5H. ^OG SCOTT'S AIISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1809, we must briefly revert to the conduct of Russia ' and England during the war. Notwithstanding the personal friendship Letwixt the Emperors Alexander and Napoleon — notwith- Ftanding their engagements entered into at Tilsit, and so lately revived at Erfurt, it seems to have l)eeu impossible to engage Russia heartily as an ally of Napoleon, in a war which had the destruc- tion or absolute Iiumiliation of Austria. The Court of St. Petersburgh had, it is true, lost no time in securing the advantages which had been stipulated for Russia in the conferences alluded to. Finland had been conquered, torn from Sweden, to which the province had so long belonged, and united with Russia, to whom it furnished a most important frontier and barrier.' Russia was also, with conniv- ance of France, making war on the Porte, in order to enlarge her dominions by the addition of Mol- davia and Walladiia. But though the Court of St. Petersburgh had gained one of these advantages, and was in a way of obtaining the other, the Rus- f-ian Ministers saw with anxiety the impending fate of Austria, the rather that they themselves were bound by treaty to lend their aid for her destruc- tion. We have seen that Russia had interposed to prevent the war. She was now unwillingly compelled to take part in it ; yet when Prince Galatzin marched into Galieia at the head of 30,000 Russians, the manifesto which he published could be hardly termed that of a hostile nation. The Emperor, it stated, had done all in his power to prevent things from coming to this extremity ; but now, the war having actually broken out, he was bound by the faith of treaties to send the stipulated number of auxiliaries.^ The motions of this body of Russians were slow, and their conduct in the Austrian dominions rather that of allies than ene- mies. Some of the Russian ofKcers of rank avowed their politics to be in direct opposition to those of the Emperor, and declared that three-fourths of the generals commanding territorial divisions in Russia were of their opinion. These expressions, with the unusual slowness and lenity just alluded to, were for the present passed over without re- mark, but were recorded and remembered as matter of high offence, when Napoleon thought that the time was come to exact from Russia a severe ac- count for every thing in which she had disappointed his expectations. The exertions of England, at the same period, were of a nature and upon a scale to surprise the world. It seemed as if her flag literally oversha- dowed the whole seas on the coasts of Italy, Spain, the Ionian Islands, the Baltic Sea. Wherever there was the least show of I'esistance to the yoke of Buonaparte, the assistance of the English was appealed to, and was readily afforded. In Spain, particularly, the British troops, led by a general whose name began soon to be weighed against those of the best French commanders, displayed their usual gallantry under auspices which no longer permitted it to evaporate in actions of mere celat. Yet the British administration, while they had thus embraced a broader and more adventurous, but at the same time a far wiser system of conduct- hig the war, showed in one most important in- 1 Sci' niiK<;;vn pr.icliiniatinn to tlie inluibitants of Fiiihnid, Ireb. 11), l:ilW, Aiiiiiial lU-Kister, vol. 1., ji. ;i(il. stance, that they, or a part of them, \i'ere not en- tirely free from the ancient prejudices, which liad so long rendered vain the efforts of Britain in favour of the liberties of the world. The general principle was indeed adopted, that the expeditions of Britain shoidd be directed where they could do the cause of Europe the most benefit, and the inte- rests of Napoleon the greatest harm ; but still there remained a hu-king wish that they could be so directed, as, at the same time, to acquire some peculiar and separate advantage to P^ngland, and to secure the accomplishment of what was called a British object. Some of the English ministei's might thus be said to resemble the ancient convei'ts from Judaism, who, in embracing the Christian faith, still held themselves bound by the ritual, and fettered by the prejudices of the Jewish people, separated as they were from the rest of mankind. It is no wonder that the voice of what is in rea- lity selfishness, is listened to in national councils with more respect than it deserves, since in that case it wears the mask and speaks the language of a species of patriotism, against which it can only be urged, that it is too exclusive in its zeal. Its effects, however, are not the less to be regretted, as disabling strong minds, and misleading wise men ; of which the history of Britain affords but too many instances. Besides the forces already in the Peninsula, Britain had the means of disposing of, and the will to send to the continent, 40,000 men, with a fleet of thirty-five ships of the line, and twenty frigates, to assist on any point where their services could have been useful. Such an armament on the coast of Spain might have brought to a speedy decision the long and bloody contest in that country, saved much Bintish blood, which the protracted war ^\asted, and struck a blow, the effects of which, as that of Trafalgar, Buonaparte might have felt on the banks of the Danube. Such an armament, if sent to the north of Germany, ere the destruction of Schill and the defeat of the Duke of Bruns- wick's enterprise, might have been the means of placing all the northern provinces in active oppo- sition to Franco, by an etibrt for which the state of the public mind was already prepared. A success- ful action would even have given spirits to Prus- sia, and induced that depressed kingdom to resume the struggle for her independence. In a word, Britain might have had the honour of kindling the same flame, which, being excited by Russia in 1813, was the means of destroying the French in- fluence in Germany, and breaking up the Confede- ration of the Rhine. Unhappily, neither of these important objects seemed to the planners of this enterprise to be connected in a manner sufficiently direct, with objects exclusively interesting to Britain. It was therefore agreed, that the expedition should be sent against the strong fortresses, swampy islesj and dangerous coasts of the Netherlands, in order to seek for dock-yards to be destroyed, and ships to be carried of. Antwerp was particularly aimed at. But, although Napoleon attached great importance to the immense naval yards and docks which ho had formed in the Scheldt, yet, weighed with the danger and difficulty of an attack upon them, the " Animal Ref^ister, vol. 1., \>. /oil ISOO.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 507 object of destroying them soenis to have been very inadequate. Admitting that Buonaparte might succeed in building sliips in tl;e Selieldt, or else- where, there was no possibility, in the existing state of the world, that he could have 1)een able to get sailors to man them ; unless, at least, modern sea- men could have been bred on dry land, like the crews of the Roman galleys during the war with Carthage. If even the ships could liave been man- ned, it would have been long ere Napoleon, with his utmost exertions, could have brought out of the Scheldt such a fleet as would not have been defeated l)y half their own numbers of British ships. The dangers arising to Britain from the naval establishments in the Scheldt were remote, nor was the advantage of destroying them, should such destruction be found possible, commensurate with the expense and hazard of the enterprise which was directed against them. Besides, before Ant- werp could be attacked, the islands of Beveland and Walcheren were to be taken possession of, and a long amphibious course of hostilities was to be maintained, to enable the expedition to reach the point where alone great results were expected. The commander-in-chief was the Earl of Chat- ham, who, inheriting the family talents of his father, the great minister, was remarkable for a spirit of inactivity and procrastination, the conse- quences of which had been felt in all the public offices which he held, and which, therefore, were likely to be peculiarly fatal in an expedition requir- ing the utmost celerity and promptitude of action. It is remarkable, that though these points in Lord Chatham's character were generally known, the public voice at the time, in deference to the talents which distinguished his house, did not censure the nomination. Upon the 30th of July, the English disembarked on the islands of South Beveland and Walcheren ; on the 1st of August they attacked Flushing, the principal place in the neighbourhood, by land and sea. On the loth of August, the place surrender- ed, and its garrison, four or five thousand men strong, were sent prisoners of war to England. But here the success of the British ended. The French, who had at first been very much alarmed, had time to recover from their consternation. Fouche', then at the head of the police, and it may be said of the government, (for he exercised for the time the power of minister of the interior,) showed the utmost readiness in getting under arms about 40,000 national guards, to replace the regular sol- diers, of which the Low Countries had been drain- ed. In awakening the military ardour of the citi- zens of France, in which he succeeded to an un- usual degree, Fouche' made use of these expres- sions : — " Let Europe see, that if the genius of Napoleon gives glory to France, still his presence is not necessary to enable her to i-epel her enemies from her soil." This phrase expressed more inde- pendence than was agreeable to Napoleon, and was set down as intimating a self-sufficiency, which counterbalanced the services of the minister.' ' M^moires dc Fouche. torn, i., p. 337. - In 17!>8, Bernadotte mairicd Eiigtiiic Clerr, the dauRlitcr i>f a considerable mercliant at Marseilles, and sister to Julia, the wife of Joseph Buonaparte. Neither did Fouche's selection of a military chief to comtnand the new levies, ju'ove more acceptable, Bernadotte, whom we have noticed as a general of republican fame, had been, at the time of Buona- parte's elevation, opposed to his interests, and at- tached to those of the Directory. Any species of rivalry, or pretence of dispute betwixt them, was long since ended ; yet still Bernadotte was scarce accounted an attached friend of the Emperor, though he was in some sort connected with the liouse of Napoleon, having married a sisler-in-law of Joseph, the intrusive King of Spain.'-' In the campaign of Vienna, which we have detailed, Ber- nadotte, (created Prince of Ponte Corvo,) com- manded a division of Saxons, and had incurred Buonaparte's censure more than once, and parti- cularly at the battle of Wagram, for the slowness of his movements. The Prince of Ponte Corvo came, therefore, to Paris in a sort of disgrace, where Fouche', in conjunction with Clarke, the minister at war, invited him to take on himself the defence of Antwerp. Bernadotte hesitated to ac- cept the charge ; but having at length done so, he availed himself of the time afforded by the English to put the place in a complete state of defence, and assembled within, and under its walls, above thirty thousand men. The country was inundated by opening the sluices ; strong batteries were erected on both sides of the Scheldt, and the ascending that river became almost impossible.^ The British naval and military officers also dis- agreed among themselves, as often happens where difficulties multiply, and there appears no presid- ing spirit to combat and control them. The final objects of the expedition were therefore aban- doned ; the navy returned to the English ports, and the British forces were concentrated— for what reason, or with what expectation, it is difficult to see — in that fatal conquest, the isle of Walcheren. Among the marshes, stagnant canals, and unwhole- some trenches of this island, there broods continu- ally, a fever of a kind deeply pestilential and ma- lignant,* and which, like most maladies of the same description, is more destructive to strangers than to the natives, whose constitutions become by habit proof against its ravages. This dreadful disease broke out among our troops with the force of a pestilence, and besides the numerous victims who died on the spot, shattered, in many cases for ever, the constitution of the survivors. The joy with which Napoleon saw the army of his enemy thus consigned to an obscure and disgraceful death, broke out even in his bulletins, as if the pestilence under which they fell had been caused by his own policy, and was not the consequence of the climate, and of the ill-advised delay which prevented our soldiers being withdrawn from it. " We are re- joiced," he said, in a letter to the minister at war, " to see that the English have packed themselves in the morasses of Zealand. Let them be only kept in check, and the bad air and fevers peculiar to the country will soon destroy their army." At length, after the loss of more lives than would have in fact took the command of the combined army. sufHciently in time to jirevent the English surprisinf; Antwerp, as they already liad done Walcheren. It was I who flooded the bor- ders of the Scheldt, and erected batteries there. Bcmadotta arrived a fortninht afterwards, and. in ))ursuanceof the orders It was not Bernadotte whom Cambec^res and the Duke of Napoleon and Clarke, which were oiticially communicated of FcUre requested to undertake tlie defence of Antwerp ; but , to me, 1 resigned the command to him "— Lui'is Buosaj-aui J. it was I who received several couriers on this subject, and wlio p. (Jo. >08 SCOTT'S lilTSCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [IROO. been wasted in three general battles, the fortifica- tions of Flushing were blown up, and the British forces returned to their own country.' The evil consequences of this expedition did not end even here. The mode in which it had heen directed and conducted, introduced dissensions into the British Cabinet, which occasioned the tem- porary secession of one of the most able and most eloquent of its members, Mr. George Canning, who was thus withdrawn from public affairs when his talents could be least spared by the country. On the other hand, tlie a])pointment of Marquis Wel- lesley to the situation of secretary at war, gave, in the estimation of the public, a strong pledge that the efficient measures suggested by the talents of that noble statesman, would be supported and car- ried through by his brother Sir Arthur, to whom alone, as a general, the army and the people be- gan to look with hope and confidence. While England was thus exerting herself, Buo- napai'te, from the castle of Schoenbrun, imder the walls of Vienna, was deciding the fate of the con- tinent on every point where British influence had no means of thwarting him. One of the revolu- tions which cost him little effort to accomplish, yet whicli struck Europe with surprise, by the nume- rous recollections which it excited, was his seizure of the city of Rome, and the territories of the Church, and depriving the Pope of his character of a temporal prince. It must be allow-ed, by the greatest admirers of Napoleon, that his policy, depending less upon principle than upon existing circumstances, was too apt to be suddenly changed, as opportunity or emergency seemed to give occasion. There could, for example, be scarce a measure of his reign adopted on more deep and profound consideration than that of the Concordat, by which he re-esta- blished the national religion of France, and once more united that country to the Catholic Church. In reward for this great service, Pope Pius VII., as we have seen, had the unusual complaisance to cross the Alps, and visit Paris, for the sake of ad- ding religious solemnity, and the blessing of St. Peter's successor, to the ceremony of Napoleon's coronation. It might have been thought that a friendship thus cemented, and which, altogether essential to the safety of the Pope, was far from indifferent to the interests of Buonaparte, ought to liave subsisted undisturlied, at least for some years. But the Emperor and Pontiff" stood in a suspicious attitude with respect to each other. Pius VII. felt that he had made, in his character of chief of the Church, very great concessions to Napoleon, and such as he could hardly reconcile to the tenderness of his own conscience. He, therefore, expected gratitude in proportion to the scruples which he had surmounted, while Buonaparte was far from rating the services of his Holiness so high, or sympathizing with his conscientious scruples. Besides, the Pope, in surrendering the rights of the Church in so manj' instances, must have felt that he was acting under motives of constraint, and in the character of a prisoner ; for he had sacrificed niore than had been yielded by any prelate who had held the see of Rome, since the days of Constantine. ' See Papers relating to the expedition to the Sclieliit. Par- liainentarr I)el);ites, vol. xv., Appendix ; and Annual Register, 'ol I., pp 54;i, 516, 551). He may therefore have considered himself, not only as doubly bound to secure what remained of the authority of his predecessors, but even at li- berty, should opportunity offer, to reclaim some part of that which he had unwillingly yielded u^. Thus circumstanced in respect to each other, Piua VII. felt that he had done more in complaisance to Buonaparte than he could justify to his consci- ence ; while Napoleon, who considered the reunion of France to Rome, in its spii-itual relations, as entirely his own work, thought it of such conse- quence as to deserve greater concessions than hia Holiness had yet granted. The Pope, on his first return to Italy, showed favourable prepossessions for Napoleon, whom he commemorated in his address to the College of Cardinals, as that mighty Emperor of France, whose name extended to the most remote regions of the earth ; whom Heaven had used as the means of reviving religion in France, when it was at the lowest ebb ; and whose courtesies towards his own person, and compliance with his requests, merited his highest regard and requital. Yet Napoleon complained, that subsequent to this period, Pius VII. l)egan by degrees to receive counsel from the enemies of France, and that he listened to advisers, who encouraged him to hold the rights of the Church higher than the desire to gratify the Em- peror. Thus a suppressed and unavowed, but perpetual struggle took place, and was carried on betwixt the Emperor and the Pope ; the former desirous to extend and consolidate his recent autho- rity, the latter to defend what remained of the ancient privileges of the Church. It is probable, however, that, had there been only spiritual matters in discussion between them. Napoleon would have avoided an open rupture with the Holy Father, to which he was conscious much scandal would attach. But in the present situation of Italy, the temporal states of the Pope furnished a strong temptation for his ambition. These extend, as is well known, betwixt the king- dom of Naples, then governed by Joachim Murat, and the northern Italian provinces, all of which, by the late appropriation of Tuscany, were now amalgamated into one state, and had become, under the name of the kingdom of Italy, a part of the dominions of Buonaparte. Thus the patrimony of the Church was the only portion of the Italian peninsula which was not either directly, or indi- rectly, under the empire of France ; and, as it divided the Neapolitan dominions from those of Napoleon, it afforded facilities for descents of British troops, either from Sicily or Sardinia, and, what Buonaparte was not less anxious to prevent, great opportunities for the importation of English commodities. The war with Austria in 1809, and the large army which the Archduke John then led into Italy, and with which, but for the defeat at Eckmiihl, he might have accomplished great chan- ges, rendered the independence of tiie Roman States the subject of ptill greater dislike and sus- picion to Buonaparte. His ambassador, therefore, had instructions to press on the Pope the necessity of shutting his ports against British commerce, and adhering to the continental system ; together with the further decisive measure, of acceding to the confederacy formed between the kingdom of Italy and that of Naples, or, in other wordS; becoming a par'v to 1S09.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 509 the war against Austria and England. Fius VII. reluctantly submitted to shut his ports, but he positively refused to become a party to the war. He was, he said, the father of all Christian nations ; he could not, consistently with that character, be- come the enemy of any.' Upon receiving this refusal, Buonaparte would no longer keep tei-nis with him ; and, in order, as he said, to protect himself against the inconveni- ejices which he appreliended from the pertinacity of the Holy Father, he caused the towns of An- cona and Civita Veccliia to be occupied by French troops, which were necessarily admitted when there were no means of resistance. This act of -aggi-ession, to which the Pope might have seen it prudent to submit without remon- strance, as to what he could not avoid, would pro- bably have sufficiently answered all the immediate purposes of Buonaparte ; nor would he, it may be supposed, liave incurred tlie further scandal of a direct and irreconcilable breach with Pius VII., but for recollections, that Rome had been the seat of empire over the Christian world, and that the universal sovereignty to which he aspired, would hardly be thought to exist in the full extent of majesty which lie desired to attach to it, unless the ancient capital of the world made a part of liis do- minions. Napoleon was himself an Italian,^ and showed his sense of his origin by the particular care which he always took of that nation, where whatever benefits his administrations conferred on the people, reached them both more profusely and more directly than in any other part of his empire. That swelling spirit entertained the pi-oud, and, could it it have been accomplished consistently with justice, the noble idea, of uniting the beautiful peninsula of Italy into one kingdom, of which Rome .should once more be the capital. He also nourished the hope of clearing out the Eternal City from the ruins in which she was buried, of preserving her ancient monuments, and of restoring what was possible of her ancient splendour.^ Such ideas as these, dearer to N-apoleon, because involving a sort of fame which no conquest elsewhere could be at- tended with, must have had charms for a mind which constant success had palled to the ordinary enjoyment of victory ; and no doubt the recollec- tion that the existence of the Pope as a temporal prince was totally inconsistent with this fair dream of the restoration of Rome and Italy, determined his resolution to put an end to his power. On the 2d February, 1809, General Miollis, with a body of French troops, took possession of Rome itself, disarmed and disbanded the Pope's guard of gentlemen, and sent his other soldiers to the north of Italy, promising them as a boon that they should bo no longer under the command of a priest. The French cardinals, or those born in countries occu- ' .*ce Declaration of the Pope aqainst the usurpations of Knpolfiin, (1 itoci May Iff. I(!(i8; Annual Register, vol. ]., p. 314. 2 "Naj-oleon was of Italian origin, but he was born a French- tn.in. It is ditiicult to comprehend for what purpose arc those continual repetitiorjs of his Italian origin. His partiality for Italy was natural enough, since he had conquered it, and this beautiful peninsula was a trophy of tlie national glory, of which Sir Walter Scott allows Najioleon to havebccn very jealous. I nevcrthele.'S doubt whether he had the intention of uniting Italy, and making Rome it* capital. Many of my brother's actions contradict the supposition. I was near him one day when he received the report of some victories in S|)ain, and amongst others, of one in which the Italian troops had greatly distinguished themselves. One of the persons who were with Uim exclaimed, at this ncws-t'vat the Italians would show pied by, or subjected to the French, were ordered to retire to the various lands of their birth, in order to prevent the Holy Father from finding support in the councils of the conclave. The proposal of his joining the Italian League, offensive and de- fensive, was then again pressed on the Pope as the only means of reconciliation. He was also urged to cede some portion of the estates of the Church, as the price of securing the rest. On both points, Pius VII. was resolute; he would neither enter into an alliance which he conceived injurious to his con.science, nor consent to spoil the See of any part of its territories. This excellent man knew, that though the temporal strength of the Popedom appeared to be gone, every thing depended on the courage to be manifested by the Pope personally. At length, on the 17th May, Napoleon published a decree,^ in which, assuming the character of suc- cessor of Charlemagne, he set forth, 1st, That his august predecessor had granted Rome and certain other territories in feoff to the bishops of that city, but without parting with the sovereignty thereof. 2d, That the union of the religious and civil autho- rity had proved the source of constant discord, of which many of the Pontiffs had availed themselves to extend their secular dominion, under pretext of maintaining their religious autliority. 3d, That the temporal pretensions of the Pope were irrecon- cilable with the tranquillity and well-being of the nations whom Napoleon governed ; and that all proposals which he had made on the subject had been rejected. Therefore it was declared by the decree, that the estates of the Church were reunited to the French empire. A few articles followed for the preservation of the cla.'-sieal monuments, for assigning to the Pope a free income of two millions of francs, and for declaring that the property and palace belonging to the See were free of all buj*- dens or right of inspection. Lastly, The decree provided for the interior government of Rome by a Consultum, or Connnittee of Admini.strators, to whom was delegated the power of bringing the city under the Italian constitution. A proclamation of the Con.sultum, issued upon the 10th June, in con- sequence of the Imperial rescript, declared that the temporal dominion of Rome had passed to Na- poleon, but she would still continue to be the resi- dence of the visible Head of the Catholic Church. It had doubtless been thought possible to per- suade the Pope to acquiesce in the annihilation of his secular power, as the Spanish Bourbons were compelled to ratify the usurpation of the Spanish crown, their inheritance. But Pius VII. had a mind of a firmer tenor. In the very night when the proclamation of the new functionaries finally divested him of his temporal principality, the Head of the Church assumed his spiritual weapons, and in the name of God, from whom he claimed autho- themselves worthy of obtaining their independence, and it was to be desired that the wholeof Italy should bennited into one national body. 'Heaven forbid it ! ' exclaimed Napoleon, with involuntary emotion, ' they would soon be masters of tlie Gauls.' Amongst all the calumnies heaped against him, there are none more unjust than those which attack his patriotism : he was essentially French, indeed, too exclusively so ; for all excess is bad." — I>ol'is Hion.ap.arth, p. CyJ. 3 " With regard to the removal of the monuments of anti- quity, and to the works undertaken by my brother for their preservation, they were not merely projected ; they were not only begun, but even far advanced, and many of them fin- ished." — Loots BUO.NAPABTK, p. 6j. * Published, M.iy 17. at Vienna, and proclaimed in all tbe public squares, markets, ice, of that capital. nlO SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1809. rity, by lnisi•i^■eK drawn up by himself, and sealed with the seal of the Fisherman, declared Napoleon, Emperor of the French, with his adherents, fa- vourers, and counsellors, to have incurred the solemn doom of excommunication, which he pro- ceeded to launch against them accordingly. ^ To the honour of Pius VI 1. it must be added, that, different from the bulls which his predecessors used to send forth on similar occasions, the present sentence af excommunication was pronounced ex- clusively as a spiritual punishment, and contained a clause prohibiting all and any one from so con- struing its import, as to hold it authority for any attack on the person either of T^Iapoleon or any of his adherents. The Emperor was highly incensed at the perti- nacity and courage of the Pontiff in adopting so bold a measure, and determined on punishing him. In the night betwixt the 5th and 6th of July, the Quirinal palace, iu which his Holiness reside(l, was forcibly entered by soldiers, and General Radet, presenting himself before the Holy Father, de- manded that he should instantly execute a renun- ciation of the temporal estates belonging to the See of Rome. " I ought not — I will not — I cannot make such a cession," said Pius VII. " I have sworn to God to preserve inviolate the possessions of the Holy Church — I will not violate my oath." The general then informed his Holiness he must prepare to quit Rome. " This, then, is the grati- tude of your Emperor," exclaimed the aged Pontiff, " for my great condescension towards the Galilean Church, and towards himself ? Perhaps in that particular my conduct has been blame-worthy in the eyes of God, and he is now desirous to punish me. I humbly stoop to his divine pleasure." At three o'clock in the morning, the Pope was placed in a carriage, which one cardinal alone was permitted to share with him, and thus forcibly car- ried from his capital. As they arrived at the gate del Popolo, the general observed it was yet time for his Holiness to acquiesce in the transference of his secular estates. The Pontiff returned a strong negative, and the cai'riage proceeded.- At Florence, Pius was separated from Cardinal Pacca, the only person of his court who had been jiitherto permitted to attend him ; and the attend- ance of General Radet was replaced by that of an officer of gendarmes. After a toilsome journey, partly performed in a litter, and sometimes by torch-light, the aged Pontiff was embarked for . Alexandria, and transferred from thence to Mon- dovi, and then across the Alps to Grenoble. But the strange sight of the Head of the Catholic 1 Annual Kegistcr, vol. li., p. 513 ; Botta, torn, iv., p. 394. 2 Botta, torn, iv., p. 395; Jomini, torn, iii., p. 242; Savary, torn, ii., part ii., p 140. * See Las Cases, vol. ii. pp. 12 and 13. He avowed that he himself would have refused, as a man and an ofHcer, to mount tiuard on the Pope, " whose transportation into France," he added, ■' was done without my authority." Ohservint; the sur- prise of Las Cases, he .idded, "that what he said was very true, together with other things which he would learn by and by. Besides," he proceeded, "you are to distinguish the deeds of a sovereign, who acts collectively, as different from those of an individual, who is restrained by no consideration that prevents hira from following liis own sentiments. Policy often permits, nay orders, a prince to do that which would be unpardonable in an individual." Of this denial and this apology, we shall only say, that the first seems very apocryphal, and the second would justify any crime which Mucbiavel or Achitophel could invent or recommend. Murat is tlie person wliom the favour- ara of Napoleon are desirous to load with the violence coin- Cluirch travelling under a guard of gendarmes, with the secrecy and the vigilance used in trans- porting a state criminal, began to interest the peo- ple in the south of France. Crowds assembled to beseech the Holy Father's benediction, perhaps with more sincerity than when, as the guest of Buonaparte, he was received there with all the splendour the Imperial orders could command. At the end of ten days, Gi-enoble no longer seemed a fitting place for his Holiness's residence, probably because he excited too much interest, and lie was again transported to the Italian side of the Alps, and qnai-tered at Savona. Here, it is said, he was treated with considerable harshness, and for a time at least confined to his apartment. The prefect of Savoy, M. de Chabrol, presented his Holiness with a letter from Napoleon, upbraiding him in strong terms for his wilful obstinacy, and threatening to convoke at Paris a Council of Bishops, with a view to his deposition. " I will lay his threats," said Pius VII., with the firmness which sustained him through his sufferings, " at the foot of the crucifix, and I leave with God the care of avenging my cause, since it has become his own." The feelings of the Catholics were doubtless en- hanced on this extraordinary occasion, by their belief hi the sacred, and, it may be said, divine character, indissolubly united with the Head of the Church. But the world, Papist and Protestant, were alike sensible to the outrageous indecency with which an old man, a priest and a sovereign, so lately the friend and guest of Buonaparte, was treated, for no other reason that could be alleged, than to compel him to despoil himself of the terri- tories of the Church, which he had sworn to trans- mit inviolate to his successors. Upon reflection, Napoleon seems to have become ashamed of the transaction, which he endeavoured to shift from his own shoulders, while in the same breath he apolo- gized for it, as the act of the politician, not the in- dividual.^ Regarded politically, never was any measure devised to which the interest of Finance and tlie Empei'or was more diametrically opposed. Napo- leon nominally gained the city of Rome, which, without this step, it was in his power to occupy at any time : but he lost the support, and incurred the mortal hatred of the Catholic clergy, and of all whom they could influence. He unravelled his own web, and destroyed, by this unjust and rash usurpation, all the merit which he had obtained by the re-establishment of the Galilean Church. Be ■ fore this pei'iod he had said of the French clergy, and certainly had some right to use the language. mittcd on the Pope. But if Murat had dared to ;;ake so much upon himself, would it not have been as king of Naples V and by what warrant could he have transferred the Pontiff frorn place to place in the north of Italy, and even in France itself, the Kmperor's dominions, and not his own ? Besides, if Na- poleon was, as has been stated, surprised, shocked, and in- censed at the captivity of the Pope, why did he not instantly restore him to his liberty, with suitable apologies, and indem- nification ? His not doing so plainly shows, that if Murat and Radet had not express orders for what they did, they at least knew well it would be agreeable to the Emperor wlien done, and his acquiescence in their violence is a sufficient proof tbat they argued justly. — S. "The Emperor knew nothing of the event until it had oc- curred ; and then it was too late to disown it. He approved of what had been done, established ilie Pope at Savona, and afterwards united Home to the Ereiich empire, thereby annul- ling the donalion made of it by Charlemagne. This aiinexaiion was regretted by all, because evei7 one desired peace." — iJA- v.iiiv, toni.il., luut ii., p. li'J. 1800.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. .511 •' I have re-est:U)lished them, 1 maintain tliem — they will surely continue attached to me." But in inucvatinn; upon their reHi;ious creed, in despoiling the Church, and maltreating its visible Head, he had cut the sinews of the league which he had form- ed betwixt the Church and his own government. It is easy to see the mistaken grounds on which he reckoned. Himself an egotist, Napoleon supposed, that when he had ascertained and secured to any man, or body of men, their own direct advantage in the system which he desired should be adopted, the parties interested were debarred from object- ing to any innovations which he might afterwards introduce into that system, providing their own interest was not affected. The priests and sincere Catholics of France, on the other hand, thought, and in conscience could not think otherwise, that the Concordat engaged the Emperor to the preser- vation of the Catholic Church, as, on the other hand, it engaged them to fealty towards Napoleon. When, therefore, by his unprovoked aggression against the Head of the Chui-ch, he had incurred the spiritual censure of excommunication, they held, by consequence, that all their engagements to him were dissolved by liis own act. The natural feelings of mankind acted also against the Emperor. The Pope, residing at Rome in the possessiou of temporal power and worldly splendour, was a far less interesting object to a devout imagination, than an old man hurried a prisoner from his capital, transported from place to place like a criminal, and at length detained in an obscure Italian town, under the control of the French police, and their instruments.' The consequences of this false step were almost as injurious as those which resulted from the im- principled invasion of Spain. To place that king- dom under his more inunediate conti'ol, Napoleon converted a whole nation of docile allies into irre- concilable enemies ; and, for the vanity of adding to the empire of France the ancient capital of the world, he created a revolt in the o])inion of the Catholics, which was in the long-run of the utmost prejudice to his authority. The bulls of the Pope, in spite of the attention of the police, and of the numerous arrests and severe punishments inflicted on those who dispersed them, obtained a general circulation ; and, by affording a religious motive, enhanced and extended the disaffection to Napo- leon, which, unavowed and obscure, began gene- rally to arise against his person and government even in France, from the repeated draughts upon the conscription, the annihilation of commerce, and the other distressing consequences arising out of the measures of a government, which seemed only to exist in war. While Buonaparte, at Schoenbrun, was thus dis- posing of Rome and its tei-rituries, and weighing in ' " III the eyes of Europe, Pius VII. was considered as an illustrious and afTectinf; victim of preedy ambition. A prisoner at Savona, lie was despoiled of all his external honours, and Bliut out from all communication with the cardinals, as well as deprived of al! means of issuing bulls and assembling a council. What food for the petite ^ria, and to exclude Austria from the Adriatic, and the possibility of communication with Great Britain. A small lordship, called Razons, lying 1 " The wretched young man was taken to Vienna, brought licfore a council of war, and executed on the 27th. He had taken no sustenance since the S4th, because, as he said, he had •uflident strength to walk to the place of execution. His last words were ' Liberty for evei ! Germany for ever! Death to the tyrant!' 1 delivered the re])ort to Napoleon, who de- sired me to keep the knife that had been found upon the cri- Biual. It is still in my possession."— Uapp, p. I47. ; within the territories of the Grison Leagtie, was also relinquished. III. To the King of Saxony, in that character, Austria ceded some small ])art of Bohemia, and in the capacity of Duke of Warsaw, she gave up to him the city of Cracow, and the whole of Western Galicia. IV. Russia had a share, though a moderate one, in the spoils of Austria. She was to receive, in reward of her aid, though tardily and unwillingly tendered, a portion of Eas- tern Galicia, containing a population of four hund- red thousand souls. But from this cession the to\\n of Brody, a commercial place of consequence, was specially excepted ; and it has been said that this exception made an unfavourable impression on the Emperor Alexander, wliich was not overbalanced by the satisfaction he received from the portion of spoil transferred to him.' In his correspondence with the Russian Court, Napoleon expressed himself as having, from defer- ence to Alexander's wishes, given Austria a more favourable peace than she had any reason to expert.'' Indeed, Europe in general was surprised at the moderation of the terms ; for though Austria, by her cessions at different points, yielded up a surface of 45,000 square miles, and a popidation of between three and four millions, yet the extremity in which she was placed seemed to render this a cheap ran- som, as she still retained 180,000 square miles, and upwards, of territory, which, with a population ni twenty-one millions, rendered her, after France anif Russia, even yet the most formidable power on the continent. But her good angel had not slept. The House of Rodolph of Hapsburg had arisen, from small beginnings, to its immense power and mag- nitude, chiefly by matrimonial alliances,'^ and it was determined that, by another intermarriage of thai Imperial House, with the most successful conqueror whom the world had ever seen, she should escape with comparative ease from the greatest extremity in which she had ever been placed. There is no doubt, also, that by secret articles of treaty. Napo- leon, according to his maxim of making the con- quered party sustain the expense of the war, exac- ted for that purpose heavy contributions from the Austrian Government. He left Schocnbrun on the 16th October, the day after the definitive treaty of peace, which takes its name from that palace, had been signed there ; and it is remarkable that no military caution w.as relaxed in the evacuation of the Austrian domin- ions by the French troops. They retreated by echellon, so as to be always in a position of nuitual support, as if they had still beeii manoeuvring in an enemy's country. On the 14th November, Napoleon received at Paris the gratulations of the Senate, who too fondly complimented him on having acquired, by his triumphs, the palm of peace. That emblem, they said, should be placed high above his other laurels, upon a monument which should be dedicated by the gratitude of the French people. " To the Greatest of Heroes who never achieved victory but for the happiness of the world." 2 Las Cases, torn, ii., p. 104. 3 For a copy of the tre.ity, see Annua! Register, vol. 11., p. 7'.n. * Annual Register, vol. li., p. 700. 5 The verses are well known, — " Bella gerunt alii, tu, felix Austria, nube," &c— 3. 1809.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUON.VPARTE. 513 CHAPTER L. iliange in Napoleon's Domestic Life — Causes ichich led to it — if is anxiety for an Heir — A Son of his brother Louis is fixed upon, but dies in Childhood — Character and influence of Josephine — Strong mutual attachment betwixt her and Napoleon — Fouche opens to Josephine the Plan of a Divorce — her extreme Distress — On 5th Dccembei , Napo- leon announces her Fate to Josephine — On \5th they are formally separated before the Imperial Council — Josephine retaining the rank of Empress for life — Espousals of Buonaparte and Maria Louisa of Austria take place at Vienna, Wth March, 1810. There is perhaps no part of the varied life of the wonderful person of wliom we treat, more deeply interesting, than the change which took place in his domestic establislnneut, shortly after the peace of Vienna. The main causes of that cliange are strongly rooted in human nature, but there were others which arose out of Napoleon's peculiar situation. The desire of posterity — of being represented long after our own earthly ca- reer is over, by those who derive their life and condition in society from us, is deeply rooted in our species. In all ages and countries, children are accounted a blessing, barrenness a misfortune at least, if not a curse. This desire of maintaining a posthumous connexion with the world, tlirough the medium of our descendants, is increased, wlien there is property or rank to be inherited ; and, however vain the thought, tliere are few to which men cling witli such sincere fondness, as the pros- pect of bequeathing to their children's children the fortunes they liave inlierited from their fathers, or acquired by their own industry. There is kind- ness as well as some vanity in the feeling ; for the attachment which we bear to the children whom we see and love, naturally flows downward to then* lineage, whom we may never see. The love of distant posterity is in some degree the metaphysics of natural affection. It was impossible that the founder of so vast an empire as tliat of Napoleon, could be insensible to a feeling which is so deeply grafted in our nature, as to influence the most petty proprietor of a house and a few acres — it is of a character to be felt in proportion to the extent of the inheritance ; and so viewed, there never existed iu tlie world before, and, it is devoutly to be hoped, will never be again permitted by Providence to arise, a power so exten- sive, so formidable as Napoleon's. Immense as it was, it had been, moreover, the work of his own talents ; and, therefore, he must have anticipated, with the gi-eater pain, that the system, perfected by 80 much labour and blood, should fall to pieces on the death of him by whom it had been erected, or that the reins of empire should be grasped after that event " by some unlineal hand," " No son of his succeeding." The drop of gall, which the poet describes so natu- ' " ' A son by Josephine would have completed my happi- ness. It would have put an end to her jealousy, by which I was continually harassed. She despaired of haviii'^ a cliild, and she in consequence looked forward with dread to the future." "— N.M'OLEON, Ims Cases, inux. ii., p. 2'J(!. ^ l'ouch(5, torn, i , p. 324. VOL. II. rally as embittering the cup of the Usurper of Seot« land, infused, there is no doubt, its full bitteniesa into that of Napoleon. The sterility of the Empress Josephine was now rendered, by the course of nature, an irremediable evil, over which she mourned in hopeless distress ; and conscious on what precarious circumstances the continuance of their union see«ied now to depend, she gave way occasionally to fits of jealousy, less e.xcited, according to Napoleon,' by personal attachment, than by suspicion that her influence over her husband's mind might be dimi- nished, in case of his having offspring by some paramour. She turned her thoughts to seek a remedy, and exerted her influence over her husband, to induce him to declare some one his successor, according to the unlimited powers vested in him by the Imperial constitution. In the selection, she natu- rally endeavoured to direct his choice towards his step-son, Eugene Beauharnois, her own son by her first marriage ; but this did not meet Buonaparte's approbation. A child, the son of his brother Louis, by Hortense Beauharnois, appeared, during its brief existence, more likely to become the des- tined heir of this immense inheritance. Napoleon seemed attached to the boy ; and when lie mani- fested any spark of childish spirit, rejoiced in the sound of the drum, or showed pleasure in looking upon arms and the image of war, he is said to have exclaimed—" There is a child fit to succeed, per- haps to surpass me." ^ The fixing his choice on an lieir so intimately connected with herself, would have secured tlie influence of Josephine, as much as it could receive assurance from any thing save bearing her hus- band issue herself ; but she was not long permitted to enjoy this prospect. The son of Louis and Hor- tense cfied of a disorder incident to childhood; and thus was broken, while yet a twig, the shoot, that, growing to maturity, might have been reckoned on as the stay of an empire. Napoleon showed the deepest grief, but Josephine sorrowed as one who had no liope.^ Yet, setting aside her having the misfortune to bear him no issue, the claims of Josephine on her husband's aff"ections were as numerous as coidd be possessed by a wife. She had shared his more lowly fortunes, and, by her management and ad- dress during his absence in EgyjJt, had paved the way for the splendid success which he had attained on his return. She had also done much to render his government- popular, by softening the sudden and fierce bursts of passion to which his tempera- ment induced him to give way. No one could understand, like Josephine, the peculiarities of her husband's temper — no one dared, like her, to encounter liis displeasure, rather than not advise him for his better interest — no one could possessi such opportunities of watching the fit season for intercession — and no one, it is allowed on all hands, made a more prudent, or a more beneficent use of the opportunities she enjoyed. The character of Buonaparte, vehement by temper, a soldier by 3 Never did I see Napoleon a prey to deeper and more con- centrated sriuf; never did 1 see Josephine in more agonizing affliction. Tliey appeared to find in it a mournful iirtsenti- ment of a futurity without happiness and without nope." — Fouche, toiu. i., p 324. 2 L 51t SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROS^. WORKS. [1809 education, and investod by Fortune with the most despotic ])o\ver, required peculiarly the moderat- ing influence of such a mind, which could inter- fere without intrusion, and remonstrate without offence. To maintain this influence over her husband, Josephine made not only unreluctantly, but eagerly, the greatest personal sacrifices. In many of the rapid journeys which he performed, she was his companion. No obstacle of road or weather was permitted to interfere with her departure. How- ever sudden the call, the Empress was ever ready ; however untimely tlie hour, her carriage \vas in instant attendance. The influence which she maintained by the sacrifice of her personal com- forts, was used for the advancement of her hus- band's best interests — the relief of those who were in distress, and the averting the consequences of hasty resolutions, formed in a moment of violence or irritation. Besides her considerable talents, and her real beneficence of disposition, Josephine was possessed of other ties over the mind of her husband. The mutual passion which had subsisted between them for many years, if its warmth had subsided, seems to have left behind affectionate remembrances and mutual esteem. The grace and dignity with which Josephine played her part in the Imperial pageant, was calcidated to gratify the pride of Napoleon, which might have been shocked at seeing the cha- racter of Empress discharged with less ease and adroitness ; for her temper and manners enabled her, as one eai'ly accustomed to the society of per- sons of political influence, to conduct herself with singular dexterity in the intrigues of the splendid and busy court, where she filled so important a character. Lastly, it is certain that Buonaparte, who, like many of those that affect to despise super- stition, had a reserve of it in his own bosom, believed that his fortunes were indissolubly con- nected with those of Josephine ; and loving her as she deserved to be beloved, he held his union with her the more intimate, that there was attached to it, he thought, a spell affecting his own destinies, which had ever seemed most predominant when they had received the recent influence of Jose- phine's presence. Notwithstanding all these mutual ties, it was evident to the politicians of the Tuileries, that whatever attachment and veneration for the Em- press Napoleon might profess and feel, it was likely, in the long-run, to give way to the eager desire of a lineal succession, to which he might bequeath his splendid inheritance. As age ad- vanced, every year weakened, though in an imper- ceptible degree, the influence of the Empress, and must have rendered more eager the desire of her husband to form a new alliance, while he was yet at a period of life enabling him to hope he might live to train to maturity the expected heir. Fouche', the minister of police, the boldest poli- tical intriguer of his time, discovered speedily to what point the Emperor must ultimately arrive, and seems to have meditated the ensuring his own ' " It would ill have become me to have kept within my o«n hrcast the su;;mstioiis of my foresight. In a ciinfiduMtiiil memoir, which I utid to Napoleon himself, I represented to him the necessity of dissolving his marriage; of immediately forming, as Emperor, a new alliance more suitable and more happy; and of giving an heir to the throne on whicli I'rovi- power and continuance in favour, by taking the initiative in a measure in which, perhaps, Napoleon might be ashamed to break the ice in person. * Sounding artfully his master's disposition, Fouche was able to discover that the Emperor was strug- gling betwixt the supposed political advantages to be derived from a new matrimonial union on the one hand, and, on the other, love for his present consort, habits of society wliich particularly at- tached him to Josephine, and the species of super- stition which we have already noticed. Having been able to conjecture the state of the Emperor's inclinations, the crafty counsellor determined to make Josephine herself the medium of suggesting to Buonaparte the measm-e of her own divorce, and his second marriage, as a sacrifice necessary to consolidate the empire, and complete the happi- ness of the Emperor. One evening at Fontainbleau, as the Empress was returning from mass, Fouchd detamed her in the embrasure of a window in the gallery, while, with an audacity almost incomprehensible, he explained, with all the alleviating qualifications his ingenuity could suggest, the necessity of a sa- crifice, which he represented as equally sublime and inevitable. The tears gathered in Josephine's eyes — here colour came and went — her lips s^^■elled — and the least which the counsellor had to fear, was his advice having brought on a severe nervous affection. She commanded her emotions, however, sufficiently to ask Fouche, with a faltering voice, whether he had any commission to hold such lan- guage to her. He replied in the negative, and said that he had only ventured on such an insinuation from his having predicted with certainty what must necessarily come to pass ; and from his desire to turn her attention to what so nearly concerned her glory and happiness.^ In consequence of this iiiterview, an impassioned and interesting scene is said to have taken place betwixt Buonaparte and his consort, in which he naturally and truly disavowed the communication of Fouche', and attempted, by every means in his power, to dispel her apprehensions. But he refused to dismiss Fouche', when she demanded it as the punishment due to that minister's audacity, in tampering with her feelings ; and this refusal alone might have convinced Josephine, that though an- cient habitual affection might for a time maintain its influence in the nuptial chamber, it must at length give way before the suggestions of political interest, which were sure to predominate in the cabinet. In fact, when the idea had once been started, the chief objection was removed, and Buonaparte, being spared the pain of dii'cctly communicating the unkind and ungrateful propo- sal to Josephine, had now only to afford her time to familiarise herself w ith the idea of a divorce, as that which political combinations rendered inevit- able. The communication of Fouche was made before Napoleon undertook his operations in Spain ; and by the time of the meeting at Erfurt, the divorce seems to have been a matter determined, since the dence had placed him. Without declaring any thing positive, Napoleon let me perceive, that, in a political point of view, the dissolution of his marriage was already determined jn hia mind." — Fouchk, torn. i.. p. 3:^6. 2 FouchiS, tom. i., p. 3i8. 1809.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAP^l RTE. 515 subject of a match betwixt Buonaparte and one of the archducliesses, the possibility of which liad been anticipated as far back as the treaty of Tilsit, was resumed, seriously treated of, and if not re- ceived with cordiality by the Imperial family of Russia, was equally far from being finally rejected. The reigning Empress, and the Empress Mother, were, however, opposed to it. The ostensible motive was, as we have elsewhere said, the differ- ence of religion ; but these high-minded princesses rejected the alliance chiefly on account of the per- sonal character of the suitor. And although it must have been managed with the greatest secrecy imaginable, it seems probable that the idea of sub- Btituting an Archduchess of Austria for her whose hand was refused him, was started in the course of the treaty of Schoenbrun, and had its effects in providing lenient terms for the weaker party. Napoleon himself says, that he renounced his pur- pose of dismembering Austria when his marriage was fixed upon. But the conditions of peace were signed on the 15th of October, and therefore the motive which influenced Napoleon in granting them must have had existence previous to that period. Yet the contrary is boldly asserted. The idea of the match is said to have been suggested by the Austrian government at a later period, upon understanding that difficulties had occurred in Napoleon's negotiation for a matrimonial alliance in the family of Alexander. Fouche ascribes the whole to the address of his own agent, the Comte de Narbonne, a Frenchman of the old school, witty, pliant, gay, well-mannered, and insinuating, who was ambassador at Vienna in the month of Januai-y 1810.1 But, whether the successor of Josephine were or were not already determined upon, the measures for separating this amiable and interesting woman from him whose fortunes slie had assisted to raise, and to whose person she was so much attached, were in full and public operation soon after her husband's return from the campaign of Wagram. Upon the 3d of December, Buonaparte attended the solemn service of Te Deura for his victories. He was clad with unusual magnificence, wearing the Spanish costume, and displaying in his hat an enormous plume of feathers. The Kings of Saxony and Wirtemberg, who attended as his satellites on this occasion, were placed beside him in full uni- form, and remained uncovered during the cere- mony. From the cathedral. Napoleon passed to the opening of the Legislative 13ody, and boasted, in the oration he addressed to them, of the victories which he had achieved, and the trophies which he had acquired ; nay, he vaunted of his having re- united Tuscany to the empire — as if the spoiling the inoffensive and unresisting widow and orphan could ever be a legitimate subject of triumph. From the existing affairs of Spain, no direct reason for gratulation could be derived ; but \vhen Napoleon could no longer claim praise from things as they presently stood, he was profuse in his promises of a rapid change to the better, and spoke as a pro- phet when he ceased to be the reporter of agreeable facts. " When I," he said, " show myself on the ■ Memoircs de Fouch^. torn, i., p. :U8. « ••]!)• the Jitrniissionofouriiiar anil auRust consort, I oiiplit to dccl.-irc, that not perceiving any hope of liaviny children, other side of the Pyrenees, the terrified Lcojiard shall plunge into the ocean, to avoid shame, defeat, and destruction. The triumph of my arms shall be that of the Genius of Good over the Genius of Evil, of moderation, order, and morals, over civil war, anarchy, and the malevolent passions." With such fair colouring will ambition and injustice at- tempt in screen their purposes. A poetical reply from M. de Fontanes assured the Emperor, that whatever was connected with liim must arise to grandeur, whatever was subjected to any other in- fluence was threatened with a speedy fall. " It was therefore necessary," he continued, " to sub- mit to your ascendency, whose counsels are at once recommended by heroism and by policy." To this speech Buonaparte made a rejoinder, in which, resuming the well-worn themes of his own praises, he alluded to the obstacles which he had sur- mounted, and concluded, " I and my family will always know how to sacrifice our most tender affections to the interests and welfare of the Great Nation." These concluding words, the meaning of which was already guessed by all who belonged to the Court, were soon no riddle to the public in general. Two days afterwards. Napoleon made Josephine acquainted with the cruel certainty, that the sejia ration was ultimately determined upon. But not the many months which had passed since the sub- ject was first touched upon by Fouche — not the conviction which she must have long since received from various quarters, that the measure was un- alterably resolved upon, could strengthen her to hear the tongue of her beloved husband announce what was in fact, though not in name, a sentence of repudiation. She fell into a long and profound swoon. Napoleon was much affected, but his re- solution was taken, and could not be altered. The preparations for the separation went on without flelay. On the 15th December, just ten days after the official communication of her fate had been given to the Empress, Napoleon and Josephine appeared in presence of the Arch- Chancellor, the family of Napoleon, the principal officers of state — in a word, the full Impei'ial Council. In this assembly, Napoleon stated the deep national interest which required that he should have successors of his o^vr. body, the heirs of his love for his people, to occupy the throne on which Providence had placed him. He informed them, that he had for several years renounced the hope of having children by his well- beloved Empress Josephine ; and that therefore he had resolved to subject the feelings of his heart to the good of the state, and desire the dissolution of their marriage. He was, he said, but forty years old, and might well hope to live to train up such children as Providence might send him, in his own sentiments and arts of government. Again he dwelt on the truth and tenderness of his beloved spouse, his partner during fifteen years of Jiappy union. Crowned as she had been by his own hand, he desired she should retain the rank of Empress during her life. Josephine arose, and with a faltering voice, and eyes sufi'used with tears, expressed in a few words* sentiments similar to those of her husband. The which may fulfil the wants of 'his policy and the interests of France, I am )>leased to cive him the greatest i)roof of attach- ment and devotion whith has ever been given on earlU. I 51G jCOtt's miscellaneous prose works. [1809-10. Imperial pair then demanded from the Areh-CIian- cellor a written instrument in evidence of tlieir mutual desire of separation ; and it was granted accordingly, in all due form, with the authority of the Council. The Senate were next assemhled ; and on the 1 6th December, pronounced a consultum, or decree, authorising the separation of the Emperor and Empress, and assuring to Josephine a dowry of two millions of francs, and the rank of Empress during her life. Addresses were voted to both the Imperial parties, in which all possible changes were rung on the duty of subjecting our dearest affections to the public good ; and the conduct of Buonaparte in exchanging his old consort for a young one, was proclaimed a sacrifice, for which the eternal love of the French people could alone console his heart. The union of Napoleon and Josephine being thus abrogated by the supreme civil power, it only remained to procure the intervention of the spirit- ual authorities. The Arch-Chancellor, duly autho- rised by the Imperial pair, presented a request for this purpose to the Diocesan of the Officiality, or ecclesiastical court of Paris, who did not hesitate to declare the marriage dissolved, assigning, how- ever, no reason for such their doom. They an- nounced it, indeed, as conforming to the decrees of councils, and the usages of the Galilean Church — a proposition which would have cost tlie learned and reverend officials much trouble, if they had been required to make it good either by argument or authority. When this sentence had finally dissolved their union, the Emperor retired to St. Cloud, where he lived in seclusion for some days. Josephine, on her part, took up her residence in the beautiful villa of Malmaison, near St. Germains. Here she principally dwelt for the remaining years of her life, which were just prolonged to see the first fall of her husband ; an event which might have been averted had he been content to listen more fre- quently to her lessons of moderation. Her life was chiefly spent in cultivating the fine arts, of which she collected some beautiful specimens, and in pursuing the science of botany ; but especially in the almost daily practice of acts of benevolence and charity, of which the English detenus, of whom there were several at St. Germains, frequently shared the benefit.' Napoleon visited her very frequently, and always treated her with the respect to which she was entitled. He added also to her dowry a third million of francs, that she might feel no inconvenience from the habits of expense to which it was her foible to be addicted. possess all from his bounty; it was his hand which crowned mc ; and from the height of this throne I have received nothing but nrodfs of afftctiun and love from the French people. 1 think I prove myself grateful in consenting to the dissolution of a marriage which heretofore was an obstacle to the welfare of France, which deprived it of the ha]ipiness of being one day governed by the desceiidant of a great man, evidently raised up by Providence, to efface the evils of a terrible revolution, and to re-establish the altar, the throne, and social order. But the dissolution of my marriage will in no degree change the sentiments of my heart ; the Em])eror will ever have in me his best friend. I know how much this act, demanded bv jiolicy, and by interest so great, has chilled his heart; but both of us exult in the sacrifice which we make for the good of the country."— Moiiitcur, Dec. 17, 1809 ; Annual Rqiilcr, vol. li., p. ti08. ' " In quitting the court, Jc8ei)hine drew the hearts of all its votaries after her : she was endeared to all by a kindness of disposition which was without a parallel. She never did ' This important state measure was no sooner completed, than the Great Council was summoned, on the 1st February, to assist the Emperor in the selection of a new spouse. They were given to understand, that a match with a Grand Duchess of Russia had been proposed, but was likely to be embarrassed by disputes concerning religion. A daughter of the King of Saxony was also men- tioned, but it was easily indicated to the Council that their choice ought to fall upon a Princess of the House of Austria. At the conclusion of the meeting, Eugene, the son of tne repudiated Jose- phine, was commissioned by the Council to proposo to the Austrian ambassador a match between Na- poleon and the Archduchess Maria Louisa .^ Prince Schwarzenberg had his instructions on the subject ; so that the match was proposed, discussed, and decided in the Council, and afterwards adjusted between plenipotentiaries on either side, in the space of twenty-four hours.' The espousals of Napoleon and Maria Louisa were celebrated at Vienna, 11th March, 1810. The person of Buona- parte was represented by his favourite Berthier, while the Arcliduke Charles assisted at the cere- mony, in the name of the Emperor Francis. A few days afterwards, the youthful bride, accom- panied by the Queen of Naples, proceeded towards France. With good taste, Napoleon dispensed with the ceremonies used in the reception of Marie Antoi- nette, whose marriage with Louis XVI., though never named or alluded to, was in other respects the model of the present solemnity. Near Soissons, a single horseman, no way distinguished bj" dress, rode past the carriage in which the young Empress was seated, and had the boldness to return, as if to reconnoitre more closely. The carriage stopped, the door was opened, and Napoleoti, breaking through all the tediousness of ceremony, introduced himself to his bride, and came with her to Soissons.* The marriage ceremony was performed at St. Cloud by Buonaparte's uncle, the Cardinal Fesch. The most splendid rejoicings, illuminations, con- certs, festivals, took place upon this important occasion. But a great calamity occurred, which threw a shade over these demonstrations of joy. Prince Schwarzenberg had given a distinguished ball on the occasion, when unhappily the dancing- room, which was temporary, and erected in the garden, caught fire. No efforts could stop the progress of the flames, in which several persons perished, and amongst them even the sister of Prince Schwarzenberg. This tragic circumstance struck a damp on the public mind, and was con- sidered as a bad omen, especially when it was the smallest injury to any one in the days of her power: her very enemies found in her a protectress ; not a dav of her life but what she asked a favour for som^ person, oftentimes un- known to her, but whom she found to be deserving of her pro- tection. Ecgardless of self, her whole time was engaged in attending to the wants of others." — Savaby, torn, ii., part ii., P- 177- 2 .Maria Louisa, the eldest daughter of the Emperorof Aus- tria and Maria Theresa of Naples, was born the 12th Decem- ber, 1791. Her stature was sufficiently majestic, her com- plexion fresh and blooming, her eyes blue and animated, her nair light, and her hand and foot so beautiful, that they might have served as models for the sculptor. 3 F^ouclie, tom. i., p. 3.'iO. 4 " She had always been given to understand that Berthier, who liad married her by proxy at Vienna, in person and age exactly resembled the Emperor: she, however, signified that she observed a very pleasing difference between them."— l,A& Casks, tom. i., p. 312. I 1810.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 517 rcniembcred that the marriage of Louis XVI. wi;h a former Princess of Austria had been signalized by a similar disaster.^ As a domestic occurrence, notliing could more contribute to Buonaparte's happiness than hisimion with Maria Louisa. He was wont to compare her with Josepliine, by giving the latter all the advan- tnges of art and gi'ace ; the former the cliarms of simple modesty and innocence. His former Em- press used every art to support or enhance her pei-sonal charms ; but with so much prudence and mystery, that the secret cares of her toilette could never be traced — her successor trusted for the power of pleasing, to youth and nature. Josephine mismanaged her revenue, and incurred debt with- out scruple. Maria Louisa lived within her income, or if she desired any indulgence beyond it, which was rarely the case, she asked it as a favour of Napoleon. Josephine, accustomed to political in- trigue, loved to manage, to influence, and to guide her husband ; Maria Louisa desired only to please and to obey him. Both were excellent women, of great sweetness of temper, and fondly attached to Napoleon.''' In the difference between these dis- tinguished persons, we can easily discriminate the leading features of the Parisian, and of the simple German beauty ; bnt it is certainly singular that the artificial character should have belonged to the daughter of the West Indian planter ; that marked by nature and simplicity, to a princess of the proudest court in Europe. Buonaparte, whose domestic conduct was gene- rally praiseworthy, behaved with the utmost kind- ness to his princely bride. He observed, however, the strictest etiquette, and required it from the Empress. If it happened, for example, as was often the case, that he was prevented from attend- ing at the hour when dinner was placed on the table, he was displeased if, in the interim of his absence, which was often pi'olonged, she either took a book, or had recourse to any female occupation — if, in short, he did not find her in the attitude of waiting for the signal to take her place at table. Perhaps a sense of his inferior birth made Napoleon more tenacious of this species of form, as what he could not afford to relinquish. Ou the other hand, Maria Louisa is said to have expressed her sur- prise at her husband's dispensing with the use of arms and attendance of guards, and at his moving about with the freedom of an individual ;' although this could be no great novelty to a member of the Imperial Family of Austria, most of whom, and especially the Emperor Francis, are in the habit of mixing familiarly witli the people of Vienna, at public places, and in the public walks. As it influenced his political fate, Buonaparte has registered his complaint, that the Austrian match was a precipice covered with flowers, which he was rashly induced to approach by the hopes of domes- tic happiness.* But if this proved so, it was the fault of Napoleon himself ; his subjects and Iiis allies augured very differently of its consequences, and to himself alone it was owing that these augu- ries were disappomted. It was to have been ex- ' "The most unfortunate presascs were drawn iiuin it; Nipolton himself was struck with it." — FoutnK, torn, i,, |). .155. ^ Las Coses, torn, i., p. 310. s Voice from St Helena, vol. ii., p. 2i5 pected, that a connexion formed with the most ancient Imperial Family in Christendom, might have induced Buonaparte to adopt some of those sentiments of moderation which regard i-athep the stability than the increase of power. It constituted a point at which he might pause. It might have been thought that, satiated with success, and wearied with enterprise, he would have Inisied himself more in consolidating the power vetwixt the French general and Galicia, and ])laced himself in communication with the Spaniards. While Soult was thus cooped up in Oporto, the English Ministry, undaunted by the failure of their late expedition, resolved to continue the defence of the Portuguese, and to enter into still closer alli- ance with the Supreme Junta of Spain. Consult- ing their own opinion and the public voice, all con- sideration of rank and long service was laid aside, in order to confer the command of the troops which were to be sent to the continent, on Sir Arthur Wellesley, whose conduct in the battle of Vimeiro, and the subsequent explanations which he afforded at the Court of Inquiry, had taught all Britain to believe, that if Portugal could be defended at all, it must be by the victor of that day. He was scarce landed at Lisbon [April 22] ere he fully justified the good opinion of his countrymen. He crossed the Douro at different points with a cele- rity for which the French were unprepared, and, after a brilliant action under the walls of Oporto, compelled Soult to evacuate that city, and com- mence a retreat, so disastrous as to resemble that of Sir John Moore In this retrograde movement, the French left behind them cannon, equipments, baggage — all that can strengthen an army, and enable it to act as such ; and, after all these sacri- fices, their leader could hardly make his escape into Galicia, with scarce three-fourths of his army remaining, where he found great difficulty in re- modelling his forces. Ney, whom he had left as governor of that province, was hard pressed by the patriots, who defeated the French in several battles, and eventually retook the towns of Ferrol and Co- runna. Sir Arthur Wellesley was prevented from com- pleting Soult's defeat by pursuing him into Galicia, because, after the Spaniards had sustained the se- vere defeat of Tudela, the French had penetrated into Andalusia in great strength, where they were only opposed by an ill-equipped and dispirited army of 40,000 men, under the rash and ill-starred General Cuesta. It was evident, that Marshal Victor, who commanded in Andalusia, had it in his power to have detached a considerable part of his force on Lisbon, supposing that city had been un- covered, by Sir Arthur Wellesley's carrying his forces in pursuit of Soult. This was to be pi'e- vented, if possible. The English general formed the magnificent plan, for which Napoleon's depar- ture to the Austrian campaign afforded a favour- able opportunity, of marching into Andalusia, unit- ing the British forces with those of Cuesta, and acting against the invaders with such vigour, as might at once check their progress in the South, and endanger their occupation of Madrid. Un- happily an ill-timed jealousy seems to have taken possession of Cuesta, which manifested itself in to revense, it is said that lO.dOO PortuRUese died on that un- happy day ! The loss of the French did not exceed 5*J(I men." — Napikr, vol. ii., p. 207. See also Soi'THEy, vol. iii., p. iJl'J. 1 S09.] lAFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 510 every possible shape, in wl 'eh frowardncps, and a petty obstinacy of spirit, could be exhibited. To no one of the combined plans, sidjmitted to him by the English general, would he give assent or efFectual concurrence ; and when a favourable op- portunity arrived of attacking Victor, before he was united with the forces which Joseph Buona- parte and Sebastian! were bringing from Madrid to his support, Cuesta alleged he would not give battle on a Sunday.' The golden opportunity was thus lost ; and when the allies were obliged to receive battle instead of giving it, on the 28th July, 1809, it was without the advantages which the former occasion held out. Yet the famous battle of Talavera de la Reina, in which the French were comjiletely defeated, was, under these unfavourable circumstances, achieved by Sir Arthur Wellesley. The event of this ac- tion, in which the British forces had been able to defend themselves against double their own num- ber, with but little assistance from the Spanish army, became, owing to the continued wilfulness of Cuesta, very different from what such a victory ought to have produced. The French troops, as- sembling from every point, left Sir Arthur no other mode of assuring the safety of his army, than by a retreat on Portugal ; and for want of means of transport, which the S]3anish general ought to have furnished, more than fifteen hundred of the wounded were left to the mercy of the French. ^ They were treated as became a courteous enemy, yet the incident afforded a fine pretext to contest the victory, which the French had resigned by flying from the field. The assertions of the bulletins in the Monlteur could not deceive men on the true state of affairs. The Spanish Junta were sensible of the services rendered by the English general, and, somewhat of the latest, removed Cuesta from the command, to manifest their disapprobation of his unaccount- able conduct. . At home. Sir Arthur Wellesley was promoted to the peerage, by the title of Lord Wellington, who was destined to ascend, with the universal applause of the nation, as high as our constitution will permit. But Buonaparte paid the greatest compliment to the victor of Talavera, by the splenetic resentment with which he was filled by the news. He had received the tidings by his private intelligence, before the officer arrived with the regular despatches. He was exti-emely ill received by the Emperor ; and, as if the messen- gers had been responsible for the tidings they brought, a second officer, with a duplicate of the same intelligence, was treated still more harshly, and for a time put under arrest. This explosion of passion could not be occasioned by the conse- quences of the action, for the experienced eye of Napoleon must have discriminated the circum- stances by which the effects of victory were in a great measure lost to the allied armies ; but he saw in the battle of Talavera, an assui'ance given to both English and Spanish soldiers, that, duly resisted, the French would fly from them. He foresaw, also, tlut the British Government would 1 SoutlicT, vol. iv., p. 10. The reader is requested to com- pare this account with that given by i.ord iiurKhersh. in his " Memoir on the Early Campaigns of WellinRton," p. 77— where the details are somewhat ditferently represented. — Ed. 2 " Victor sent soldiers to every lumse, with orders to the irha'jitants immediately to riceive and accomniodiite the be tempted to maintain the contest on the confi- ncnt, and that the Spaniards would be encouraged to persevere in resistance. He foresaw, in short, that war of six desperate and bloody campaigns, which did not terminate till the battle of Tholouse, in 1814. But it needed no anticipation to fill Napoleon's mind with anxiety on the subject of Spain. It is true, fortune seemed every where to smile on his arms. Zaragossa, once more besieged, maintained its former name, but without the former brilliant result. After a defence as distinguished as in the first siege, the brave garrison and citizens, deprived of means of defence, and desperate of all hope of relief, had been compelled to surrender some months before.^ Gerona, Tarragona, Tortosa, though still vigo- rously defended, were so powerfully invested, that it seemed as if Catalonia, the most warlike of the Spanish departments, was eftectually subdued ; and, accordingly, these fortresses also were afterwards obliged to capitulate. Andalusia, the richest province which sustained the patriot cause, certainly was conquered, in con- sequence of a total defeat encountered by the Sjmnish grand army, mider Areizaga, at Ocana, November 1809, after the English troops had re- treated to the Portuguese frontier.'* Joseph Buo- naparte, whose road was cleared by this last suc- cess, entered Coi'doba in triumph upon the 17th of January, 1810, and proud Seville itself upon the 1st of February following. Yet the chief prize of victory had not yet been gained. The Supreme Junta had effected their retreat to Cadiz, which city, situated in an island, and cut off from the mainland, on one side by a canal, and on the other three by the ocean, w as capable of the most strenvi- ous defence. Cadiz contained a gan-ison of 20,000 men, Eng- lish, Spanish, and Portuguese, under the com- mand of General Graham, a distinguished officer, whose merits, like those of Buonaparte, had been first distinguished at the siege of Toulon. Marshal Soult, as first in command in Spain, disposed him- self to form the siege of this city, the capture of which would liave been almost the death-knell to the cause of the patriots. But although these important successes read well in the Mvniteur, yet such was the indomitable character of the Spaniards, which Napoleon had contrived fully to awaken, that misfortunes, which would have crushed all hope in any other people, seemed to them only an incentive to further and more desperate resistance. When they talked of the state of their country, they expressed no dis- may at their present adverse circumstances It had cost their ancestors, they said, two centuries to rid themselves of the Moors ; they had no doubt tliat in a shorter time they should free themselves of the yoke of France ; but they must reckon on time and opportunity, as well as valour. The events of the war in many respects gave credit to tlieir hopes. The Spaniards, often found weak where they thought themselves strongest, px'oved some- wounded of the two nations, who were lodged together, one Engli.sh and one Krencliman ; and he expressly directed that the Knglishnian should always be served tirgt," — SoUTHR'', vol. iv., p. 49. 3 Southey, vol. iii., p. IflS. ■» Southey, vol. iv., p. isa. 520 SCOTT'S BHSCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1810. t!mcs most powerful, whei-e, to all liuman appear- ance, they seemed weakest. While they lost An- dalusia, believed to be so defensible, the mountain- ous province of Galicia, through which the French had so lately marched triumphantly in pursuit of the British, taking in their progress the import- ant maritime towns of Corunna and Ferrol, was wrenched from the conquerors by the exertions of Romana, assisted by the warlike natives of the country, and at the head of an undisciplined and ill-equipped army. In Catalonia, too, the French had hardly time to accomplish the conquest of towns and fortresses to which we have alluded, when they found them- selves checked, baffled, and sometimes defeated, by the Catalans, under Lacy, O'Donnell, and D'Eroles, who maintained the patriotic cause at the head of those energetic marksmen, the Somatenes, or Mi- quelets. Nay, while the French were extending their seeming conquests to the Mediterranean Sea, and thundering at the gates of Cadiz, so little were they in peaceful possession of Navarre, and the other provinces adjoining to France, that not an officer with despatches could pass from Burgos to Bayonne without a powerful escort, and bands of Spaniards even showed themselves on the French frontier, and passed it for the purpose of skirmish- ing and raising contributions. Such being the case on the frontiers nearest to France, it may be well supposed, that the midland provinces were not more subordinate. In fact, through the whole Peninsula the Fi-ench held no influence whatever that was not inspired by the force of the bayonet and sabre ; and where these could not operate, the country was in universal insurrection. The basis of this extensive and persevering re- sistance was laid in the general system of Guerilla, or partisan warfare, to which the genius of the Spanish people, and the character of their country, are peculiarly fitted, and which offered a resistance to the invaders more formidable by far than that of regular armies, because less tangible, and less susceptible of being crushed in general actions. It WHS with the defenders of Spain, as with the guar- dian of the enchanted castle in the Italian romance. An armed warrior first encountered the champion will) attempted the adventure, and when he had fallen under the sword of the assailant, the post which he had occupied appeared manned by a body of pigmies, small in size, but so numerous and so enterprising as to annoy the knight-errant far^nore than the gigantic force of his first adversary. The qualities of a partisan, or irregular soldier, are in- herent in the national character of the Spaniard. Calm, temperate, capable of much fatigue, and veiling under a cold demeanour an ardent and fiery chai-acter, they are qualified to wait for opportuni- ties of advantage, and are not easily discouraged by difficulty or defeat. Good marksmen in general, and handling the lance, sword, and dagger with address, they are formidable in an ambush, and not less so in a close melee, where men fight hand to hand, more as nature dictates than according to the rules of war. The obstinacy of the Castilian '^ Niiiiicr, vol. ij., p. 349; Southcv, vol. iii , p. 511. - " Various explanations have been offered of this name. One account says, that upon finding his family murdered by tlie French, Juan Martin Diaz smeared his face with pitch and made a solemn vow of vengeance. Another, that he was a.; called because of his swarthy complexion. But in the ac- cliaracter, also, had its advantages in this peeuli.ar state of warfare. Neither promises nor threats made any impression on them ; and the severities executed in fulfilment of menaces, only inflamed the spirit of hostility by that of private revenge, to which the Spaniard is far more accessible than either to the voice of caution or persuasion. Neither were the officers less qualified for the task than the men. The command of a guerilla was of a character not to be desired by any who did not find himself equal to, and in some measure called upon to accept, the dangerous pre-eminence. There were few Spanish officers possessed of the scientific knowledge of war, and of course few adequate to lead armies into the field ; but the properties necessary for a guerilla leader are im- printed in the human mind, and ready for exercise w^henever they are required. These leaders were, as it chanced : some of them men of high birth and military education ; some had been smugglers or peasants, or had practised other professions ; as was discovered from their noms-de-guerre, as the Curate, the Doctor, the Shepherd, and so forth.' Many of their names will be long associated with the recollection of their gallant actions ; and those of others, as of Mina and the Empecinado,''' will, at the same time, remind us of the gross ingra- titude with which their heroic efforts have been rewarded. These daring men possessed the most perfect knowledge of the passes, strengths, woods, moun- tains, and wildernesses, of the provinces in which they warred ; and the exact intelligence which they obtained from the peasantry, made them intimately acquainted with the motions of the enemy. Was too weak a French detachment moved, it ran the risk of being cut off; was the garrison too feeble at the place which it left, the fort was taken. The slightest as well as the most important objects, met the attention of the guerillas ; a courier could not move without a large escort, nor could the intru- sive King take the amusement of hunting, however near to his capital, unless, like Earl Percy in tlie ballad, attended by a guard of fifteen hundred men. The Jui-amentados, those Spaniards that is, who had sworn allegiance to King Jose])h, were of course closely watched by the guerillas, and if they ren- dered themselves inconveniently or obnoxiously active in the cause they had espoused, were often kidnapped and punished as traitors ; examples which rendered submission to, or active co-opera- tion with the French, at least as imprudent as boldly opposing the invaders. The numbers of the guerillas varied at different times, as the chiefs rose or declined in reputation, and as they possessed the means of maintaining their followers. Some led small flying armies of two thousand and upwards. Others, or the same chiefs under a reverse of fortune had only ten or twenty followers. The French often attempted to surprise and destroy the parties by which they suffered most, and for that purpose detached moveable columns from different points, to assemble on the rendezvouii of the guerilla. But, notwithstanding all their ac ■ count of his life it is said, that all the inhal.itants of Castrillc de Duero, where he was born, have this nickname indiscri- minately given them by their neighbours, in consequence of a black mud, called pechxa, deposited by a little stream which runs through the place ; and the appellation became peculiar to liim from his celebrity."— Siiiithkv, vol Ui . p. 51 1 1810.] LIVE OF NAPOLEON l^UOXArARTE. '1 tivity and dextcrilyon such expcdituais, tliey i-arely succeeded in eatcliinn; tlieir enemy at unawares ; or if it so liapi)ened, the individuals comjxising the band broke up, and dispersed by ways only known to themselves ; and when the French ofRcers ac- counted them totally annihilated, they were again assembled on another point, exercising a partisan war on the rear, and upon the communications, of those who lately expected to have them at their mercy. Thus invisible when thej were sought for, the guerillas seemed every where present when damage could be done to the invaders. To chase them was to pursue the wind, and to circumvent them was to detain water with a sieve. Soult had recourse to severity to intimidate these desultory but most annoying enemies, by publishing a proclamation [May 9] threatening to treat the members of the guerillas, not as regular soldiers, but as banditti taken in the fact, and tlnis execute such of them as chanced to be made prisoners. The chiefs, in reply to this proclamation, published a royal decree, as they termed it, declaring that each Spaniard was, by the necessity of the times, a fsoldier, and that he was entitled to all military pri- vileges when taken with arms in his hands. They therefore annomiced, that having ample means of retaliation in their power, they would not scruple to make use of them, by executing three French- men for every one of their followers who should suffer in consequence of Soult's unjust and irdm- man proclamation.' These threats were fulfilled on both sides. It is said, a horrid example of cruelty was given by a French general, who in a manner crucified, by naihng to trees, eight pri- soners, whom he had taken from the guerillas of the Empecinado. The daring Spaniard's passions were wound up too high to listen either to pity or fear ; lie retaliated the cruelty by nailing the same num- ber of Frenchmen to the same trees, and leaving them to fill the forest of Guadarama with their groans. But these excesses became rare on either side ; for the mutual interest of both parties soon led them to recur to the ordinai'y rules of war. We have given a slight sketch of the peculiar character of this singular warfare, which constitutes a curious and interesting chapter in the history of mankind, and serves to show how difficult it is to subject, by the most formidable military means, a people who are determined not to submit to the yoke. The probabihty of the case had not escaped the acute eye of Buonaparte himself, who, though prescient of the consequences, had not been able to resist the temptation of seizing upon this splendid sovereignty, and who was still determined, as he is said to have expressed himself, to reign at least over Spain, if he could not reign over the Spanish people. But even this stern wish, adopted in ven- geance rather than in soberness of mind, could not, if gratified, have removed the perplexity which was annexed to the affairs of the Peninsula. Buonaparte, in the spirit of calculation which was one of his great attributes, had reckoned that Spain, wlien in his hands, would retain the same channels of wealth which she had possessed from her South American provinces. Had he been able to carry into execution his whole plan — had the old king really embarked for Peru or Mexico, it might have happened, that Napoleon's influence over Charles, 1 Southcy, vol. iv., p. 4l«. his Queen, and her favourite Godoy, could have been used to realize these expectations. But, in con- sequence of the rupture which had taken place, the Spanish colonies, at first taking part with the pa- triots of the mother country, made large remit- tances to Cadiz for the support of the war against the French ; and when afterwards, adopting another view of the subject, the opportunity appeared to them favourable for effecting their own indepen- dence, the golden tide which annually carried tri- bute to Old Spain was entirely dried up. This Buonaparte had not reckoned upon, and he had now to regret an improvident avidity, similar to that of Esop's boy, who killed the bird which laid eggs of gold. The disappointment was as gi'eat as unexpected. Napoleon had, from his pri- vate treasure, and the means he possessed in France, discharged the whole expense of the two large armies, by v.hom the territory of Spain was first occupied ; and it was natural for him to suppose, that in this, as in so many other cases, the French troops should, after this first expedition, be paid and maintained at the expense of the provinces in which they were quartered. This was the rather to be expected, when Andalusia, Grenada, Valencia, fertile and rich provinces, were added to the dis- tricts overrun by the invading army. But, so general was the disinclination to the French, so rmiversal the disappearance of specie, so uninter- mitting the disturbances excited by the guerillas, that both King Joseph, his court, and the French army, were obliged to have constant recourse to Napoleon for the means of supporting themselves ; and such large remittances were made for these purposes, that in all the countries occupied by the French, the Spanish coin gradually disappeared from the circulation, and was replaced by that of France. The being obliged, therefore, to send supplies to the kingdom from which he had ex- pected to receive them, was a subject of great mor- tification to Napoleon, which was not, however, the only one connected with the government he had established thei-e. In accepting the crown of Spain at the hands of Napoleon, Joseph, who was a man of sense and penetration, must have been sufficiently aware that it was an emblem of borrowed and dependent sove- reignty, gleaming but with such reflected light as his brother's Imperial diadem might shed upon it. He could not but know, that in making him King of Spain, Napoleon retained over him all his rights as a subject of France, to whose Emperor, in his regal as well as personal capacity, he still, though a nominal monarch, was accounted to owe all vas- salage. For this he must have been fully prepared. But Joseph, who had a share of the family pride expected to possess with all others, save Buona- parte, the external appearance at least of sove- reignty, and was much dissatisfied with the pro- ceedings of the mai-shals and generals sent by hi.'^ brother to his assistance. Each of these, accus- tomed to command his own sci>arate coi-ps d'arme'C; with no subordination save that to the Emjieror only, pi'oceeded to act on his own authority, and his own responsibility, levied contributions at plea- sure, and regarded the authority of King Josejih as that of a useless and iiieftective civilian, who followed the march along with the impedimenta and baggage of the camp, and to whom little honour was reckoned due, and uo obedience. In a woia, 522 SCOTT'S lillSCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1810. BO complicated became the state of the war and of the government, so embari-assing the rival preten- sions set up by the several French generals, against Joseph and against each other, that when Joseph came to Paris to assist at the marriage of Napoleon and Maria Louisa, he made an express demand, that all the French troops in Spain sliould be placed under his own comniand,or rather that of his Major- General ; and in case this was declined, he proposed to abdicate the crown, or, Avhat was equivalent, that the French auxiliaries should be withdrawn from Spain. Buonaparte had on a former occa- sion, named his brother generalissimo of the troops within his pretended dominicms ; he now agreed that the French generals serving in Spain should be subjected, without exception, to the control of Marshal Jourdan, as Majoi'-General of King Jo- seph. But as these commanders were removed from Buonaparte's immediate eye, and were obliged to render an account of their proceedings both to the intrusive king and to Napoleon, it was not diflficult for them to contrive to play off the one against the other, and in fact to conduct themselves as if independent of both. These very embarrassing circumstances were increased by the presence of the English army, which, having twice driven the French from Por- tugal, showed no intention of returning to their ships, but lay on the frontiers of the latter kingdom, ready to encourage and assist the continued resist- ance" of Spain. It was not the fault of the com- mander-in-chief that their duties were, for tlie present, in a great measure limited to those of an army of observation. If the troops which assisted in the ill-advised Walcheren expedition had been united to those under the command of JiOrd Wel- lington, they would, at a loss infinitely less, and yet greatly more honourably incurred, have driven the French beyond the Ebro, or, more probably, have compelled them to evacuate Spain. But the British Cabinet, though adopting new and more bold, as well as more just ideas of the force of the country, could not be expected perhaps all at once, and amid the clamour of an Opposition who saw nothing but reckless desperation in whatever mea- sures were calculated to resist France, to hazard so much of the national force upon one single ad- venture, although bearing in their own eyes a, pro- mising aspect. Statesmen, and even those of no mean character, are apt to forget, that where a large supply of men and money is necessary to en- sure the object aimed at, it is miserable policy to attempt to economize either ; and that such ill-timed thrift must render the difficulties attending the expedition either altogether insurmountable, or greatly add to the loss which must be encountered to overcome them. In the meantime, Buonaparte, with respect to the Peninsula, convulsed as it was by civil war in every province — half-subdued and half-emanci- pated—causing him an immense expense, as well as endless contradiction and mortification — stood nmch in the condition, to use a popular simile, of one, who, having hold of a wolf, feels it equally difficult to overpower the furious animal, and dan- gerous to let him go. His power over the general lujnd, however, rested a great deal on the opinion t mimonly received, that he was destined to succeed in whatever enterprise he undertook. He himself eutertainod some such ideas concerning the force of his ovm destiny ; and as it was no part either of his temper or his policy to abandon what he had once undertaken, he determined to make a gigantic effort to drive the Leopards and their Sepoy ge- neral, as the French papers called the British and Lord Wellington, out of Portugal ; to possess him- self of Lisbon ; and to shut that avenue against foreign forces again attempting to enter the Penin- sula. In obedience to the Emperor's commands, a:i army, to be termed that of Portugal, was assembled, on a scale which the Peninsula had scarcely yet seen. It was called by the French themselves 110,000 men, but certainly rather exceeded than fell short of the number of 80,000. This large force was put under the command of Massena, Prince of Essling, the greatest name in the French army, after that of Napoleon, and so favoured by fortune, that his master was wont to call him the Spoilt Child of Victory.i Lord Wellington's British troops did not exceed 25,000 in number, and there were among them so many invalids, that his motions were necessarily entirely limited to the defensive. He had, how- ever, a subsidiary force under his command, con- sisting of 30,000 Portuguese, in whom other gene- rals might have rested little confidence ; but they were receiving British pay and British allowances, were disciplined in the British manner, and com- manded by British ofiicers ; and Lord Wellington, who had seen the unwai'like Hindu behave himself in similar circumstances, like a companion not un- worthy of the English soldier, had little doubt of being able to awaken the dormant and suppressed, but natural ardour of the natives of Portugal. This force had been, in a great measure, trained under the auspices of Marshal Beresford, an officer who has eternal claims on the gratitude of his country, for the generous manner in which he devoted him- self to a labour, which had at first little that was flattering or promising ; and for the very great perfection to which, by dint of skill, good temper, and knowledge of lumian nature, he was able to bring his task to completion at such an important crisis. It was, however, of the utmost importance to avoid trusting too much to the Portuguese troops, which were so recently levied and trained, until they had acquired something of the practice, as well as the theory, of the military profession. Thus, between the weak state of the British, and the imperfect discipline of the Portuguese, Lord Wellington was reduced to temporary inactivity, and liad the mortification to see the frontier places of Cuidad Rodrigo and Almeida taken almost in the presence of his army. The fears of the British nation were as usual excited in an unreasonable degree by these two sinister events ; but they had both come within the calculations of Lord Welling- ton, whose advance to the frontier was without the intention of incurring any risk for the preservation of those places, but merely, by inducing the garri- sons to hold out, to protract as long as possible a defence, the duration of which must be equally advantageous to the allies, and wasteful to tlie French. The position on which he meant to maintain the defence of Portugal, had been long since fixed upon, I Soutliuy, vdl. iv.. p. 415. IRIO.] LIFE or NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 523 a-.id tlio fortifications had been as long in progress. It was that of Torres Vedras, wliere, as appears from his own evidence before the Cintra Court of Inquiry, he had expected Junot to make a de- fence, after the battle of Vimeiro. All Lord Wel- lington's previous movements were adjusted care- fully, for the purpose of drawing the enemy from liis supplies and communications to that point, be- yond wliich he proposed the invader should pass no farther. Admirably as Lord Wellington's jiremises were Cuiniected with tlie conclusion he aimed at, chance, or rather the presumption of the French general, favoured liim with an unexpected opportunity of adding glory to a retreat, which was dictated by prudence. Massena, if he did justice to Britisli courage, thouglit himself entitled to set the military skill of their general at utter defiance. He saw, indeed, their retrograde movements, from the banks of the Coa towards Lisbon, conducted with all the deliberate and guarded caution of a game at chess ; but still these movements were retrograde, nor could he resist the temptation, by a bold and sud- den attack, to attempt to precipitate the retreat of the British, and drive them, if not into the sea, at least into their ships, to which he doubted not they ■(vere ultimately bound. This led to the battle of Busaco, which was fought on the 27th of September 1810. Upon that memorable day the British army was assembled lOn the Sierra, or ridge of the hills called Busaco. Massena, by turning the extremity of the ridge, might have compelled the English general to re- commence his retreat ; but he meditated a direct Attack on the position. It was made by five strong divisions of the French. Two attacked on the right, one of which, forcing its way to the top of the ridge, was bayoneted and driven headlong down ; the other, suff"ering great loss from the fire, gave way before reaching the top. Three divisions at- tacked on the left, with nearly the same fate. De- feated upon such unfavourable ground, the enemy lost, it was computed, at least 2000 men slain, be- sides very many wounded. The moral eftect of the battle of Busaco was immense. It assured both the English themselves, and the people of Portugal, that the retreat of Lord Wellington's army was not the effect of fear, but of a deliberate choice. It evinced, also, what degree of trust might be securely reposed in tlie Portuguese levies. " They had shown themselves worthy of contend- ing," said Lord Wellington, in his official despatch, " in the same ranks with British troops ;" and they felt their own confidence rise as their merits be- came acknowledged.' The French army, declining any farther attack on the Sieira, proceeded to turn its extremity, and move upon Lisbon by the way of Coimbra. Here Massena established a strong rear-guard with his hospitals and wounded, but tlie inspiration occa- sioned by the victory of Busaco had not yet sub- sided among the Portuguese. Colonel Trant, a British officer, who commanded a body of Portu- guese mihtia, ruslied gallantly into Coimbra, and carried the place by a sudden attack. About 5000 nicji, many of course wounded, with all the French hospital stores, fell into the hands of the Portu- guese ; and Massena, wlio could not recover the place, suffered all the loss of stores and provisions which that city afforded as a depot, and which the fertile district in the neighbourliood might have enabled him to collect. Great was the surprise of both armies, when the retreat of the British, and advance of the French, suddenly terminated. The former entered a regu- lar position, which, by the utmost exertion of skill and labour, had been rendered almost impregnable, being most formidably prote>.ted by field-works and heavy guns. They found that the Tagus and port of Lisbon afforded them assurance of subsistence, even in plenty, and that their inferiority in numbers was completely made up to them by tlie strength of their position. The French, on the contrary, who had fondly expected to enter Lisbon as conquerors, found themselves in a country wasted by the hands of its cultivators ; without hospitals or magazines in their rear; in front a foe, of whom they had lately felt the strength ; and around, a hostile population, for the greater part in arms. If, in such a situation, Massena could be said to besiege Lisbon, he was, nevertheless, in the utmost danger of suffering those extremities of famine which usually fall to the lot of the beleaguered party. He seemed, by some strange transmutation, to have changed lots with the natives of Lisbon, and to suft'er all the evils which he expected to inflict. The war now paused on both sides. Lord Wel- lington had reached the point of liis defence. Mas- sena seemed at a loss where to commence his attack. The deer was turned to bay, but the dog sprang not. The eyes of all Europe were rested upon the Tagus, on whose banks w'ere to be decided the pretensions to superiority asserted by two great generals in the name of two mighty nations. But that event was suspended for several months, dur- ing which it is fitting that we should resume th« narrative of other matters. 1 Soutlicy, vol. iv.,p. 4(12. CHAPTER LII Change in NajMleon's Principles of Gorernment-- Becomes suspicious of Talleyrand and Fuiiche—- Fouchi endeavours, without the knowledge of Na- poleon, to ascertain the Views of England with respect to Peace — Ilis Plan is defeated by a sin- gular collision with a similar one of Napoleon — and Fouchi is sent aicay as Governor-General of Pome — His Moral and Political Character — Murmurings of the Peojde against the Austrian Alliance — Continental System — Ignorance of Napoleon of the Actual Political Feelings of Great Britain — The License System — Lotiis Buo- naparte — Endenroiirs in vain to defend- Holland from the Effects of the Continental System — He abdicates the Throne, and retires to Gratz in Sty- ria — Holland is annexed to the French Empire. Since Buonaparte obtained, in 1804, the abso- lute rule of the Frencli Republic, a change had been gradually taking place in his principles of go- vernment, and in the character of the statesmen whom he employed as his ministers and advisers. For the first two years, and more, he liad governed on tlie principle of a limited monarch, who avails liimself of the best talents he can find among hia subjects, and shows a deference to those who aro 524 SCOTT'S mSCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1810 distinguished, cither for the political part which they have performed, or the sliare they possess in the good opinion of the public. Among his advisci's at this period, we find many of the leading men of the Revolution ; persons who, though they had been induced, from various motives, to see the rise of Napoleon with equanimity, and even to aid him, then their equal, in his attempt to climb to supreme power, yet still remembered in what relation he and they had originally stood to each other. In counselling an Emperor, these statesmen did it with the more freedom, that they remembered a period when they were on a level with him, nay, perhaps, when they stood a good deal higher. This period of his reign, during which Napoleon suffered the wild and powerful flights of his own ambition to be, in some degree, restrained and directed by the judgment of others, formed the most laudable and useful certainly, if not the most brilliant part of his career. But, gi-adually as his power became augmented and consolidated, the Emperor began to prefer that class of complaisant ministers, who would rather reflect his own opin- ions, prefaced with additional recommendations and arguments, than less courteously attempt to criticise and refute them. The history of Napoleon justifies, or at least ex- cuses him, for falling into this natural error. He felt, and justly, that he was the sole projector of his gigantic plans, and also, in a great measure, the agent who carried them through ; and he was led to believe, that, because he did so much, he might as well do the whole. The schemes which he had himself originally formed, were executed by his own military genius ; and thus it seemed as if the advice of counsellors, so indispensable to other princes, might be unnecessary to a sovereign who had shown himself all-sufticient alike in the cabinet and in the field. Yet this, though a plausible, was a delusive argument, even though it appeared to be borne out by the actual fact. It may be true, that in Buonaparte's councils, few measures of consequence were suggested by his ministers, and that he himself generally took the lead in affairs of importance. But still it was of great consequence that such plans, having been proposed, should be critically weighed, and canvassed by men of too much experience to be deceived by appearances, and too much courage to be prevented from speak- ing their mind. The advice of such men as Tal- leyrand and Fouche, operated as a restraint upon schemes hastily adopted, or opinionatively main- tained ; and their influence, though unseen and unheard, save in the Imperial cabinet, might yet be compared to the keel of a vessel, which, though invisible, serves to steady her among the waves, and regulate the foi-ce by which she is propelled by her swelling canvass ; or to the pendulum of a ame-pieee, which checks and controls the main- epring of the machinery. Yet, though Buonapai-te must have been sensible of these advantages, he was still more accessible to the feelings of jealousy, which made him suspect that these statesmen were disposed rather to establish separate interests for themselves in the goverimient and nation, than to bold themselves completely dependent on the Im- perial authority. ' Southey, vol. iii , p. 405; Fouuh6, torn, i., p. 339. The character of both Talleyrand and t'ouclie, indeed, authorised some such suspicion. They had been distinguished in the French Revolution before Napoleon's name had been heard of, were intimately acquainted with all the springs which had moved it, and retained, as Buonaparte might suspect, the inclination, and even the power, to interfere at some po.ssible state-crisis more effectually than ac- corded with his views of policy. He had gorged them indeed with wealth ; but, if he eonsidted his own bosom, he might learn that wealth is but an indifferent compensation for the loss of political power. In a word, he suspected that the great ser- vices which Talleyrand rendered him with regard to foreign relations, and Fouche as minister of po- lice, were calculated to raise them into necessary and indispensable agents, who might thus become, to a certain degree, independent of his authority. He doubted, moreover, that they still kept up re- lations with a political society called Philadelphes, consisting of old republicans and others, of differ- ent political creeds, but who were united ni their views of obtaining some degree of freedom, either by availing themselves of such slender means of restraint as the constitution, so carefully purged of every means of opposing the Imperial will, might yet afford, or by waiting for some disaster befall- ing Napoleon which might render their voice po- tential.' The suspicions with which Buonaparte regarded liis ministers did not rest on vague conjecture. While he was in Spain, he received information, appearing to indicate that a party was forming it- self in the Legislative Assembly, the bond con- necting which was opposition to the Imperial will. That body voted, it must be remembered, by bal- lot ; and great was the surprise and alarm of the assembly, when black balls, disapproving a measure suggested to their consideration bj' government, were counted to the number of an hundred and twenty -five, being a full third of the members yn-e- sent.^ An official note, dated from Valladolid, 4th De- cember, instantly recalled the presumptuous dis- sentients to a sense that the power of rejecting the laws laid before them in the Emperor's name, which they had attempted thus boldly to exercise, was only intrusted to them for show, but was meant to contain no really effectual power of con- trol. The words of Napoleon, the friend, as has been pretended, of liberal institutions, are well worthy of remark. " Our evils," he said, " have arisen in part from an exaggeration of ideas, which has tempted the Legislative Body to consider itself a;s representing the nation ; an idea which is chi- merical and even criminal, since implying a claim of representation which is vested in the Empei'or alone. The Legislative Body ought to be called the Legislative Council — it does not possess the right of making laws, since it has not the right of propounding them. In the constitutional hierarchy, the Emperor, and the ministers his organs, are the first representatives of the nation. If any other pretensions, pretending to be constitutional, should pervert the principles of our monarchical constitu- tion, every thing is undone."^ This is all ver^' intelligible, and shows that iu 2 Fouche, torn, i., p. .3:2!). 3 Fouclit, torn, i , p. ^'i''. JSIO.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. )2o principle, if not m practice, tlie monarcliical con- stitution of France rested upon the same basis of despotism wliicli supports the monarcliical consti- tution of Constantinople, where the Ulcmats, or men of law, have an ostensible title to resist the Grand Siguier's edicts, and are only exposed to the penalty of being pounded to death in a mortar, should they presume to exercise it. Yet, a mem- ber of the French Legislative Body might have been pardoned for" being inquisitive on two sub- jects. 1st, He might wish to know, if that body, chosen by the people, though indeed not directly, did not represent their electors, whom was it that they did represent ? 2dly, What was their real authority in the state, since they were not to enjoy the power of rejecting the overtures which the constitution contended should be laid before them, before they were passed into laws 1 Buonaparte entertained strong suspicion that this recalcitrating humour, so suddenly testified by so complaisant an assembly, must have had the coun- tenance of Talleyrand and of Fouche. So soon as he returned to Paris, therefore, he sounded the latter minister on the revolt in the Legislative Bod}', and desired his opinion on the sort of mea- sures by which lie had repressed it. Fouche had been too long a spy upon the private thoughts of others, to be capable of the weakness of betraying his own. He expatiated, in a tone of panegyric, on the decisive tone of the official note, afiirmed that this was the only way to govern a kingdom, and added, that if any constitutional body arrogated the right of natini. ii., p. 1711 52(5 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [ISIO. disgrace, and even personal hazard, on mere public grounds. But, besides the pleasure which those who have long engaged in political intrigues find in carrying them on, until the habit becomes as in- veterate as that of the gambler, we can see that Fouche' might reasonably propose to himself an important accession of influence by the success of such a negotiation. If he could once acquire a knowledge of the price at which Napoleon might obtain that peace for which the world sighed in vain, he would become possessed of an influence over public opinion, both at home and abroad, wliich could not but render him a person of ex- treme importance ; and if he was able to become the agent in turning such knowledge to advantage, and negotiating such an important treaty, he might fix himself even on Napoleon, as one of those minis- ters frequently met with in history, whom their sovereign may have disliked, but could not find means to dismiss. Acting upon such motives, or on others which we can less easily penetrate, Fouche' anxiously looked around, to consider what concessions France might aff'ord to make, to soothe the jealousy of England ; trusting it would be possible to come to some understanding with the British Ministry, weakened by the loss of Mr. Canning, and dis- heartened by the defeats sustained by the Spanish patriots, and the sinister event of the Walcheren expedition. The terms which he would have been willing to have granted, comprehended an assur- ance of the independence of the two kingdoms of Holland and Spain (as if such a guarantee could have availed any thing while these kingdoms had for sovereigns the brothers of Napoleon, men reigning as his prefects, and, we shall presently see, subject to removal at liis pleasure,) together with the acknowledgment of the Sicilian monarchy in the present King, and that of Portugal in the House of Braganza. M. Ou\Tard, a gentleman who had been permitted to go to London on commei'cial business, was employed by Fouche to open this delicate and furtive negotiation with the Marquis of Wellesley. But the negotiation was discon- certed by a singular circumstance.^ The idea of endeavouring to know on what terms peace could be obbiined, had occurred to Napoleon as well as to Fouche ; and the sovereign, on his part, unsuccessful as he had been on two occasions in ' " Although Sir Walter Scott dous not mention me, I am able to speak pertinently to this affair: the followiiif; is the truth. 1 went to Paris in 1)!(»9, against my inclination, to com- ply with the wish of the principal Dutch, who imagined that I could prevent, or at least adjourn by my presence in Paris, and my immediate efforts, the evident intention of seizing upon Holland. During my stay at Paris, 1 was persuaded that all the tricks, the attacks, and ill-treatment, of which I was the object, had not for their real end the union of Hol- land, since it was the interest of France to aggrandise that kingdom, but that it was a political stratagem, to induce the Englisli government to repeal its decrees of council, and to conclude the peace ; and I was therefore prevailed upon while Rt Paris to send M. Labouchere from Amsterdam to London with instructions to make known to the Marquis Wellesley, that if England did not withdraw its decrees of council, tlie union of Holland with France was inevitable. The repiv of the marqais proved at once how favourable my government in Holland had been to France, since the English Uovernment declared, ' that the fate of Holland could not fail to occasion much interest in England ; but that, in the present state of that country, the intiuence of France was so entire there, that the political change spoken of, must have some weight in the determination of the British Cabinet.' This attempt having proved useless, I could only succeed in delaving the union of Holland, the decree for which being prepared beforeliand, and lilways in readiness, was often placed before me— by sacri- ticini,' Brabant and Zealand. After my return to Amsterdam, liLs attempt to open a personal correspondence with the King of England, had followed the steps of iiis minister, in making M. Labouchere, a commercial person, agent of a great Dutch mercantile esta- blishment, the medium of communication with the British Government. The consequence was, that Ouvrard, and the agent of the Emjeror, neither of whom knew of the other's mission, entered about the same time into correspondence with the Mar- quis Wellesley, who, returned- from his Spanish mission, was now secretary at war. The British statesman, surprised at this double application, be- came naturally svfspicious of some intended decep- tion, and broke off all correspondence both with Ouvrard and his competitor for the oftice of uego- tiator.2 Napoleon must naturally have been so highly in- censed with Fouche for tampering without his con- sent^ in a matter of such vital con.sequence, that one is almost surprised to find him limiting the effects of his resentment to disgracing the minister. He sent for Fouche [June 2,] and having extorted from him an avowal of his secret negotiation, he remarked, " So, then, you make peace or war with- out my leave ? " '' The consequence was, that the Duke of Otranto was deprived of his office of minister of police, in which he was succeeded by Savary ; and he was shortly after sent into a spe- cies of honourable exile, in the character of Gover- nor-general of Rome.* It cost Buonaoarte no little trouble to redeem from the clutches of his late minister the confidential notes which he had him- self written to him upon affairs of police. For a long time Fouche pretended that he had consigned these important documents to the flames ; and it was not until he had before his eyes the alternativorts, of various articles of British Commerce — Negotiations for Exchange of Prison- ers between France and England; and for a ge- neral Peace, broken off by Buonapcnte's unreason- able Demands. In the destruction of the kingdom of Holland, a new sceptre, and that of Napoleon's own forming, was broken, as he wrenched it out of the hands of his brother. In the case of Sweden, and in hopes of ensuring the patronage of the French Emperor, or averting his emnity, a diadem was placed on the brows of one, who, like Napoleon himself, had commenced his career as a soldier of fortune. We have repeatedly observed, that the high spirit and intreiiid enterprise of Gustavus IVi, imsupported as they were either by distinguished military abilities, or by eflectual power, seemed as if he aped the parts of Gustavus Adolphus or triliiitcd to niin liis credit in Euroiic."— .l.*r. Cases, loni. ii., p. yo?. 532 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS TROSE WORKS. [1810. Giarlos XIT., witliout considering the declined condition of the country he governed, or the infe- riority of his own talents. Sweden had siifTered great losses hy the daring manner in wliich this prince maintained the ancient principles of aristo- cracy against tlie overwhehning power of France. Pomcrania, being tlie only dominion belonging to Sweden on the south side of the Baltic, had been taken possession of by France in the war of 1806-7 ; and Russia, who had been a party to that war, and who had encouraged Gustavus to main- tain it, had, since changing her politics at the treaty of Tilsit, lierself declared war against Swe- den, for the sole and undisguised purpose of pos- sessing herself of Finland, wliich she had succeeded in appropriating. Sweden had, therefore, lost, under this ill-fated monarch, above one-third of her ter- ritories, and the inhabitants became anxious to secure, even were it by desperate measures, the independence of that which remained. There were fears lest Russia sliould aspire to the conquest of the rest of the ancient kingdom — fears that France might rewai'd the adhesion and the sufferings of Denmark, by uniting tlie crown of Sweden with that of Denmark and Norway, and aiding the sub- jugation of the counti'y with an auxiliary army. While these calamities impended over their ancient state, the Swedes felt confident that Gustavus was too rash to avert the storm by submission, too weak, and perhaps too unlucky, to resist its violence. This conviction led to a conspiracy, perhaps one of tlie most universally known in history. The unfortunate king was seized upon and made prisoner in March, 1809, without any other resist- ance than his own unassisted sword could maintain ; and so little were the conspirators afraid of his being able to find a party in the state desirous of replacing him in the government, that they were content he should have his liberty and a suitable pension on his agreeing to consider himself as an exile from Sweden ; ' in which sentence of banish- ■ ment, with little pretence to justice, his wife, sister of the Empress of Russia, and his children, compre- hending the heir of his crown, wei'e also included.^ The Duke of Sudermania, uncle of the dethroned pi'ince, was called to the throne, and the succession of the kingdom was destined to Christian of Augus- tenberg, a prince of the house of Holstein. Peace was made by the n'ew King \A'ith Russia, at the expense of ceding Finland and the isle of Aland to that power. Soon afterwards a treaty was signed at Paris, by which Charles XIII. promised to ad- here to the Continental System, and to shut his ports against all British commerce, with certain indulgences on the articles of salt and colonial pro- duce. In requital, Napoleon restored to Sweden her continental province of Pomerania, with the isle of Rugen, reserving, however, such dotations "or pensions as he had assigned to his soldiers or followers, upon those territories. But though the politics of Sweden were thus entirely changed, its revolution was destined to proceed. The King being aged, the eyes of the people were much fixed on the successor, or Crown ' Annual Register, vol. li., p. 74.'i. 2 " A conspiracy of no common kind tore him from tlic throne, and transported ' ini out of his states. The unanimity evinced against him is, no doubt, a proof of the wrongs he had committed. I am ready to admit, tliat he was inexcusable and even mad; but it is, not^Yithstandir.g; extraordinary and Prince, who took upon himself the chief laliour 'if the government, and appears to have given satis- faction to the nation. 13ut his government was of sliort duration. On the 2Bth of May, 1810, while reviewing some troops, he suddenly fell fmiu his horse, and expired on the spot, leaving Swi den again without any head excepting the old King. This event agitated the whole nation, and various candidates were proposed for the succession of the kingdom. Among these was the King of Denmark, who, after the sacrifices he had made for Buonaparte, had some right to expect his support. The son of the late unfortunate monarch, rightful heir of the crown, and named lilce him Gustavus, was also proposed as a candidate. The Duke of Oldenburg, brother-in-law of the Emperor of Russia, had par- tisans. To each of these candidates there lay prac- tical objections. To have followed the line of law- ful succession, and called Gustavus to the throne (which could not be forfeited by his father's infir- mity, so far as ho was concerned,) would have been to place a child at the head of the state, and must have inferred, amid this most arduous crisis, all the doubts and difficulties of choosing a regent. Such choice might, too, be the means, at a future time, of reviving his father's claim to the crown. The countries of Denmai-k and Sweden had been too long rivals for the Swedes to subject themselves to the yoke of the King of Denmark ; and to choose the Duke of Oldenburg would have been, in effect, to submit themselves to Russia, of whose last be- haviour towards her Sweden had considerable reason to complain. In this embarrassment they wei'e thought to start a happy idea, who proposed to conciliate Napoleon by bestowing the ancient crown of the Goths upon one of his own field-marshals, and a high noble of his empire, namely, John Baptiste Julian Berna- dotte. Prince of Ponte Corvo. This distinguished officer was married to a sister of Joseph Buona- parte's wife (daughter of a wealthy and respectable individual, named Cle'ry,) through whom he had the advantage of an alliance with the Imperial family of Napoleon, and he had acquired a high reputa- tion in the north of Europe, both when governor of Hanover, and administrator of Swedish Pomerania. On tlie latter occasion, Bernadotte was said to have shown himself in a particular manner the friend and protector of the Swedish nation ; and it was even hisinuated, that he would not be averse to exchange tlie errors of Popery for the reformed tenets of Luther. The Swedish nation fell very generally into the line of policy which prompted this choice. Humiliating as it might, at another period, have been to a people proud of their ancient renown, to choose for their master a foreign soldier, differing from them in birth and religious faith, sucii an election yet promised to place at the head of the nation a person admirably qualified to com- prehend and encounter the difficulties of the time ; and it was a choice, sure, as they thought, to be agreeable to liim upon whose nod the world seemed to depend. unexamjiled, that, in that crisis a single sword was not drawn in his defencfe, whetlier from aft'cction, from gratitude, from virtuous feeling, or even from mere simplicity, if it must be so; and truly, it i.s a circumstance which does little lionour to the atmosphere of kings."— Napoileon, Las Cases, low, ii!., p. 101,'. 1810.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 533 Yet, tliere is tlie best reason to doubt, wbctlier, in preferring Bornadotte to tlieir vacant throne, the Swedes did a thing wliicli was gratifying to Napo- leon. The name of tlie Crown Prince of Sweden elect, had been known in the wars of tlie Revolu- tion, before that of Buonaparte had been heard of. Bornadotte had been the older, though certainly not therefore the better soldier. On tlie IStliBru- niaire, he was so far from joining Buonaparte in his enterprise against the Council of Five Hundred, notwithstanding all advances made to him, that lie was on the spot at St. Cloud armed and prepared, had circumstances permitted, to place himself at the head of any part of the military, who might be brought to declare for the Directory. And although, like every one else, Bernadotte submitted to the Consular system, and held the government of Hol- land under Buonaparte, yet then, as well as under the empire, he was always understood to belong to a class of officers, whom Napoleon employed in- deed, and rewarded, but without loving them, or perhaps relying on them, more than he was com- pelled to do, although their character was in most instances a warrant for their fidelity. These officers formed a comparatively small class, yet comprehending some of the most distinguished names in the French army, who, ia seeuig the visionary Republic glide from their grasp, had been, nevertheless, unable to forget the promises held out to them by the earlier dawn of the Revo- lution. Reconciled by necessity to a state of ser- vitude which tiiey could not avoid, this party con- sidered themselves as the soldiers of France, not of Napoleon, and followed the banner of their country rather than the fortunes of the Emperor. Without being personally Napoleon's enemies, tliey were not the friends of his despotic power ; and it wa-s to be expected, should any opportunity occur, that men so thinking would make a stand, for the purpose of introducing some modifications into tlie arbitrary system which the Emperor had esta- bli-hed. Napoleon, always deeply politic, unless when carried off by sudden bursts of temperament, took, as already mentioned, great care, in his distribution of duties and honours, at once to conceal from the public the existence of a difference in opinion among his general officers, and also to arm the interests of those patriots themselves against their own specu- lative opinions, by rendering the present state of things too beneficial to them for their being easily induced to attempt any change. Still it may never- theless be Conceived, tliat it was not out of this class of lukewarm adherents he would have volun- tarily selected a candidate for a kingdom, which, being removed at some distance fi-om the influence of France, he would more w illingly have seen con- ferred on some one, w hose devotion to the will of his Emperor was not likely to be disturbed by any intrusion of conscientious pati-iotism. But, besides the suspicion entertained by Napo- leon of Bernadotte's political opinions, subjects of positive discord had recently arisen between them. Bernadotte had been blamed by the Emperor for 1 Fonche, toin. i., p. 3.V. 2 " The real kinp, he said, "accordiriK to my political sys- tem and the true interests of France, was tlie Kinf; ot Den- mark; because I sliould then have pnvcrned Sweden by the iiiflnence of my simple contact with the Danish i)rovii,ces." ^ •■ 1, the elected monarch of tlie people, had lo answer. permitting the escape of Romana and tViP Spaniards, as already mentioned. At a later period, lie was commander of the Saxon troops in the campaign of Wagram ; and, notw ithstanding a set of very scientific manoeuvres, by which he detained Gene- ral Bellegarde on the frontiers of Bohemia, when his presence might have been essentially useful tc the Archduke Charles, he was censured by Napo- leon as tardy in his movements. The landing of the English at Walcheren in duced Fouche', as has been already said, with tha 1 concurrence of Clarke, then minister at war, to iii- I trust Bernadotte with the charge of the defence 4)f I Flanders and Holland. But neither in this ser- j vice had he the good fortune to please the Emperor. j Fouche', at whose instance he had accepted the I situation, was already tottering in office ; and the ill-selected expression, " that however necessary Napoleon was to the glory of France, yet his pre- sence was not indispensable to repel invasion,"' was interpreted into a magnifying of themselves at llie expense of the Emperor. Napoleon made his displeasure manifest by depriving Bernadotte of the conmiand in Belgium, and sending him back to the north of Germany ; and it is said that the general, on his part, was so little inclined to make a secret of his resentment, that he was remarked as a fiery Gascon, who, if he should ever have an opportunity, would be likely to do mischief. But while such were the bad terms betwixt the Emperor and his general, the Swedes, unsuspicious of the true state of the case, imagined, that in choosing Bernadotte for successor to their throne, they were paying to Buonaparte the most accept- able tribute. And notwithstanding that Napoleon was actually at variance with Bernadotte, and al- thougli, in a political view, he would much rather have given his aid to the pretensions of tlie King of Denmark,- lie was under the necessity of reflect- ing, that Sweden retained a certain degree of inde- pendence ; that the sea separated her shores from his armies ; and that, however willing to conciliate him, the Swedes were not in a condition absolutely to be compelled to receive laws at his hand. It was necessary to acquiesce in their choice, since he could not dictate to them ; and by doing so ho might at the same time exliibit another splendid example of the heiglit to which his service con- ducted his generals, of his own desire to assist their promotion, and of tliat which might be much more doubtful than the two first propositions — of his willingness to pay deference to the claims of a people in electing their chief magistrate. AVlicn, tlierefore, Bernadotte, protesting that he would be exclusively guided by Napoleon's wishes in pursu- ing or relinquishing this impoi'tant object, besought him for his countenance with the States of Sweden, who were to elect tlie Crown Prince, Buonaparte answered, that he would not interfere in tlio elec- tion by any solicitations or arguments, but that lie gave the Prince of Ponte Corvo his permission to be a candidate, and should be well pleased if he proved a successful one. Such is Napoleon's ac- count of the transaction.' We have, however, been that I could not set myself afiainst the elections of other people. It was what I toid Bernadotte, whose whole attitude betrayed the anxiety excited by the expectation of my •<-- swer. I added, that he had only to take advantape of the good-will of which ho liad been the object; that I wished tc be considcied as having had no weight iii liis election, but oO I SCOTT'S IMISCELLANEOUS TROSE WORKS. [ISIO fiivmtred with some manuscript obsei-vatioiis, in wliicli a very different colour is given to Napo Icon's proceedings, and which prove distinctly, that wliile Napoleon treated the Ci'own Prince Elect of Sweden with fair language, he endeavoured by underhand intrigues to prevent the accomplishment of his hopes.' The Swedes, however, remained fixed in their choice, notwithstanding the insinuations of Desau- gier, the French envoy, whom Napoleon afterwards affected to disown and recall, for sup])orting in the diet of Orehro, the interest of tJie King of Den- mark, instead of that of Bernadotte. Napoleon's cold assent, or rather an assurance that he would not dissent, being thus wrung reluc- tantly from him, Bernadotte, owing to his excellent character among the Swedes, and tlieir opinion of his interest with Napoleon, was chosen Crown Prince of Sweden, by the States of that kingdom, 21st August, 1810. Napoleon, as he himself acknowledges, was enabled to resist, though with difficulty, a strong temptation to retract his consent, and defeat the intended election. Perhaps this unfriendly disposition might be in some degree overcome by the expectation, that by their present choice the Emperor of France would secure the accession of Sweden to the anti-commercial system ; whereas, by attempting a game which he was not equally sure of winning, he might, indeed, have disappointed a man whom he loved not, but by doing so must run the risk of throwing the States of Sweden, who were not likely to be equally unanimous iu behalf of any other French candidate, into the arms of England, his avowed foe ; or of Russia, who, since the treaty of Schoenbrun, and Napoleon's union with the House of Austria, could only be termed a doubtful and cloudy friend. But he endeavoured to obtain from Bernadotte some guai-antee of his dependence upon France and its Emperor. He took the opportunity of making the attempt when Bernadotte applied to him for lettei-s of emancipation from his allegiance to France, which could not decently be withheld from the Prince Royal of another country. " The expediting of the letters patent," said Napoleon, " has been retarded by a proposal made by the Council, that Bernadotte should previously bind liimself never to bear arms against Napoleon." Bernadotte exclaimed against a pi'oposal which must have left him in the rank of a French general. The Emperor was ashamed to persist in a demand so unreasonable, and dismissed him with the almost prophetic words — " Go— our destinies must be accomplished." He promised the Prince Royal two millions of francs as an indenmity for the prin- cipality of Ponte Corvo, and other possessions which had been assigned to him in Holland, and which he restored on ceasing to be a subject of France. It is singular enough that Napoleon, while at St. Helena, permitted himself to assert that he had made a present of this money (of which only one million was ever paid,) to enable Bernadotte to tivke possession of his new dignity with becoming splendour. To bring the affairs of Sweden to a close for the that it liad my approbation and my best wishes. I ftlt, liow- ivLT, stiall I say it, a Sfcrut instinct, which made the thing ilisagrciahle and painful. Bernadotte was, in fact, the ser- pent wliich T nourislud in my bosom."— Napoleon, Las L'asis, lorn, iii., p. 17I. present, we may here add, that, though that nation were desirous to escape the renewal of the despe- rate and hopeless struggle \\ith France, they were most unwilling, nevertheless, to lose the advantages of their commerce with England. The conduct of the national business soon devolved entirely upon the Crown Prince, the age and infirmities of the King not permitting him to conduct them any longer. It became Bernadotte's, or, as he was now named, Charles John's difficult and delicate task, to endeavour at once to projiitiate France, and to find excuses which might dispose Buonaparte to grant some relaxation on the subject of the Conti- nental System. But as it was impossible for the Prince of Sweden to disguise his motive for eva- ding a cordial co-operation in Napoleon's favourite measure, so the latter, about three months after the accession of his former companion in arms to su- preme power, grew impatient enough to overwhelm the Swedish minister. Baron Lagerbjelke, with a tirade similar to his celebrated attack on Lord Whitworth. He discoursed with the utmost vo- lubility for an hour and a quarter, leaving the asto- nished ambassador scarce an opening to thrust in a word by way of observation, defence, or answer. " Do they believe in Sweden that I am to be so easily duped 1 Do they think I will be satisfied with this half state of things? Give me no senti- ments ! it is from facts we form our opinions. You signed the peace with me in the beginning of the year, and engaged yourself then to break off all communication with Britain ; yet you retained an English agent till late in the summer, and kept the communication open by way of Gottenburg. Your small islands are so many smuggling magazines ; your vessels meet the English and exchange freights. I have not slept an hour to-night on account of your affairs ; yet you ought to suffer me to take repose, I have need of it. You have vessels in every port in England. You talk of the necessity of buying salt, forsooth. Is it for salt you go into the Thames ? — You talk of suffering, by superseding the trade. Do you not believe that I suffer ? That Germany, Bourdeaux, Holland, and France suffer? But it must all be ended. You must fire on the English, and you must confiscate their merchandise, or you nuist have war with France. Open war, or constant friendship — this is my last word, my ultimate deter- mination. Could they think in Sweden that I would modify my system, because I love and esteem the Prince Royal ? Did I not love and esteem the King of Holland ? He is my brother, yet I have broken with him: I have silenced the voice of nature to give ear to that of the general interest." These, and many violent expressions to the same purpose, Buonaparte poured out in an elevation of voice that might be heard in the adjoining apart- ments. The Emperor's remonstrances, ti-ansmitted by the ambassador, were seconded at the Court of Stock- holm by the arguments of Denmark and Russia ; and the Crown Pi-ince was at last oldiged to give the national adherence of Sweden to the Continen- tal System, and to declare war against England.' The British Government were fully sensible of the ' See RKFLECTfONS ON THE CoNDlXT OF NaPOLBON TO- wAnns THE Crown Pkinck of Sweden, iu the Appknpus, No. XI. - Animal Ke^i'itcr, vol, Iii., p 1'3. 1810.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. constraint under whii'li SweJcii acted, and, so far from acfiijg hostilely towards that kingdom, did not seem to malvc any perceptible change in tlie rela- tions which had before subsisted between the countries. In the meantime, Bernadotte and Napoleon, for a time, veiled under the usual forms of courtesy their nnitual dislike and resentment. But the Ci'own Prince could not forgive the Emperor for an at- tempt to lord it over him like a superior over a vassal, and compelling him, notwithstanding his entreaties, to distress his subjects, and to render his government unpopular, by sacrificing a lucrative trade. Napoleon, on the other hand, was incensed that Bernadotte, whose greatness he considered as existing only by his own permission, should affect to differ in opinion from him, or hesitate betwixt obliging France and injuring Sweden. On other occasional differences betwixt the sove- reigns, it appeared that there was no eager desire on the part of the Crown Prince of Sweden to oblige the Emperor of France. Repeated demands for sailors and soldiers to be engaged in the French service, were made by Napoleon. These Berna- dotte always contrived to evade, by referring to the laws of Sweden, as a limited monarchy, which did not permit him, like the absolute Majesty of Den- mark, to dispose of her sailors at pleasure ; and by enlarging on the nature of the Swedes, who, bold and willing soldiers at home, were too much attach- ed to their own climate and manners, to endure those of any other country. In these, and such like excuses, no one could read more readily than Napoleon, a fixed resolution on the part of his old Companion in arms, not to yield to the influence of France in any point in which he could avoid it. And though an outward show of friendship was maintained between the countries, and even be- tween the sovereigns, yet it was of that insincere kind which was sure to be broken off on the slight- est collision of their mutual interests. It remained, however, undisturbed till the eventful year of 1812. — We return to the affairs of France. The Emperor undertook a tour through the pro- vinces of Flanders and Holland with his young Empress, with the view of enforcing his views and purposes in church and state. In the course of this joui'ney, one or two remarkable circumstances took place. The first was his furious reproaches to the clergy of Brabant, who, more rigorous Papists than in some other Catholic countries, had circulated among their congi'egations the bull of excommuni- cation fulminated by the Pope against Napoleon. The provocation was certainly considerable, but the mode of resenting it was indecently violent. He was especially angry that they appeared without their canonical dresses. " You call yourselves priests," lie said; "where are your vestments? Are you attorneys, notaries, or peasants ? You begin by for- getting the respect due to me; whereas, the prin- ciple of the Christian Church, as these gentlemen " (turning to the Protestant deputies) "can teach you, is, as they have just professed, to render unto Ccesar the tilings which are Ctesar's. But you — you will not pray foryour sovereign, because a Romish priest excommunicated me. But who gave him such a I'iglit ? Perhaps it is your wish to bring back tor- tures and scaffolds, but I will take care to baftte you. I bear the temporal sword, and know how to use it. 1 am a monarch of God's creation, and you 060 reptiles of the earth dare not oppose me. 1 render an account of my government to none save God and Jesus Christ. Do you think I am one formed to kiss the Pope's slipper ? Had you the power, you would shave my head, clap a cowl on me, and plunge me in a cloister. But if you preach not the Gospel as the Apostles did, I will banish you from the empire, and disperse you like so many Jews.— ■ And, Jlonsieur le Pre'fet, see that these men swear to the Concordat; and take care that the orthodox Gospel be taught in the ecclesiastical seminaries, that they may send out men of sense, and not idiots like these." Thus closed this edifying admo- nition. The Dutch were under the necessity of assuming the appearance of great rejoicing; yet even the danger of indulging their blunt humour, could not altogether restrain these downright merchants. When the Emperor made a stir about establishing a Chamber of Commerce at Amsterdam, one of the burgomasters gravely observed, there was no need of a chamber, since a closet would hold all the commerce left them. In like manner, when Napo- leon was vaunting, that he would soon have a fleet of two hundred sail ; " And when you have got them," said a plain-spoken citizen, " the English will have double the number." But, more formidable than blunt truths and indifferent jests, there appeared, while Buonaparte was in Holland, one of those stern invocations exciting the people against foreign tyranny, which have often occasioned the downfall of unjust power, and always rendered those who poss-ess it unhappy and insecure. " People of Holland," said this sin- gular ])aper (which may be compared to the tract called Killing no Murder, which drove sleep from Cromwell's pillow,) " why do you fear your op- pressor ? — he is one, you are many. Appeal to his very soldiers ; their desertions in Spain show how they hate him ; and even his generals would aban- don him, could they secure their own rank and grandeur independent of his. But above all, arise to the task of your own redemption ; rise in the fulness of national strength. A general revolt of the Continent will ensue ; the oppressor will fall, and your triumph will be a warning to tyrants, and an example to the world." This address produced no perceptible effect at the time, but, with other papers of the kind, it made a profound imjjression on the public mind. On his return to Paris, Napoleon set himself still farther to impose the extension of the Conti- nental System, which he was induced to attempt by the appropriation of Holland, and the revolution in Sweden. Holding his plan as much more deci- sive than it could have been, even if his power and his spleen had been adequate to effect his purpose, he cast his eyes in every direction, to close every aperture, however small, through which Britisli commerce, the victim he hoped entirely to smother, might draw ever so slight a gasp of breath. It was a feature of Buonaparte's ambition — as indeed it is of inordinate ambition in general — that whatever additions were made to his Empire extended his wish of acquisition. Holland, whose traders were princes, and she herself the Queen of Commerce, had been already devoured, with her ample sea-coast and far-famed harbours. But other cities, less wealthy and fameil, yet still venerable from their ancient importance, must become ? part 53G SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1810. lof France, ere Buonaparte thought his blockade asjainst Bi'itish commerce complete and impervious. The seizure of the poor regions called the Valais, which had hitherto been suffered to exist as a freo republic, gave France the absolute command of the road over the Simplon ; the property, and perhaps the command of which passage, it being the great means of communication betwixt France and Italy, Napoleon did not incline should remain with a petty republic. It was a sufficient reason, at this unhappy period, for depriving any country of its independence, that France was to be benefited by the change. It was not in this case a bloodless one. The poor mountaineers drew to arms, and it required some fighting before they were com- pelled to submission, and their barren mountains Mere annexed to France. But it was of much greater importance, in Na- poleon's eye, to prevent the commerce which he had expelled from Holland from shifting its resi- dence to the trading towns of the north of Ger- n^any, composing what was called the Hanseatic League. A new appropriation of territory, there- fore, imited to France the whole sea-coast along the German Ocean, comprehending the mouths of the Scheldt, the Mouse, and the Rhine ; the Ems, the Weser, and the Elbe. And it was the Em- peror's proposal to unite these maritime territories to France by a canal, which was to join the Baltic ocean to the Seine. A considerable proportion of the kingdom of Westphalia, and of the Grand Duchy of Berg, both principalities of Napoleon's own crea- tion, fell under this appropriation, and formed another example, had not that of Holland been Bufficient, to show how little respect Napoleon was disposed to pay even to those rights which emana- ted from himself, when they interfered with fresher plans and wider prospects of ambition. Had Prussia retained her ancient influence as protector of the North, Hamburgh, Bremen, and Lubeck, would not have been thus unceremoniously melted down and confounded with the French Empire. But while these venerable and well- known free cities sunk without protection or re- sistance under a despotism which threatened to become universal, a petty state of far less conse- quence, scarce known as having an independent existence by any who was not intimate with the divisions of the north of Germany, found a patron, and a pow-erful one. This was Oldenbui'g, a duke- dom, the present prince of which was related to the Emperor of Russia, as both were descended of the House of Holstein Gottorp, and was, moreover, Alexander's brother-in-law. This state of Olden- burg had been studiously excepted from the changes made in the North of Germany, after the treaty of Tilsit, which made the present confiscation of its territory an act of more marked slight towards the court of Russia. A formal expostulation being transmitted to Napoleon, he proposed to repair the injuiy of the Duke of Oldenburg, by assigning to him the town and territory of Erfurt, with the lordship of Blankenheim. But the duke felt him- self too strongly supported to be under the neces- sity of surrendering his dominions, and receiving otliers in exchange. The offer of indemnity was haughtily rejected ; France persevered in her pur- pose of usurping Oldenburg ; and the Emperor Alexander, in a protest, gravely but temperately worded, a copy of which was delivered to every member of the diplomatic bjdy, intimated that he did not acquiesce in the injury done to a prince of his family, although he continued to adhere to that great line of political interest which had occasioned he alliance between France and Russia. The real truth was, that Napoleon, secure of the friendship of Austria by the late alliance, had not, it would seem, regarded Russia as any longer wor- thy of the same observance which he had originally found it politic to pay to the Emperor Alexander. The Czar himself felt this ; and the very large proportion of his subjects, composing the party of Old Russians, as they termed themselves, who were favourable to the English alliance, and de- tested the connexion with France, improved the opportunity by pointing out the evils which all classes in the country endured, from the Czar's having, in complaisance to the plans of Napoleon, decreed the abolition of English commerce. They showed that this compliance with the views of France had been attended with great detriment te his own subjects, who could neither sell their com^ modities, and the produce of their estates, for which Britain always offered a market, nor acquire the colonial produce and British manufactured goods, which the consumption of Russia almost peremp- torily demanded. An ukase was issued on the 31st of December, 1810, which was drawn up with considerable art; for while in words it seemed to affirm the exclu- sion of British manufactures from the empire in general, it permitted importations to be made at Archangel, Petersburgh, Riga, Revel, and five or six other seaports, where various articles of mer- chandise, and, in particular, colonial produce, un- less proved to belong to Britain, might be freely imported. So that, while appearing to quote and respect the Continental System, Napoleon could not but be sensible that Russia virtually renounced it. But as Alexander had not ventured to avail himself of the seizure of Oldenburg as a reason for breaking off his alliance with France, so Napo- leon, on his part, though the changed tone of Rus- sian policy could not escape him, paused, neverthe- less, in coming to a final rupture with an enemy so powerful, upon the subject of the ukase of Decem- ber 1810. Meantime, the French Emperor became probably sensible that peace with England was the surest ground upon which he could secure his throne. In the month of April, 1810, some attempt at obtain- ing terms of pacification had been made during the mission of Mr. Mackenzie, who was sent to Morlaix as agent on the part of the British Government. It had been not the least cruel peculiarity of this in- veterate war, that no cartel for exchange of pri- soners had been effected on either side, and, of course, that those unhappy persons whom chance had thrown into the power of the enemy, had no visible alternative but to linger out their lives in a distant and hostile country, or at least remain cap- tives till the conclusion of hostilities, to which no one could presume to assign a date. The original impediment to such an excliange, which has in all civilized countries been considered as a dt bt indis- pensably due to soften the rigours of war and lessen the sufferings of its victims, was a demand of Napoleon that the persons possessing no military character, whom he had made prisoners contrary to the law of nations at the cr>nuuenceii»ent of ho* 1810.J LIFE OF NAPOLEON EUONAPArvTE. 537 i'.lities, should be exchancred asjaiiist French sailors and soldiers. The British niinistei-s fur a li'iii,' time resisted so unusual an application, to which policy, indeed, forbade them to accede. At length, how- ever, the sufferings of individuals, and of their families, induced the British government to allow the French Emperor the advantage of his oppres- sive act in detaining these unfortunate persons, and agree that they should be included in the pro- posed cartel. But when the commissioners met at Morlaix, Mr. Mackenzie found himself as far from approaching an agreement as ever. The number of French prisoners in Britain was more by many thousands than that of the British in France ; and Buonaparte, who seldom made a bargain in which he did not secure the advantage to himself, insisted tliat the surplus of French prisoners should be ex- changed for Germans, Spaniards, Portuguese, or others who should be captive in France. This was readily agreed to, so far as regarded foreign troops in Bi-itish pay ; but it was equally unreasonable and contrary to usage to require that we should restore to France her native subjects, whose services she might use to augment her mili- tary force, while we received in exchange foreign- ers, unconnected with us by service or allegiance, and who, perhaps, when set at liberty, might be as apt to join the French ranks, as those of the nation in wliose name they had obtained freedom. After much wrangling and dispute, Mr. Macken- zie, to show the sincere desire which the British government entertained of releasing the prisoners on both sides, made a proposal that the exchange should commence bj' liberating as many French prisoners as could be balanced by British captives iu the French pi'isons ; that after this, captives of every nation should be exchanged indifferently on both sides ; and whatever number of prisoners might remain on either side, after the general ba- lance had been struck, should also be set at liberty, upon an engagement not to serve till regularly exchanged. To this proposal — a more liberal one could hardly be made — the French only answered by starting new demands, and making new objec- tions. Among these, perhaps, it will scarcely be believed, that Moustier, the French commissioner, had the modesty to propose that Lord Wellington and his army, lying in the lines at Torres Vedras, should be reckoned as French prisoners in the proposed cartel ! Mr. JIackenzie answered with becoming spirit, that he would neither be the me- dium through which his Government should be in- sulted by such a proposal, nor would he proceed in the negotiation until this impertinence were atoned for. It is needless to proceed farther in the elusory detail of a treaty, which Napoleon had previously determined sliould be brought to no useful issue. He had calculated which country could best sup- port the absence of their prisoners, or rather to ■whom their services were of most consequence. He felt that he himself, by the conscription, as well as by the auxiliary troops which he could summon at plea-sure from his neighbours or dependents, couhl always command a sufficiency of men even for his gigantic undertakings; while to Britain, whose soldiers could only be obtained by a high bounty, the deliverance of her prisoners was j>ro- portionally more valuable. Whatever was his view iu establishing the negotiation, which was probably only to satisfy the French army, by evincing a seeming interest in the unfortunate portion of their brethren in arms who were inunurcd in English prisons, they gave way to the ciinsideration, that while things remained as they were, Britain suf- fered more in ])roportion than France. Some proposals for a general peace had been made during the conferences at Morlaix ; and the British Government had stated three different prin- ciples, any of which they expressed themselves willing to admit as a basis. These were, first, the state of possession before the war ; or, secondly, the present state of possession ; or, thirdly, a pl.an of reciprocal compensations. But none of these principles suited the French Government to act upon ; so that the treaty for a general peace, and that for restoring, taking into calculation the pri- soners on both sides, upwards of a hundred thou- sand human beings to liberty, their country, and their home, proved both of them altogether nuga- tory. The note of defiance was therefore resumed, so soon as it had been ascertained that Britain would reject any terms of peace which were not founded on equal and liberal principles. An oi-ation of Count Semonville demonstrated, that it was all owing to the persevering ambition of England that Buonaparte had been obliged to possess himself of the sea-coast of Europe — that all his encroach- ments on the land were the necessaiy consequences of her empire of the seas. He then demanded, ui prophetic fury, to know what in future woidd be the bounds of possibility. " It is the part of Eng- land," he said, " to reply. Let her turn her eyes on the past, and learn to judge from thence the events of the future. France and Napoleon will never change." CHAPTER LIV. Vieic of JVapoleon's gigantic Poirer — The Empress Maria Louisa delitered of a Son— Criticism on the Title given him, of King of Rome — Specula- tions in regard to the adrantages or disadvantages arising from this Event — Retrospect — Ex-Queen of Etruria — Her severe and unjustifiable Treat- ment by Napoleon — Luclen Buonaparte is invited to England, where he writes Epic Poetry — At- tempt to deliver Ferdinand, defeated — Operations in Portaged — Retreat of Massena — Battles ^j Fuentes d'Onoro fought by Lord Wellingtvu — On the South Frontier of Portugal, by Lord Beres- ford — Of Barossa, by General Graham — Enter- prise of Arroyo-Molinas — Spaniards defeated un- der Blake — Valencia captured by the French, and he and his Army made Prisoners of War — Dis- union among the French Generals — Jo'seph wifhea to abdicate the Throne of Spain. The natural consequences of an overgrown empire were already sapping that of Napoleon ; for extent of territory does not constitute power, any more than corpulence in the human frame consti- tutes strength or health ; and Napoleon's real authority was in tmth greater some years before, than now when his dominion was so nuicli enlarged The war in Spain, maintained at such an expense of blood and treasure, was a wasting and consmninij sore. The kingdom of Holland had afforded him supplies more readily, and had more the m(!ans of 538 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. risio. doing so, when imder the dominion of liis brother Louis, than the Dutch now either showed or pos- sessed, when ranked as a constituent part of the French empire. The same might be said of the states and free towns in the north of Germany ; wliere, in many instances, strong bands of smug- glers, dressed and ai-med as guerilla parties, main- tained a desultory war with the officers of the French customs; and, moved equally by national liatred and the love of gain won by desperate risks, made in some districts a kind of petty civil war. Yet, though such eankerworms gnawed the root of the tree, the branches and foliage, to all outward appearance, extended a broader shade than ever. It was especially when a formal annunciation, both in France and Austria, called the good subjects of both realms to rejoice in the prospect that Maria Louisa would soon give an heir to Napoleon, that men who opened the map of Europe saw with fear and wonder the tremendous inheritance to which the expected infant was likely to succeed. The actual dominions of France, governed by Napoleon in his own proper right as Emperor of the French, had gradually attained the following extravagant dimensions. They extended, from north-east to south-west, from Ti-avemunde, on the Baltic ocean, to the foot of the Pyrenees; and, from north-west to south-east, from the port of Brest to Terracina, on the confines of the Nea- politan territories. A population of forty-two mil- lions of people, fitted in various ways to secui-e the prosperity of a state, and inhabiting, for wealth, richness of soil, and felicity of climate, by far the finest portion of the civilized earth, formed the immediate liege subjects of this magnificent empire. Yet, to stop here were greatly to undervalue the extent of Napoleon's power. We have to add to his personal empire Carniola and the Illyrian pro- vinces, and also the fine kingdom of Italy. Then, in his character of Mediator of the Helvetian Re- public, the Emperor exercised an almost absolute authority in Switzerland, which furnished him, though unwillingly, with several fine regiments of auxiliaries. The German confederation of the Rhine, though numbering kings among their league, were at the slightest hint bound to supply him each with his prescribed quota of forces, with a readi- ness and an affectation of zeal very different from the slack and reluctant manner in which they for- merly supplied their paltry contingents to the Em- peror of Germany. Murat, with his kingdom of Naples, was at his brother-in-law's disposal ; and if, as Buonaparte's hopes whispered, the Peninsula should ultimately jirove unable to resist the war he waged, then Spain and Portugal would be added to liis immense empire, being now in the state of sturdy and con- tumacious rebels, whose resistance seemed in the speedy prospect of being finally subdued. Thus, an empire of 800,000 squai-e miles, and containing a population of 85 millions, in territory one-fifth part, and in the number of inhabitants one-half, of united Europe, was either in quiet subjection to Napoleon's sceptre, or on the point, as was suppo- sed, of becoming so. Of those who shared amongst them the residue af Europe, and still maintained some claim to in- dependence, Britain might make the proud boast, that she was diametrically in opposition to the Ruler of the world ; that, in the long-continued strife, she had dealt him injuries as deep as she had ever received, and had disdained, under any cir- cumstances, to treat with him on less terms than those of equality. Not to that fair land be the praise, though she supported many burdens and endured great losses ; but to Providence, who fa- voured her efforts and strengthened her resolu- tions ; who gave her power to uphold her own good cause, which, in truth, was that of European inde- pendence, and courage to trust in the justice of Heaven, when the odds mustered against her seem- ed, in earthly calculation, so dreadful as to deprive the wise, of the head to counsel ; the brave, of the heart to resist ! Denmark, so powerful was the voice which France had in her councils, might almost be ac- counted humbled to one of the federative principa- lities. Sweden had but a moderate and second-rate de- gree of power. She felt, as other German nations, the withering blight of the Continental, or Anti- social System ; but, circumstanced as she was, with the possession of Swedish Pomei-ania dependent on French pleasure, she had no other remedy than to i wait her opportunity. Still more was this the case with Prussia, through all her provinces the mortal enemy of the French name, but whom the large garrisons which France ! had planted in her dominions, and the numerous forces which she maintained there, compelled for the time to be as submissive as a handmaiden. It was true that the court were as noiselessly as pos- sible, endeavouring to revive their military esta- blishment ; that they were dismissing the villains who had sold and betrayed their country, and re- placing them by age which had been tried, or yonth which had witnessed the agony of their country, and been trained up in thinking, that to avenge her was their dearest duty. True it was, also, that the people in Prussia, and many other parts of Ger- many, waited as for the day dawning, for the hone of winning back their freedom ; but outward ajijieai'- ances indicated nothing of these smothered hopes, wishes, and preparations ; and the general eve saw in Prussia only a nation resigned to her bondage, without, apparently, any hope of redemption. Austria, besides the terrible losses which the last war had brought upon her, was now fettered to Napoleon by a link which gave the proud House of Hapsburg an apology for the submission, or at least the observance, which she paid to the son-in- law of her Emperor. Turkey, though she would have had her turn, had the tide of fortune continued to keep the course in which it had so long fiowed, was not yet in the way of being comprehended in Napoleon's plan of politics. Russia was waging with the Porte an impolitic war of acquisition, to realise some of the selfish plans of aggrandisement which Napoleon had as- sented to, or perhaps suggested, at Tilsit and Er- furt. But he now witnessed them without wishing them success, and listened to the complaints of Austria, who unwillingly saw the ambitious views of Russia in these provinces. Of all the continen- tal states, therefore, assuming even the semblance of independence, Russia seemed alone to possess it in reality ; and from late acts of estrangement, such as the protest on the subject of the Duchy of Old- enburg, and the reception of British ships and 1810.] LIFE OF NArOLEON BUONAPARTE. 639 mcrcliandise into lier poi-ts, it certainly a])pcai'ed that a different spirit was in the coinicils of this great empire than had ruled tliem during tlic meet- ings at Tilsit and Erfurt. Yet there were but few who thought that Russia, in opposition to the whole continent of Europe, would dare confront Napo- leon ; and still fewer, even of the most sanguine politicians, had any deep-grounded hope that her opposition would be effectual. Out of such a Cim- merian midnight, to all human views, was the day- spring of European liberty destined to arise. America, happy in the Atlantic which severed her from Europe, now an almost universal scene of war or slavery, looked on in conscious security, and by reviving at this crisis disputed claims upon Britain, seemed to listen more to the recollection of recent enmity, than of mutual language, mau- uei's, and descent. Within a year after her marriage with Napoleon, the young Empi-ess was announced to have been taken with the pains of labour. The case was a difficult and distressing one ; and the professional person employed lost courage, and was afraid to do what was necessary. Napoleon appeared in the apartment, and commanded him to proceed as if the patient were the wife of an ordinary burgess. She was at length successfully and safely delivered of a fine boy, which Buonaparte, with feelings, doubtless, as highly strung as after a battle gained, carried into the next apartment, and exhibited in triumph to the great officers and courtiers, by whom he was unanimously hailed King of Rome, the dignity which had been destined to the heir of the French Republic. The title did not, indeed, pass uncriticised. Some said, that taking the regal designation from a city where the very name of king had been accounted imlucky, had an ominous presage. Catholics ob- jected to it, as it necessarily carried with it the I'ecollection of the sacrilegious violence which had stripped the Pope of his temporal possessions. And lastly, it was asked, what chance there ever was of the execution of that part of the Italian constitution, which, after Napoleon's death, gua- ranteed the succession in the kingdom of Italy to some one different from the Emperor of France, when the title of King of Rome was assumed as that of the heir of the French empire?' Such ominous remarks, however, only circulated among the disaffected, or passed with anti-imperial jests, satires, and calembourgs, through such saloons of the Faubourg St. Germain, as were still tesianted by the ancient and faithful adherents of the House of Bourbon. The city of Paris made as general a show of rejoicing as they ever testified when an heir was born to one of their most beloved sove- reigns ; deputations with addresses came from public bodies of every description ; and, that flattery might sound the very base string of humility, the fashii)n- able colour of dress for the season bore a name alluding to the young King of Rome, which delicacy, if not pride, ought to have rejected. But, perhaps, the strangest circumstance of the whole was, that the old dethroned King of Spain, and his consort, ' Jests, as well as serious observations, were made on this occasion. "Have you any commands for France?" said a Frencliman at Naples to an Enijiish friend ; " I shall be tliere in two davs." — 'In France?" answered liis friend, "I thought you were setting off for Rome "— " Trnc ; but Home, by a decree of the Emperor, is now indissolubly united to undertook a journey, iov the purpose of carrving their personal congratulations on the birth of an heir, to one who had deposed, and was detaining in prison their own lineage, and had laid Spain, thoit native dominions, in blood, from the Pyrenees to the Pillars of Hercules. Napoleon, and his more devoted admirers, re- joiced in this happy incident, as that which was most likely, in their eyes, to sustain the Empire of France, when fate should remove him by whom it was founded. The protection of the House of Aus- tria, and the charm flung around the child by the high fame of the father, could not, it was thought, but ensure a peaceful accession to the throne, ami att undisturbed security in possessing it. His life, too, was ensured in future against such fanatics as that of Schoenbrun ; for what purpose would it serve to cut off the Emperor, when the empire was to survive, and descend in all its strength upon his son and heir? Others there were, who pretended that the ad- vantages arising from the birth of the King of Rome, were balanced by corresponding inconveni- ences. These asserted, that several of the French great generals had followed the fortunes of Napo- leon, in hopes that, upon his death in battle, or upon his natural decease, the^-, or some of them, might, like the successors of Alexander the Great, share amongst them the ample succession of king- doms and principalities which were likely to become the property of the strongest and bravest, in the lottery which might be expected to take place ou the death of the great favourite of Fortune. These great soldiers, it was surmised, being cut short of this fair prospect, would no longer have the same motives for serving the living Napoleon, whose in- heritance at his death was now to descend, like the patrimony of a peasant or burgess, in the regular and lawful line of inheritance. But the politicians who argued thus, did not sufficiently regard the pitch of superiority which Napoleon had attained over those aroimd him ; his habit of absolute com- mand, theirs of implicit obedience ; and the small likelihood there was of any one who served under him venturing to incur his displeasure, and the risk of losing the rank and fortune which most had ac- tually obtained, by showing any marks of coldness or dissatisfaction, on account of the disappointment of distant and visionary hopes. There were others who augured different conse- quences, from the effect of the same event on the feelings of Buonaparte's enemies, both open and unavowed. It had been a general belief, and cer- tainly was founded on probability, that the immense but ill-constructed empire which Napoleon had erected would fall to pieces, so soon as it was not kept steady and compact by the fear and admira- tion of his personal talents. Hence the damp cast by persons affecting a wise caution, upon the gene- ral desire to shake off the yoke of France. They enlarged upon the invincible talent, upon the ine- vitable destinies of Napoleon personally ; but they consoled the more impatient patriots, by counsel- ling them to await his death, before making a daring France." — "I have no news to burden you with," said hia friend; "but can I do any lliinK for you in Enijland? 1 shall be there in half an hour." — "In England?" said the French- man, " and in half an hour!" — " Yes," said his friend, " within that time I shall be at sea, and the sea hag been in- dibsolubly united to the Uritish cniiiire."— S 510 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [isn. attempt to vinduate their freedom. Sucli counsels were favourably listened to, because men are, in spite of themselves, always willing to listen to pru- dent alignments, when they tend to postpone des- perate I'isks. But this species of argument was ended, when the inheritance of despotism seemed ready to be transmitted from father to son in direct descent. There was no termination seen to the riK^lancholy prosjiect, nor was it easy for the most lukewarm of patriots to assign any longer a reason for jiutting off till Napoleon's death the resistance which to-day demanded. Under these various lights was the birth of the King of Rome consi- dered ; and it may after all remain a matter of doubt, whether the blessing of a son and heir, acceptable as it must necessarily have been to his domestic feelings, was politically of that advantage to him which the Emperor of France unques- tionably expected. And now, before we begin to trace the growing diticrences betwixt France and Russia, which speedily led to such important consequences, we may briefly notice some circumstances connected witji Spain and with Spanish afl'airs, though the two incidents which we are to mention first, are rather of a detached and insulated nature. The first of tliese refers to the Ex-Q,ueen of Etruria, a daughter, it will be remembered, of Charles, King of Spain, and a sister of Ferdinand. Upon this princess and her son Buonaparte had settled the kingdom of Etruria, or Tuscany. Pre- paratory to the Baj'onne intrigue, he had forcibly deprived her of this dignity, in order to offer it as an indemnification to Ferdinand for the cession, which he proposed to that unhappy prince, of the inheritance of Spain. Having contrived to obtain that cession without any compensation, Buonaparte reserved Etruria to himself, and retained the late Queen as a hostage. For some time she was per- mitted to reside with her parents at Compeigne ; but afterwards, under pretext of conducting her to Parnia, she was escorted to Nice, and there sub- jected to the severe vigilance of the police. The princess appeai-s to have been quicker in her feel- ings than the greater part of her fivmily, which does not, ir.deed, argue any violent degi-ee of sensi- bility. Terrified, however, and alarmed at the situation in which she found herself, she endea- voured to effect an escape into England. Two gentlemen of her retinue were sent to Holland, for the purpose of arranging her flight, but her pro- ject was discovered. On the 16th April, 1811, officers of police and gendarmes broke into the residence of the Queen at Nice, seized her person and papers, and, after detaining her in custody for ' See Memoiics do Savaiv torn, iii., part i., p. 37. - Lucien landed at Tortsmouth in December, IRIO, and was conveyed to Ludlow, which he boon alter quitted lor an estate called Thorngrove, tifteen miles' from that town. Restored to personal liberty by the peace of Paris in lai4, he reached Konic in May; and was received by the sovereifjn pontiff on the very niglit of his arrival. The holy father immediately conferred on him the dignity of a Roman prince ; and on the next day nil the nobles came to salute him, by the title of I'rince of Canine. ^ Lucicn's poem of " Charlemnsnc, ou I'Eglise Dclivree," an epic in twenty four books, commenced at Tusculum, conti- nued at Malta, and completed in England, appeared in 1814. It was translated into Englisli by Dr. butler and Mr. Hodgson. From the eighteentli canto, which was written at Malta, and winch opens with a digression personal to the poet, we shall make a short extract :— two months, and threatening to try her by a mili- tary tribunal, they at length intimated to her a sentence, condemning her, with her daughter (her son had been left very much indisposed at Com- peigne,) to be detained close prisoners in a monas- tery at Rome, to which she was compelled to r pair within twenty-four hours after the notice of her doom. Her two agents, who had been previously made prisoners, were sent to Paris. They were con- demned to death by a military commissicn, and were brought out for that purpose to the plain of Gresnelle. One was shot on the spot, and pardon was extended to his companion when he was about to suffer tlie same punisliinent. The mental agony of the poor man had, however, affected the sources of life, and he died within a few days after the reprieve. The severity of this conduct towards a princess — a Queen indeed — who had placed her person in Napoleon's hands, under the expectation that her liberty at least should not be abridged, was equally a breach of justice, humanity, and gentlemanlike courtesy.' It is curious, that about the same time when Napoleon treated with so much cruelty a foreign and independent princess, merely because she ex- pressed a desire to exchange her residence from France to England, his own brother, Lucien, was received with hospitality in that island, so heartily detested, so frequently devoted to the fate of a second Caithage. Napoleon, who was always reso- lute in considering the princes of his own blood as the first slaves in the state, had become of late very urgent with Lucien to dismiss his wife, and unite himself with some of the royal families on the con- tinent, or at least to igree to bestow the hand of his daughter upon young Ferdinand of Spain, who had risen in favour by his behaviour on an occasion immediately to be mentioned. But Lucien, deter- mined at this time not to connect himself or his fa- mily with the career of his- relative's ambition, re- solved to settle in America, and place the Atlantic betwixt himself and the importunities of his Im- perial brother. He applied to the British minister at Sardinia for a pass, who was under the necessity of referring him to his Government. On this second application he was invited to England, where he was permitted to live in freedom upon his parole, one officer only having a superintendence of his movements and correspondence.''' These were in every respect blameless ; and the ex-statesman, who had played so distinguished a part in th.e great re- volutionary game, was found able to amuse himself with the composition of an epic poem on the sub- ject of Charlemagne ;' — somewhat more harmlessly than did his brother Napoleon, in endeavouring " Je ii'oublirai jamais ta bont^ pateriielle Favori du tres-liaut, Clermont, Pontife-roil Au nouvel hemisphere entrain^ loin de toi, Je t'y conscrverai le cceur le plus fidele : Contiant a la mer et ma femme et mes fils Snr des bords enneniis, J'espdrai vaincment un asile (^ph^mere, I'ar un triste refus rejette sur les flots, A))res avoir long tem])s erril' loin de la terre, Meliie dans son port enferma nos vaisseau.x. " De la captivitc^ jo sens ici Ic poids! li'ien lie |ilait en ces lieux a mon ame abbattnc» Rien ne parle a mon cceur; rien ne s'offre a ma v>ie Accourei!, mesenfants: viens, Spouse cherie, Doux charme de ma vie, D'un seul de tes regards vieus me rendre la pais. Jl n'est ])lus de dfeert. oil brille ton soimre. Fuyez, sumbres chagrins, souvenirs inqniets, Sur ce roc Africain, je resaissis ma lyre " 1811.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. b\l again to I'chiiild and con.'iolidate the vast empire of tlie sou of Pepin. Anotlior iiiti'ir^uo of a singular chai'aeter, and which terminated in an unexpected manner, origi- nated in an attemjit of tlie English Ministry to achieve the liberty of Ferdinand, the lawful King of Spain. A royal and a popular party had begun to show themselves in that distracted country, and to divert tlie attention of the patriots from uniting their efforts to accomr.Iish the object of most en- grossing importance, tiie recovery, namely, of their country, from the intruding monarch and the French armies. The English Government were naturally persuaded that Ferdinand, to whose name his subjects were so strongly attached, would be desirous and capable of jilacing himself, were he at liberty, at their head, putting an end to their dis- putes by his authority, and giving their efforts an impulse, which could be communicated by no one but the King of Spain to the Spanish nation. It is no doubt true, that, had the Government of Eng- land known the real character of this prince, a wish for his deliverance from France, or his presence in Spain, would have been the last which they would liave formed. This misapprehension, however, was natural, and was acted upon. A Piedmontese, of Irish extraction, called the Baron Kolli (or Kelly,) the selected agent of the British goverimient, was furnished with some dia- monds and valuable articles, under pretext of dis- posing of which he was to obtain admission to the Prince, then a prisoner at Valenfay, where his chief amusement, it is believed, was embroidering a gown and petticoat, to be presented to the Virgin Mary. Kolli was then to have informed the Prince of his errand, efi'ected Ferdinand's escape by means of confederates among the i-oyalist part}', and con- veyed him to the coast, where a small squadron awaited the event of the enterprise, designed to carry the King of Spain to Gibraltar, or whither else he chose. In March 1810, Kolli was put ashore in Quiberon bay, whence he went to Paris, to prepare for his enterprise. He was discovered, however, by the police,' and arrested at the moment when he was setting out for Valenjay. Some at- tempts were made to induce him to proceed with the scheme, of which his papers enabled the police to comprehend the general plan, keeping commu- nication at the same time with the French minis- ter. As he disdained to undertake this treacherous chai'aeter, Kolli was committed close prisoner to the castle of Vincenncs, while a person — the same who betrayed his principal, and whose exterior in some degree answered the description of the Bri- tish emissary — was sent to represent him at the castle of Valen^ay. But Ferdinand, either suspicious of the snare which was laid for hiin, or poor-spirited enough to pi'efer a safe bondage to a brave risk incui-red tor liberty, would not listen to the supposed agent of Britain, and indeed denounced the pretended Kolli to Barthemy, the governor of the castle. The false Kolli, therefore, returned to Paris, while the real one remained in the castle of Vincennes till the capture of Paris by the allies. Ferdinand took credit, in a letter to Buonaparte, for having resisted the temptation held out to him by the British Go- vernment, who had, as he pathetically observed, abused his name, and occasioned, by doing so, the shedding of much blood in Spain. He again mani- fested his ardent wish to become the a(lopted son of the Emperor; his hope that the author and abettors of the scheme to deliver him might be brought to condign punishment; and concluded with a hint, that he was extremely desii-ous to leave Valenjay, a residence which liad nothing about it but what was unpleasant, and was not in any respect fitted for him. The hint of Ferdinand about a union with Buonaparte's family, probably led to the fresh importunity on the Emperor's part, which induced Lucien to leave Italy. Ferdinand did not obtain the change of residence he desired, nor does he seem to have profited in any way by his candour towards his keeper, excepting that he evaded the strict confinement, or yet worse fate, to i which he might have been condemned, had he im- l)rudently confided in the false Baron Kolli.^ In Portugal, the great struggle betwixt Massena and Wellington, upon which, as we formerly ob- served, the eyes of the world were fixed, had been finally decided in favour of the English general. This advantage was attained by no assistance of the elements — by none of those casual occur- rences which are called chances of war — by no dubious, or even venturous risks — by the decision of no single battle lost or won ; but solely by the superiority of one great general over another, at the awful game in which neither had yet met a rival. For more than four months, Massena, with as fine an army as had ever left France, lay looking at the impregnable lines with which the Britisl forces, so greatly inferior in numerical strength; were covering Lisbon, the object of his expedition. To assail in such a position troops, whose valour he had felt at Busaco, would have been throwing away the lives of his soldiers ; and to retreat, was to abandon the enterprise which his master had intrusted to him, with a confidence in his skill and his good fortune, which must, in that case, have been thereafter sorely abated. Massena tried every effort which military skill could supply, to draw his foe out of his place of advantage. He threat- ened to carry the war across the Tagus — he ' Prince Pniitifi'! loved of heaven— O, Clermont, s:iv, What filial duties hhall tliy cares repay? K'cn on the shores that skirt the western main, Still sliall this heart its luval faith maintain. Aly i)reciou9 freight confiding to the dee]), Cliildren and wife, I left Frcscati's stei p, And ask'd a short retreat— 1 sought no more— But vainly sought it on a hostile shore. Thence by refusal stern and harsh repell'd. O'er the wide vt^at'ry waste my course 1 held, In sufieriiiKS oft, and oft in pcVils cast. Till Malta's port received our ships at last. ' Here sad captivity's dull weight I find ; Nousjht pleases here, nought soothes my listless mind Noufiht here can bid my sickeniiiR heart rejoice, Speak to my soul, or animate my voiee._ Kun to my knees, my children ! chcrish'd wife, Come, softest charm and solace of my life. One look from tliee shall all my peace restore: Where beams thy smile, the desert is no more. Hence, restless memory -hence, repinin(5S vain! — On Afric's rock I seize my lyre afjain." 1 " He was discovered by his always drinkiiiR a bottle of the best wine, which so ill corresi>onded with his dress and apparent poverty, that it excited a susiiieion amonRst some of the s])ies, and he was arrested, searched, and liis ))apers taken from him."— Nai'olkon, roiiv. . 71. had been almost from the commencement. Sickness and want made more ravages amongst the French troops than the sword of the enemy, though that did not lie idle. Many of the districts are un- healthy to strangers ; but of these, as well as other^ it was necessary for the invaders to retain posses- sion. There, while numerous deaths happened among the troops, the guerillas watched the rem- nant, until sickness and fatigue had reduced tlie garrisons to a number insufficient for defence, and then pounced upon them like birds of prey on a fallen animal, upon whom they have been long in attendance. Besides, disunion contmued to reign among the French generals. Joseph, although in point of power the very shadow of what a king ought to lie, liad spirit enough to resent the condition in which he was placed amid the haughty military chiefs who acknowledged no superior beside the Emperor, and listened to no commands save those emanating from Paris. He wrote to his brother a letter, accompanying a formal abdication of the throne of Spain, unless he was to be placed in more com]ilcte authority than even the orders of Napoleon him- self had hitherto enabled him to attain. But tho prospect of a northern war approaching nearer and nearer, Napoleon was induced to postpone his brother's request, although so pressingly urged, and Spain was in some measure left to its fate during tlie still more urgent events of the Russian campaign.' CHAPTER LV. Retrospect of the causes hading to the Rupture with Russia — originate in the Treaty of Tilsit — Rus- sians alleliance, has been always held a legitimate cause of war. Indeed, the opinion that the French league disgraced the Russian nation, plunged their country into embar- rassment-, and was likely to occasion still farther misfortunes to them, became so general, that the Emperor must have paid some attention to the wishes of his people, even if his own friendship with Buonaparte had not been cooled by late occurrences. The alliance with Austria was of a character calculated to alarm Alexander. Russia and Aus- tria, though they had a common interest to with- stand the overpowering strength of Buonaparte, had been in ordinary times always rivals, and sometimes enemies. It was the interference of Austria, which, upon several occasions, checked the progress of the Russians in Turkey, and it was Austria also which formed a barrier against the in- crease of their power in the south of Europe. The family connexion, therefore, formed by Buonaparte with the House of Hapsburg, made him still more formidable to Russia, as likely to embrace the quarrels and forward the pretensions of that po\\ cr against the Czar, even if France herself should have none to discuss with him. But there was no need to have recourse to re- mote causes of suspicion. Russia had, and must always have had, direct and immediate cause of jealousy, while France or her Emperor claimed the permanent right of thinking and deciding for 1811.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 545 her, as well as other nations, in the relations of commerce and others, in which every independent state is most desirous of exercising the right of de- liberating for herself. This was the true state of the case. To remain the ally of Buonaparte, Alexander must have become his vassal ; to at- tempt to be independent of him, was to make him his enemy ; and it can be no wonder that a sovereign 60 proud and powerful as the Czar, chose rather to stand the hazard of battle, than diminish the lustre, or compromise the independence, of his an- cient crown. The time, too, for resistance, seemed as favour- able as Russia could ever expect. The war of Spain, though chequered in its fortune, was in no respect near a sudden end. It occupied 250,000 of the best and oldest French troops ; demanded also an immense expenditure, and diminished, of course, the power of the French Emperor to carry on the war on the frontiers of Russia. A conclu- sion of these wasting hostilities would have ren- dered him far more formidable with respect to the quality, as well as the number, of his disposable forces, and it seemed the interest of Russia not to wait till that period should arrive. The same arguments which recommended to Russia to choose the immediate moment for resist- ing the extravagant pretensions of France, ouglit, in point of prudence, to have induced Napoleon to desist from urging such pretensions, and to avoid the voluntarily engaging in two wars at the same time, both of a character decidedly national, and to only one of which he could give the influence of his own talents and his own presence. His best and wisest generals, whom he consulted, or, to speak more properly, to whom he opened his purpose, used various arguments to induce him to alter, or at least defer his resolution. He himself hesitated for more than a }'ear, and was repeatedly upon the point of settling with Russia the grounds of dis- agreement betwixt them upon amicable terms. The reasons of complaint, on the part of the Czar, were four in number. I. The alarm given to Russia by the extension of the grand duchy of Warsaw by the treaty of Schoenbrun, as if it were destined to be the cen- tral part of an independent state, or kingdom, in Poland, to which those provinces of that dismem- bered country, which had become part of Russia, were at some convenient time to be united. On this point the Czar demanded an explicit engage- ment, on the part of the French Emperor, that the kingdom of Poland should not be again established. Napoleon declined this form of guarantee, as it seemed to engage him to warrant Russia against an event which might happen without his co-ope- ration ; but he offered to pledge himself that he would not favour any enterprise which should, di- rectly or indirectly, lead to the re-establishment of Poland as an independent state. This modified acquiescence in what was required by Russia fell considerably short of what the Czar wished ; for the stipulation, as at first worded, would have amounted to an engagement on the part of France to join in opposing any step towards Polish inde- pendence ; -vhereas, according to the modification which it received at Paris, it only implied that France should remain neuter if such an attempt should take place. II. The wrong done by uicluding the duchy of vol.. II. Oldenburg, though guaranteed by the treaty ol Tilsit to its prince, the Czar's near relative and ally, in the teiTitory annexed to France, admitted of being compensated by an indemnification. But Russia desired that this indemnification should be either the city of Dantzic, or some equally import- ant territory, on the frontiers of the grand duchy of Warsaw, which might offer an additional guar- antee against the apprehended enlargement of that state. France would not listen to this, though she did not object to compensation elsewhere. III. The third point in question, was the degree to which the Russian commerce with England was to be restricted. Napoleon proposed to grant some relaxation on the occasions where the produce ol Russia was exported in exchange for that of Eng- land, to be effected by the way of mutual licenses. IV. It was proposed to revise the Russian tariff of 1810, so as, without injuring the interests of Russia, it might relax the heavy duties imposed on the objects of French conmierce. From this statement, which comprehends the last basis on which Napoleon expressed himself willing to treat, it is quite evident, that had there not been a deeper feeling of jealousy and animosity betwixt the two Emperors, than those expressed in the subjects of actual debate betwi.xt them, these might have been accommodated in an amicable way. But as it was impossible for Napoleon to endure being called to account, like a sovereign of the second rate, or at least in the tone of an equal, by the Emperor of Russia ; so the latter, more and more alarmed by the motions of the French armies, which were advancing into Pomerania, could not persuade himself, that, in agreeing to admit the present grounds of complaint, Napoleon meant more than to postpone the fatal stmggle for superiority, until he should find a convenient time to commence it with a more absolute prospect of success. In the meantime, and ere the negotiations were finally broken off, Buonaparte's counsellors urged him with as much argument as they dared, to de- sist from running the hazard of an enterprise so remote, so hazardous, and so little called for. They contended, that no French interest, and no national point of honour, were involved in the disagreement which had arisen. The principles upon which the points of dispute might be settled, being in a man- ner agreed upon, they argued that their master should stop in their military preparations. To march an army into Prussia, and to call forth the Prussians as au.xiliaries, would, they contended, bo using measures towards Russia, which could not but bring on the war which they anxiouf^ly depre- cated. To submit to menaces supported by de- monstrations of open force, would be destructive of the influence of Russia, both at home and abroad. She could not be expected to give way without a struggle. These advisers allowed, that a case might be conceived for justifying an exertion to destroy the power of Russia, a case arising out of the transac- tions between France and the other states of Eu- rope, and out of the apprehension that these states, aggrieved and irritated by the conduct of France, might be tempted to seek a leader, patron, and protector, in the Emperor Alexander. But this extremity, they alleged, could not exist so long as France had the means of avoiding a perilous war, 2.N 0-1 G SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1811, by a mitigation of her policy towards her vassals and auxiliaries; for if the states whose revolt (so to call it) was apprehended, could be reconciled to France by a more lenient course of measures to be adopted towards them, tliey would lose all tempta- tion to fly to Russia as a protector. In such case the power of Russia would no longer give jealousy to France, or compel her to rush to a dubious conflict, for the purpose of diminishing an influence which could not then become dangerous to the southern empire, by depriving France of her clientage. It might have been added, though it could not be so broadly spoken out, that in this point of view nothing would have been more easy for France, than to modify or soften her line of policy in fa- vour of the inferior states, in whose favour the Russian interference was expected or a])prehended. That policy had uniformly been a system of insult and menace. The influtnce which France had gained in Europe grew less out of treaty than feai-, founded on the recollection of former wars. All the states of Germany felt the melancholy conse- quences of the existence of despotic power vested in men, who, like Napoleon himself, and the mili- tary governors whom he employed, were new to the exercise and enjoyment of their authority; and, on the other hand, the French Emperor and his satellites felt, towards the people of the conquered, or subjected states, the constant apprehension which a conscious sense of injustice produces in the minds of oppressors, namely, that the oppressed only watch for a safe opportunity to turn against them. There was, therefore, no French interest, or even point of honour, which called on Napoleon to make war on Alexander ; and the temptation seems to have amounted solely to the desire on Napoleon's part to fight a great battle — to gain a great victory — to occupy, with his victorious army, another great capital— and, in fine, to subject to liis arms the power of Russia, which, of all the states on the continent, remained the only one that could be properly termed independent of France. It was in this light that the question of peace and war was viewed by the French politicians of the day ; and it is curious to observe, in the reports we have of their arguments, the total absence of principle which they display in the examination of it. They dwell on the difficulty of Napoleon's un- dertaking, upon its danger, upon its expense, upon the slender prospect of any remuneration by the usual modes of confiscation, plunder, or levy of contributions. They enlarge, too, upon the little probability there was that success in the intended war would bring to a conclusion the disastrous contest in Spain ; and all these various arguments are insinuated or urged with more or less vehe- mence, according to the character, the station, or the degree of intimacy with Napoleon, of the coun- sellor who ventured to use the topics. But among liis advisers, none that we read or hear of, had the open and manly courage to ask. Where was the justice of this attack upon Russia ? What had she done to merit it ? The Emperors were friends by the treaty of Tilsit, confirmed by personal intimacy and the closest intercourse at Erfurt, How had they ceased to be such ? What had happened since that period to place Russia, then the friend and confessed equal of France, in the situation of a subordinate and tributary state ? On what pretence did Napoleon confiscate to his own use the duchy of Oldenburg, acknowledged as the property of Alexander's brother-in-law, by an express article in tlie treaty of Tilsit ? By what just right could he condenm the Russian nation to all the distresses of his Anti-commercial System, while he allowed them to be a free and independent state ? — Above all, while he considered them as a sovereign and a people entitled to be treated with the usual respect due between powers that are connected by friendly treaties, with what pretence of justice, or even decency, could he proceed to enforce claims so un- founded in themselves, by introducing his own forces on their frontier, and arming their neigh- bours against them for the same purpose ? Of these pleas, in moral justice, there was not a word urged ; nor was silence wonderful on this fruitful topic, since to insist upon it would have been to strike at the fundamental principle of Buonaparte's policy, which was, never to neglect a present advantage for the sake of observing a general principle. " Let us hear of no general j)rineiples," said Buona- parte's favourite minister of the period. " Ours is a government not regulated by theory, but by emerging circumstances." W^e ought not to omit to mention that Fouche, among others, took up a testimony against the Rus- sian war. He had been permitted to return to his chat; au of Ferrieres, near Paris, under the apology that the air of Italy did not agree with his consti- tution. But Napoleon distrusted him, and the po- lice were commissioned to watch with the utmost accuracy the proceedings of their late master. Fouche' was well aware of this ; and, desirous that his remonstrance with the Emperor should have all the force of an unexpected argument, he shut him- self up in the strictest seclusion while engaged in composing a production, which perhaps he hoped might be a means of recalling him to recollection, if not to favour.' In an able and eloquent memorial, Fouche re- minded Buonaparte, thnt he was already the abso- lute master of the finest empire the .world had ever seen ; and that all the lessons of history went to demonstrate the impossibility of attaining univer.'al monarchy. The French empire liad arrived, accord- ing to the reasoning of this able statesman, at that point when its ruler should rather think of securing and consolidating his present acquisitions, than of achieving farther conquests, since, whatever his empire might acquire in extent, it was sure to lose in solidity. Fouche' stated the extent of the country which Napoleon was about to invade, the poverty of the soil, the rigour of the climate, and the dis- tance which each fresh victory must remove him from his resources, annoyed as his communications were sure to be by nations of Cossacks and Tartars. He implored the Emperor to remember the fate of Charles XII. of Sweden. " If that warlike monarch," he said, " had not, like Napoleon, half Europe in arms at his back, neither had his oppo- nent, the Czar Peter, four hundred thousand sol- diers, and fifty thousand Cossacks. The invader, it was stated, would have against him the dislike of the higher ranks, the fanaticism of the peasantry, the exertions of soldiers accustomed to the severity of the climate. There were, besides, to be dreaded, in case of the slightest reverse, the intrigues of the English, the fickleness of his continental allies, aud ' I'uucUi, torn, ii., p. i!0 1811.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPAUTE. 547 even the awakening of discontent and conspii-aey in France itself, should an idea generally arise, that he was sacrificing the welfare of the state to the insatiable desire of fresh enterprises and dis- tant conqnests." Fouche' presented himself at the Tuileries, and requested an audience of the Emperor, hoping, doubtless, that the unexpected circumstance of his appearing there, and the reasoning in his memo- rial, would excite Napoleon's attention. To his great surprise. Napoleon, with an air of easy indif- ference, began the audience. *' I am no stranger, Monsieur le Due, to your errand here. You have a memorial to present mc — give it me ; I will read it, though I know already its contents. . The war with Russia is not more agreeable to you tlian that of Spain." — " Your Imperial Majesty will pardon my having ventured to offer some observations on this important crisis?" said the statesman, asto- nished to find himself anticipated, when he be- lieved he had laboured in the most absolute secrecy. " It is no crisis," resumed Napoleon ; "merely a war of a character entirely political. Spain will fall when I have annihilated the English influence at St. Petersburg!!. I have 800,000 men ; and to one who has such an army, Europe is but an old prostitute, who must obey his pleasure. Was it not yourself who told me that the word impossible was not good French ? I regulate my conduct more on the opinion of my army than the senti- ments of you grandees, who are become too rich ; and while you pretend anxiety for me, only are apprehensive of the general confusion which would follow my death. Don't disquiet yourself, but con- sider the Russian war as a w-ise measure, demanded by the true interests of France, and the general security. Am I to blame, because the great degree of power I have already attained forces me to assume the dictatorship of the world ? My destiny is not yet accomplished — my present situation is but a sketch of a picture which I must finish. There must be one universal European code, one court of appeal. The same money, the same weights and measures, the same laws, must have currency through Europe. I must make one nation out of all the European states, and Paris must be the capital of the world. At present you no longer serve me well, because you think my affairs are in danger ; but before a year is over you will assist me with the same zeal and ardour as at the periods of Marengo and Austerlitz. You will see more than all this — it is I who assure you of it. Adieu, Monsieur le Due. Do not play the disgraced courtier, or the captious critic of public attairs ; and be so good as to put a little confidence in your Emperor." ' He then turned his back on Fouche, and left him to reflect by what means he, who so well knew all the machinations of the police, could himself have become exposed to their universal vigilance, with some cause, perhaps, to rejoice, that his secret ' Memoires de Fouche, torn, ii., p. 90. * Fouche afterwards remembered, that an individual in his Tic:chbourhond, mayor of a municipality, and whom he him- self had employed in matters of police, had one morninR in- truded rather hastily on him in his study, under jiretext of pleading the cause of a distressed tenant ; and cnicluded, tliat while he was searching tor tlic paptrs eonetrning his visitor's ostensible business, Mr. Mayor hail an oi'pnrtunity to glance at the sheets on his scrutoire, where tlic repetition of V. W. I. and H. Jl. (intimating your Imjierial and Royal employment, though unpleaslng to Buonaparte, was not of a character to attract punishment as well as animadversion.* As Napoleon discountenanced and bore down the remonstrances of the subtle Fouche', so he represented to his various advisers the war upon which he was unalterably determined, in the light most proper to bring them over to his own opinion. To the army in general the mere name of war was in itself a sufficient recommendation. It compre- hended preferment, employment, plunder, distinc- tion, and pensions. To the generals, it afforded mareschals' batons ; to the mareschals, crowns and sceptres ; to the civilians he urged, as to Fouche', that it was a war of policy — of necessity — • the last act in the drama, but indispensably requi- site to conclude the whole ; to his most intimate friends he expressed his conviction that his fortune could not stand still — that it was founded on public opinion — and that, if he did not continue to advance, he must necessarily retrograde. To his uncle. Car- dinal Fesch, he used a still more extraordinary argument. This prelate, a devout Catholic, had begun to have compunction about his nephew's behaviour towards the Pope ; and these sentiments mingled like an ominous feeling with the alarms excited by the risks of this tremendous undertak- ing. With more than usual freedom, he conjured his kinsman to abstain from tempting Providence. He entreated him not to defy heaven and earth, the wrath of man, and the fury of the elements, at the same time ; and expressed his apprehension that he must at length sink under the weight of the enmity which he incurred daily.'' The only answer which Buonaparte vouchsafed, was to lead the cardinal to the window, and, opening the case- ment, and pointing upwards, to ask him, " If he saw yonder star?" — "No, Sire," answered the astonished cardinal. " But I see it," answered Buonaparte ; and turned from his relation as if he had fully confuted his arguments. This speech might admit of two meanings ; either that Napoleon wished in this manner to express that his own powers of penetration were superior to those of the cardinal, or it might have reference to a certain superstitious confidence in his predes- tined good fortune, which, we have already ob- served, he was known to entertain. But as it was not Napoleon's fashion, whatever reliance he might place on such auguries, to neglect any means of ensuring success within his power, we are next to inquire what political measures he had taken to carry on the proposed Russian war to advantage. CHAPTER LVI. Allies on whose assistance Buonaparte might covnt — Causes which alienated from him the Ptince- Itoijal of Sweden — vcho siijns a Treaty with Rus- sia — Delicate situation of the Kinj of Piussia, Majesty,) betrayed that he was drawing up a memorial to Napoleon, and a word or two of the context explained its purport. 3 It is not unworthy of notice, that the Emperor's mother (Madame .Mere, as she was termed) always cxiprcssed a pre- sentiment, that tlie fortunes of her family, splendid as they were, would be altered beforp her death ; and wlicn ridiculed by her children for her frugal disposition, she use! to allege slie was saving money for tliem in their distress ; and in fact she li>ed to apply hcf hoards to that jiuipose — S. 548 SCOTT'S MLSCELLA.NEOUS PROSE WORKS. [181], irhosi' (tUlanrc the Tlmperor Alexander on that account declines — A Treaty tcith France dictated, to Prussia — Relations between Austria and France — in order to preserre them Buonaparte is obliged to come under an engagement not to revo- lutiotiize Poland — His error of policy in neglect- ing to cidtivate the alliance of the Porte — Amount of Buonaparte's Army — Levies for the protection of France in the Emperor's absence — Storming of Ciudad Rodrigo by Lord Wellington — Buona- parte makes overtures of Peace to Lord Castle- rcagh — The Correspondence broken off — Ultima- tum of Russia rejected — Napoleon sets out from Paris, 9th 31 ay, 1812 — and meets the Sovereigns his allies at Dresden — A last attempt of Napoleon to negotiate with Alexander proves unsuccessful. The several powers, who might in tlicir different degrees of strength aid or impede the last and most daring of Buonaparte's undertakings, were — Denmark, Saxony, Sweden, and Prussia, in the nortli of Europe ; in the south, Austria, and the Turkish empire. Denmark and Saxony were both devoted to the cause of France ; but the former power, who had made over to Napoleon her seamen, had no land troops to spare for his assistance. The few that she had on foot were scarce sufficient to protect her against any enterprise of Sweden or England. Saxony was also the firm friend of Napoleon, who had enlarged her dominions, and changed her ruler's electoral bonnet into a royal crown. It is true, if Poland was to be regenerated, as seemed to be the natural consequence of a war with Rus- sia, the King of Saxony must h:ive reckoned upon losing his ducal interest in the grand duchy of Warsaw. But from this he derived little present .advantage ; and as he was secui-e of indemnification, the apprehension of that loss did not prevent him from following the banner of Napoleon, with the same good-will as ever. Very different was the condition of Sweden. Th.1t kingdom, since the reign of Francis I., had been the ancient and natural ally of France ag.ainst Russia ; in acting against which last power her local advantages afforded gi-eat facility. Sweden was also governed at the moment by a French- man. But the Prince-Royal had received more injuries and affronts than favours at the hands of the Emperor Napoleon ; and the violent policy which the latter was in the habit of using towards those of his allies and neighbours, who did not submit unresistingly to all his demands, had alien- ated from France the hearts of the Swedes, and from his own person the friendship of his old com- panion in arms. We have mentioned the mode of argument, or rather declamation, which he had used to compel the Swedes into a total exclusion of English manufactures, contrary to a reservation made in a recent treaty, by which the Swedes had retained the right of importing colonial goods and salt, while consenting to exclude British commo- dities generally. With the same urgency and menaces, he had compelled the Crown Prince to declare war against Britain. But although Napoleon succeeded in both points, he could not oblige Britain to treat Sweden as a ' Mered'th's Memorials of Charles John, King of Sweden ami Morw.-iy, p. 25. belligerent power. On the contrary, England seemed not in the slightest degree to alter tl.d relations of amity to a state whom she considered as having adopted the attitude of an enemv to- wards her, merely from compulsion too powerful to be resisted. This moderation on the part of Great Britain did not prevent Sweden from feeling all the evils of the anti-social system of Buonaparte. Her commerce was reduced to a mere coasting- trade, and her vessels skulked from port to port, exposed to the depredations of Danish and Frcncu privateers, who seized upon and confiscated up- wards of fifty Swedish ships, under ]iretence of enforcing the non-intercourse system. The Prince- Royal applied for redress at the court of Paris ; but although vague promises were given, j-et nei- ther were the acts of piracy discontinued, nor any amends made for those daily committed. The Baron Alquier, who was the French envoy at Stockholm, used, according to Bernadotte's ex- pression, the language of a Roman proconsul, with- out remembering that he did not speak to slaves.' When asked, for example, to state categorically what Napoleon expected from Sweden, and what he proposed to grant her in return, Alquier an- swered, that " the Emperor expected from Sweden compliance in every point conformable to his sys- tem ; after which it would be time enough to inquire into what his Imperial Majesty nn'ght be disposed to do in favour of Sweden." On another occasion, the French envoy had the assurance to decline farther intercourse with the Crown Prince on the subject of his mission, and to desire that some other person might be appointed to communicate with him. There can be no doubt, that, in this singular course of diplomacy. Baron Alquier obeyed his master's instructions, who was determined to treat the Prince-Royal of Sweden, emancipated as he was from his allegiance to France by letters-patent from the Imperial Chancery, as if he had still been his subject, and serving in his armies. Napoleon went so far as to say, before his courtiers, that he had a mind to make Berna- dotte finish his lessons in the Swedish language in the Castle of Vincennes. It is even said, that the Emperor thought seriously of putting this threat into execution, and that a plot was actually fiu-med to seize the person of the Prince-Royal, putting him on board a vessel, and bringing him prisoner to France. But he escaped this danger by the information of an officer named Salazar, formerly an aide-de-camp of Marmont, who conveyed to the Prince timely information of the outrage which was intended.^ With so many causes of mutual animosity be- tween France and Sweden, all arising out of the impolitic vehemence by which Buonaparte endea- voured to drive, rather than lead, the Prince- Royal into the measures he desired, it can hardly be sup- posed that the last would neglect any opportunity to assert his independence, and his resolution not to submit to a superiority so degrading in itself, and so ungraciously and even unmercifully exer- cised. Such was the state of matters- betwixt the two countries, when, from the approaching war with Russia, the assistance of Sweden became essential - See Appendix, No. XI. 1811.] LIFE OF NAPOLEOX BUONAPARTE. 541) to France. But what bait cnuKl Napoleon hold out to bring back an alienated friend I He might, in- deed, offer to assist Bernadotte in regaining the province of Finland, which, by the connivance of Napoleon, had been conquered by Russia. But the Crown Prince concluded, that, to enter into a war with the view of recovering Finland, would occasion expexises which the country could not afford, and which the acquisition of Finland could not compensate, even supposing it sure to be accom- plished. Besides, the repossession of Finland Mould eng,age Sweden in perpetual disputes with Russia, whereas the two nations, separated by the Gulf of Bothnia, had at present no cause of differ- ence. On the other hand, by siding with Russia in the great contest which was impending, Sweden might expect the assistance of that empire, as well as of Britain, to achieve from Denmark, the ally of France, the conquest of her kingdom of Norway, which, in its geographical situation, lay so conve- niently for Sweden, and afforded her the whole range of sea-coast along the western shores of Scandinavia. It is said that the Prince-Royal offered to Napoleon to enter into a league, offen- sive and defensive, with France, providing Nor- way as well as Finland were added to his domin- ions ; but the Emperor i-ejected the terms with disdain. The whole alleged negotiation, however, has been disputed and denied.' So soon as Buonaparte found there was no hope of conciliating the Prince-Royal, which indeed he scarce seems seriously to have attempted, he pro- ceeded, without waiting for the ceremony of de- claring war, to strike against Sweden the most severe, or ratlier the only blow, in his power. In January 1812, General Davoust marched into Swedish Pomerania, the only possession of Sweden south of the Baltic sea, seized upon the country and its capital, and proceeded to menace the mili- tary occupation of Prussia, so far as that country was not already in the hands of France. Receiving no satisfaction for this aggression, Sweden, 24th March, 1812, signed a treaty with Russia, declaring war against France, and pro- posing a diversion, with a joint force of 25 or 30,00b Swedes, together with 15 or 20,000 Rus- sians, upon some point of Germany. And the Emperor of Russia became bound, either by nego- tiation or military co-operation, to unite the king- dom of Norway to that of Sweden, and to hold the Russian army, which was at present in Finland, as disposable for that purpose. Thus was the force of Sweden, rendered yet more considerable by the liigh military chai-acter of its present chief, thrown into the scale against France, to whom, but'for the passionate and impolitic character of Napoleon's proceedings towards her, she might, in all proba- bility, have remained the same useful and faithful ally which she had been since the alliance of Fran- cis I. with Gustavus Vasa. No reason can be discovered for insulting Swe- den at the precise moment when her co-operation would have been so useful, excepting the animosity of Napoleon against a prince, whom he regarded as an ancient rival before the 18th Brumaire, and ' See Mercilitli's Memorials, p. .'W. 2 III tlie Mviiil'iir, a scamlalons iiitricue wa^i rci'fatedly a'ludcd til as existing betwocM tliis princi^^s and tlie KinjitTor Ale.xaniJfr. aiul Ijoih to M. l.as Ca.sf"., and to otliors, Huniia- parte attiinic-d the same pcrsoiiallv ; tulliiii;. at the same time, M a good jest, that he hiiiiself liad kept the King of I'nissia now as a contumacious and rebellious vassal. A due regard to the honour and interest of France would have induced him to lay aside such personal considerations. But this does not appear to have been in Buonaparte's nature, who, if he remembered benefits, had also a tenacious recollection of enmi- ties, said to be peculiar to the natives of Corsica. When this feeling obtained the ascendency, he was too a])t to sacrifice his policy to his spleen. The situation of the King of Prussia, at the break- ing out of the dispute between the empires of P^rance and Russia, was truly embarrassing. His position lying betwixt the contending parties, ren- dered neutrality almost impossible ; and if he took up arms, it was a matter of distracting doubt on which side he ought to employ them. Oppressed by French exactions and French garrisons ; insti- gated, besides, by the secret influence of the Tu- gend-bund, the people of Prussia were almost un- animous in their eager wish to seize the sword against France, nor was the King less desirous to i-edeem the independence, and revenge the suffer- ings, of his kingdom. The recollections of an amiable and beloved Queen, who had died in the prime of life, heart-broken with the distresses of her country, with her hands locked in those of her husband, called also for revenge on France, which had insulted her when living, and slandered her wlien dead.''' Accordingly it is now well understood, that the first impulse of the King of Prussia's mind was to tlu'ow himself into the arms of Russia, and offer, should it cost him his life and crown to take share in the war as his faitliful ally. But the Emperor Alexander was sensible that, in accepting this offer- ed devotion, he would come under an obligation to protect Prussia in case of those reverses, which might be almost reckoned on as likely to occur in the early part of the campaign. The strongest fortresses iii Prussia were in the hands of the French, the army of the King did not amount to more than 40,000 men, and there was no time to arm or organise the national forces. In order to form a junction with these 40,000 men, or as many of them as could be collected, it would be necessary that Alexander should preci]3itate the \\ar, and march a strong army into Silesia, upon which the Prussians might rally. But such an army, when it had attained its object, must have liad in front the whole forces of France, Saxony, and the Confederacy of the Rhine, while the hostile troops of the grand duchy of Warsaw, with probably a bedy of Austrian auxi- liaries, would liave been in their rear. This pre- mature movement in advance, would havereseinbled the conduct of Austria in the unhappy campaigns of 1805 and 1809; in both of which she precipi- tated her armies into Bavaria, in hopes of acquir- ing allies, but only exposed them to the decisive defeats of Ulni and Ecknuihl. It would also have been like the equally ill-omened advance of the Prussian army in 1806, when hurrying forward to compel Saxony to join him, the Duke of Brunswick gave occasion to the unhappy battle of Jena. Experience and reflection, therefore, had led tlie Russian Emperor and cabinet to be of opinion, that out of the way, to provide the lovers a stolen mectinR [vol. ii., p. 21.'!.] These averments are so ini-onsistent with the charac- tcr universally assigned to this hif;h spirited and unhappy princess, that "we liave no hisitation to assj;;n them directly (C calninny ; a weajion which Najioleon never disdained to wiold^ whether in private or national controversy.— S. 550 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1812. they ought to avoid encountering the French in the early part of the campaign ; and, in consequence, tliat far from advancing to meet tliem, tliey should rather suffer the invaders to involve tliemselves in the immense wastes and forests of the territories of Russia itself, where supplies and provisions were not to be found by the invader, and where every peasant would prove an armed enemy. The sup- port which could be derived from an auxiliary army of Prussians, amounting only to 40,000 men, of whom perhaps the half could not be drawn to- gether, was not, it appeared, an adequate motive for altering the plan of the campaign, which had been founded on the most mature consideration. The Emperor Alexander, therefore, declined ac- cepting of the King of Prussia's alliance, as only tending to bring upon that Prince misfortunes, which Russia had not even the chance of averting, without entirely altering tliose plans of the cam- paign which had been deliberately adopted. Fore- seeing at the same time that this refusal on his part must have made it necessary for Frederick, whose situation rendered neutrality impossible, to take part with France, the Emperor Alexander generously left him at liberty to take the mea- sures, and form the connexions, which his circum- stances rendered inevitable, assuring him, never- theless, that if Russia gained the ascendant, Prussia should derive the same advantage from the victory, whatever part she might be compelled to adopt during the struggle. While the King of Pi'ussia saw his alliance declined by Russia, as rather burdensome than beneficial, he did not find France at all eager to receive him on her part as a brother of the war. He offered his alliance to Buonaparte repeatedly, and especially in the months of March, May, and August, 1811 ; but receiving no satisfaction, he began to be apprehensive that his destruction was intended. There was some reason for this fear, for Napoleon seems to have entertained a personal dislike towards Frederick, and is said to have exclaimed, when he was looking over a map of the Prussian territories, " Is it possible I can have been simple enough to leave that man in possession of so large a kingdom?" There is great reason, besides, to suppose, that Napoleon may have either become acquainted with the secret negotiations betwixt Prussia and Russia, or may have been induced to assume from probability the fact that such had existed. He hesitated, certainly, whether i)r not he would permit Prussia to remain an inde- pendent power. At length, however, on the 24th of February, 1812, a treaty was dictated to Frederick, under condition of subscribing which, the name and title of King of Prussia were to be yet left him ; fail- ing his compliance, Davoust, who had occupied Swedish Pomerania, was to march into Prussia, and treat it as a hostile country. In thus sparing fcir tlio time a monarch, of whom he had every rea- son to be jealous, Napoleon seems to have consi- dered it more advisable to use Frederiek's assist- ance, than to throw him into the arms of Russia. The conditions of this lenity were severe ; Prussia was to place at the disposal'of France about 20,000 men, with sixty pieces of artillery, tlje disposable part of the poor remnant of the standing army of the great Frederick. She was also to supply" the French army with evcrv thing neeessarv for their sustenance as they passed through her dominions i but the expense of these supplies was to be impu- ted as part of the contributions imposed on Prussia by France, and not yet paid. Various other mea- sures were taken to render it easy for the French, in case of necessity, to seize such fortresses belong- ing to Prussia as were not already in their hands, and to keep the Prussian people as much as pos- sible disarmed, a rising amongst them being consi- dered inevitable if the French arms should sustain any reverse. Thus, while Russia fortified herself with the assistance of France's old ally Sweden, France advanced against Russia, supported by the remaining army of Frederick of Prussia, who was at heart Alexander's best well-wisher. Napoleon had, of course, a weighty voice in the councils of his father-in-law of Austria. But the Austrian cabinet were far from regarding his plans of ambitious aggrandisement with a partial eye. The acute Metternich had been able to discover and report to his master, on his return to Vienna in the spring of 1811, that the mai'riage which had just been celebrated, would not have the effect of inducing Napoleon to sheathe his sword, or of giv- ing to Europe permanent tranquillity. And now, although on the approach of the hostilities into which they were to be involved by their formidable ally, Austria agreed to supply an auxiliary army of 30,000 men, under Prince Schwarlzenberg, it seems probable that she remembered, at the same time, the moderate and lenient mode of carrying on the war practised by Russia, when the ally of Napo- leon during the campaign of Wagram, and gave her general secret instructions to be no further active in the campaign than the decent supporting of the part of an auxiliary peremptorily required. In one most material particular, the necessitj' of consulting the interests of Austria interfered with Napoleon's readiest and most formidable means of annoying Russia. We have repeatedly alluded to the re-establishment of Poland as an independent kingdom, as a measure which would have rent from Russia some of the finest provinces which connect lier with Europe, and would have gone a certain length in thrusting her back into the character of an Asiatic sovereignty, unconnected with the politics of the civilized world. Such re-construction of Poland was however impossible, so long as Austria conti- nued to hold Galicia ; and that state, in her treaty of alliance with France against Russia, made it an express condition that no attempt should be made for the restoration of Polish independence by Na- poleon, without the consent of Austria, or without making compensation to her for being, in the event supposed, deprived of her share of Poland. This compensation, it was stipulated, was to consist in the retrocession, on the part of France, of the Illy- rian provinces, yielded up by his Imperial Majesty of Austria at the treaty of Schoenbrun. By submitting to this embargo on his proceedings in Poland, Napoleon lost all opportunity of revolu- tionizing that military country, from which he drew therefore little advantage, unless from the duchy of Warsaw. Nothing but the tenacity with which Buonaparte retained every territory that fell into his power, would have prevented him from at once simplifying this complicated engagement, by assign- ing to Austria those Illyrian provinces, which were entirely useless to France, but on which her ally set great value, and stipulating in return — wliat 1812.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 5.")1 Austria would then have willingly gi'anted — the power of disposing, according to his own pleasure, as well of Galicia, as of such parts of the Polish I provinces as should be conquered from Russia ; or I in case, as De Pradt insinuates,' the Court of Aus- I tria were averse to the exchange, it was in the i power of Napoleon to have certainly removed their objections, by throwing Venice itself into the scale. But we have good reason to believe that Illyria would have been a sufficient inducement to the transaction. We cannot suppose Buonaparte blind to the im- portance of putting, as he expressed it, all Poland on horseback ; but whether it was, that in reality he did not desire to establish an independent state upon any terms, or whether he thought it hard to give up the Illyrian provinces, ceded to France in property, in order to reconstruct a kingdom, which, nominally at least, was to be independent ; or whether, in fine, he had an idea, that, by vague promises and hopes, he could obtain from the Poles all the assistance he desired — it is certain that he embarrassed himself with this condition in favour of Austria, in a manner which tended to render com- plex and difficult all that he afterwards attempted in Polish affairs ; and lost the zealous co-operation and assistance of the Lithuanians, at a time when it would have been invaluable to him. Turkey remains to be noticed as the sole remain- ing power whom Buonaparte ought in prudence to have propitiated, previous to attacking Russia, of which empire she is the natural enemy, as she was also held the natural and ancient ally of France. Were it not that the talents of Napoleon were much better fitted to crush enemies than to gain or maintain friends, it would be difficult to account for his losing influence over the Porte at this im- portant period. The Turkish Government had been rendered hostile to France by the memorable invasion of Egypt ; but Sultan Sehm, an admirer of Napoleon's valour and genius, had become the friend of the Einyieror of France. Selim was cut off by a conspiracy, and his successor was more partial to the English interests. In the treaty of Tilsit, the partition of Turkey was actually agreed upon, though the term was adjourned ;'■' as, at the negotiations of Erfurt, Napoleon agreed to aban- don the Turkish dominions as far as the Danube, to become the property of Russia, if it should be in her power to conquer them. The Court of St. Petersburgh were ill-advised enough to make the attempt, although they ought to have foreseen, even then, that the increasing power of France should have withheld them from engaging in any scheme of conquest at that period. Indeed, their undertaking this war with the Otto- man empire, a proceeding so impolitic in case of a rupture with France, may be quoted to show the Emperor Alexander's confidence that no such event was likely to take place, and consequently to prove his own determination to observe good faith towards Napoleon. The Turks made a far better defence than had been anticipated ; and though the events of war were at first unfavourable to them, yet at length the Grand Vizier obtained a victory before Rout- schouk, or at least gave the Russian general such a serious check a.s obliged him tc raise the siege of that place. But the gleam of victory on the Turk- ish banners was of brief duration. They were attacked hy tlie Russians in their intrenched camp, and defeated in a battle so sanguinary, that the vanquished army was almost annihilated.' The Turks, howi.'ver, continued to maintain the war, forgotten and neglected as they were by tlie Em- peror of Finance, who?e interest it chiefly was, con- sidering his views against Russia, to have sustained them in (heir unequal struggle against that for- midable power. In the meanwhile, hostilities lan- guished, and negotiations were commenced ; for the Russians were of course desirous, so soon as a war against France became a probable event, to close that with Turkey, which must keep engaged a very considerable army, at a time w hen all their forces were necessary to oppose the expected at- tack of Napoleon. At this period, and so late as the 21st March, 1812, it seemed to occur all at once to Buonaparte's recollection, that it would be highly politic to mam- tain, or rather to renew, his league with a nation, of whom it was at the time most important to secure the confidence. His ambassador was directed to urge the Grand Signior in person to move towards the Danube, at the head of 100,000 men ; in con- sideration of which, the French Emperor proposed not only to obtain possession for them of the two disputed provinces of Moldavia and Wallachia, but also to procure the restoration to the Forte of the Crimea. This war-breathing message arrived too late, the Porte having adopted a specific line of policy. The splendid promises of France suc.eeded too abruptly to so many years of neglect, to obtain credit for sincerity. The envoys of England, with a dexterity which it has not been always their fortune to dis- play, obtained a complete victory in diplomacy over those of France, and were able to impress on the Sublime Porte the belief, that though Russia was their natural enemy among European nations, yet a peace of some permanence might be secured with her, under the guarantee of England and Sweden ; whereas, if Napoleon should altogether destroy Russia, the Turkish empire, of which he had already meditated the division, would be a measure no state could have influence to prevent, as, in subduing Russia, he would overcome the last terrestrial barrier to his absolute power. It gives no slight idea of the general terror and suspicion impressed by the very name of Napoleon, that a barbarons people like the Turks, who generally only comprehend so nuich of politics as lies straight before them, should have been able to uriderstand that there was wisdom in giving peace on reason- able terms to an old and inveterate enemy, rather than, by assisting in his destruction, to contribute to the elevation of a power still more formidable, ' Histoiredel'Ambassade dans le Grand Duch^de Varsovie poleon and Alexander, broke up without any such restoration ; (n 1R12. I an"! a congress, whicli was lielu at Jassy for the arraneement - The fact is now pretty penerally admitted to have been as ul tliu qnarril between tlic Porte and Coiiit of Jit. P^-tershurph, »tated in the text, hut in the public treaty, it appeared that I liavin^' been also dissolved witliout coming to an aRreement, France neRotiated an armistice, called that of Slobodsca, by I the war between tlie Turks and Russians recommenced upoy which it was stiimlated, that the two disputed [irovinces of j the Danube.— S. Moldavia and Wallachia were to be restored to the Turks. Hut the armistice, as had previously been settled between Na- ' 3 Jomini, torn. iii.. p. 5,41. 552 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1S12. more arnbitious, and less easily opposed. The peace of Bucharest was accordingly negotiated betwixt Russia and Turkey, of which we shall hereafter have occasion to speak. Thus was France, on the approaching struggle, deprived of her two ancient allies, Sweden and Turkey. Prussia she brought to the field like a slave at her chariot-wheels ; Denmark and Saxony in the character of allies, wlio were favoured so long as they were sufficiently subservient ; and Austria, as a more equal confederate, but who had contrived to stipulate, that, in requital of an aid coldly and unwillingly gi-anted, the French Empe- ror should tie himself down by engagements re- specting Poland, which interfered with his using his influence over that country in the manner which would best have served his purposes. The result must lead to one of two conclusions. Either that Napoleon, confident in the immense prepara- tions of his military force, disdained to enter into negotiations to obtain that assistance which he could not directly command, or else that his talents in politics were inferior to those which he displayed in military affairs. It is true, that if the numbers, and we may add the quality, of the army which France brought into the field on this momentous occasion, were alone to be considered, Napoleon might be excused for holding cheap the assistance which he might have derived from Sweden or the Porte. He had anti- cipated the conscription of 1811, and he now called out that of 1812 ; so that it became plain, that so long as Napoleon lived and warred, the conscrip- tion of the first class would be — not a conditional regulation, to be acted or not acted upon according to occasion — but a regular and never-to-be-re- mitted tax of eighty thousand men, annually levied, without distinction, on the youth of France. To the amount of these conscriptions for two yeai's, were to be added the contingents of household kings, vassal princes, subjected republics — of two- thirds of Europe, in short, which were placed under Buonaparte's command. No such army had taken the field since the reign of Xerxes, supposing the exaggerated accounts of the Persian invasion to be admitted as historical. The head almost turns dizzy as we read the amount of their numbers. The gross amount of the whole forces of the empire of France, and its dependencies and allies, is thus given by Boutourlin : — ' Totai amojiiit of the French army, . . . S5ii,IV)0 men. TJicarmy of Italy, underthe Viceroy Eugene, 5(t,00l) .... of the Grand Duchy of Warsaw, with other Poles 60,000 . of Bavaria 40,OiiO .... of f>axonv, 311,0(10 ., .. of Westphalia, .^O.OOO .... of Wurtemberg . 15,0ht of sijiiirs 80 important to any other person than i\Iaret,the chief of his jfCiv((ir(V/(— that is to sav, all foreign affairs were, from that moment, concentrated in his cabinet, aa 1 received no other imjiulse than from him. Under this point of view, Ma- ret, who was a tnie ofiicial machine, was the very man whom the Emperor wanted. He really admired his master, with whose thoughts, secrets, and inclinations he was acquainted. reur!" with the equally dispiriting and incredible information, that the English colours were flying on the walls. These two brilliant achievements were not only of great importance by their influence on the events of the campaign, but still more so as they indicated that our military operations had assumed an entirely new character, and that the British .soldiers, as now conducted, had not only the advantage of their own strength of body and natural courage, not only the benefit of the resources copiously supplied by the wealthy nation to whom they belonged, but also, as began to be generally allowed, an undoubted superiority in military art and science. The objects of the canqiaign were admirably chosen, for the exertion to be made was calculated with a degree of accuracy which dazzled and bewildered the enemy ; and though the loss incurred in their attainment was very considerable, yet it was not in propor- tion to the much greater advantages attained by success. Badajos fell on the 7th April; and on the 18th of that month, an overture of pacific tendency was made by the French Government to that of Bri- tain. It is not unlikely that Buonaparte, on be- holding his be.st comnianders completely out-gene- ralled before Ciudad Rodrigo and Badajos, might foresee in this inauspicious commencement the long train of defeat and disaster which befell the French iit the campaign of 1812, the events of which could not have failed to give liberty to Spain, had Spain, or rather had her Government, been united among themselves, and cordial in supporting their allies. It might be Lord Wellington's successes, or the lingering anxiety to avoid a war involving so many contingencies as that of Russia ; or it might be a desire to impress the French public that he was always disposed towards peace, that induced Na- poleon to direct the Duke of Bassano' to write a letter to Lord Ca-stlereagh, proposing that the in- tegrity and independence of Spain should be gua- ranteed under the present rehjiiinij dynai^ty ; that Portugal should remain under the rule of the Princes of Braganza ; Sicily under that of Fer- dinand ; and Naples under Murat ; each nation, in this manner, retaining possession of tiiat which the other had not been able to wrench from them by force of war. Lord Castlereagh immediately re- plied, that if the reign of King Joseph were meant by the phrase, " the dynasty actually reigning," he mu.st answer explicitly, that England's engage- ments to Ferdinand VII, and the Cortes presently governing Spain, rendered her acknowledging him impossible.^ The correspondence went no farther.^ The na- ture of the overture served to show tlie tenacity of Buonaparte's character, who, in treating for peace, would yield nothing save that which the fate of war had actually placed beyond liis reach ; and expected It was al.so he who kept the secret-book, in which the Kmpe- ror made his notes of such individuals of all countries and parties who might be useful to him. as well as of men who were pointed out to his notice, and whose intentions he sus- pected."— FoicHE. - '• Here the matter dropped. Ashamed of its overtures, our cabinet, whose only object was to nave drawn Kussii into some act of weakness, jwrccivcd too late tliat it had impressed upon our diplomacy a chariicter of fickleness, bad faith, and ignorance." — Fol'che. 3 For copies of the Correspondence with the French Go- vernment relative to Peace, see Parliamentary Debates, v.^l. xxiii p. IMjC. 554 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1812. the British to yield up to him the very kingdom nf Spain, whose fate depended upon the bloody arbi- trement of tlie sword. It also manifested the in- sincerity with wliich ho could use words to mislead those who treated with him. He had in many instances, some of which we have quoted, laid it down as a sacred principle, that princes of his blood, called to reign over foreign states, should remain still the subjects of France and vassals of its Emperor, whose interest they were bound to prefer on all occasions to that of the countries they were called to govern. Upon these grounds he had coni])elled the abdication of King Louis of Holland ; and how was it possible for him to expect to receive credit, when he proposed to render Spain independent under Joseph, whose authority was unable to control even the French marshals who acted in his name ? This feeble effort towards a general peace having altogether miscarried, it became subject of consi- deration, whether the approaching breach betwixt the two great empires could yet be prevented. The most active preparations for war were taking place on both sides. Those of Russia were defen- sive ; but she mustered great armies on the Nie- men, as if in expectation of an assault ; while Finance was rapidly pouring troops into Prussia, and into the grand duchy of Warsaw, and assuming those positions most favourable for invading the Russian frontier. Yet amid preparations for war, made on such an immense scale as Europe had never before witnessed, there seemed to be a lingering wish on the part of both Sovereigns, even at this late hour, to avoid the conflict. This indeed might have been easily done, had there been on the part of Napoleon a heai'ty desire to make peace, instead of what could only be termed a degree of hesitation to commence hostilities. In fact, the original causes of quarrel were already settled, or, what is the same thing, principles had been fixed, on which their arrangement might be easily adjusted. Yet etill the preparations for invading Russia became more and more evident- — tire purpose was distinctly expressed in the treaty between France and Prus- sia ; and the war did not appear the less certain that the causes of it seemed to be in a great mea- sure abandoned. The anxiety of Alexander was therefore diverted from the source of the dispute to its important consequences ; and lie became most naturally more solicitous about having the French troops withdrawn from the frontiers of Poland, than about the cause that originally brought them there. Accordingly, Prince Kourakin, the Russian ple- nipotentiary, had orders to communicate to the Duke of Bassano his master's ultimatum. The grounds of arrangement proposed by the Czar were, the evacuation of Prussia and Pomerania by the French troops ; a diminution of the garrison of Dantzic ; and an amicable ai-rangcnient of the dispute between Napoleon and Alexander. On these conditions, which, in fact, were no more than necessary to assure Russia of France's peaceable intentions, the Czar agreed to place his commerce upon a system of licenses as conducted in France ; to introduce the clauses necessary to protect the 1 " Napoleon had cxpvcssed a wish thnt the Emperor of ^ustria, several kings, and a crowd of princes, shonid meet hiin at Dresden : liis desire wan fulfilled ; all thronged to meet bnn ; binue induced by hope, others prompted by fear; for French trade ; and farther, to use his influence with the Duke of Oldenburg, to obtain his consent to accept some reasonable indemnification for the territory which had been so summarily annexed to France. In looking back at this document, it appears to possess as much the character of moderation, and even of deference, as could be expected from the chief of a great empire. His demand that France, unless it were her determined purpose to make war, should withdraw the armies which threatened the Russian frontier, seems no more than common sense or prudence would commend. Yet this con- dition was made by Napoleon, however unreason- ably, the direct cause of hostilities. The person, in a private brawl, who should say to an angry and violent ojiponent, " Sheathe your sword, or at least low«r its point, and I will accom- modate with you, on your own terms, the original cause of quarrel," would sin-ely not be considered as having given him any affront, or other cause for instant violence. Yet Buonaparte, in nearly the same situation, resented as an unatonable oft'ence, the demand that he should withdraw his armies from a position, where tliey could have no other purpose save to overawe Russia. The demand, he said, was insolent ; he was not accustomed to be addressed in that style, nor to regulate his move- ments by the commands of a foreign sovereign. The Rus,sian ambassador received his passports ; and the unreasonable caprice of Napoleon, which considered an overture towards an amicable treaty as a gross offence, because it summoned him to desist from his menacing attitude, led to the death of millions, and the irretrievable downfall of the most extraordinary empii'e which the woi-ld had ever seen. On the 9th May, 1812, Buonaparte left Paris ; the Russian ambassador had his pass- ports for departure two days later Upon his former military expeditions, it had been usual for Napoleon to join his army suddenly, and with a slender attendance ; but on the present occasion he assumed a style of splendour and dignity becoming one, who might, if any earthly sovereign ever could, have assumed the title of King of Kings. Dresden was appointed as a mutual rendezvous for all the Kings, Dominations, Princes, Dukes, and dependent royalties of every description, who were subordinate to Napoleon, or hoped for good or evil at his hands. The Em- poi'or of Austria, with his Empress, met his mighty son-in-law upon this occasion, and the city was crowded with princes of the most ancient birth, as well as with others who claimed still higher rank, as belonging to the family of Napoleon. The King of Prussia also was present, neither a willing nor a welcome guest, unless so far as his attendance was necessary to swell the victor's triimiph. Me- lancholy in heart and in looks, he wandered through the gay and splendid scenes, a mourner rather than a reveller. But fate had amends in store, for a prince whose course, in times of un- paralleled distress, had been marked by courage and patriotism.' Amidst all these dignitaries, no one interested the public so much as he, for whom, and by whom himself, his motives were to feci his power, to exhibit it, and enjoy it."— CoirxT PmLri' de Segir, IJist. de XuptJlfon, ct lU la Graiule .Initt'c, en 1U12, torn, i., p. «9. 1812.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. the assembly was collected ; the woiulerful being who could have governed the world, but could not rule his own restless mind. When visible, Na- poleon was the principal figure of the group ; when absent, every eye was on the door, expecting his enti'ance.' He was chiefly employed in business in his cabinet, while the other crowned personages (to whom, indeed, he left but little to do) were wandering abroad in quest of amusement. The feasts and banquets, as well as the assemblies of the royal personages and their suites, after the theatrical representations, were almost all at Na- poleon's expense, and were conducted in a style of splendour, which made those attempted by any of the other potentates seem mean and paltry. The youthful Empress had her share of these days of grandeur. " The reign of Maria Louisa," said her husband, when at St. Helena, " has been very short, but she had much to make her enjoy it. She had the world at her feet." Her superior magnificence in dress and ornaments, gave her a great pre-eminence over her mother-in-law, the Empress of Austria, betwixt whom and Maria Louisa there seems to have existed something of that petty feud, which is apt to divide such relations in private life. To make the Austrian Empress some amends, Buonaparte informs us, that she often visited her daughter-in-law's toilette, and seldom went back without receiving some marks of her munificence.^ Perhaps we may say of this infor- mation, as Napoleon says of something else, that an Emperor should not have known these cii'cum- stances, or at least should not have told them. The truth is, Buonaparte did not love the Empi'ess of Austria ; and though he represents that high per- sonage as showing him much attention, the dislike was mutual. The daughter of the Duke of Modena had not forgot her father's sufferings by the cam- paigns of Italy.^ In a short time, however, the active spirit of Napoleon led him to tire of a scene, where his vanity might for a time be gratified, but which soon palled on his imagination as empty and frivolous. He sent for De Pradt, the Archbishop of Malines, whose talents he desired to employ as ambassador at Warsaw, and in a singular style of diplomacy, thus gave him his commission : " I am about to make a trial of you. You may believe I did not send for you hei-e to say mass" (which ceremony the Archbishop had pei'formed that morning.) " You must keep a great establishment ; have an eye to the women, their influence is essential in that country. You know Poland ; you have read Rulhieres. For me, 1 go to beat the Russians ; time is flying ; we must have all over by the end of September ; perhaps we are even already too late. I am tired to death here ; I have been here eiglit days playing the courtier to the Empress of Aus- tria." He then threw out indistinct hints of com- pelling Austria to quit her hold ou Galicia, and accept an indemnification in lUyria, or otherwise 1 " Whole nations had quitted their homes to throng his path ; ricli and poor, nobles and plebeians, friends and ene- mies, all hurried to the scene. Their curious and anxious groups were seen collecting in the streets, the roads, and the public places. It was not his crown, his rank, the luxury of his court, but him — himself — on whom thev desired to feast their eyes; a. memento of his features which they were anxious to obtain : they wislied to be able to say to their less fortunate co^intrvraen and posterity that they had seen Napoleon." — Bkol'.i,' torn, i., p. SKI. - Lis CsLf--s, toni. i,, p. 2. 9. remain without any. As to Prussia, he avowed his intention, when the war was over, to ruin her completely, and to strip her of Silesia. " I am ou my way to Moscow," he added. " Two battles there will do the business. 1 will burn Thoula ; the Emperor Alexander will come on his knees, and then is Russia disarmed. All is ready, and only waits my presence. Moscow is the heart of their empire ; besides, I make war at the expense of the blood of the Poles. I will leave fifty thou- sand of my Frenchmen in Poland. I will convert Dantzic into another Gibraltar. I will give fifty millions a-year in subsidies to the Poles. I can aft'ord the expense. Without Russia be included, the Continental System would be mere folly. Spain costs me very dear ; without her I should be mas- ter of the world ; but when I am so, my son will have nothing to do but to keep his place, and it does not require to be very clever to do that. Go, take your instructions from Maret."* The complete confidence of success implied iiv these disjointed, yet striking expressions, was gene- ral through all who approached Napoleon's person, whether French or foreigners. The young mili- tary men looked on the expedition against Russia as on a hunting party which was to last fur two months. The army rushed to the fatal country, all alive with the hopes of plunder, pensions, and promotion. All the soldiers who were not included railed against their own bad luck, or the parti- ality of Napoleon, for detaining them from so tri- umphant an enterprise.'* Meantime, Buonaimrte made a last attempt at negotiation, or rather to discover what was the state of the Emperor Alexander's mind, who, while he was himself surrounded by sovereigns, as the sun by planets, remained lonely in his own orbit, collecting around hiin means of defence, which, immense as they were, seemed scarcely adequate to the awful crisis in which he stood. General Lauriston had been despatched to Wilna, to com- municate definitively with Alexander. Count de Narbonne, already noticed as the most adroit cour- tier of the Tuileries was sent to invite the Czar to meet Napoleon at Dresden, in hopes that, in a personal treaty, the two sovereigns might resume their habits of intimacy, and settle between them- selves what they had been unable to arrange through their ambassadors. But Lauriston could obtain no audience of the Emperor, and the report of Narbonne was decidedly warlike. He found the Russians neither depressed nor elated, but arrived at the general conclusion, that war was become inevitable, and therefore determined to submit to its evils, rather than avoid them by a dishonourable peace.^ CHAPTER LVII. JSavoleoii's Plan of the Campaign ai/ainst liiissia — Understood and provided ayainst by Barclay de 3 " The Empress of Austria made herself remarked, by her aversion, which she vainly endeavoured to disguise ; it escaped from her by an involuntary im|)ulse, which Napoleon instantly detected, and subdued by a smile : but she eni]iloyed her spirit and attraction in gently winning hearts to her upinioi , in ordei to sow them afterwards with the seeds of hate.' — tJKJtJR, torn, i., p. 92. ■• De Pradt, HIstoire del'Ambassade en Pologne, p. 55. 5 De Pradt, Ilistoirc dclAnibaiisaJe en Pologne p. 58. c Segur, toni. i.. p. U7. 35G SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1812. Tolltj, the Russian Generalhsimo — Statement of the Grand French Army — Of the Grand Russian Army— Disaster on the rirer Wi/ia — Dijficulties of the Cavipaiijn, on the part of the French — Their defectire Commissariat and Hospital De- partment — Cause of Buonaparte's determination to advance — His forced marches occasion actual delay — Napoleon remains for some days at Wil- na — Abbe de Pradt — His intrigues to excite the Poles — Neutralized by Napoleon's engagements vith Austria — An attempt to excite Insurrection i'l Lithuania also falls. In ancient history, we often read of the inhabit- ants of the northern regions, impelled by want, and by the desire of exchanging their frozen deserts for the bounties of a more genial climate, breaking forth from their own bleak regions, and, with all the terrors of an avalanche, bursting down upon those of the south. But it was reserved for our generation to behold the invasion reversed, and to see immense hosts of French, Germans, and Ital- ians, leaving their own fruitful, rich, and delightful regions, to carry at once conquest and desolation through the dreary pine forests, swamps, and bar- ren wildernesses of Scy thia. The philosopher, Hume, dedicated an essay to consider, whether futurity might expect a new inundation of barbarian con- queroi's ; a fresh " living cloud of war," from the northern hives ; but neither to him nor any one else had it occurred to anticipate the opposite danger, of combined hundreds of thousands from the fairest and most fertile regions of Europe, moving at the command of a single man, for the purpose of bereaving the wildest country of Europe of its national independence. " Russia," said Buo- naparte, in one of his Delphic proclamations, " is dragged on by her fate ; her destiny nmst be accomplished. Let us march ; let us ci'oss the Niemen ; let us carry war into her territories. The second war of Poland will be as glorious to the French arms as the first ; but the peace we shall conclude shall carry with it its guarantee, and terminate that haughty influence which Russia has exercised for more than fifty }ears on the affairs of Europe."* Napoleon's final object was here spoken out ; it was to thrust Russia back upon her Asiatic dominions, and deprive her of her mfluence in European polities. The address of the Russian Emperor to his troops was in a different, more manly, rational, and intelligible strain, devoid of those blustering attempts at prophetic eloquence, which are in bad taste when utternd, and, if they may acquire some credit among tlie vulgar when followed by a suc- cessful campaign, become the most bitter of satires, \f fortune does not smile on the vaticination. Alexander enforced on his subjects the various efforts which he had made for the preservation of peace, but which had proved fruitless. " It now only remains," he said, " after invoking the Al- mighty Being who is the witness and defender of the true cause, to oppose our forces to those of ' Second Bulletin of the Grand Armv, dated Wilkowiski, June 2:2, 1812. 2 Diited Wilna, June 25. " The difference between the two nations, the two sovereigns, and their reciprocal position, were remarked in these proclamations. In fact, the one which was defensive was unadorned and moderate; the other, offensive, was replete with audacity and the confidence of victory. The first souyht support in relijjion, ih.; other in latalitv ; the one the enemy. It is unnecessary to recall to generals, officers, and soldiers, what is expected from their loyalty and courage ; the blood of the ancient Scla- vonians circulates in their veins. Soldiers, you fight for your rengion, your liberty, and your na- tive land. Your Emperor is amongst you, and God is the enemy of the aggressor." ^ The sovereigns who addressed their troops, each in his own peculiar mode of exhortation, had their different plans for the campaign. Buonaparte's was formed on his usual system of warfare. It was his primary object to accumulate a great force on the centre of the Russian line, to break it asunder, and cut off effectually as many divisions, as activity could surprise and over-master in such a struggle. To secure the possession of large towns, if possible one of the two capitals, Petersburgh or Moscow ; and to grant that which he doubted not would by that time be humbly craved, the terms of a peace which should strip Russia of her European influ- ence, and establish a Polish nation in her bosom, composed of provinces rent from her own domin- ions — would have crowned the undertaking. The tactics of Napoleon had, by long practice, been pretty well understood, by those studious of military affairs. Barclay de Tolly, whom Alex- ander had made his generalissimo, a German by birth, a Scotchman by extraction, had laid down and recommended to the Czar, with whom he was in great favour, a plan of foiling Buonaparte upon his own system. He proposed that the Russians should first show only so much opposition on the frontier of their country, as should lay the invaders under the necessity of marching with precaution and leisure ; that they should omit no means of annoying their communications, and distin-bing the base on which they rested, but should carefully avoid every thing approaching to a general action.^ On this principle it was proposed to fall back be- fore the invaders, refusing to engage in any other action than skirmishes, and those upon advantage, until the French lines of connnunication, extended to an immeasurable length, should become liable to be cut off even by the insurgent peasantry. In the meanwhile, as the French became straitened in provisions, and deprived of recruits and supplies, the Russians were to be reinforcing their army, and at the same time refreshing it. Thus, it was the object of this plan of the campaign not to fight the French forces, until the bad roads, want of provisions, toilsome marches, diseases, and loss in skirmishes, should have deprived the invading anny of all its original advantages of numbers, spirit, and discipline. This procrastinating system of tactics suited Russia the better, that her prepa- rations for defensive war were very far from being completed, and that it was important to gain time to receive arms and other supplies from England, as well as, by making peace with the Turks, to ob- tain the disposal of the large army now engaged upon the Danube. At the same time it was easy to foresee, that so long a retreat, together with the desolation occa- in love of country, the other in love of glorv."— Seguii, torn, i., p. 117- 3 The baxc of military operations is, in strategic, understood to mean that sjiacc of country which every army, marching throuKli a hostile territory, must keep open and free in the rear, otherwise his main body must necessarily be deprived ol its communications, and probably cut oft'. The base, tilers' fore, contains the supplies and depots of the army. — S 1812.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 557 Bioned to tlic Russian territory by tlie proseiice of an iiivailiiig anny, niiij,lit wear out the patience of the Russian soldiery. Some advantageous position was tlierefore to be selected, and sliiltuUy fortified before hand, in whicli a s:and might be maile, hke that of Lord Wellington in the lines at Torres Vedras. For this purpose, a very large fortified camp was prepared at Drissa, on tlie river Diina, or Dwina, which, supposing the object of the French to have been St. Petcrsburgh, would have been well calculated to cover that ca[)ital. On the other hand, were the French to move on Moscow, which proved their final determination, the in- trtnchnients at Drissa were of no importance. AVe must speak of the immense hosts combined mider iJuonaparte, as if they were all constituent parts of one army, although the theatre of war wiiich they occupied was not less than an hundred and twenty French leagues in extent of front. Macdonald commanded the left wing of the whole Fi'ench army, which consisted of above 30,000 men : his orders were to penetrate into Courland, and threaten the right flank of the Rus- sians ; and, if it were found advisable, to besiege Riga, or at least to threaten that important sea- port. The extreme right of Napoleon's army was placed towards Pinsk, in Volhynia, and consisted almost entirely of tlio Austrian auxiliaries, under Prince Schwartzenberg. They were opposed to the Russian army under General Tormazoff, which had been destined to protect Volhynia. This was a false step of Napoleon, adopted, doubtless, to allay the irritable jealousy of his ally Austria, on the subject of freeing and restoring the kingdom of Poland. The natives of Volhynia, it must be remembered, are Poles, subjected to the yoke of Russia. Had French troops, or those of the grand duchy of Warsaw, been sent amongst them, the Volhynians would probably have risen in arms to vindicate their liberty. But they had little tempta- tion to do so when they .only saw the Austrians, by whose arms Galicia was yet detained in subjection, and whose Emperor was as liable as Alexander himself to suffer from the resuscitation of Polish independence. Betwixt the left wing, commanded by Macdon- ald, and the right under Schwartzenberg, lay the grand French army, divided into three masses. Buonaparte himself moved with his Guards, of which Bessieres commanded the cavalry, the Mare- schals Lefebvrc and Mortier the infantry. The Emperor ha- of Latour Maubourg, iorming a mass of about 80,000 men, were destined in the same manner to move forward on the Russian second, "r bupporting armj-. Lastly, a central army, under Eugene, the Viceroy of Italy, had it in cliarge to press between the first and second Russian army, increase their separation, render their junction impossible, and act against either, or both, as op- Sdgur, torn, i., p. 117' Jomini, torn, iv., p .li'. portunity should arise. Such was the disposition of the invading force. Murat, King of Naples, well-known by his old name of " Le Bean tsal/- reur," commanded tiie whole cavalry of this im- mense army. On the other hand, the grand Russian army, commanded by the Emperor in person, and more immediately by Barclay de Tolly, advanced its headquarters as far as Wilna ; not that it was their purpose to defend Lithuania, or its cajiital, but to oblige the French to manoeuvre, and so show their intentions. It amounted to 120,000 men. On the north, towards Courland, this grand army com- municated with a division of 10,000 men, under Count Essen ; and on the south held comnuniica- tion, but on a line rather too nmch prolonged, with the second army under the gallant Prince Bagra- tion, one of the best and bravest of the Russian generals. Plato fl", the celebrated Hettman, or cap- tain-general of the Cossacks, attended this second army, with 12,000 of his children of the desert. Independent of these, Bagration's army might amount to 80,000 men. On the extreme left, and watching the Austrians, from whom perhaps no very vigorous measures were apprehended, was Tormazoff, with what was termed the army of Volhynia, amounting to 20,000 men. Two armies of reserve were in the course of being formed at Novogorod and Smolensk. They might amount to about 20,000 men each.' Thus, on the whole, the Russians entered upon the campaign with a sum total of 260,000 men, opposed to 470,000, or with an odds of almost one half against them. But during the course of the war, Russia raised reinforcements of militia and volunteers to greatly more than the balance which was against her at the commencement. The grand imperial army marched upon the river Niemen in its three overwhelming masses ; the King of Westphalia upon Grodno, the Viceroy of Italy on Pilony, and the Emperor himself on a point called Nagaraiski, three leagues beyond Kowno. \Mien the head of Napoleon's columns reached the river which rolled silently along under cover of immense forests on the Russian side, he advanced in person to reconnoitre the banks, when his horse stumbled and threw him. " A bad omen," said a voice, but whether that of the Emperor or one of his suite, could not be distinguished ; " a Roman would return." On the Russian bank ap- peared only a single Cossack, who challenged the first party of French that crossed the river, and demanded their purpose in the territories of Rus- sia. " To beat you, and to take Wilna," was the reply. The patrol withdrew, nor was another sol- dier seen.'"' A dreadful thunder-storm was the welcome wln'ch they received in this wild land ; and shortly after the Emperor received intelligence that the Russians were falling back on every side, and ma- nifested an evident intention to evacuate Lithuania without a battle. The Emperor urged forwai'd his cohnnns with even more than his usual prompti- tude, eager to strike one of those formidable blows l:)y which he was wont to annihilate his enemy at the very conmiencement of tlie campaign. This gave rise to an event more ominous tlian the fall of his horse, or the tempest which received him on 2 Sd'gur, torn, i., p. I2i. 558 SCOTT'S IMISCELLAXEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1812. ihe banks of the Niemen. Tlie river Wilia being swollen with rain, and the bridges destroyed, the Emperor, impatient of the obstacle, commanded a body of Polish cavalry to cross by swimming. They did not hesitate to dash into the river. J3ut ere tliey reached the middle of the stream, the irresistible torrent broke their ranks, and they were swept down and lost almost to a man, before the eyes of Napoleon, to whom some of them in tlie last struggle turned their faces, e.xciaiming, " Vire VEmpereur .'" The spectators were struck with i horror.* But much greater would that feeling h.xve been, could they have known that the fate of this handful of brave men was but an anticipation of that which impended over the hundreds of thou- sands, who, higli in health and hope, were about to rush upon natural and artificial obstacles, no less formidable and no less insurmountable than the torrent which had swept away their unfortunate advanced guard. While his immense masses were traversing Lithuania, Napoleon fixed his headquarters at Wilna,^ the ancient capital of that province, where he began to experience the first pressure of those difficulties which attended his gigantic undertaking. We must pause to detail them ; for they tend to show the great mistake of those who have followed Napoleon himself in supposing, that the Russian expedition was a hopeful and well-conceived plan, which would certainly have proved successful, if not unexpectedly disconcerted by the burning of Moscow, and the severity of the weather, by which the French armies were compelled to retreat into Poland. We have elsewhere mentioned, that, according to Napoleon's usual style of tactics, the French troops set out upon their campaign with bread and biscuit for a few days, and when that was expended (whicli, betwixt waste and consumption, usually happened before the calculated period,) they lived on such supplies as they could collect in the coun- try, by the means of marauding or pillage, which tiiey had converted into a regular system. But Napoleon had far too much experience and pru- dence to trust, amid the wastes of Russia, to a sys- tem of supplies, which had sufficed for maintenance of the army in the rich fields of Austria. He knew well that he was plunging with half a million of men into inhospitable deserts, where Charles XII. could not find subsistence for twenty thousa,nd Swedes. He was aware, besides, of the impolicy there would be in hai-assing the Lithuanians by marauding exactions. To conciliate them was a great branch of his plan, for Lithuania, in respect to Russia, was a conquered province, into which Napoleon hoped to inspii-e the same desire of inde- pendence wliich animated Poland, and thus to find friends and allies among the very subjects of his enemy. The utmost exertion of his splendid talents, putting into activity the full extent of his almost unlimited power, had been, therefore, turned to- wards collecting immense magazines of provisions, and for securir.g the means of transporting them • Segnr, torn, i., p. 128. " " Napoleon, at Wiltia, had a new empire to organise ; the p >litic9 of Europe, the war of Spain, and the government of Prance to direct. His iiolitical, militarv, and administrative corres|>ondc-nce, which he had suffered tci accumulate for some davs, imperiously demanded his attention. .Such, indeed, was lii» custom, on the eve of a great event, as that xould neccs- along with the army. His strong and inipassione(\ genius was, for months before the expedition, di- rected to this important object, which he pre.'ised upon his generals with the utmost solicitude. " For masses like those we are about to move, if precau- tions be not taken, the grain of no country can suffice," he said, in one part of his correspondence. — In another, " All the provision-waggons must be loaded with flour, rice, bread, vegetables, and brandy, besides what is necessary for the hospital service. The result of my movements will assem- ble 400,000 men on a single point. There will be nothing to expect from the country, and it will bo necessary to have every thing within ourselves." These undeniable views were followed up by preparations, which, abstractedly considered, must be regarded as gigantic. The cars and waggons, which were almost innumerable, destined for the carriage of provisions, were divided into battalions and squadrons. Each battalion of cars was capable of transporting 6000 quintals of flour ; each squa- dron of heavy waggons nearly 4800 quintals ; be- sides the immense number dedicated to the service of the engineers and the hospitals, or engaged in transporting besieging materiel and pontoons. This sketch must convince the reader that Na- poleon had in his eye, from tlie outset, the prospect of deficiency in supplying his army with provisions, and that he had bent his mind to the task of over- coming it by timely preparation. But all his pre- cautions proved totally inadequate. It was found a vain attempt to introduce military discijjline amidst the carters and waggon-drivers ; and when wretched roads were encumbered with fallen horses and broken carriages, when the soldiers and wain- drivers began to plunder the contents of the cars and waggons which they were appointed to protect and to manage, the confusion became totally inex- tricable. Very far from reaching Lithuania, where their presence was so essential, few of the hea\'y waggons ever attained tlie banks of the Vistula, and almost none proceeded to the Niemen. Weeks and months after the army had passed, some of the light cars and herds of cattle did arrive, but comparatively few in number, and in most mise- rable plight. The soldiers were, therefore, at the very commencement of the campaign, compelled to have recourse to their usual mode of supplying themselves, by laying contributions on the country; which, while they continued in Poland, the immense fertility of the soil enabled it to supply. But mat- ters became greatly worse after entering Lithuania, which the Russians had previously endeavoured to strip of all that could benefit the French. Thus, in the very first march from the Niemen and the Wilia, through a country which was re- garded as friendly, and before they had seen an enemy, the immense army of Napoleon were incur- ring great loss themselves, and doing infinite da- mage to the country on which tliey lived at free cost, in spite of all the measures which Buonaparte had devised, and all the eflbrts he had made to maintain them from their own stores. sarily decide the character of many of his replies, and impart a colouring to all. He therefore established himself at his quarters, and in the first instance, threw himself on a bed, less for the sake of sleep than of quiet meditation ; whence, abrn|)tlv starting u]) directly after, he nipidly dictated the orders which he liad conceived."— Segub, torn, i., p. 131. 1812.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 6.o9 Tliis iinceitaiii moJo of subsistence was common to the whole army, though its consequences were especially di.-astrous in particular corps. Segur ' informs us, that the armies under Eugene and Da- voust were regular in their work of collecting con- tributions, and distributing them among the sol- diers ; so that their system of marauding was less burdensome to the country, and more advantageous to themselves. On the other hand, the Westpha- lian, and other German auxiliaries, under King Jerome, having learned the lesson of pillaging from the Frencli, and wanting, according to Se'gur, the elegant manner of their teachers, practised the arts they had acquired with a coarse rapacity, which made the French ashamed of their pupils and imi- tators. Thus the Lithuanians, terrified, alienated, and disgusted, with the injuries they sustained, were far from listening to the promises of Napoleon, or making common cause witli him against Russia, who had governed them kindly, and with consider- able respect to their own habits and customs. But this was not the only evil. The direct loss sustained by the French army was very great. In the course of the very first marches from the Nie- men and the Wilia, not less than 10,000 horses, and numbers of men were left dead on the road. Of the young conscripts especially, many died of hunger and fatigue ; and there were instances of some who committed suicide, rather than practise the cruel course of pillage by which only they could subsist ; and of others, who took the same despe- rate step, from remorse at having participated in such cruelties. Thousands tui'ned stragglers, and subsisted by robbery. The Duke of Treviso, who followed the march of the grand army, informed Napoleon, that, from the Niemen to the Wilia, he had seen nothing but ruined habitations abandoned, carriages overturned, broke open and pillaged, corpses of men and horses — all the horrible appear- ances, in short, which present themselves in the route of a defeated army.''' Those who desired to flatter Buonapai-te, ascribed this loss to the storm of rain, which fell at the time they were entering Lithuania. But summer rain, whatever its violence, does not destroy the horses of an army by hundreds and thousands. That which does destroy them, and renders those that survive almost unfit for service during the cam- paign, and incapable of bearing the hardships of winter, is hard work, forced marches, want of corn or dry fodder, and the supporting them on the green crop which is growing in tJie fields. It was now ' Here and elsewhere we quote, as a work of complete au- thority. Count Philip de Segur's account of this memorable expedition. The author is. we have always understood, a man of honour, and his work evinc<'s him to be a man of ta- lent. We liave had the opinion of several ofhcers of hish character, who had ihcniselves served in the campaign, that alth(iu!;h unqucstionablr there may be some errors amonR the di-tails. and aithouch iii some places the author may have gi'nTi way to the temjitation of working up a description, or producing effect by a dialogue, yet his narrative on the whole IS candid, fair, and liberal. The unfriendly criticism of Gene- ral Gourgaud [ " Eximen Critique de I'tJuvrage de S(^ur"] impeaches Count Slur's opportunities of knowing the facts he relates, because his duty did not call him into the line of battle, where he might have seen the military events with his own eyes. We conceive with deference, that, as an historian. Count .Segur's situation was more favourable for collecting in- telligence than if he had been actually engaged. We speak from high authority in saying, that a battle is in one respect like a ball— e'ery one recollects the next moniing, the part- ner with whcji tie danced, and what p.assed betwixt them, but none sav?, a bystander can give a general account of the (fJiolc parly. Now, Count Scgiir eminently resembled the the sea-son when, of all others, a commander, who values the serviceable condition of his army, will avoid such enterprises as require from his cavalry hard work and forced marches. In like manner, storms of summer rain do not destroy the foot sol- diers exposed to them, more than other men ; but forced marches on bad roads, and through a coun- try unprovided with shelter, and witliout provisions, must ruin infantry, since every man, who, from fatigue, or from having straggled too far in quest of food, chances to be left beliind, is left exposed without shelter to the effects of the climate, and if he cannot follow and rejoin his corps, has no re- source but to lie down and die. The provisions of the hospital department had been as precarious as those of the commissariat. Only 6000 patitnts could be accommodated in the hospitals at ^A'ilna, which is too small a proportion for an army of 400,000 men, even if lying in quar- ters in a healthy and peaceful country, where one invalid in fifty is a most restricted allowance ; but totally inadequate to the numbers which actually required assistance, as well from the maladies in- troduced by fatigue and bad diet, as by the castial- ties of war. Although no battle, and scarce a skir- mish had been fought, 25,000 patients encumbered the hospitals of Wilna ; and the villages were filled with soldiers who v ere dying for want of medical assistance. The King of Westphalia must be e.x- em])ted from this general censure ; his army was well provided with hospitals, and lost much fewer men than the others. This imperfection of the hospital department was an original defect in the conception of the expedition, and continued to in- fluence it most unfavourably from beginning to end. Napoleon sometimes repined under these losse.9 and calamities, sometimes tried to remedy them by threats against marauders, and sometimes endea- voured to harden himself against the thought of the distress of his army, as an evil which must be endured, until victory should put an end to it. But repining and anger availed nothing ; denunciations against marauders could not reasonably be executed upon men who had no other means of subsistence ; and it was impossible to obtain a victory over an enemy who would not risk a battle. The reader may here put the natural question, Why Buonaparte, when he found the stores, which he considered as essential to the maintenance of his army, had not reached the Vistula, should have passed on, instead of suspending his enterprise un- til he was provided with those means, which he had bystander in his opportunities of collecting exact information concerning the whole events of the campaign. His duty was to take up and distribute the lodgings at the ceneral nead- quarters. It was. therefore, seldom that an ofhcer could go to or return from headquarters without holding communica- tion with Count S^gur ; and, having his plan of a narrative in view, he could not be the man of ability he a|>peais, if he did not obtain from those who arrived at or left headquarters such information as they had to communicate. As he had liO press- ing military duty to perform, he had nothing to prevent hia arranging and recording the information he collected ; and when General Gourgaud urges the impossibility of the histo- rian's being present at some of the most secret councils, he forgets that many such secrets prrciiUitc from the cabinet into the better-informed circles around it. even before the seal ot secrecy is removed, hut especially when, as in the present case, a total change of circumstances renders secrecy no longer ne- cessary. We have only to add, that though the idohitry oi Count S^gur towards Najioleon is not sufticicnt to satisfy hit critic, he must in other eyes be considered as an admirer ol the late Emperor : and that those who knew the French army, will find no rea-son to suspect him of being a false I rother — & • Sigur, toin. i , p. M7 ; JoininI, luni. iv., \<. :ropheey, that he cmld not withhold his predi«-tions even lieforo t\\v ymnig peivons con- nected with his cmlia-ssv. But a more fatal sign of Napoleon's prospects than could be inferred by any except the author, from his disapprobation of the Abbe de Pradt's discourse, occurred in his answer to the address of the Diet of the grand duchy. The Diet of Warsaw, anticipating, as they sup- posed. Napoleon's wishes, had declared the whole kingdom, in all its parts, free and independent, as if the partition treaties had never existed ; and no just-thinking person will doubt their right to do so. They entered into a general confederation, declared the kingdom of Poland restored, summoned all Poles to quit the service of Russia, and finally, sent deputations to the Gi-and Duke and the King of Saxony, and another to Napoleon, announcing their desire to accelerate the politicid regeneration of Poland, and their hope to be recognised by the entire Polish nation as the centre of a general union. The expressions addressed to Napoleon were in a tone of idolatry. They applied for the countenance of the " Hero who dictated his history to the age, in whom resided the force of Provi- dence," language which is usually reserved to the Deity alone. " Let the Great Nai>oleon," they said, " only pronounce his tiat that the kingdom of Po- land should exist, and it will exist accordingly. The natives of Poland will unite themselves at once and unanimously to the service of Him to whom ages are as a moment, and space no more than a point." In another case, this exaggerated eloquence would liave induced some suspicion of sincerity on the part of those who used it ; but the Poles, like the Gascons, to whom they have been compared, are fond of superlatives, and of an exalted and en- thusiastic tone of language, which, however, they have in all ages been observed to support by their actions in the field. The answer of Buonaparte to this high-toned address was unexpectedly cold, doubtful, and inde- cisive. It was at this moment, probaldy, he felt the pressure of his previous engagements with Austria, which prevented his at once acquiescing in the wishes of the Polish mission. " He loved the Polish nation," he said, " and in the situation of llio Diet at Warsaw, would act as they did. But he had many interests to reconcile, and many duties to fiUfil. Had vol.. 1 1. he reigned when Poland was subjected to tho»f> unjust partitions which had deprived her of mde- pendence, he would have armed in her behalf, and as matters stood, when he conquered Warsaw :ind its surrounding territories, he instantly restored them to a state of freedom. He applauded what they had done- — authorised their future efl'orts, an ■• would do all he could to second their resolution. If their efforts were unanimous, they might compel their oppressors to recognise their rights ; but these hopes must rest on the exertions of the population." These uncertain and cool assurances of his general ■ interest in the Polish cause, were followed by the i express declaration, " That he had guaranteed to the Emperor of Austria the integrity of his domin- ions, and he could not sanction any manoeuvre, or the least movement, tending to disturb the peace- able possession of what remained to him of the j Polish provinces. As for the provinces of Poland attached to Russia, he was content with assuring iheni. that, pi-ovidiiig they were animated hy the spii-it fvinr<-il in the gram! dndiy. Providence woidd crown tiicir good cau.-e \\illi success." This answer, so liitiVniit from that which tU<^ I'oles hud expected, struck the ujission with doubt and dismay. Instead of countenancing the reunion of Poland, Napoleon had given an assurance, that, in the case of Galicia, he neither could nor would j interfere to detach that province from Austria ; and in that of the Polish provinces attached to Russia, he exhorted the natives to be unanimous, in which case, instead of assuring them of his powerful assistance, he was content with recom- mending them to the care of that Providence, in whose place the terms of their bombastic address had appeared to install Napoleon himself. The Poles accordingly began from that period to dis- trust the intentions of Napoleon towards the re- establishment of their independence, the more so, as they observed that neither Polish nor French troops were employed in Volhynia or elsewhere, whose presence might have given countenance to their efforts, but Austrians only, who, for example's sake, were as unwilling to encourage the Russian provinces of Poland to declare for the cause of independence, as they would have been to preach the same doctrines in those which belonged to Austria.' Napoleon afterwards often and bitterly regretted the sacrifice which he made on this occasion to the wishes of Austria ; and he had the more occasion for this regret, as the error seemed to b.e gratui- tous. It is true, that to have pressed Austria on the subject of emancipating Galicia, might have had the effect of throwing her into the arms of Russia ; but this might probably have been avoid- ed by the cession of the Illyrian provinces as an indemnity. And, if this exchange could not be rendered acceptable to Austria, by throwing in Trieste, or even Venice, Napoleon ouglit then to have admitted the impossihility of reinstating the independence of Poland, to have operated as a reason for entirely declining the fatal war with Russia. The French ruler miscarried also in an effort to excite an insun-ection in Lithuania, although he named a provisional government in tlie province, and declared the country was free of the Rus-iau 1 S('mir, ton;, i., p. I.'W; l>e r;;i(ll, ]• 11"3 5G2 SCOTTS MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1812. joke. But the Lithuani:ins, a colder people than the Poles, were not in general much dissatisfied with the Government of Russia, while the conduct of the French armies in their territories alienated their minds from Napoleon. They ohserved also the evasive answer which he returned to the Poles, and concluded, that if the French Emperor should have occasion to make peace with Alexander, he would not hesitate to do so at the expense of those whom he was now encouraging to rise in insun'ec- tion. Thus the moral effect which Napoleon ex- pected to produce on the Russian frontier, was entirely checked and counteracted ; insomuch that of a guard of honour, which the Lithuanians had proposed to serve for the Emperor's person, only three troopers ever made their appearance on parade. Nor did the country at large take any steps, either generally or individually, to intimate a national interest in the events of the war, seem- ing to refer themselves entirely to the course of events. CHAPTER LVIII. Proceed iniis of the Arm^ under Prince Bayrnt'iuti — y^apoleun's manoeufes against Iiiiii — Kut^l Jerume of Westphalia is dis jraced for alleijed inactitit'j — Baijration is defeated by I)aroust, but succeeds in gaining the interior of Russia, and re-establifhiiiij his communication with the Grand Army — uhich retreats to Drissa — Barclay and Bajration meet at Smolensk on the '2(ith July — The Fren'h Generals become anxious that Napo- leon should close the campaign at Witepsk for the season — He persists in proceeding- — Smolensk evacuated by De Tolly, after setting fire to the place — Reduced condition of the French, and groicing strength of the Russian Armies — Peace effected between Russia, and England, Sweden, and Turkey — Napoleon resolves to advance upon Moscow. Napoleon continued to occupy his headquar- ters at Wiina, from ^Sth June to 16th July, the space of eighteen days. It was not usual with him to make such long halts ; but Wilna was his last point of communication with Europe, and he had probably much to arrange ere he could plunge into the forests and deserts of Russia, whence all external intercourse must be partial and precarious. He named Maret Duke of Bassano, G(jvcrnor of Lithuania, and placed under the management of that minister the whole charge of correspondence with Paris and with the armies ; thus rendering him the centre of administrative, political, and even military communication between the Emperor and his dominions. It must not be supposed, however, that these eighteen days passed without military movements of high importance. The reader must remember, -that the grand army of Russia was divided into two unequal portions. That commanded under the Em- peror by Barclay de Tolly, had occupied Wilna and the vicinity, uiitil the French entered Lithuania, when, by a preconcerted and well-executed retreat, they fell back on their strong fortified camp at Drissa. The smaller army, under Prince Bagration, was much farther advanced to the south westward, and continued to occupy a part of Poland. The Prince's headquarters were at Wolkowisk ; Platoff, with 7000 Cossacks, lay at Grodno, and both he and Bagration maintained comnnmication with the main army through its left wing, which, under DorokhofF, extended as far as Lida. The army ot Bagration had been posted thus far to the south- west, in order that when Napoleon crossed the Niemen, this army might be placed in his rear as he advanced to Wilna. To execute this plan be- came impossible, so much greater was the invading army than the Russians had anticipated. On the contrary, the French were able to protect the flank of their advance against Wilna by an army of 30,000 men, under the King of Westphalia, placed betwixt them and this secondary Russian army. And far from having it in his power to annoy the enemy, Bagration was placed so much in advance, as greatly to hazard being separated from the main body, and entirely cut off. The Russian jirince accordingly had directions from Barclay de Tolly to get his army out of their perilous situation ; ana again, on the 13th of July, he had orders from Alexander to move on the camp of Drissa. When Napoleon an-ived at Wilna, the danger of Bagration bei ame imminent ; for the intrenched camp at Drissa was the rendezvous of all the Rus- sian corps, and Napoleon being 150 wersts, or seven days' march, nearer to Drissa than Bagration, neither Napoleon nor any other general had ever so fair an opportunity for carrying into execution the French Emperor's favourite manoeuvre, of dividing into two the line of his enemy, which was unquestionably too much extended. It was the 30th of July ere Napoleon was certain of the advantage which he possessed, and he has- tened to improve it. He had despatched the greater part of his cavalry under Murat, to press on the retreat of the grand Russian army ; the second corps under Oudinot, and the third under Ney, with three divisions of the first corps, were pushed to^^■ards the Dwina on the same service, and con- stituted a force too strong for the army of Barclay de Tolly to oppose. On the right of the army, the King of Westphalia had directions to press upon Bagration in front, and throw him upon the army of Davoust, which was to advance on his flank and towards his rear. It was concluded, that Bagration, cut off from the grand army, and attacked at once by Jerome and Davoust, must necessarily surren- der or be destroyed. Having thus detached very superior forces against the only two Russian armies wdiich were 0])posed to him, Buonaparte himself, with the Guards, the army of Italy, the Bavarian army, and three divi- sions of Davoust's corjis d'arme'e, was at liberty to have marched forward upon Witepsk, occupying the interval between the corps of Murat, who pressed upon Alexander and De Tolly, and of Davoust, who was pursuing Bagration. By thus pressing on where there was no hostile force opposed to him, Napoleon might have penetrated between the two Russian armies, to each of whom a superior force was opposed, might have forced himself between them and occupied Witepsk, and threatened both St. Petersburg!! and Moscow ; or, if he decided for the latter cai>ital, might have advanced as iar as Smolensk. That Buonaparte formed this plan of the campaign on the 10th of July at Wilna, we are assured by Se'gur ; but it was then too late for puttuig it ui execution — yet 1812.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE, 5G3 anothrr week was lost at Wiliia.' All seem to liave been sensible of an unusual slowness in Na])()leon's motions on this important occasion ; and h>t'gur attributes it to a premature decay of constitution,"'' of which, however, we see no traces in the cam- paigns of 1 8 1 3 and 1 8 1 4.5 But the terrible disorder of an army, tlie sick and stragglers of which abso- lutely filled Lithuania, and that army one of such immense size, required considerable time to remo- d 1 and new-organise it ; and this of itself, a mis- fortune inherent in the enterpi-ise, is sufficient to account for the halt at Wilna. Meantime Bagration, in a precarious situation, defended himself with the greatest skill and gal- lantry. Being cut off from the direct road to Drissa^ it was his object to retreat eastward to his rear, instead of moving northward by his right flank, and thus to make his way towards the Dwina, either through Ostrowno and Minsk, or by the town of BorizofF. When he gained the Dwina, Bagration tnisted to form a junction with the grand army, from which he was now so fearfully separated. The actual strength of his army was, however, increased not only by the Hettman Pla- toff with his Cossacks, who, being advanced south- westward as far as Grodno, made in fact a part of Bagration's command, and assisted him materially in his retreat ; but also by the division of General Dorokhoff, which, forming the extreme left of the grand Russian army, was cut off in the retreat upon Drissa by the advance of the French, and there- fore had been placed also in communication with Bagration. So that, numerically, the prince might have under his command from 40 to 50,000 men. Tlie ground wjiicli Bagration had to traverse was the high plain of Litluiania, where arise the sources of the rivers which tal^e different directions to tlie Black and Baltic Seas. The soil is unusually marshy, and traversed by long causewhvs, which the Russians made use of in defending themselves against the attacks of Jerome's advanced guard. But wliile Bagration struggled against the attempt on his front, Davoust, having occupied all the posts IT the Russian's right flank, and succeeded in preventing him taking the shortest road to Drissa, began next to cut him off from his more circuitous route to the east, occupying the town of Minsk, and the defiles by which Bagration must issue from Lithuania towards Witepsk and the Dwina. The occupation of Minsk greatly embarrassed the retreat of Bagration ; insonuich, that the French were of opinion that it was only the want of skill ' " Thu fortnight's bait at Wilna decided, in all probability, the fate of the war. This delay, on the part of the conqueror of Ratisbon and Ulm, is so extraordinary, that it can alone be attributed to a cause which will for ever remain a secret." — JoMi.v:, torn, iv., p. 58. - " Tl.ose who were nearest to Napoleon's person said to each other, that a genius >o vast as las, and alwavs increasing in activity and audacity, ^as not now seconded as it had been formerly by a vigorous constitution. They were alarmed at no longer finding their ctiief insensible to the heat of a burn- ing atmosphere; and they remarked to each other with me- lancholy forebodings, the tendency to corpulence by which his frame was now distinguished, the certain forerunner of premature decay."— Seguh, torn, i., p. 1(m. 3 " How happens it that the English author is more just towards Najioleon than one of his generals? Sir Walter allows here, what I have already observed, namely, the inconceiv- able accusation brou(;ht against the faculties of Napoleon at a time when he showed so much energy and perseverance, and when he not only resisted, and extricated himself from, the most fiightful reverses imaginable, but even rose from thera with surprising splendour. In an operation so gigantic and enterprise on the part of King Jerome ol Westphalia, who did not, it was said, press the Russians with sufficient vigour, that prevented the Russian prince being thrust back on Davoust, and totally destroyed. At any rate, Jerome, whether guilty or not of the alleged .slowness of luovement, was, according to the fashion in which the chief of the Napoleon dynasty treated the independent princes whom he called to sovereignty, sent back in disgrace to his Westplialian dominions, unacci m- panied even by a soldier of his guards, for all of whom Napoleon had sufficient employment. Several skirmishes were fought between the corps of Bagration, and those opposed to it, of w hieh the event was dubious. Platoff and his Cos- sacks had more than one distinguished succes? over the Polish cavalry, who, with all their fiery courage, had not yet the intimate acquaintance with partisan war, which seems to be a natural attribute of the modern Scythians. In the mean- while, Bagration, continuing his attempts at extri- cating his army, made another circuitous march towards the south, and avoiding his pursuers, he effected the passage of the Beresina at Bobruisk. The Dnieper (anciently the Borysthenes) was the ne.xt obstacle to be overcome, and with a view to regain the ground he had lost, Bagration ascended that stream as far as Mohiloff. Here he found himself again anticipated by Davoust, who was equally, though less unplea-^antly surprised, by finding himself in front of Bagration, who prepared to clear his way by the sword. The combat was at first advantageous to the Russians, but they were at length repulsed roughly, and lost the battle ; without, however, suffering much, except in the failure of their purpose. Disappointed in this attempt, Bagration, with unabated activity, once more altered his line of retreat, descended the Dnieper so far as to reach Nevoi-Bikoff, finally crossed at that point, and thus gained the interior of Russia, and a i opportunity of again placing himself in communication with the grand Russian army, from which he had been so nearly cut off.-* It was certainly a new event in the history of Napoleon's wars, that two large armies of French should be bafHed and out-manceuvred by a foreign general. And yet this was clearly the case ; for, admitting that the Russians committed originally the great error of extending their line too far from Drissa, the intended point of union, and although, in consequence, the army of Bagration run great risk of being cut off, yet the manceuvres by which as the attack upon Russia, in a plan for the boldest campaign, prudence and extreme slowness weie imperative. How then, under such circumstances, can a general ofhcer, a pnpil, as K were, of Napoleon, criticise his stav at Wilna, and the extra- ordinary slowness of his movements? Would to heaven that this delay had been carried far enough to prevent the grand army from crossing the Dnieper during this campaign ! But the great inconvenience of Napoleon, as general of the grand army, was the necessity of not prolonging his absence from Paris, and consequently of terminating the campaign as quickly as possible ; and this is another powerful reason why he should not have hazarded so distant an expedition. "- Louis IU'onapartk, p. 82. 4 " This was no doubt taking a great circuit ; but the princo succeeded in his object, and restored to the hostile army a large body of troops, which would have been rendered com- pletely useless if Napoleon's orders had been punctually exe- cuted. The success of this movement proved for the Russians fully equivalent to the g.iin of a b.ittle. They were drawing nearer to their resources, whilst the French army Wiis com- pelled to follow them through vast barren wastes, where il could not fail to be cventuaViv annihilated."' — Savarv, torn, iii., p. lit;. 5G4 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE \\'ORKS. [1812. he effectually eluded the enemy, showed superior military talent on the part of the general, as well as excellent discipline on that of the soldiers, and were sufficient for the extrication of both.' We return to the srraud army, eommamled hy the Emperor, or rather by Barclay de Tolly, w'hich, though pressed by Murat, at the head of the greater part of the French cavalry, as well as by Oudinot and Ney, all burning for combat, made aVegular and successful retreat to the intrenched camp at Drissa, where the Russian army had been appointed to concentrate itself The French troops, nn their part, approached the left bank of the Dwina, and that river now separated the hostile amiies, and there took place only partial actions between detached corps with various success. But the Russian general Witgenstein, whose name began to be distinguished both for enterprise and conduct, observing that Sebastiani's vanguard of French cavalry had quartered themselves with little precaution in the town of Drissa, he passed the river unexpectedly on the night of the 2((. 2 Sef;ur, torn. i.. p. 171 ; Joniiiii, torn, iv., p. 84. 3 " Surrounded by disapjirovinK countenances, and opinions contrary to his own, he felt hiinself uncomfortable. All the officers of his household opposed his plan, each in the way that marked his peculiar character; Berthicr, by a melan- choly countenance, by lamentations, and even tears ; Lobau and Caiitaincourt, by a frankness, which in the first was naniped by a cold and haughty rouRhness, excusable in so liave a v.anior; and «U.ch, in ;lic second, was prrsevcring doubt that he must have attamed tne disputed ])osition sooner by inarching from Wihia, than Barclay could have reached it by ascending the Dwina from Dris.sa. Hasting from Wilna upon the 4th, he might easily have reached Witepsk on the 20th, and would then, have found himself, with a chosen army of 1 20,000 men, without an enemy on his front, posted between tlie two hostile armies, each of v.hicli was pressed by a force superior ti> their own, and having their flanks and communica- tions at his mercy. Instead of this advantageous condition, the Emperor found hiniself in front of the grand army of Russia, in a situation where they could not easily be brought to action, although severe and bloody skirmishes took place between the cavalry on both sides. On his part, Barclay was far from easy. He heard nothing of Bagration, whom he exjiccted to approach from Orcsa; and rather than abandon him to his fate by a retreat, he formed, on the I4th July, the almost desperate resolution of riskiiic; a general action with very suj>erior forces command- ed by Napoleon. But just as he had niade h.s dispositions for battle, the Russian general received news from one of the prince's aides-de-camp, which made him joyfully alter his determination. The repulse at Mohiloff had, as before noticed, obliged Bagration to change his line of retreat, which was now directed upon Smolensk. Barclay, renouncing instantly his purpose of battle, commenced a retreat upon the same point, and arriving at Smolensk on the 20th, was joined by Bagration within two days after. The result of these manoeuvi-es had been on the whole disappointing to the Emperor of the French. The two armies of Russians had united without material loss, and placed themselves upon their own lines of communication. No battle had been fought and won ; and although Napoleon ob- tained possession of the fortified camp at Drissa, and afterwards of Witepsk, it was only as positions which it no longer served the enemy's purpose to retain.^ The marshals and generals who surrounded Napoleon began to wish and hope that he would clo.se at Wite[)sk the campaign of the season, and, quartering his trooi)s on the Dwina, await supplies, and the influence of the invasion upon the mind ot the Russian nation, till next spring. Cut this suggestion Buonaparte treated with contempt, ask- ing those who favoured such a sentiment, whether they thought he had come so far only to conqtier a parcel of wretched huts.' If ever, therefore, he had seriously thought of settling his winter-quarters at Witepsk, which Segur affirms, and Gourgaud positively denies, it had been but a passing purpose. Indeed, his pride must have revolted at the very idea of fortifying himself with intrenchments and redoubts in the middle of summer, and confessing his weakness to Europe, by stopping .short in the midst of a campaign, in which he had lost one-third of the active part of his great arm}', without even having fought a general action, far less won a decisive victory. even to obstinacy, and impetuous even to violence. The Em- peror exclaimed, ' that ne flad enriched his penerals too much; that all they now aspired to was to follow the plea- sures of the chase, and to display their brilliant equipages in Paris; and that doubtless they had become disjjusted with war.' When their honour was thus attacked, there was no longer any reply to be made ; they merely bowed and remained silent. UuriuKone-of his impatient fits, he told one of the generals of his nuard, 'you were born in a bivouac, ii a bi- Tuuac vou will iiie.'" — Stcin, losn. i., p. Hi). 1812.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 5C5 Meanuiiile tnc Russians, fiiidini; tlioir two wings united, to the miniljer of 120,000, were not inclined to remain inactive. The French army at Witepsk lay considerably more dispersed than their own, and their plan was, by moving suddeidy upon Napoleon, to surprise him ere his army could be cmcentrated. With this view, General Barclay directed the marcli of a great part of the grand army upon Rudneia, a place about half-way between Witepslc and Smolensli, being nearly the centre of the French line of position. Their march com- I meneed on the 26th July ; but on the next day, Barclay received information from tlie out-posts, which induced him to conclude that Napoleon was strengthening his left flank for the purpose of turning the Russian right wing, and assaulting the town of Smolensk in their rear. To prevent this misfortune, Barclay suspended his march in front, and began by a flank movement to extend his right wing, for the purpose of covering Smolensk. This error, for sucli it was, led to his advanced guard, who had not been informed of the change of plan, being placed in some danger at Inkowo, a place about two wei-sts from Rudneia. Plat(jff, however, had the advantage in the cavalry skirmish which took .place. The Russian general, in consequence of the extension of his flank, discovered that there was no French force on the left, and consequently, that he was in no danger on that point ; and he resumed his original plan of pressing the French at Rudneia. But while Barclay lost four days in these fruitless marches and countermarches, he at length learned, that the most speedy retreat towards Smolensk would be necessary to save him from that disaster which he had truly apprehended, though he mistook the quarter from which the danger was to come. While Barclay was in hopes of surprising Na- poleon, the Emperor had laid a sclieme of a singularly audacious character, for inflicting the surprise with which he had been himself threaten- ed. Without allowing his purpose to be suspend- ed by the skirmishing on his front, he resolved entirely to change his line of operations from Witepsk ' upon the Dwina, to concentrate his army on the Dnieper, making Orcsa the central point of his operations, and thus, turning the left of the Russians instead of their right, as Barclay had apprehended, he hoped to gain the rear of their forces, occupy Smolensk, and act upon their lines of communication with ISIoscow. \Vith this pur- pose Napoleon withdrew his forces from Witepsk and the line of the Dwina, with equal skill and i-apidity, and by throwing four bridges over the • " This tnwn contained 2ii.00n inliabitants, and presented, from the beanty of its situation, a most delightful aspect. Iceland and Litliuaniahad, dnring more llian two months, and throuyhaspaceofmore than .ion leasncs, offered notliiiiR to our view but deserted viUajes, and a ravaged country. Destruc- tion seemed to precede our steiis, and in every direction the wliole population was seen flvins! at our approach, leaving their liabitations to hordes of Cossacks, who destroyed every thill); which they could not carry away. HaviiiR long experi- enced the most ])ainful deprivations, we regarded, with envi- ous eves, those well built and elegant houses, where peace and abundance seemed to dwell. But that repose, wliieh we had so eagerly 3Uiticii)ated, was again denied us, and we were compelled tc renew our jiursnit of the Kuusians, leaving on our left this town, the object of our most ardent wishes, and otir dearest hopes."— Labalme, HifUiliun cle la Camjidiliu de Riissif ei) 1H12, p. 74. 2 Jomini, torn, iv., p. 95; Thirteenth Bulletin of Grand Army; Segnr, torn, i , p 2il. " See ill the A|iiiendi.\, No. XII., an interesting extract Dnieper, effected a ])assage for Ney, the Viceroy and Davoust. The King of Naples accompanied them, at the head of two large corps of cavalry. Poniatowski, with Junot, advanced by difteront routes to support the movement. Ney and Murat, who commanded the vanguard, drove every thing before them until they approached Krasnoi, upon 14th August, where a remarkable action took place.^ This manoeuvre, w/iich transferred tlie Emperor's line of operations from the Dwina to the Dnieper, has been much admired by Frencli and Russian tacticians, but it has not escaped military criticism.^ General Newerowskoi had been stationed at Krasnoi with above 6000 men, a part of the gar- rison of Smolensk, which liad been sent out for the purpo.se of making a strong recognisance. But finding himself attacked by a body of infantry stronger than his own, and no less than 18,000 cavalry besides, the Russian general commenced his retreat upon the road to Smolensk. The ground through which the road lay was open, flat, and favourable for the action of cavalry. Murat, who led the pursuit, and, while he aff"ected the dress and appearance of a cavalier of romance, had the fiery courage necessary to support the charac- ter, sent some of his light squadrons to menace the front of tlie Russian corps, while with his heavy horse he annoyed their flanks or thundered upon their rear. To add to the difiieulties of the Russians, their columns consisted of raw troops, who had never been under fire, and who might have been expected to shrink from the furious onset of the cavalry. They behaved bravely, however, and availed themselves of a double row of trees which borders the high road to Smolensk on each side, to make their musketry eff'ectual, and to screen themselves from the repeated charges. Protecting themselves as they retreated by a heavy fire, Newerowskoi made good a lion- like retreat into Smolensk, having lost 400 men, chiefly by the artillery, arid five gun.s, but receiv- ing from friend and foe the testimony due to a movement so bravely and ably conducted.'* Upon the 14th of x\ugust,* the same day with this .skirmish, Napoleon arrived at Ra.s.-^a.ssina, upon the Dnieper, and continued during the loth to press forward towards Smolensk, in the rear of Ney and !Murat. Prince Bagration, in the mean- time, threw General Raefskoi into Smolensk, with a strong division, to reinforce Newerowskoi, and advanced himself to the Dnieper, along the k-ft bank of whicli he pressed with all possible speiid towards the endanocred town, tarda v do Tollv from " MANrsrRiprORSRRVATioNso.N Napoleon's Ri-'SSIAn Campaig.v, bv an KN'(iLisH Okkickr ok Ra.vk." •* Sej;ur, toin. i., p. 223; Thirteenth UuUetiii of the Grand Army. 5 "As chance would have it. the dav of this success was the Emperor's birth day. The army never thought of celebrating it. In the disposition of the men and of the place, there was nothing that harmonized with such a celebration ; empty ac- clamations would have been lost amid those vast discrts.' Jn our situation there was no other festival thiin the day of a comjilete victory. Murat and Ney, however, in reporting their success to the Emperor, paid homage to that annivet- sarv. They caused a salute ot a hundred guns to be bred. Tlie Einiieror remarked, with dis)>leasure. that in Russia it was necessary to be more sjiarinq of I'rencb powder; he wan answered that it was Russian powder t.ikin the preceding (lav. Tlie idea of having his biitli-day celebrated at the cx- pciisc of the enemy drew a smile from .N'apnleon. It was ad- mitted that this very rare species of tlaltery became such men." — tJEOUR, torn, i., l>. 22a r.GG SCOTT'S IiHSCELLANEOUS prose WOPvKS. [1S12 was now made aware, as we liave already stated, tliat wliile he was engaged in false manoeuvres to the right, his left had been in fact turned, and that Smolensk was in the utmost danger. Thus the two Russian generals pressed forward from different points to the relief of the city, wliilst Napoleon used every effort to carry the place before their arrival. Smolensk, a town of consequence in the empire, and, like Moscow, honoured by the appellation of the Sacred, and of the Key of Russia, contains about 12,C00 inhabitants. It is situated on the heights of the left bank of the Dnieper, and was then surrounded by fortifications of the ancient Gothic character. An old wall, in some places dilapidated, was defended by about thirty towers, which seemed to flank the battlements ; and there was an ill-contrived work, called the Royal Bastion, which served as a s]>ecies of citadel. The walls, however, being eighteen feet thick, and twenty- five high, and there being a ditcli of some depth, the town, though not defensible if regularly ap- proached, might be held out against a cuup-de-main. The greatest inconvenience arose from tlie suburbs of the place, which, approaching near to the wall of the town, preserved the assailants from the fire of the besieged, as they appi'oached it. Raefskoi pre- pared to defend Smolensk at the head of about sixteen thousand men. He was reinforced on the 16th of August by a division of grenadiers under Prince Charles of Mecklenberg, who were detached for that purpose by Bagration. Ney arrived first under the walls of the city, and instantly rushed forward to attack the citadel. He failed entirely, being himself wounded, and two- thirds of the storming party cut off. A second attempt was made to as little purpose, and at length he was forced to confine his efforts to a cannonade, which was returned from the place with equal spirit. Later in the day, the troops of Napoleon appeared advancing from the eastward on one side of the Dnieper, while almost at the same moment there were seen upon the opposite bank clouds of dust enveloping long columns of men, moving from different points with uncommon celerity. This was the grand army of Russia under Barclay, and the troops of Bagi'ation, who, breathless with haste and anxiety, were pressing forward to the relief of Smolensk. " At length," said Napoleon, as he gazed on the advance from the opposite side, " at length I have them ! " ' He had no doubt it was the purpose of the Russians to pass through the city, and, deploy- ing from its gates, to offer him imder the walls that general action for which he longed, and on which so much depended. He took all tlie necessary measures for preparing his line of battle. But the cautious Barclay de Tolly was deter- mined, that not even for the protection of the sacred city would he endanger the safety of his army, so indispensably necessary to the defence of ' S^gur, torn, i., p. 230. 2 " The Emperor replied; but the rist of their conversation was not overheard. As, howtvcr, tlie KiiiR afterwards de- clared that 'he had thrown h;mself at the knees of his bro- ther, and conjured him to stop, but that Na])oleon sawnnthin;; but Moscow; that honour, glory, rest, every thing for him was there; that this Moscow would be our ruin!' — it was obvious what had been the cause of their disasreement. So much is Certain that when Murat quitted his Ijrothcr-in-law, his face wore the exjircssion ot deep chagrin; his motions were abrupt; » (jlooiny and concentrated vehemence agitated him ; and the the empire. He dismissed to Ellnia his more im- patient coadjutor, Prince Bagration, who wot Itl willingly have fought a battle, incensed as he wa.s at beholding the cities of Russia sacked, and her fields laid waste, without the satisfaction either of resistance or revenge. Barclay in the meanwhile occupied Smolensk, but only for the purpose of covering the flight of the inhabitants, and empty- ing the magazines. Buonaparte's last look that evening, was on the .still empty fields betwixt his army and Smolensk. There was no sign of any advance h-ora its gates, and Murat prophesied that the Ru.ssians had no purpose of fighting. Davoust entertained a differ- ent opinion ; and Napoleon, continuing to believe what he most wished, expected with the peep of day to see the whole Russian army drawn up be- twixt his own front and the walls of Smolensk. Morning came, however, and the space in w hich he expected to see the enemy was vacant as before. On the other hand, the high-road on the opposite side of the Dnieper was filled with troops and ar- tillery, which showed that the grand army of the Russians was in full retreat. Disappointed and in- censed. Napoleon appointed instant measures to be taken to storm the place, resolving as speedily as possible to possess himself of the town, that he might have the use of its bridge in crossing t6 the other side of the Dnieper, in order to pursue the fugitive Russians. There are moments when men of ordinary capacity may advise the wisest. Murat remarked to Buonaparte, that as tlie Russians had retired, Smolensk, left to its fate, would fall with- out the loss that nmst be sustained in an attack by storm, and he more than hinted the imprudence of penetrating farther into Russia at this late season of the year. The answer of Napoleon ^ must have been almost insulting ; for Murat, having exclaimed that a march to Moscow would be the destruction of the army, spurred his horse like a desperate man to the banks of tlie river, where the Russian guns from the opposite side were cannonading a French battery, placed himself under a tremen- dous fire, as if he had been courting death, and was with difficulty forced from the dangerous spot.^ Meantime, the attack commenced on Smolensk, but the place was defended with the same vigour as on the day before. The field-guns we're found unable to penetrate the walls ; and the French lost four or five thousand men in returning repeat- edly to the attack. But this successful defence did not alter Barclay's resolution of evacuating the place. It might no doubt have been defended for several days more, but the Russian general feared that a protracted resistance on this advanced point might give Napoleon time to secure the road to Moscow, and drive the Russian armies back upon the barren and exhausted pi'ovinces of the north- west, besides getting betwixt them and the ancient capital of Russia. In the middle of the night, then, while the French were throwing some shells name of Moscow several times escaped his lips." — Segur, torn, i., p. 234. 3 " Belliard warned him that he was sacrificing his life to no purpose and without glory. Murat answered only by (lush- ing on still farther. Belliard observed to him, that his teme- rity would be the destruction of those about him. ' Well then," replied Murat, ' do you retire and leave me here by my- self." All refused to leave him ; when the King angrily turn- ing about, tore himself from the scene of carnage, like a man who is suffeiing violence." — Seqiir, torn, i., p. 2i5 1812.] LIFE OF NAPOL!:ON BUONAPARTE. 5G7 into the place, tliey saw fires beginning to kindle, ' far faster and more generally tlian their bombard- ment could have occasioned.' They were the work of the Russian ti'oops, who, having completed their j task of carrying oft" or destroying the magazines, and having covered the flight of the inhabitants, i had now set the dreadful example of d(!Stroying their own town, rather than that its houses or walls should afford assistance to the enemy. i When the Frenchmen entered Smolensk, which they did the next morning, 18th August, most of the town, which consisted chiefly of wooden houses, was yet blazing — elsewhere they found nothing but blood and ashes.''' The French troops were struck with horror at tlie inveterate animosity of the Rus- sians, and the desperation of the resistance which j they met with ; and all began to wish a period to a war, where there was nothing to be gained from the retreating enemy, except a long vista of ad- vance through an inhospitable wilderness of swamps, pine-forests, and deserts ; without provisions, and witliout shelter ; without hospitals for the sick, and dressings for the wounded ; and without even a shed where the weary might repose, or the wounded might die. Buonaparte himself hesitated,^ and is reported to have then spoken of concluding the campaign at Smolensk, which would, he said, be an admirable head of cantonments.* " Here," he said, " the troops might rest and receive reinforcements. Enough was done for the campaign. Poland was con- quered, which seemed a sutticient result for one year. The next year they would have peace, ( r they would seek it at Moscow." But in the inte- rior of his councils, he held a different language, and endeavoured to cover, with the language of prudence, the pride and pertinacity of character which forbade him to stop short in an enterprise which had yet produced him no harvest of renown. He stated to his generals the exhausted state of the country, in which his soldiers were living from hand to mouth ; and ihe risk and difficulty of draw- iiig his supplies from Dantzic or Poland, through Russian roads, and in the winter season. He al- leged the disorganised state of the army, which might move on, though it was incapable of stop- ping. " Motion," he said, " might keep it toge- ther ; a halt or a retreat would be at once to dis- solve it. It was an army of attack, not of defence ; an army of operation, not of position. The result wa-s, they must advance on Moscow, possess them- selves of the capital, and there dictate a peace."* The language which St'gur has placed in the mouth of the Emperor, by no m( ans exaggerates the dreadful condition of the French army. When Napol?on entered the country, only six weeks be- ' " Napoleo:i. seated before his tent, contemplated in si- lence this awful spectacle. It was as yet impossible to ascer- tain either the cause or the result, and the night was passed nnder arms."— Segcb, torn, i., p. 2;«i. z " The bridges and public buildinps were a f)rey to the flames. The cliurclie», ni particular, poured out torrents of fire and smoke. The domes, the spires, and the multitude of small towers which arose aiovethe conHaKration, ailded to the eflect of the picture, and jiroduced these ill-detined emo- tions which are onlv to be found on the field of battle. We enteied the place.' It was halfconsumed, of a b^irbarous ai>ptdrance, encumbered with the bodies of the dead and wounded, which the flames had already reached. The spec- tacle was fnshtful. AVhat a train is that of glory ! •'—.Vcinuires rft Hai'p, p. IW). '■ the army entered within the walls ; it traversed tlie reek- ing and blood stained ruins with its accustomed order, pomp, ai;d martial music, aud having no other witness of its glory fore, tlie corps which formed his operating army amounted to 297,000 men ; and by the 5th August, when preparing to break up from Witepsk, that number was diminished to 18.5,000, not two-thirds of their original number, and a great additional loss had been sustained in the movements and en- counters on the Dnieper. The wounded of the army were in the most miserable state, and it vaa in vain that the surgeons tore up their own linen for dressings ; they were obliged to use parch- ment, and tiie down that grows on the birch-trees; it is no wonder that few recovered. Thus it may be concluded, that this rash enter- prise carried with it, from the beginning, the seeds of destruction, which, even without the conflagra- tion of Moscow, or the Russian climate, though the latter must have been at all events included, made the expedition resemble that of Cambyses into Egypt ; of Crassus, and after him Julian, into Parthia ; and so many others of the same charac- ter, where the extent of prejiaration only rendered the subsequent fate of the invaders more signally calamitous. While the French army was thus suffering a gradual or rather hasty decay, that of the Russians was 1H)W receiving rapid reinforcements. The Emperor Alexander, on leaving the army for Mos- cow, liad convoked the nobles and the merchants of that capital in their several assemblies, had pledged to them his purpose never to make peace while a Frenchman remained in Russia, and had received the most enthusiastic assurances from both ranks of the state, of their being devoted to his cause with life and property. A large sum was voted by the merchants as a general tax, besides which, they opened a voluntary subscription, which produced great supplies. The nobility offered a levy of ten men in the hundred through all their estates ; many were at the sole expense of fitting out and arming their recruits, and some of these wealthy boyards furnished companies, nay batta- lions, entirely at their own expense. The word peace was not mentioned, or only thought of as that which could not be concluded with an invader, without an indelible disgrace to Russia. Other external circumstances occurred, which greatly added to the effect of these patriotic exer- tions. A peace with England, and the restoration «f commerce, was the instant consctiuence of war with France. Russia had all the sujiport which British diplomacy coidd afford her, in operating a recon- ciliation with Sweden, and a peace with Turkey. The former being accomplished, under the media- tion of England, and tlie Crown Prince being as- sured in possession of Norway, the Russian army but itself;— a show without spectators, an almost fruitltsi victory, a melancholy glorv, of which the smoke that sur- rounded us. and seemed to be our only coiiquist, was but too faithful an emblem."— SeuCR, tom. i., p. 1137. 3 " Naiioleon rlowlv iiroceeded to\vards his barren conquest. He insiiected the field of battle. Melancholy review i.l the dead and dying! dismal .-iccount to make up and deliver' The pain felt bv the Emperor miuht be inferred fmm the con- traction of his features and his irritation: but m hiin poller was a second nature, which soon imposed silence on the first. — SKnsk, in a wasted country, the consequences of tl'.ese junctions, which were likely to include the dastructiou of his two wings, would have been a desperate resolution. It seemed waiting for the fate which he had been wont to conniiand. To move f(n-ward was a bold measure. But the French army, in its state of disorganisation, somewhat resembled an intoxicated person, who possesses tlie power to run, though he is unable to support himself if he stand still. If Napoleon could yet > Scgur, torn. L, p. 2'IS; Joiiiini, torn, iv., p. 105. II " r '^''''7«""- "'■ 'i"^ f<;llowinsH nct.oii liad bccii fi.ugat, and gaziiiR with an aii(;ry look ou strike a gallant blow at tlie Russian grand army , if he could yet obtain possession of Moscow the Holy, he reckoned on sending dismay into the heart of Alexander, and dictating: to the Czar, aa he had done to many other princes, the conditions of peace from within the walls of his own palace. Buonaparte, therefore, resolved to advance upon Moscow. And perhaps, circumstanced as he was, he had no safer course, unless he had abandoned his whole undertaking, and fallen back upon Po- land, which would have been an acknowledgment of defeat that we can jiardly conceive his stooping to, while he was yet at the head of an army. CHAPTER LIX, Napoleon detaches 3Iurat and other Generals in pursuit of the liussians — Blood]/, but indecisiee jiction,at Valviitina — Barclaij de Tolly's defen- sive system relinquished, and Koutousoff appointed to the chief command of the Russian Army — Na- poleon advances from Smolensk — Battle . 99; Segiir, tom. i., p. ZM; Rapp, 192; Fourteenth Bulletin of the Grand Army. - " When Napoleon learned tliat his men had jirocecdcd eifiht leapues without overtaking the enemy, the sliell was dis solved. In his return to Smolensk, the jolting of his carriage over the relics of th? *^i;ht, the stoppages caused on the load by the long file of the wounded, who were cr.iwling or being carried back, U'm in Smolensk bv the tumbrils ol amputated interested, as they suppo.sed such must be, in the defence of the country, than a German stranger. The Emperor almost alone continued to adhere to the opinion of Barclay de Tolly. But he could not bid defiance to the united voice of his people and his military council. The political causes which demanded a great battle in defence of Moscow, were strong and numerous, and overcame the mili- tary reasons which certainly recommended that a risk so tremendous should not be incurred. In compliance, therefore, with the necessity of the case, the Etnperor sacrificed his own opinion. General Koutousoff", an officer high in military esteem among the Russians, was sent for from the corps which had been employed on the Danube against the Turks, to take the chief conmiand of the grand army ; and it was to Barclay's great honour, that, thus superseded, he continued to serve with the utmost zeal and good faith in a subordinate situation. The French were not long of learning that their enemy's system of war was to be changed, and that tlie new Russian general was to give them battle, the object which they had so long panted for. Buo- naparte, who had halted six days at Smolensk, moved from thence on the "24111 August, and now pressed forward to join the advanced guard of his army at Gjatz. In this place his followers found a Frenchman who had dwelt long in Russia. They learned from this man the promotion of Koutousoff to the chief command of the army opposed to them, and that he was placed there for the express pur- pose of giving battle to the French army. The news were confirmed by the manner of a Russian officer, who arrived under some pretext with a flag of truce, but probably to espy the state of the invader's army. There was defiance in the look of this man ; and when he was asked by a French general what they would find between Wiazma and Moscow, he answered sternly, " Pultowa." There was, therefore, no doubt, that battle was approaching.^ But the confusion of Buonaparte's troops was still such, that he was obliged to halt two days at Gjatz,^ in order to collect and repose his army. He arrived at the destined field of battle, an ele- vated plain, called Borodino, which the Russians had secured with lines and batteries. The French army were opposed to them on the Stli September, having consumed seventeen days in marching 280 wersts. Their first operation was a .successful attack upon a redoubt in the Russian front, but which^a great error in war — was situ- ated too distant from it to be eff'ectually supported. The French gained it and kept it. The armies lay in presence of each other all the ne.xt day, pre- paring for the approaching contest. Upon a posi- limbs going to be thrown away at a distance, in a word, all that is horrible and odious out of fields of battle, completely disarmed him. Smolensk was but one vast ho.spital, and the loud groans which issued from it drowned the .sliout of glory « hicli had just been raised on the fields of Valoutina."— Sk- GUK, tom. i., p. 204. 3 Sfl-gur, tom. i., p. .')04. * " Napoleon quietly employed himself in exploring the en- virons of his headfiuailers. At the sight of the Gjatz, w liicli jiours its waters into the Wolga, be who bad conquered so many rivers, felt anew the first emotions of his glory ; he was iieard to boast of being the master of those waves destined tc visit Asia- as it they were going to announce liif appmach and to ojien for him the way to that quarter of the globc."- SK(itit, tom. i., p. ;ili!). 570 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. r]8i2. uon naturally strong, the Russians liad raised very formidable tieldworks. Their ri<;ht flanl< rested on a wood, which was covered by some detaclied intrenehments. A brook, occupying in its course a deep ravine, covered the front of tlie riglit wing, and the centre of the position as far as the river of Borodino ; from that village the left extended down to another village, called Semoneskoie, which is more open, yet protected by ravines and thickets in front. This, as the most accessible point, was anxiously secured by redoubts and batteries ; and in the centre of the position, upon a gentle eleva- tion, arose a sort of double battery, like a citadel, for the protection of the whole line. In this strong position was stationed the Russian army, equal now in numbers to the French, as each army might be about 120,000 men. They were com- manded by a veteran, slow, cautious, tenacious of his purpose, wily, too, as Napoleon afterwards found to his cost, but perhaps not otherwise eminent as a military leader. The army he led were of one nation and language, all conscious that this battle had been granted to their own ar- dent wishes, and determined to make good the eagerness with which they had called for it. The French army, again, consisted of various nations ; but they were the elite, and seasoned soldiers who had survived the distresses of a most calamitous niarcli ; they were the veterans of the victors of Europe ; they were headed by Napo- leon in person, and under his immediate command by those marshals, whose names in arms were only inferior to his own. Besides a consciousness of their superiority in action, of which, from the manner in which they had covered themselves in intrenehments, the enemy seemed aware, the French had before them the prospect of utter destruction, if they should sustain a defeat in a country so difficult that they could hardly advance even as a successful army, and certainly could never liope to retreat as a routed one. Buona- parte's address to his troops' had less of the tinsel of oratory than he generally used on such occa- sions. " Soldiers," he said, " here is the battle you have longed for ; it is necessary, for it brings us plenty, good winter-quarters, and a safe return to France. Behave yourselves so that posterity may say of each of you, ' He was in that great tattle under the walls of Moscow.' "^ In the Russian camp was a scene of a different kind, calculated to awaken feelings to which France had long ceased to appeal. The Greek clergy showed themselves to the troops, arrayed in their rich vestments, and displaying for general worship the images of their holiest saints. They told their countrymen of the wrongs which had been offered ' EJRhtcenth Bulletin of the Grand Artny. " " \ slept in Napoleon's tent. At tliree in the morning he called a valet-de-chanibre, and made liim brinjj some punch ; 1 had the honour of taking some with liim. He said, • we shall have an aftiiir today with this famous Koutousoff. It was he who commanded at Brauiiau in the camiiaign of Ans- teilitz. He remained tliree weeks in that place without leaving his chajnhcr once.' He took a glass of punch, read the re- ports, and added, ' Well, Rapii, do you think that we shall manage our concerns properly to-dav?' — ' There is not the least doubt of it. Sire ; we have exhausted all our resources, we are obliged to conquer.' Napoleon continued his discourse, and replied, ' Fortune is a lib(;ral mistress: I have often said BO, and begin to experience it." He sent for Prince Berthier, and transacted business till half-past five. We mounted on horseback ; the trumpets sounded, the drums were beaten; tiid as soon us the troops knew it, there Was nothing but ac- by the invaders to earth as well as Heaven, and exhorted them to merit a place in ])aradi.se by their behaviour in that day's battle. The Russiana answered with shouts. Two deeply interesting circumstances oceuri-ed to Napoleon the day beioi-e the battle. An officer brought him a portrait of his boy, the King of Rome, which he displayed on the outside of the tent, not only to .satisfy the officers, but the sol- diers, who crowded to look upon the son of their Emperor. The other was the arrival of an officer from Spain with despatches, giving Napoleon news of the loss of the battle of Salamanca. He bore the evil tidings with temper and firmness, and soon turned his thoughts alike from domestic enjoy- ments and foreign defeats, to forming the necessai'y plans for the action before him.^ Davoust proposed a plan for turning the left of the enemy's intrenched line, by following the old road from Smolensk to Moscow, and placing 35,000 men in the flank and rear of that part of the Rus- sian position. This operation was partly to be accomplished by a night march, partly on the morning, while the rest of the army was engaging the enemy's attention in front. The ground to which this road would have conducted Davoust and his troops, forms the highest land in the neigh- bourhood, as appears from the rivulets taking their source there. Upon this commanding position the attacking corps might have been formed in the rear of the Russian line. Such a movement on that point nmst liave cut off" the Russians from theii point of retreat on Mojaisk and Moscow, and Da- voust might have come down their line, driving every thing before him, advancing from redoubt to redoubt, and dispersing reserve after re.serve, till the Russians should no longer have the sem- blance of an army. Perhaps Napoleon considered this plan as too hazardous, as it implied a great weakening of his front line, which, in that ca^-e, might have been attacked and broken before the corps d'armee under Davoust had attained the de- sired position.* The Empei'or therefore determined that Ponia towski, with not more than .5000 men, should make a demonstration, that should commence upon their left, in the direction proposed by Davoust, and that then a general attack should commence on the Russian right and centre. Foi'eseeing an obsti- nate resistance, he had ordered as much artillery as possible to be brought into line, and the guns on each side are said to have amounted to a thou- sand.* The battle began about seven o'clock, by Ney's attacking the bastioned redoubt on the Rus- sian centre, with the greatest violence, while Prince Eugene made equal efforts to dislodge the enemy clamations. ' It is the enthusiasm of Austerlitz,' cried Na- poleon, ' let the proclamation be read.'"— Rapp, p. 20:i. 3 Segur, torn, i., p. .'L'H. * " Davoust, from conviction, persisted in his ])oint ; ne protested that in another hour the greatest part of its effects would be jiroduced. Najioleon, imjiatieiit of contradiction, sharply replied, with this exclamation, ' Ah ! you are always for turning the enemy ; it is too dangerous a manoeuvre !' The marshal, after this rebuff, said no more, but returned to his post, murmurins; against a prudence to which he was not ac- customed."— Skgiir, tom. i., p. S-2\. 5 " On General Caulaincourt's return from the conquered redoubt, as no prisoners had fallen into our hands. Napoleon, surprised, kejit asking him repe.itedJy, ' Had not his cavalrv then charged a propos? Were the Russians determined to conquer or die? ' The answer was, that 'being fanaticised by llifcir leaders, and accustomed to fight with the Turks, who 18:2.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 571 fi'OTn tlie village of Semoncskoie, and the adjoiniin^ fortiticatious. No action was ever more Iceeiily debated, nor at sucdi a wasteful expenditure of hu- man life. The fury of the French onset at length carried the redoubts, but the Russians rallied under the vei'y line of their enemy's fire, and advanced again to the combat, to recover their intrcnch- nients. Regiments of peasants, who till that day had never seen v.ar, and who still had no other uniform than their grey jackets, formed with the steadiness of veterans, crossed their brows, and having uttered their national exclamation-—" Gos- l^odee pomiluui nas! — God have mercy upon us ! " — rushed into the thickest of the battle, where the survivors, witliout feeling fear or astonishment, closed their ranks over their comrades as they fell, while, supported at once by enthusiasm for their cause, and by a religious sense of predestination, life and death seemed alike indifferent to them. The fate of the day seemed more than once so critical, that Napoleon was strongly urged on more than one occasion to bring up tlie Young Guard, whom he had in reserve, as the last means of de- ciding the contest. He was censured by some of those around him for not having done so ; and it lias been imputed to illness, as he had passed a bad night, and seemed unusually languid during the whole of the day. But the secret of his refusal seems to be contained in his reply to Berthier, wdien he urged him on the subject — " And if there is another battle to-lnorrow, where is my army?"' The fact is, that this body of 10,000 household troops were his last reserve. They had been spared as far as possible in the march, and had, of course, retained their discipline in a proportional degree ; and had they sustained ariv considerable loss, which, from the obstinate resistance and repeated efforts of the Russians, was to be apprehended, Buonaparte, whom even victory must leave in a perilous condition, would in that case have lost the only corps upon whom, in the general disorganisa- tion of his army, he could thoroughly depend. The compromising the last reserve is an expedient reluctantly resorted to by prudent generals ; and jierhajjs, if Napoleon had been as circumspect on that subject at Waterloo as at Borodino, his retreat from that bloody field might have been less cala- mitous than it proved. The Russians, whose desperate efforts to recover tlieir line of redoubts had exposed them to so much loss, were at length connnanded to retreat ; and although the victory was certainly with the French, yet their enemies might be said rather to desist from fighting, than to have suffered a defeat. Indeed, it was the French who, after the battle, drew off to their original ground, and left the Rus- sians in possession of the bloody field of battle, where they buried their dead, and carried off their wounded, at their leisure. Their cavalry even alarmed die French camp on the very night of their victory. Both parties sustained a dreadful loss in this gave no quarter, tliev would be killerl sooner than surrender!' ■J lie Kniperiir then fell into a deep meditation ; and uidf^inR that a battle of artillery would be the most certain, lie niul- ti|ilied his orders to briiiK up with siieed all the parks which had not yet joined hiin."-bEGti'i, torn, i., p. 314. ■ ' " The Emperor said also to Bessieres, ' that nothiuR was yet sufticieiilly unravelled : that to make him cive his re- serves, he wanted to see more clearly upon his chessboard.' thin was his expression, which he repeated several timen, nt sanguinary Ijattle. Among tliat of tlic Russians, the death of the galla-.t Brinee Bagration, whose admirable retreat from Poland we have had occa- sion to commemorate, was generally lamented. General Touczkoff also died of his wounds ; and many other Russian generals were wounded. Their loss amounted to the awful sum trse tlesh and bruised wheat. Upon the previous day, Murat and Mortier, who led the vanguard, found the Russians strongly posted near Krymskoie, where the inconsiderate valour of the King of Naples brouglit on an action, in which the Frencli lost two thousand men. Still Buonaparte pursued the traces of the Russians, because he could not suppose it possible that they would resign their capital without a second struggle. He was the more anxious to meet it, as two divisions of the Italian army, under Laborde and Pino, had joined him from Smolensk, which again carried his numbers, sore thinned after the battle of Borodino, to upwards of one hundred thousand men. A council of war, of the Russian generals, had been called to deliberate on the awful question, whether they should expose the only army which they had in the centre of Russia, to the conse- quences of a too probable defeat, or whether they should abandon without a struggle, and as a prey to the spoiler, the holy Moscow — the Jerusalem of Russia — the city beloved of God and dear to man, with the name and existence of which so many liistorical, patriotic, national, and individual feel- ings were now involved. Reason spoke one lan- guage, pride and affection held another. To hazard a second battle, was in a great mea- sure to place the fate of their grand army upon tlie issue ; and this was too perilous an adventure, even for the protection of the capital. The con- sideration seems to have prevailed, tliat Napoleon being now in the centre of Russia, with an army daily diminishing, and the hard season coming on, every hour during which a decisive action could be delayed was a loss to France, and an advantage to Russia. This was the rather the case, that VVitgenstein, on the northern frontier, being rein- forced by Steingel with the army of Finland ; and, on the south, that of Moldavia being united to Tormasoff — Lithuania, and Poland, which formed the biise of Napoleon's operations, were in hazard of being occupied by the Russians from both flanks, an event which must endanger his supplies, maga- zines, reserves, and commimications of every kind, and put in peril at once his person and his army. Besides, the Russian generals reflected, that by evacuating Moscow, a measure which the inhabit- ants could more easily accomplish than those of any other city in the civilized world, they would diminish the prize to the victor, and leave him nothing to triumph over save the senseless build- ings. It was therefore determined, that the pre- servation of the army was more essential to Russia than the defence of Moscow, and it was agreed that the ancient capital of the Czai-s should be abandoned to its fate. Count Rostiipchin, the governor of Moscow, was a man of worth and talent, of wit also, as we have been informed, joined to a eei'tain eccentricity. He had, since the commencement of the war, kept up the spirits of the citizens with favourable reports and loyal declarations, qualified to infuse security into the public mind. After the fate of Smolensk, however, and especially after the recomuieuce- ment of Buonaparte's march eastward, many of the wealthy inhabitants of Moscow removed or concealed their most valuable effects, and left the city tlienisehes. Rostopchin continued, however, his assurances, and took various means to convince the people that there was no danger. Among other contrivances, he engaged a great number ol females in the task of constructing a very large balloon, from which he was to shower down fire, as the people believed, upon the French army. Under this pretext, he is stated to have collected a large quantity of fire-work and combustibles, actually destined for a very different purpose. As time passed on, however, the inha1>itants became more and more alarmed, and forming a dreadful idea of the French, and of the horrors which would attend their entrance into the city, not only the nobility, gentry, and those of the learned professions, but tradesmen, mechanics, and the lower orders in general, left Moscow by thousands, while the governor, though keeping up the language of defiance, did all he could to super intend and encourage the emigration. The arch ives and the public treasures were removed ; the magazines, ])articulavly those of provisions, were emptied, as far as time permitted ; and the roads, esjjecially to the south, were crowded with files of carriages, and long columns of men, women, and cliildren on foot, singing the hymns of their church, and often turning their eyes back to the magnifi cent city, which was so soon destined to be a pile of ruins. Tne grand army of Moscow arrived in the position of Fill, near the capital ; not, it was now acknowledged, to defend the sacred city, but to traverse its devoted streets, associating with their march the garrison, and such of the citizens as were fit to bear arms, and so leave the capital to its fate. On tlie I4tli of September, the troops marched with downcast looks, furled banners, and silent drums, through the streets of the metropolis, and went out at the Kolomna gate. Their long columns of retreat were followed by the greater part of the remaining population. i\Ieanwhile Rostopchin, ere departing, held a jmblic court of justice. Two men were brought before him, one a Russian, an enthusiast, who had learned in Germany, and been foolish enough to express at Moscow, some of the old French republican doctrines. The other was a Frenchman, whom the near approach of his coun- trymen had emboldened to hold some indiscreet political language. The father of the Russian de- linquent was present. He was expected to inter- fere. He did so; but it was to demand his son's death. " I grant you," said the governor, " some moments to take leave and to bless him." — " Shall I bless a rebel?" said this Scythian Brutus. " Be my curse upon him that has betrayed his coun- try ! " The criminal was hewed down on the spot. " Stranger," said Rostopchin to the Frenchnian, " thou hast been imprudent ; yet it is but natural thou shouldst desire the coming of thy countrymen. Be free, then, and go to meet them. Tell them there was one traitor in Russia, and thou hast seep him punished.'' LIFE OF NAPOLFON BUONAPARTE. 1812.] The governor then canned tlic jails to be oprntd, and tlie criminals to be set at liberty; and, abandon- ing the desolate citv to these banditti, and a few of the lowest rabble, he mounted his liorsc, and putting liimsf'lf at the head of his retainers, followed the march of the arniv. CHAPTER LX. On \-ith September, Napoleon reaches Moscow, ich'ich he finds deserted by the Inhabitants — The City is discovered to be on fire — Napioleon takes vp his quarters in the Kremlin- — The fire is stopt next day, but arises a jain at niyht — Bcliered to he icUful,and several littssians apprehended and shot — On the third night, the Kremlin is discovered to be on Fire — Buonaparte leaves it, anil takes his abode at Petrotcsky — The Fire rages till the ]9tk, irhen four-fi/'h.-- of the City arc burnt down — On the ^'Oth, liuon.ijntrte returns to th- Krem- lin — Discussion isorg'inisation and Indiiteipline of the French Army — Difficulty as to the Route on leaving Moscoir — Lauriston sent with a Letter to the Emperor Alexander — Retrospect of lite March of the Russian Army, after leaving Mos- cow — Lauriston has an Interview with Koutousofi-' on 5th October — The Result — Armistice made by Murat — Preparations for Retreat — The Kmpe- ror Alexander refuses to treat. On the 14th September, ]81'2, while the rear- guard of tlie Russians were in the act of evacuating 5loscow, Napoleon reached the hill called the Mount of Salvation, because it is there where the natives kneel and cross themselves at first sight of the Holy City. Moscow seemed lordly and striking as ever, with the steeples of its thirty churches, and its copper domes glittering in the sun ; its palaces of Eastern architecture mingled with trees, and surrounded with gardens ; and its Kremlin, a huge triangular mass of towers, something between a palace and a castle, which rose like a citadel out of the general mass of groves and buildings. But not a chimney sent up smoke, not a man ajipeared on the battle- ments, or at the gates. Napoleon gazed every mo- ment, expecting to see a train of bearded boyards arriving to fling themselves at his feet, and place their wealth at his disposal. His first exclamation was, " Behold at last that celebrated city !" — His next, " It was full time." His army, less regardful of the past or the future, fixed their eyes on the goal of their wishes, and a shout of " Moscow ! — Moscow !" — passed from rank to rank.' Meantime no one interrupted his meditations, until a message came from Murat. He had pushed in among the Cossacks, who covered the rear of 1 " Every one quickened his pace ; the trnops hurried on in disorder: iind tlie whole army clapping tluir liands, repeated with transport, 'Moscow! Moscow!' just as sailors shout land! land!" at the conclusion of a Ion;; and tedious voy- aoe."_SKi;rR, torn, ii., p. 28. " At the sound of this wished- f(7r name, the soldiers ran up the hill in crowds, and eacli dis- co\ered new wonders every instant. One admired a noble chateau on our left, the elepant architecture of which dis- played more than Eastem maRnificcnce ; another directed his attention towards a palace or a temple ; but all were stnjck with the. superb picture which this immense town afiorded."^ I.AHACIHIK. p. iV:'». - " Murat was rccopnised by the Cossacks, who thronyed hoiuhI I tm, and by their gestu'ies and exclamations extolled 1)75 the llu.ssians, and readily admitted to a parley the chivalrous champion, whom they at once recog- nised, having so often seen him blazing in the van of the French cavalry.* The message which he sent to Buonaparte intimated, that Miloradovitch threatened to burn the town, if his rear was not allowed time to march through it. This was a tone of defiance. Napoleon, however, granted the armistice, for which no inhabitants were left to be grateful. After waiting two hours, he received from some French inhabitants, who had hidden themselves during the evacuation, tlie strange intelligence that Moscow was deserted by its population. The tidings that a population of 250,000 persons had left their native city was incredible, and Napoleon still commanded the boyards, the jiublic function- aries, to be brought before liim ; nor could he be convinced of what had actually happened, till they led to ])is presence some of that refuse of humanity, the Kiily live ereaiuros they could find in the city, but tlited to believe that in these officers he should find a new Mazeppa, or thai he himself should become one : he im.igined that he had pained them over."— Seuuk, torn, ii., p. ;il. 3 SOgur, tom.ii., p. i'J. ■• " Nai)oIcon appointed Marshal Morticr coifernor of th« capital. • Above all,' said he to him, ' no pillaije! Kor thit vou shall l.c answerable to nie with your lite. Difind .Mos- cow auainst all, wlutlier Iriiiid or loe.' Sj:i m, i..ni ii. I>. St. D74 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [18.12. Rble cciitlagration bogan amongst the coacIimakerB' waroliouses and worksliops in the Bazaar, or ge- neral market, which was tiie most rich district of the city. It was imputed to accident, and the pro- gress of tlie flames was subdued by the exertions of tlie Frendi soldiers. Napoleon, who had been roused by the lumult, hurried to the spot, and when the alarm seemed at an end, he retired, not to his former quarters in the suburbs, but to the Kremlin,^ the hereditary palace of the only sovereign whom lie had ever treated as an equal, and over whom liis successful arms had now attained such an appa- rently immense superiority. Yet he did not suffer liimself to be dazzled by the advantage he had obtained, but availed himself of the light of the j blazing Bazaar, to write to the Emperor proposals of peace with his own hand. They were despatched by a Russian officer of rank, w ho had been disabled by indisposition from following the army. But no answer was ever returned. Next day the flames had disappeared, and the French officers luxuriously employed themselves in selecting out of the deserted palaces of Moscow, that which best ]ileased the fancy of each for his residence. At night the flames again arose in the north and west quarters of the city. As far the greater part of the houses were built of wood, the conflagration spread with the most dreadful rapi- dity. This was at first imputed to the blazing brands and sparkles which were carried by the wind ; but at length it was observed, that, as often as the wind changed, and it changed three times in that terrible night, new flames broke always forth in that direc- tion, where the existing gale was calculated to direct them on the Kremlin. These horrors were increased by the chance of explosion. There was, though as yet unknown to the French, a magazine of powder in the Krendin ; besides that a park of artillery, with its ammunition, was drawn up under the Emperor's window. Morning came, and with it a dreadful scene. During the whole night, the metropolis had glared with an untimely and unna- tural light. It was now covered with a thick and suffocating atmosphere, of almost pal]jable smoke. The flames defied the efforts of the French sol- diery, and it is said that the fountains of the city had been rendered inaccessilde, the water-pipes cut, and the fire-engines destroyed or carried off. Then came the reports of fire-balls having been found burning in deserted houses ; of men and women, that, like demons, had been seen openly spreading the flames, and who were said to be furnished with combustibles for rendering their ' " Napoleon iicnsively entered the Kremlin. 'At length," he exclaimed. ' I am in Moscow, in the ancient palace of tlie Czars, in the Kremlin." He examined every part of it with pride, curiosity, and gratification."'— SKiiUk,' torn, ii., p. 39. * " Three hundred incendiaries have been arrested and shot; they were provided with fuses, si.x inches long; they had also squibs, which they threw upon the roofs of the house-,. The wretch Rostopchin bad these ])repared on the pretence that he wished to send up a balloon, full of combus- tible matter, amidst the French army.'" — Tweiiti/-1irst llul- 3 "Napoleon was seized with extreme agitation ; beseemed to be consumed by the fires which surnmnded bim. He tra- versed his aparlments with quick steps. Short and incohe- rent exclamations burst from bis labouring bosom."— Segur, torn. ii.. p. 45. * " Napoleon caused the man to be interrogated in his pre- sence. He had executed his ci)nimi>sion at llie signal given by his chief. The gestures of the Emperor betokened disdain »nd vexation. The wretch was hurried into the first court, where the enraged grenadiers despatched him with their bay- •neu,"— Secuh, torn, ii., p. 46. dreadful work more secure. Several wretches against whom such acts had been charged, were seized upon, and, probably without nmeh inquiry, were shot on the spot.'-^ While it was almost im- possible to keep the roof of the Kremlin clear of the burning brands which showered down the wind, Napoleon watched from the windows the course of the fire which devoured his fair conquest, and the exclamation burst from him, " These are in- deed Scythians !"' The equinoctial gales rose liigher and higher upon the third night, and extended the flames, with which there was no longer any human power of contending. At the dead hour of midnight, the Kremlin itself was found to be on fire. A soldier of the Russian police, charged with being the in- cendiary, was turned over to the summary ven- geance of the Imperial Guard.'* Buonaparte was then, at length, persuaded, by the entreaties of all around him, to relinquish his quarters in the Kremlin, to which, as the visible mark of his con- quest, he had seemed to cling with the tenacity of a lion holding a fragment of liis prey. He en- countered both difficulty and danger in retiring from the palace, and before he could gain the city- gate, he had to traverse with his suite streets arched with fire,'^ and in which tlie very air they breathed was suffocating. At length, he gained the ojien country, and took up his abode in a palace of the Czar's called Fetrowsky, about a French league from the city. As he looked back on the fire, which, under the influence of the autumnal wind, swelled and surged around the Kremlin, like an infernal ocean around a sable Pandemonium, he coidd not suppress the ominous expression, " This bodes us great misfortune." ^ The fire continued to triumph unopposed, and consumed in a few days what it liad cost centuries to raise. " Palaces and temples," says a Russian author, " monuments of art, and miracles of luxury, the remains of ages which had past away, and those which had been the creation of yesterday ; the tombs of ancestors, and the nursery-cradles of the present generation, were indiscriminately destroyed. Nothing was left of Moscow save the remeniijrance of the city, and the deep resolution to avenge its fall."' The fire raged till the 1 9th with unabated vio- lence, and then began to slacken for want of fuel. It is said, four-fifths of this great city were laid in ruins. On the 20th, Buonaparte returned to the Kremlin ;* and, as if in defiance of the terrible scene which he had witnessed, took measures as if he 5 " I saw Napoleon pass by, and could not, without abhor- rence, behold tile chief of a barba'ous expedition evidently endeavouring to escape the decided testimony of public indig- nation, by seeking the darkest road. He sought it, however, in vain. On every side the flames .seemed to pursue him ; and their liorrilile and mournful glare, flasliing on his guilty head, reminded me of the torches of the Eumenides pursuing the destined victims of the Furies."' — Labaume, p. £lKj. ^ !-^gur, tom. ii.. p. VJ. 7 Karanizin, a Russian historian of eminence, whose works were expressly excepted from the censorship by the late Em- peror Alexander. -See IHMoire k, was to grasp a pledge, for the redemption of which he had no doubt Alexander would be glad to make peace on his ' own terms. But the prize of his victory, how- ever fair to the sight, had, like that fabled fruit, said to grow on the banks of the Dead Sea, proved in the end but soot and ashes. Moscow, indeed, he had seized, but it had perished in his grasp ; and far from being able to work upon Alexander's fears for its safety, it was reasonable to think that its total destruction had produced the most vehe- ment resentment on the part of the Russian mo- 1 " Amidst the dreadful storm of men and elements which was patherinp around liim. his ministers and his aides-de- camp saw him pass whole days in discussing the merits of some new verses which he had received, ortlie reeulationsfor the Comtdie Franyiiise at Paris, which he took three even- niKS to finish. As they were acf(uainted with his deep anxie- tv, thev admired tlie strengtii of liis cenius. and tlie facility with whicli he cuuld talie oflor ti.x the whole forde of his at- tention on wliatever he pleased. It was remarked, too. tliat he prolnnged his meals, which had hitherto been so simple aua so short. He seemed desirous of stifling thought by re- narch, since Najiolcon received no; even the ci-. iiitj of an answer to his conciliatory letter. Ai.d tl.us the acquisition so nuich desired as the means of procuring peace, had become, by this catastrophe, the cause erf the most irreconcilable enmity. Neither was it a ti ifling consideration, that Na- poleon had lost by this dreadful fire a great jiart of the supplies, wliich he expected the cajiture of the metropolis would have contriljuted for the sup- ]virt of liis famished army. Had there existed in Moscow the usual jxipulation of a cajjital, he would have found the usual modes of furni:^hing its mar- kets in full activity. These, doubtless, are not of the common kind, for provisions are sent to this cai)ital, not, as is usual, from fertile districts around the city, but from distant re-gions, whence they are brought by water-carriage in the summer, and by sledges, which travel on the ice and frozen snow, in the w inter time. To Moscow, w ith its usual in- habitants, these supplies must have been remitted as usual, lest the numerous po])ulation of 250,000 and upwards, should be famished, as well as the enemy's army. But Moscow deserted— Moscow burnt, and reduced to mountains of cinders and ashes- — had no occasion for such sujiplies ; nor wa.s it to be supposed that the provinces from which they were usually remitted, would send them to a heap of ruins, where there remained none to lefed, tave the soldiers of the invading army. This con- viction came wiih heavy anticipation on the Em- peror of France and l:is principal officers. Meanwhile, the ruins of Moscow, and the rem- nant which was left standing, afforded the common soldiers an abundance of booty during their short day of rest; and, as is their nature, they enjoyed the present moment without thinking of futurity. The army was dispersed over the city, plundering at pleasure whatever they could find ; sometimes discovering quantities of melted gold and silver, sometimes rich merchandize and precious articles, of which they knew not the value ; sometimes articles of luxury, which contrasted strangely witli their general want of comforts, and even necessa- ries. It was not uncommon to see the most tatter- ed, shoeless wretches, sitting among bales of ricli merchandize, or displaying ce>stly shawls, precious furs, anel vestments rie-h with barbaric pearl and gold.^ In another jdace, there were to be seen soldiers possessed of tea, sugar, coffee, and similar lu-xuries, while the same individuals could scarce procure carrion to eat, or muddy water to drink. Of sugar, in ])articular, they had such quantities, that they nii.xed it with their liorse-flesh soup. The whole was a contrast of the wildest and most lavish excess, with the last degree of necessity, dis- gusting to witness, and most ominous in its p>re.sage. They esteemed themselves happiest of all, who could procure intoxicating liquors, and escape by some hours of insensibility from the scene of con- fusion around them.^ Napoleon and his officers toiled hard to res-tore pletion He would pass whole h.iiirs. half reclined, as if tor* j>id, and nwaitin)-, with a novel in his hand, the catastrophe ot liis terrible history."— Skoi'R, tom. ii.. ji. (!7 H7. z " It was common to see walkinc in our camp soldiert dressed n /. 153. spectful salutes of the Russian patrols, and the applause of the Cossacks. These last used to crowd around him, partly in real admiration of his chivalrous api)earance and character, which was of a kind to captivate these primitive warriors, and partly, doubtless, from their natural shrewdness which saw the utility of maintaining his delusion. They called him their Hettman ; and he was so into.xicated with their applause, as to have been said to nourish the wild idea of becoming in eaa-nest King of the Cossacks.^ Such delusions could not for ever lull Murat's vigilance to sleep. The war was all around him, and his forces were sinking under a succession of petty hostilities ; while the continual rolling of drums, and the frequent platoon firing, heard from behind the Russian encampment, intimated how busily they were engaged in drilling numerous bodies of fresh recruits. The Russian officers at the outposts began to hold ominous language, and ask the French if they had made a composition with the Northern Winter, Russia's most fearful ally. " Stay another fortnight," they said, " and your nails will drop ofl", and your fingtrs fall from your hands, like boughs from a blighted tree." The numbers of the Cossacks increased so nuich, as to resemble one of the ancient Scythian emigra- tions ; and wild and fantastic figures, on unbroken horses, whose manes swept the ground, seemed to announce that the inmost recesses of the desert had sent forth their inhabitants. Their grey- bearded chiefs sometimes held expostulations with the French officers, in a tone very different from that which soothed the ears of IMurat. " Had you not," they said, " in France, food enough, water enough, air enough, to subsist you while you lived — earth enough to cover you when you died ; and why come you to enrich our soil with your re- mains, which by right belong to the land where you were born ?" Such evil bodements affected the van of the army, from whence Murat trans- mitted them to the Emperor.^ Immured in the recesses of the Kremlin, Napo- leon persisted in awaiting the answer to the letter despatched by Lauriston. It had been sent to Petersburgh on the 6th, and an answer could not be expected before the "26tli. To have moved before that period, might be thought prudent in a military point of view ; but, politically considered, it would greatly injure his rejiutation for sagacity, and destroy the impression of his infallibility. Thus sensible, and almost admitting that he was wrong, he determined, nevertheless, to persevere in the course he had chosen, in hopes that Fortune, which never before failed him, might yet stand his friend in extremity. A bold scheme is said to have been suggested by Daru, to turn Moscow into an intrenched camp, and occupy it as winter-quarters. They might kill the remainder of the horses, he said, and salt them down ; foraging must do the rest. Napoleon approved of what he termed a Lion's counsel. But the fear of what might happen in France, from which this plan would have secluded them for six months, induced him finally to reject it. It might be added, that the obtaining supplies by marauding was likely to become more and more s Sp, p. 2i7 ; S^gur, torn, ii., p. lit). 582 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [181i by iiicli, at length found himself obliged to decide between the angry cliiefs, and with a grief wliich seemed to deprive him of his senses for a little while, gave the unusual orders — to retreat.' Buo- naparte's own personal experience had convinced him how much, in advancing, his flanks would be exposed to the Hettman and his Cossacks, who had mustered in great force in the neighbourhood of Medyn. Otlicr intelligence informed him that his rear had been attacked by another body of Cos- sacks coming from Twer, and who belonged not to KoutousofF's army, but to another Russian divi- sion under the command of Winzengerode, which was advancing from the northward to re-occupy Moscow. This showed that the comnmnications of the French were at the enemy's mercy on the west and the north, on flank and in rear, and seems to have determined the Emperor to give at lengtJi, and most reluctantly, the orders to retreat, for the purpose of returning to the frontiers by Vereia and Wiazma, the same road by which they had advanced. It was very seldom that Napoleon resigned the settled purpose of his own mind, either to tlie advice of those around him, or to any combination of opposing circumstances. He usually received any objection founded on the difficulty of executing his orders, with an evasive ^answer, "Ah, on ne pent pas!" which, from the sarcastic mode in which he uttered the words, plainly showed that he im- puted the alleged impossibility to the imbecility of the officer who used the apology. It might have been better for Napoleon, in many instances, had he somewhat abated this pertinacity of disposition ; and yet it happened, that by yielding with unwont- ed docility to the advice of his generals upon the present occasion, he actually retreated at the very moment when the grand Russian army were with- drawing from the position in which Davoust had pronounced them unassailable. The reason of this retrograde movement, which involved the most serious risk, and which, had Napoleon been aware of it, might have yielded him access to the most fertile and unharassed provinces of Russia, was said to be Koutousoff"'s fears that the French, moving from tlieir right flank, might have marched round the Russian army by the way of Medyn. The truth seems to be, that Koutousoff", though placed in command of the grand army, in order to indulge the soldiers with a general action, was slow and cautious by nature, and rendered more so by his advanced age. He forgot, that in war, to gain brilliant results, or even to prevent great reverses, some risks must be run ; and having received just praise for his pi-actised and cautious movements from the battle of Borodino till that of Malo- Yarowslavetz, he now carried the qualities of prudence and circumspection to the extreme, and shunned a general action, or rather the hazard of a general attack from the French, wiien he might certainly have trusted, first, in the chance (wliich turned out the reality) of Buonaparte's retreat ; secondly, in the courage of his troops, and the ' S^gur, torn, ii., p. 117- * Jomini, torn, iv., p. 165. 3 " Barrclsof powder had been placed in all the halls of the palace of theCza 's, and l!!.'3,(i(i(i pounds under the vaults which Bupporttd them While Mortier was rapidly rctirinK, some Cf.Hkacks and bqnalid Muscovites approached: they listened, >:id emboldened by the apparent quiet which pervaded the strength of his position. " But Fortune," saya Tacitus, " has the chief influence on warlike. events;" and she so ordered it, tliat both the hos- tile armies retired at once. So that while Buona- parte retreated towards Borowsk and Vereia, the route by which he had advanced, the Russians were leaving open before him tlie road to Kalouga, to gain which he had fought, and fough.t in vain, the bloody battle of Malo-Yarowslavetz. Favoured, however, by their innnense clouds of light cavalry, the Russians learned the retrograde movement of Napoleon long before he could have any certain knowledge of theirs ; and in consequence, manwu- vred from tlieir left so as to approach the points of Wiazma and Gjatz, by which the French must needs pass, if they meant to march on Smolensk. At Vereia, where Napoleon had his headquar- ters on the 27th October, he had the satiisfaction to meet with ilortier, and that part of the Young Guard which h.ad garrisoned the Kremlin. They brought with them an important prisoner, whom chance, or rather his own imprudence, had thrown into their hands. We have said incidentally, that upon the French army evacuating Moscow, \^'in- zengerode, with a considerable body of forces, advanced upon the Twer to regain possession of the city. All was vacant and silent except where the French garrison lay deserted and moody in the Kremlin, with a few detached outposts. Winzen- gerode, with a single aide-de-camp, rode impru- dently forward, and both were seized by the French soldiers. The general waved a white handkerchief, and claimed the privilege of a flag of truce, alleging that he came to summon the French marshal to surrender. But Mortier refused him the privi- lege he claimed, observing, plausibly, that it was not the custom of general officers to summon gar- risons in person. Before leaving Moscow, the French, by the es- pecial command of Napoleon, prepared to blow up the ancient palace of the Czars. As the Kremlin was totally useless as a fortification, even if Napo- leon could have hoped ever to return to Moscow as a victor, this act of wanton mischief can only be imputed to a desire to do something personally displeasing to Alexander, because lie had been found to possess a firmer character than his former friend had anticipated.^ The mode of executing this mandate, which, however, should be probably ascribed to the engineers, was a piece of additional barbarity. Aware that some of the Russians who were left behind, men of the lowest rank and habits, would crowd in to plunder the palace when the French retreated, they attached long slow- matches to the gunpowder which was stored iu the vaults of the palace, and lighted them when the rear of the French column marched out. The French were but at a short distance, when the explosion took place, which laid a considerable part of the Kremlin in ruins, and destroyed at the same time, in mere wantom>ess, a number of wretches, whom curiosity or love of plunder had, as was anticipated, induced to crowd within the palace.^ fortress, they ventured to penetrate info it; they ascended, and their hands, eager after |)lunder, were already stretched forth, when in a moment they were all destroyed, crushed, hurled into the air, v^ith the buildings which tliey had come to pillage, and 30,(100 stand of arms that had been left behind tliere ; and then their mangled limbs, mixed with fragments of walls and sliattcred weapons, blown to a great distanca descended in a horrible shower."— Skgur, torn, ii , p. 12i». 1812.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 583 The Jlussian troops poured in, dcstvojcd the mines which liad not yet exploded, and extinguislied the fire which had ah-eady caught the huilding. The patriotic foresight of the Russian peasants was now made manifest. We have mentioned the extreme wants of the French in tlie desolate city. No sooner was the Russian flag hoisted, than these wants vanished, as if by magic. Eighteen hundred cars, loaded with bread, poured in from the neigh- bourhood, on the very day that saw Moscow re- occupied. The bread, and the mode of conveying it, had been in secret prepared by these rustic patriots. We return to the movements of the French army. The dreadful explosion of the Kremlin shook the ground like an earthquake, and announced to Napoleon, then on his march against Koutousoff, that his commands had been obeyed. On the next day, a bulletin announced in a triumphant tone that the Kremlin, coeval with the Russian monarchy, had existed ; and that Moscow was now but an im- pure laystall, while " the 200,000 persons which once formed her population, wandered through the forests, subsisting on wild roots, or perishing for want of them." With yet more audacity, the same official annunciation represents the retreat of the French as an advance on the road to victory. " The army expects to be put in motion on the 24th, to gain the Dwina, and to assume a position which will place it eighty leagues nearer to St. Petersburgh, and to Wilna ; a double advantage, since it will bring us nearer the mark we aim at, and the means by which it may be aecompli.shed."' While sucli splendid figments were circulated for the satisfaction of the people of Paris, the real question was, not whether the French were to ap- proach St. Petersburgh, but by what means they were to get out of Russia with the semblance of an army remaining together. Napoleon's spirit was observed to be soured by the result of the affair at Malo-Yarowslavetz. It was indeed an operation of the last consequence, since it compelled a broken and suffering army to retreat through a country already wasted by their own advance, and by the acts of the Russians, where the houses were burnt, the inhabitants fled, and the roads broken up, instead of taking the road by Kalouga, through a region which offered both the means of subsistence and shelter. When the advanced season of the year was considered, it might be said that the retreat upon Vereia sounded the death-knell of the French army. These melan- choly considerations did not escape Buonaparte himself, though he endeavoured to disguise them from others, by asserting, in a bulletin dated from Borowsk, that the country around was extremely rich, might be compared to the best parts of France and Germany, and that the weather reminded the troops of the sun and the delicious climate of Fon- taiubleau.'^ His temper was visibly altered. Among other modes of venting his displeasure, he bitterly upbraided his prisoner Winzengerode, who was then brought before him. — " Who are you!" he exclaimed^ — " A man without a country ! — Vou have ever been my enemy — You were in the Aus- trian ranks when I fought against them — I have become Austria's friend, and I find you in those of Russia — You have been a warm instigator of the war ; nevertheless, you are a native of the Confederation of the Rhine — you are my subject — you are a rebel — Seize on him, gendarmes ! — Let him be brought to trial I"* To this threat, which showed that Napoleon ac- counted the states of the Confederacy not as apper- taining in sovereignty to the princes whose names they bore, but as the innnediate subjects of France, from whom the French Emperor was entitled to expect direct fealty. Napoleon added other terms of abuse ; and called Winzengerode an English hireling and incendiary, while lie behaved with civility to his aide-de-camp Narishkin, a native Russian. This violence, however, had no other consequence than that of the dismissal of Winzen- gei-ode, a close prisoner, to Lithuania, to be from thence forwarded to Paris.'^ The presence of a captive of rank and reputation, an aide-decamp of the Emperor of Russia, was designed of course to give countenance to the favourable accounts which Napoleon might find it convenient to circulate on the events of the campaign. It was not, however, Winzengerode's fortune to make this disagreeable journey. He was, as will be hereafter mentioned, released in Lithiumia, when such an event was least to be hoped for. Accounts had been received, tending to confirm the opinion that the Russian army were moving on Medyn, with the obvious purpose of intercept- ing the French army, or at least harassing their passage at Wiazma or at Gjatz. By the orders of Napoleon, therefore, the army pressed forward on the last named town. They marched on in three corps d'arme'e. Napoleon was with the first of these armies. The second was commanded by the Viceroy of Italy, Prince Eugene. The third, which was destined to act as a rear-gnard, was led by Davoust, whose love of order and military disci- pline might be, it was hoped, some check upon the license and confusion of such a retreat. It was de- signed that one day's march should intervene be- tween the movements of each of these bodies, to avoid confusion, and to facilitate the collecting subsistence ; being a delay of two, or at most three days, betwixt the operations of the advanced guard and that of the rear. It has been often asked, nor has the question ever been satisfactorily answered, why Najxileon preferred that his columns should thus creep over the same ground in succession, instead of the mora combined and rapid mode of marching by three columns in front, by which he would have saved time, and increased, by the breadth of country which the march occupied, the means of collecting subsistence. The impracticability of the roads can- not be alleged, because the French army had come thither arranged in three columns, marching to the ' Twenty-sixth Bulletin of the Grand Army. toraed to see these violent sccnesterminate without effect, and 2 " The inhabitants of Russia do not rccolkct Buch a Benson sure of obejinp bcs-t by disobi-yiiig."— Skcuir., torn, ii., p. 131. OS we have liad for the last twenty years. The army it- in an extreniclv ri(.'h country : it may be cmniiand to the best in France or- Gurma.ny."—Tirr,ili/-xUili Bulletin 3 " Crossinf; liis arms witli violence, as if to grasp and to jestraiii himself."— iJEUUR, torn, ii., p. 131. •• " The gendarmes remained motionless, like men nccus- Kach of us endeavdurcil to appease the Kniperor ; the KiiiR of Naples, the Duke de V'iciiiza |iarti(:ularly, susfiested to him how mucli, in tlie present siiiiaiioii ot thinus, any vio- lence towards a man win. had his onui" under ilie quality ol a Russian fieneral, would be to be lamented: there was no council of war, and the affair rested there "— llAi'l', p. OQ. 584 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [i8i: front abreast of each other, which was the reverse of their order in the retreat. In the road, the army passed Borodino, the scene of the grand battle which exhibited so many ves- tiges of the French prowess, and of the loss they had sustained.' This, the most sanguinary conflict of modern times, had been entirely without ade- quate advantages to the victoi-s. The momentary possession of Moscow had annihilated every chance of an essential result by the catastrophe which fol- lowed ; and the army which had been victorious at Borodino was now escaping from their conquests, surrounded by danger on every hand, and already disorganised on many points, by danger, pain, and privation. At the convent of Kolotskoi, which liad been the grand hospital of the French after the battle, many of the wounded were found still alive, though thousands more had perished for want of materials necessary for surgical treatment, food of suitable quality, bandages, and the like. The survivors crawled to the door, and extended their supplicating hands to their countrymen as they passed onwards on their weary march. By Napo- leon's orders, such of the patients as were able to bear being moved were placed on the suttlcrs' carts, while the rest were left iti the convent, toge- ther with some wounded Russian prisoners, whose presence, it was hoped, might be a protection to the French.'-' Several of those who had been placed in the carriages did not travel very far. The sordid wretches to whom the carts and wains, loaded with the plunder of Moscow, belonged, got rid in many cases of the additional burden imposed on them, by lagging behind the column of march in desolate places, and murdering the men intrusted to their charge. In other parts of the column, the Russian prisoners were seen lying on the road, their bi'ains shot out by the soldiers appointed to guard them, but who took this mode of freeing themselves of the trouble. It is thus that a continued course of calamity renders men's minds selfish, ravenous, and fiendish, indifferent to what evil they inflict, because it can scarcely equal that which they en- dure ; as divines say of the condemned spirits, tliat they are urged to malevolent actions against men, by a consciousness of their own state of re- probation. Napoleon, with his first division of the grand army, reached Gjatz' without any other inconve- nience than arose from the state of the roads, and the distresses of the soldiery. From Gjatz he advanced in two marches to Wiazma, and halted there to allow Prince Eugene and ^larshal Da- voust to come up, who had fallen five days' march to the rear, instead of three days only, as had been directed. On the 1st November, the Emperor again resumed his painful retreat, leaving, how- ' " The ground was covered aU around with fragments of hejroets and cuirasses, broken drums, gun-stocks, tatters of uniforms, and standards died with blood. On tliis desolate spot lay thirty thousand half-devoured corses. A number of skeletons, left on the summit of one of tlie hills, overlooked the whole. It seemed as if death had here fixed his empire : it was that terrible redoubt, the conquest and the grave of Caulaincourt. The cry, ' It is the field of the great battle ! ' formed a long and doleful murmur. Napoleon passed quickly —nobody stopped. Cold, hunger, and the enemy urged us on ; we merely turned our faces as we proceeded, to take a last nielanc^ioly look at the vast j^raveofourcompanions in arms.** — Segi-r, torn', ii., p. 1.37. — '• On arriving at iJorodino, mv con- iternation was inexpressible at findin" the 2(l,(lll(» men', who hod periblicj iliere, yet lying exposed. In one place were to be ever, the corps of Ney at Wiazma to reinforce and relieve the rear-guard under Davoust, who, he concluded, must be worn out with the duty. He resumed with his Old Guard the road to Dorogo- bouje, on which town he thought it probable the Russians might be moving to cut him off, and it was most important to prevent them. Another order of Napoleon's confirms his sense of the danger which had now begun to oppress him. He commanded the spoils of Moscow, an- cient armour, cannon, and the great cross of I wan, to he thi'own into the lake of Semelin, as trophies which he was unwilling to restore, and unable to carry off."* Some of the artillery, which the unfed horses where unable to drag forward, were also now necessarily left behind, though the cireimistance was not communicated in every instance to Napo- leon, who, bi'ed in the artillery department, che- rished, like many officers of that branch of .service, a sort of superstitious reverence for his guns. The Emperor, and the vanguard of his army, had hitherto passed unopposed. It was not so with the centre and rear. They were attacked, during the whole course of that march, by clouds of Cos- sacks, bringing with them a species of light artil- lery mounted on sledges, which, keeping ])ace with their motions, threw showers of balls among the columns of the French ; while the menaced charge of these irregular cavalry frequently obliged the march to halt, that the men might form lines or squares to protect themselves. The passage of streams where the bridges were broken down, and the horses and waggons were overturned on the precipitous banks, or in the miry fords, and where drivers and hoi'ses dropped down exhausted, added to this confusion when such obstacles occurred. The two divisions, however, having as yet seen no regular forces, passed the night of the Qd Novem- ber in deceitful tranquillity, within two leagues of Wiazma, where Ney was lying ready to joiu them. Jn that fatal night, Miloradowitch, one of the boldest, most enterprising, and active of the Rus- sian generals, and whom the French were wont to call the Russian Murat, arrived with the van- guard of the Russian regulars, supported by Pla- toff and many thousand Cossacks, and being the harbinger of KoutousofF, and the whole grand army of Russia. The old Russian general, when he learned the French Emperor's plan of retiring by Gjatz and Wiazma, instantly turning his own retreat into a movement to the left, arrived by cross-roads from Malo-Yarowslavetz. The Russians now reached the point of action at daybreak, pushed through Prince Eugene's line of march, and insulated his vanguard, while the Cossacks rode like a whirl- wind among the host of stragglers and followers of seen garments yet red with blood, and bones gnawed by do"S and birds of prey ; in another were broken arms, drums, hel- mets, and swords." — Labaume, ji. 205 2 Scgur, torn, ii., p. 138. 3 " On approaching Gjatz, we felt the sincercst regret when we perceived that the whole town had disappeared. Gjatz, constructed entirely of wood, was consumed in a day. It con- tained many e.xcellent manufactories of cloth and leather, and furnished the Russian navy with considerable quantitiesof tar, cordage, and marine store's." — Labaume, p. 270. * " In this vast wreck, the army, like a great ship tossed by the most tremendous of tenijiests, threw, without hesitation, into that sea ot ice and snow, all that could slacken or impede its progress."— Segl'r, torn, ii., p. loi). 1812.J LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 585 the army, and drove them along the plain at the lance's point. The viceroy was succoured by a regiment which Ney, though liimself hardly pressed, despatched to his aid from Wiazma, and his rear- guard was disengaged by the exertions of Davoust, ^^•ho marched hastily forward to extricate them. The Russian artillery, which is superior in calibre, and carries farther than the French, manceuvred with rapidity, and kept up a tremendous cannonade, to which the French had no adequate means of re- plying. Eugene and Davoust made a most gallant defence ; yet they would not have been able to maintain their ground, had Koutousoff, as was to have been expected, either come up in person, or sent a strong detachment to support his van- guard. The battle lasted from seven in the morning till towards evening, when Eugene and Davoust pushed through Wiazma with the remains of their divi- sions, pursued by and almost mingled with the Russians, whose army marched into the town at the charging step, with drums beating, and all the indications of victory. The French divisions, un- der cover of the night, and having passed the river (which, like the town, is called Wiazma,) esta- blished themselves in obscurity and comparative safety upon the left bank. The day had been dis- astrous to the French arms, though their honour remained unsullied. They had lost about 4000 men, their regiments were mouldered down to battalions, their battalions to companies, their com- panies to weak piequets.' All tacticians agree, that, if Koutousoff had re- inforced Miloradowitch as warmly urged by Sir Robert Wilson, or if he had forced the town of Wiazma, which his numbers might have enabled him to do, both the centre and rear divisions of Napoleon's force, and probably the troops under Ney also, must have been inevitably cut off. But the aged general confided in the approach of the Russian winter, and declined to purchase, by the blood of his countrymen, a victory of which he held liimself secured by the climate. The French were so far from any place where they could pro- cure either food or shelter ; they were so hemmed in, and confined to the desolated high-roads, which every column as it passed rendered more imprac- ticable to the rest, that he refused to gain, at the sword's point, advantages which he deemed him- self sure of possessing without effort. Determined, therefore, to avoid a general battle, yet to maintain his advantages over the French by manoeuvring, Koutousoff, turning a deaf ear to the remonstrances, and even threats, of those who differed in opinion from him, removed his headquarters to Krasnoi, leaving to Miloradowitch the duty of beating up the rear of tlie French on their retreat, by follow- ing the course of the high-road, while the Hettman Platoff, flanking the French march with his Cos- .sacks, took advantage of evei'y opportunity to dis- tiess them. In the meanwhile, the viceroy received orders from Napoleon to abandon the straight road to Smolensk, which was the route of the corjis of Davoust and Ney, and to move northward on Dowkhowtchina and Poreczie, to afford counte- nance and support to Marechal Oudinot, now un- ' Jomini, torn, iv., p. 173 ; S^gur, nm. ii., p. 150 ; Twcnty- eiglith Bulletin. derstood to be hard pressed by Witgenstein, who, as we sliall presently see, liad regained the superiority in the north of Russia. Tlie viceroy, in obedience to this order, began his march on the new route which was enjoined him, by marching himself upon Zasselie, closely pursued, watched, and harassed by his usual Scythian attendants. He was compelled to leave behind him sixty -four pieces of cannon ; and these, with three thousand stragglers, fell into the prompt gi'asp of the pur- suers. A large cloud of Cossacks, with Platoff at their head, accompanied the movements of the viceroy and his Italian army. Whoever strayed from the column was inevitably their prey. Eugene passed a night at Zasselie, without having as yet encoun- tered any great misfortune. But in advancing from thence to Dowkhowtchina, the French liad to cross the Wop, a river swelled by rains, while the passage to the ford was steep and frozen. Here the viceroy passed over his infantry with great difficulty, but was obliged to abandon twenty -three pieces of caimon and all his baggage to the Cos- sacks. The unhappy Italians, wetted from head to foot, were compelled to pass a miserable night in bivouac upon the other side ; and many expired there, whose thoughts, when perishing so miser- ably, must have been on their own mild climate and delicious country. Next day, the shivering, half-nalced, and persecuted column reached Dowk- howtchina, where they expected some relief ; but their first welcome was from a fresh swarm of Cossacks, which rushed out from the gates with cannon. These were the advanced corps of the troops which had occupied Moscow, and were now pressing westward where their services were more necessary. Notwithstanding their opposition. Prince Eugene forced his way into the place with much gallantry, and took up quarters for the night. But having lost his baggage, the greater part of his artillery and ammunition, and with the utter destruction of his cavalry, lie saw no prospect of being able to march forward to Witepsk to support Oudinot, nor was he in a condition to have afforded him assistance, even if he had been in communication. In this situation of distress, the viceroy determined to rejoin the grand arm^-, and for that purpose marched upon Wlodimerowa, and from thence to Smolensk, where, harassed by the Cossacks, he arrived in a miserable condition upon the 13th of November, having fallen in with Mare'chal Ney, upon his march, as we shall afterwards mention. The Emperor, in the meantime, had halted at Stakawo, during the 3d and 4th November. On the 5th he slept at Dorogobuje. Oil the 6th November commenced that terrible Russian winter, of which the French had not yet experienced the hori'ors, although the weather had been cold, fi'osty, and threatening. No sun was visiide, and the dense and murky fog which hung on the marching column, was changed into a heavy fall of snow in large broad flakes, which at once chilled and blinded the soldiers. The march, how- ever, stumbled forward, the men struggling, and at last sinking, in the lioles and ravines which were concealed from them by the new and dis- guised appearance of the face of nature. Those who yet retained discipline and tlieii' ranks, stood some chance of receiving assistance ; but amid 580 SCOTFS MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1812 the mass of the stragglers, men's heai-ts, intent upon self-preservation, became hardened and closed against every feeling of sympathy and comjiassion, the sentiments of which are sometimes excluded by the selfishness of prosperity, but are almost always destroyed by the egotism of general aiid overwhelming misfortune. A stormy wind also began to arise, and whirl the snow from the earth, as well as that from the heavens, into dizzy eddies around the soldiers' heads. There wei"e many hurled to the earth in this manner, where the same snows furnished them with an instant grave, under which they were concealed until the next summer came, and displayed their ghastly remains in the open air. A great number of slight hillocks on each side of the road, intimated, in the mean- while, the fate of these unfortunate men.' There was only the word Smolensk, which, echoed from man to man, served as a talisman to keep up the spirits of the soldiers. The troops had been taught to rejieat that name, as indicating the ])Iace where they were once more to be wel- comed to plenty and repose. It was counted upon as a depot of stores for the army, especially of such supplies as they had outstripped by their forced nuirelies, first on Wilna, and afterwards on Moscow. They were now falling back, as was hoped and trusted, upon these resources, and con- tiimed their march with tolerable spirit, which even the snow-storm could not entirely depress. They reckoned also upon a reinforcement of 30,000 men under Victor, who wei'e waiting their arrival at Smolensk ; but a concourse of evil tid- ings had made the services of that division neces- sary elsewhere. On the same fatal Gth of November, Buonaparte received intelligence of two events, both of deep import, and which corresponded but too well with the storms around him. The one was the singular conspiracy of Mallet, so remarkable for its tempo- rary success, and its equally sudden discomfiture. This carried his mind to Paris, with the convic- tion that all could not be well with an empire where such an explosion could so nearly attain success."'' On the other hand, his thoughts were recalled to his present situation by the unpleasing intelligence that Witgensteiu had assumed the offensive, beaten St. Cyr, taken Polotsk and Witepsk, and re-occupied the whole line of the Dwina. Here was an unexpected obstacle to his retreat, which he endeavoured to remove by order- ing Victor to move from Smolensk with the divi- sion just mentioned, and instantly to drive Wit- gensteiu behind the Dwina ; not perhaps consider- ing, with sufficient accuracy, whether the force which his marshal commanded was equal to the task. Similar bad news came from other quarters. Four demi-brigades of recruits from France had arrived at Smolensk. Baraguay d'Hilliers, their general, had, by command from Buonaparte, sent forward these troops towards Ellnia, intimating at the time, that they should clear the road towards ' Labaume, p. 287; S^Rur, torn, ii , p. 160. 2 " I delivered the despatches to the Emperor. He opened tVie packet witli haste: a .t/OHfVcfo- was uppermost. He ran it over; the first article wliich caught his eye was tlie enterprise of Mallet: 'What is this! what! plots! conspiracies!' He lorf open hig lett.rs : they contained the detail of the at- tempt : he was thunderstruck."— Rapi-. p. 2.32. — " As soon as lie was alone with the most devoted of his ofticcrs, all his emo- Kalouga, by which last town he then expected the Emperor to approach Smolensk. As Napoleon was excluded from the Kalouga road, these troops, as no longer useful at Ellnia, ought to have been drawn back on Smolensk ; but Baraguay d'Hilliers had no certain information of tins change of route The consequence was, that the celebrated Russia»:i partisans, Orloff-Denizoff, Davidoff, Seslavin, and others, surprised these raw troops in their canton- ments, and made them all prisoners, to the number of better than two thousand men. Other detach- ments of the French about the same time fell inte the hands of the Russians. At length the longed-for Smolensk was visible At the sight of its strong walls and lofty towers, the whole stragglers of the army, which now- included treble the number of those who kept their ranks, rushed headlong to the place. But instead of giving them ready admission, their countrymen in the town shut the gates against them with hor- ror ; for their confused and irregular state, their wild, dirty, and unshaved appearance, their impa- tient cries for entrance — above all, their emaciated forms, and starved, yet ferocious aspects — made them to be regarded rather as banditti than sol- diers. At length, the Imperial Guards arrived and were admitted ; the miscellaneous crowd rushed in after them. To the guards, and some few others who had kept order, rations were regu- larly delivered ; but the mass of stragglers, being unable to give any account of themselves or thei? regiments, or to bring with them a responsible officer, died, many of them, while they besieged in vain the doors of the magazines. Such was the promised distriljution of food — the promised quar- ters were nowhere to be found. Smolensk, as is already recorded, had been burnt by the Russians, and no other covering was to be had than was afforded by miserable sheds, reared against such blackened walls as remained yet standing. But even this was shelter and repose, compared to the exposed bivouac on wreaths of snow ; and as the straggling soldiers were compelled by hunger to unite themselves once more with their regiments, they at length obtained their share in the regular distribution of rations, and an approach towards order and discipline began to prevail in the head- most division of the Grand Army of France. The central part of the army, under Davoust, who had relinquished the rear-guard to Ney, con- tinued to advance from Wiazma to Dorogobuje ; but at this point his distress became extreme, from the combined influence of the storm, the enemy, and the disheartened condition of men driven from their standards by want of food, searching for it in vain, and afterwards unable from weakness to resume their ranks. ]\Iany fell into the hands of tlie incensed peasants, by whom they were either killed, or stripped uaked and driven back to the high-road. The rear-guard, under Ney, suffered yet more than these. Every house had been burnt before their arrival, and their sufferings from the enemy tions burst forth at once in exclamations of astonishment hu- miliation, and anfjer. Presently after he sent for several others, to observe the effect which so extraordinary a piece of intelligence would produce upon them.. He perceived a pain- ful uneasiness, consternation, and confidence in the stability of his government completely shaken." — SEora. torn, ii., p. 161. 1812.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 587 were tlie severer, that they wore the last Frcncli whom tliey had to work their revenge upon. Yet Ney continued to evince a degree of personal firmness and resolution which has been I'arely wit- nessed. At the passage of the Dnieper, he was attacked by the enemy, and all was nearly lost in one general confusion, when the JMartciial, seizing a musket to encourage the few men who could be brought to act, succeeded, against all the hopes of the Russians, and equally against the despairing calculations of the French, in bringing over a part of his rear-guard. But he lost on this fatal spot a great part of his artillery, and a great number of liis soldiers. We can give only one unvarying sketch of Ney's dreadful retreat. On every point he was attacked by the same wasting, wearying warfare, and every cessation from fighting was necessarily employed in pushing forward towards Smolensk, which he was approaching on the 13th of November, when suddenly the hills to his left were covered with a disorderly mob of fugitives, whom a band of Cossacks were pursuing and slaughtering at pleasure. Having succeeded in dispersing the Cossacks, the next ap[)arition was tliat of the army of Italy, to which the flying stragglers belonged. This corps d'arme'e was on its return, as the reader is aware, from Dowk- howtchina towards Smolensk, and was, as usual, severely pushed at every step by the Cossacks. The passage of the Wop had stripped the soldiers of baggage, provisions such as they had, and artil- lery and cavalry. They kept their march, how- ever, with sufficient regularity. It was only the stragglers whom the Cossacks cliased before them, and wounded, took, and slew at pleasure. These wretched fugitives no sooner saw Ney's army, than they flew to shelter themselves under its protection, and by doing so communicated their own terror to the Ware'ehal's ranks. All, both stragglers and soldiers, began to hurry towards the Dnieper, over which was a bridge, which their numbers soon choked up. Great loss was sustained, until Eugene and the indefatigable Ney again pre- sented a defensive front, and repelled the assail- ants, who had again gathered around them. They were so near Smolensk, that Napoleon coidd send them refreshments and succour during the action. The viceroy and Ney at length extricated them- selves from their persecutors, and entered Smo- lensk, where Davoust had before found refuge. Napoleon allowed his army, which was now en- tirely collected, five days to consume such supplies as were to be found in the place, and to prepare for the terrors of a farther retreat. But though such a delay was indispensable, tlie evil news which continued to arrive from every quarter, positively prohibited his prolonging this period of repose.' It is now necessary to trace more particularly the meidents which had taken place on the extreme flanks of Napoleon's line of advance, on both of which, as we have already intimated, the Rus- sians, powerfully reinforced, had assumed the offensive, with the apparent purpose of forming a communication with each other, and acting in conjunction, to intercept the retreat of the grand army. 1 Jomini, torn, iv., p. 11)6; Rapp, p. 239; Sffjur, torn, ii., p. 16a. Upon the 18th of August, St. Cyr having beaten Witgenstcin, and taken Polotsk, the war had lan- guished in that quarter. The Fi'ench army lay in an intrenched camp, well secured with barracks for shelter, and fortifications for defence. But in the partisan war which they carried on for two months, St. Cyr's army sustained great loss, while that of Witgenstein was more than doubled by the arri- val of recruits. Finally, General Steingel, wit!i two divisions of the Russian army from Finland, amounting to 15,000, landed at Riga, and after some inefficient movements against Macdonald, marched to the support of Witgenstein. The Russian general, thus reinforced, began to act on the offensive with great vigour. On the 17th of October, the French outposts were driven into their intrenched camp at Polotsk. On the 1 8tli the camp itself was furiously attacked, and the redoubts by which it was protected were taken and retaken several times. The French remained in possession of them, but St. Cyr was wounded, and his situation became very precarious. In fact, tlie next day, 19th October, the attack was renewed by Witgenstein on the right bank of the Dwina, while Steingel, advancing up the opposite bank, threatened to occupy Polotsk and its bridge, and thus to enclose St. Cyr in the intrenched camp. Fortunately for the French general, night and a thick mist enabled him to cross the river to the left bank, and thus to effect a retreat, which Steingel was unable to prevent. But besides the disasters of the loss of the camp, and of the important place of Polotsk, which the Russians occupied on the '20th October, discord broke out between the Bavarian General Wreile and St. Cyr. When the latter was wounded, the command naturally devolved in course upon the Bavarian ; but the other French generals refused to submit to this substitution, and St. Cyr was obliged, in spite of his wounds, to con- tinue to act as conunander-in-chief. Wrede, in the meanwhile, assumed an independence of movement quite unusual in an auxiliary general, who was act- ing with a French marcchal ; and, separating alto- gether from St. Cyr, fell back upon Vileika, near Wilna, and withdrew himself from action entirely. The French division must have been cut off", had not Victor, who was then lying at Smolensk with a covering army of 25,000 men, received, as lately mentioned. Napoleon's orders, despatched on the Gth November, to advance and reinforce St. Cyr, who thus became once more superior to Wit- genstein. Victor was under orders, however, to run no unnecessary risk, but to keep as far as possible on the defensive ; because it was to this army, and that under Schwartzenberg, that Napoleon in a great measure trusted to clear the way for his re- treat, and prevent his being intercepted ere he gained the Polish frontiers. But when Witgen- stein, even in the presence of Victor, took Wi- tepsk,and began to establish himself on the Dwina, Napoleon caused Oudinot, as a more enterprising soldier, to replace the Duke of Belluuo ; and or- dered Eugene to move from Wiazma to Dowk- howtchina, for the purpose of reinforcing that army. Eugene's march, as we have formerly shown, was rendered useless, by his misfortune at crossing the river Wo]) ; and he was compelled to move towards Smolensk, where he arrived in a most dilapidated condition. In the meantime, Witgenstcin received rein- }88 SCOTT'S SnSCELLAXEOUS PROSE T70RKS. [1812. forcemeu ts, and not only kept Oudinot in complete check, but gradually advanced towards Borizoff, and threatened at that town, which lay directly in the course of Napoleon's retreat, to form a junction with the army of the Danube, whieii was marching northward with the siinie purjiose of co-operation, and to the movements of which we have now to direct the reader's attention. It has been mentioned, that General Tormasoff had, on the 12th of August, been defeated at Go- rodeczno by the Austrians under Sch\\artzenberg, and the French under Regnier, and that the Rus- sians had fallen back beyond the Styr. Schwart- zenberg, satisfied with this advantage, showed no vehement desire to complete the disaster of his enemy. The French go nigh to bring an accusa- tion against him of treachery, which we do not believe. But his heart was not in tlie war. He was conscious, that the success of Alexander would improve the condition of Austria, as well as of Europe in general, and he fought no harder than was absolutely necessary to sustain the part of a general of an auxiliary army, who felt by no means disposed to assume the character of a principal combatant. While Tormasoff and the Austrians watched each other upon the Styr, two smaller corps of Russians and Poles were making demonstrations in the same country. Prince Bagration, upon re- treating from the banks of the Dwina, had not altogether deprived that neighbourhood of Russian troops. At Bobruisk he had left a considerable garrison, which had been blockaded first by the French cavalry under Latour Alaubourg, and af- terwards, when ilaubourg was summoned to join Napoleon, by the Polish General Dombrowski. The garrison was supported by a Russian corps under General Ertell. It was an instance of Na- poleon's extreme unwillingness to credit any thing that contradicted his wishes, that he persisted in believing, or desiring to have it believed, that the Russians on this point, which commanded still an access from Russia to Poland, were inferior to the Poles, whom he had opposed to them ; and while Dombrowski was acting against Ertell, he over- whelmed the embai-rassed general with repeated orders to attack and destroy the enemy, before whom he could scarce maintain his ground. The armies were thus occupied, when Admiral Tcliitchagoff, with 50,000 Russians, whom the peace with the Turks permitted to leave Moldavia, advanced upon Volhynia, with the purpose of co- operating with Tormasoff and Ertell ; and, finally, of acting in combination with Witgenstein, for intercepting Buonaparte's retreat. On the 14th September, this important junction betwixt the armies of Tormasoff and Tchitchagoff was effected ; and the Russian army, increased to 60,000 men, became superior to all the force, whe- ther of French, Austrians, or Poles, which could be opposed to them. They crossed the Styr, and moved forward on the duchy of Warsaw, while Schwartzenberg, not without loss, retreated to the banks of the Bug. His pursuei-s might have pressed on him still closer, but for the arrival of Prince Czernicheff, the aide-de-camp of the Em- peror, who, escorted by a body of chosen Cossacks, had executed a perilous march in order to bring fresh ordei-s to Tormasoff and Tchitchagoff. The former was directed to reoair to the grand army. to occupy the situation formerly held by Prince Bagration, while the command of the united Vol- hynian army was devolved upon Admiral Tchi- tchagoff, who, to judge by subsequent events, doea not seem to have been, on great emergencies, very well fitted for so important a trust. Prince Czernicheff then set out with his band of Scythians, to carry to the army of Witgenstein tidings of the purposes and movements of that of Moldavia. The direct course between the Rus- sian armies was held by the Franco- Austrian ar- my. To escape this obstacle, Czernicheff took liis course westwards, and, penetrating deep into Po- land, made so long a circuit, as completely to turn the whole army of Schwartzenberg. Marching with extraordinary despatch through the wildest and most secret paths, he traversed the interior of Poland, avoiding at once the unfriendly population and the numerous detachments of the enemy, and sustaining his cavalry, horses and men, in a way in which none but Cossacks, and Cossack horses, could have supported existence. We have good evi- dence, that this flying party, on one occasion, tra- velled nearly 100 English miles in twenty-four hours. This extraordinary expedition was marked by a peculiar and pleasing circumstance. The reader must recollect the capture of the German General Winzengerode before the Kremlin, and the unge nerous manner in which Buonaparte expressed himself to that officer. Winzengerode, with an- other Russian general, were despatched, under a suitable guard, from Moscow to Wilna, in order to their being sent from thence to Paris, where the presence of two captives of such distinction might somewhat gild the gloomy news which the Empe- ror was imder the necessity' of transmitting from Russia. When Winzengerode was prosecuting his melancholy and involuntary journey, far ad- vanced into Poland, and out of all hope either of relief or escape, he saw by the side of a wood a figure, which retreated so suddenly as hardly gave even his experienced eye time to recognise a Cos- sack's cap and lance. A ray of hope was awakened, which was changed into certainty, as a band of Cossacks, bursting from the wood, overcame the guard, and delivered the prisoners. Czernicheff pro- ceeded successfully on his expedition, embellished by this agreeable incident, and moving eastward with the same speed, sagacity, and successful en- terprise, joined Witgenstein's army, then lying between Witepsk' and Tchakniki, with communi- cations from the Jloldaviau army, and directions how Witgenstein was to co-operate with them in the intended plan of cutting off Napoleon's retm-a to Poland. In virtue of the orders which he had received, Tchitchagoff advanced upon Schwartzenberg, from whom Napoleon might have first expected the service of a covering army, so soon as his broken and diminished troops should approach Poland. But when Tchitchagoff appeared In force, this Franco-Austrian, or rather Austro-Saxon army, was, after some skirmishing, compelled to retire behind the Bug. The admiral left General Sacken, a brave and active officer, to observe Schwartzen- berg and Regnier, and keep them at least in check, w hile he himself retrograded towards the Beresina; where he expected to be able to intercept Buona^ parte. 1812.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 589 Tchitcb.agoff succeeded, on the 14th November, hi occupying Minsk ; a most essential conqnest at the nioniont, for it contained a very large propor- tion of those stores which had been destined to relieve the grand army, or rather its remains, so soou as they should approach Poland. This suc- cess was followed by another equally important. Count Lambert, one of Tchitchagoffs generals, marched against Borizoff, situated on tlie Bere- sina, at the very point where it was probable that Napoleon would be desirous to effect a passage. The vaHant Polish General Dombrowski hastened to defend a place, in the loss of which the Empe- ror's safety must stand completely compromised. Tlie battle began about daybreak on the 21st No- vember, and, after severe fighting, Lambert ob- tained possession of Borizoff, after a victory, in which Dombrowski lost eight cannon, and 2500 prisoners. The Admiral Tchitchagoff removed his headquarters thither, as directed by the com- bined plan for farther operations. Wliile Tcliitchagoff marched eastward to his place of destination on the Beresina, Sacken, whom he had left in Volhynia, sensible of the importance of the service destined for the admiral, made every exertion to draw the whole attention of Schwartzenberg and Regnier upon himself. In this daring and generous sclieme he completely succeeded. As the forces of the Austrian and the French generals were separated from each other, Sacken marched against Regnier, and not only surprised, but nearly made him prisoner. Nothing could have saved Regnier from destruction, except the alertness with which Schwartzenberg came to his assistance. The Austrian, with strong rein- forcements, arrived nearly in the moment when his presence must have annihilated Sacken, who, not aware of the Austrians being so near, had, on the loth November, engaged in a serious action with R(>gnier near Wolkowitz. The Russian suf- fered considerable loss, and effected a reti-eat with difficulty. He concentrated his army, however, and continued his retreat from point to point upon the position of Brzest, from which he had com- menced his advance. In this manner, Sacken with- drew the attention of Schwartzenberg and the Austro-Saxon army to the banks of the Bug, at a moment when it ought to have been riveted on the decisive scenes which were about to take place on those of the Beresina.' The French writei's complain of the Austrian general on tliis occasion. They cannot deny that Schwartzenberg was active and victorious; but they complain tliat his activity exerted itself in a quarter which could not greatly affect the issue of the campaign. Some tacticians account for this, by supposing tliat his secret instructions, given wlien the Emperor of Austria could not foresee that the j)ersonal safety of his son-in-law would be implicated, prohibited Schwartzenberg to extend his military operations beyond Vi)lhynia and Li- thuania. From these details, it appears tliat Fortune was bending her blackest and most ominous frowns on the favourite of so many yeai's. Napoleon was quartered, with the wretched rehcs of his grand • Jtmini, tcm. iv., p. I'M; Twenty-cislitli Bulletin of the Grand Army; Se^ur, torn, ii., p. 101^(12. Z '• N.ipoleoii arrived at Smolensk on tlic 9th of N'ovembcr, army, amid the ruins of the bunit town of Smo- lensk, in which he could not remain, although hia means of escape appeared almost utterly desperate .- The grand army of the Russians waited on his flank to assault his columns the instant they wero in motion ; and should he escape a pursuing enemy, all the Polish towns in the front, where supplies had been provided for his relief, had been taken, and the two large armies of Tchitchagoff and Wit- gcnstein lay in position on the Beresina to inter- cept him. Hemmed in betwixt pursuers, and those who, in sportsman's phrase, were stationed to head him back, destitute of cavalry to oppose the nations of Cossacks which infested every motion, and having but little artillery to oppose to that of the Russians, all probability of escape seemed re- moved to an immeasurable distance. CHAPTER LXII. Napoleon divides his Army into four Corps, which leave Smolensk on their retreat tojcards Poland — Cautious proceedings of Koutousoff — The Vice- roy^s division is attacked by Miloradoicitch, and effects a junction Kith Napoleon at Krasnoi,nftei severe loss — Koutousoff attacks the French at Krasnoi, but only by a distaiit cannonade — The division under JJavoust is reunited to Napoleon, but in a miserable state — Napoleon marches to Liady ; and Mortier and Daroust are attacked, and suffer heavy loss — Details of the retreat of Ney — He crosses the Losmina, with yreat loss of men and baggaye, and joins Napoleon at Orcsa, uith his division reduced to 1500 men — The ichole Grand Army is now reduced to 12,000 effective men, besides 30,000 stragglers — Dreadful distress and diffculties of Buonaparte and his Army — • Singtdar scene betwixt Nap>oleon and Duroc and Daru — Napoleon mores toirards Borizoff, and falls in tvith the corps of Victor and Oudinot — ■ Koutousoff halts at Kopyn, without attacking Buonapiarte — A^apoleon crosses the Beresina at ,'roceed thither rapidly with his old ^uard. in ordci to occupy the iiassa|;e. Then, with his heart full of Ney's mis- fortunes, and desiian- at beiiiH forced to abandon him, he with- drew slowly towards Liady. '—Skuir, tom. ii , p. 227. 3 " Napoleon marched on foot at the head of his guard, and often talked of Ney; he called to mind his foi, p. 2-12. 592 SCOTT'S MISCELLA^^EOUS PROSE WORKS. 1812. whole Russian army betwixt himself and Napo- leon. The retreat of that celebrated soldier must next be narrated. On the 17th of November, Ney, last of the invad- ing army, left Smolensk at the head of 7 or 8000 fighting men, leaving behind 5000 sick and wound- ed, and dragging along with them the remaining stragglers whom the cannon of Platoff, who entered the town immediately on Ney's departure, had compelled to i-esume their march. They advanced without much interruption till they reached the field of battle of Krasnoi, where they saw all the relics of a bloody action, and heaps of dead, fi-om whose dress and appearance they could recognise the different corps in which they had served in Napoleon's army, thougli there was no one to tell the fate of the survivors. They had not proceeded much farther beyond this fatal spot, when they ap- proached the banks of the Losmina, where all had been prepared at leisure for their reception. Milo- radowitch lay here at the head of a great force ; and a thick mist, which covered the ground, occasioned Ney's column to advance under the Russian bat- teries before being aware of the danger. A single Russian officer appeared, and invited Ney to capitulate. " A Mare'chal of France never sun-enders," answered that intrepid general. The officer retired, and the Russian batteries opened a fire of grape-shot, at the distance of only 250 yards, while at the concussion the mist arose, and showed the devoted column of French, with a ravine in front manned by their enemies, subjected on every side to a fire of artillery, while the hills were black with the Russian troops placed to support their guns. Far from losing heart in so perilous a situ- ation, the French Guards, with rare intrepidity, forced their way through the ravine of the Losmina, and rushed with the utmost fury on the Russian batteries. They were, however, charged in their tm-n with the bayonet, and such as had crossed the stream suffered dreadfully. In spite of this failure, Ney persevered in the attempt to cut his passage by main force through this superior body of Russians, who lay opposed to him in front. Again the French advanced upon the cannon, losing whole ranks, which were supplied by their comrades as fast as they fell. The assault was once more unsuccessful, and Ney, seeing that the general fate of his column was no longer doubtful, endeavoured at least to save a part from the wreck. Having selected about 4000 of the best men, he separated himself from the rest, and set forth under shelter of the night, moving to the rear, as if about to return to Smo- lensk. This, indeed, was the only road open to him, but he did not pursue it long ; for as soon as he reached a rivulet, which had the appearance of being one of the feeders of the Dnieper, he adopted it for his guide to the banks of that river, which he reached in safety near the village of Syrokovenia. Here he found a single place in the river frozen over, though the ice was so thin that it bent beneath the steps of the soldiers. Three hours were permitted, to allow stragglers from the column during the night-march to rally at this place, should their good fortune enable them to find it. These three hours Ney spent in 1 " When Napoleon heard tliat Ney had just reappeared, tie leaped and snouted for joy, and exclaimed, ' I have then euved my cap lee' I would have given three hundred millions profound sleep, lying on the banks of the river, and wrapped up in his cloak. When the stipulated time had elapsed, the passage to the other side began and continued, although the motion of the ice, and the awful sound of its splitting into large cracks, prevented more than one from crossing at once. The waggons, some loaded with sick and wounded, last attempted to pass ; but the ice broke with them, and the heavy plunge and stifled moan- ing, apprised their companions of their fate. The Cossacks, as usual, speedily appeared in the rear, gleaned up some hundreds of prisoners, and took possession of the artillery and baggage. Ney had thus put the Dnieper betwixt him and the regulars of the Russian army, by a retreat which has few parallels in military history. But he had not escaped the Cossacks, who were spread abroad over the face of the country, and soon assembled around the remains of his column, with their light artillery and long lances. By these enemies they were several times placed in the , utmost jeopardy ; nevertheless, at the head of a I'educed band of 1 500 men, the mare'chal fought his way to Orcsa, to which town Napoleon had removed from Liady, having crossed the Dnieper. Ney arrived on the 20th November, and found Eugene, Mortier, and Davoust. The Emperor was two leagues in advance when they met. Na- ])oleon hailed Ney with the inidisputed title, the Bravest of the Brave, and declared he would have given all his treasures to be assured of his ex- istence.' His comrades hastened to welcome and to I'elieve him, and being now in Poland, provi- sions and accommodation had become more plenty among thcm.^ All Napoleon's grand army was now imited. But the whole, which had at Smolensk amounted to 40,000, consisted now of scarcely 12,000 men who retained the name and discijiline of soldiers, so much had want and the sword thinned the ranks of these invincible legions. There were besides, perhaps 30,000 stragglers of every description, but these added little or nothing to the strength of the army ; and only served to encumber its numbers, as they were under no discipline, but plundered the country without mercy. At this dreadful crisis, too. Napoleon had the mortification to learn the fall of Minsk, and the retreat of Schwartzenberg to cover Warsaw, which, of course, left him no hopes of receiving succour from the Austrians. He heard also that Victor and Oudinot had quarrelled in what manner Witgenstein should be attacked, and had on that account left him unattacked on any point. That general was therefore at freedom to threaten the left of the grand army, should it remain long on the Dnieper; while KoutousofF might resume, at his pleasure, his old station on Napoleon's left, and Tchitchagoff might occupy the Beresina in his front. In the bitterness of his heart the Em- peror exclaimed, " Thus it befalls, when we com- mit faults upon faults."' Minsk being out of the question, Napoleon's next point of direction was Borizoff. Here there was, over the Beresina, a bridge of 300 fathoms in length, the possession of which appeared essential from my treasury sooner than have lost sucli a man.'"— Segur, torn, ii., p. 2t>8; Jomini, torn, iv., p ]!KJ. 2 Jomini, torn, iv., p. 199 ; S^ur, torn, ii., pp. 245-2fi(>. 3 Scfiur, torn, ii., p. 273. 1812.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 593 to his final escape from Russia. But \>liile Napo- leon was considering what should be his next movement, after crossing the Beresina at Borizoff, he was once more .surprised with tlie additional evil tidings, that this town also, with the bridge 60 necessary to him, was lost ; that BorizofF was taken, as formerly mentioned, and Donibi'owski defeated under its walls. " Is it tliLMi written," he said, looking upwards and striking the earth with his cane, '■' Is it written, that we sliall commit no- thing but errors !" About the same gloomy period, Se'gur relates the following anecdote : — Napoleon had stretched himself on a couch, and apparently slumbered, while his faithful servants, Duroc and Daru, sitting in his apartment, talked over their critical situation. In their whispered conversation, the words " pri- soner of state," reached the sleepless car of Napo- leon. " How!" said he, raising himself, " do you think they would dare?"— In answer, Daru men- tioned the phrase, well known to the Emperor, of state policy, as a thing independent of public law or of morality. " But France," said the Emperoi', to whom state policy sounded at present less plea- santly than when it was appealed to for deciding some great movement of his own — " what will France say?" — " Who can answer that question, Sire?" continued Duroc; but added, " it was his warmest wish that the Emperor, at least, could reach France, were it through the air, if earth were stopped against his passage." — " Then I am in your way, I suppose?" said the Emperor. The reply was affirmative. " And you," continued the Eni- pei'or, with an affectation of ti'eating the matter lightly, " have no wish to become a prisoner of state ? " — " To be a prisoner of war is sufficient for me," said Daru. Napoleon was silent for a time ; then asked if the reports of his ministers were burnt. — " Not yet," was the reply.- — " Then let them be destroyed," he continued ; " for it must be confessed we are in a most lamentable con- dition." * This was the strongest sign he had yet given, of Napoleon's deep feeling of the situation to which he had reduced himself. In studying the map, to dis- cover the fittest place to pass the Beresina, he approached his finger to the country of the Cos- sacks, and was heard to murmur, " Ah, Charles XII. ; Pultawa." But these were only the mo- mentary ejaculations dictated by a sense of his con- dition ; all his resolutions were calmly and firmly taken, with a sense of what was due to himself and to his followers.^ It was finally determined, that, in despite of Tchitcliagoff and his army, which occupied the left bank, the passage of the Beresina should be attempted, at a place above Borizoff called Studzi- anka, where the stream vvas only fifty-five fathoms across, and six feet deep. There were heights, it is true, on the opposite bank, surrounding a piece of meadow ground, and these the adventui-ers must look to find strongly occupied ; so that those who ' " Napoleon's conndeiice increased witli his peril ; in liis eyes, and in tlie midst of these deserts of mud and ice, that handful of men was always the jjrand army! and himself the conqueror of Europe! and there was no infatuation in this firmness: we were certain of it, when, in this very town, we Baw him burning with liis own liands every thing bilniiftinR to him which miuht serve as trophies to the enemy, in the event of his fall. There also were unfortunately consumed all the papers which he had collected in order to write the history of his life ; for such was his intention when he set out for tliat VOL. 11. adventured on the passage must expect to land in that marshy meadow, under a heavy fire from that position. Lastly, this perilous attempt must, in all probability, be made in the very teeth of the Mol- davian army. With Napoleon's ten or twelve thousand fighting men, and twice or three times the number of disorderly stragglers, the attempt to force such a passage would have been utter insanity. But the star of Napoleon had not yet set. The first dawn of reviving fortune was marked by the success of Victor and Oudinot. They were advancing with the hope of saving Borizoff, when they received intelligence that Dombrowski was routed by Witgenstein, and that the fragments of the Polish corps were close at hand, followed by the victorious Bussians. Oudinot instantly gathered the scattered Poles under his protection, and mov- ing on to meet the Russian advanced guard, they drove them back with considerable loss. Witgen- stein, in consequence of this check, found himself obliged to abandon Borizoff", and once more to place the Beresina betwixt himself and the French. But in repassing that river, he took care to destroy the bridge at Borizoff, so that the town, though secured by the French, was no longer useful to them as a place of passage, and the Emperor, when he learned the news, was still compelled to abide by the plan of crossing, as he best could, at Studzianka. The task was rendered more easy, by the prospect of his scattered and broken army being reinforced by the troops of Victor and Ou- dinot, who were on the same side of the fatal river with himself, and might form an immediate junc- tion with him. Meantime, as a preparation for the march, the Emperor limited all the officers, even of the highest rank, to one carriage ; and ordered one half of the waggons to be destroyed, that all the horses and draught-oxen might be applied to getting forward the ammunition and artillery. There is reason to think these commands were very imperfectly obeyed. Another order, marking strongly the exigencies of the time, respected such officers as still retained their horses. The cavalry, under Latour Maubourg, had, since leaving Smolensk, been reduced from 1800 to 150. To supply this deficiency, about 500 officers, all who remained mounted, were formed into a body called the Sacred Squadron, to attend upon the Emperor's person. Grouchy and Sebas- tiani had the command of this body, in which offi- cers formed the privates, and generals of division served as captains. But it was not long ere fatigue and want of forage, no respecters of rank or coji- dition, dismounted the greater part of the Sacred Squadron.^ The army thus in some small degree re-organised, and refreshed by the better quartei-s and nouri.'-h- ment which they had received since the battle of Krasnoi, now plunged into the immen.se pine foiv&ta which conceal the course of the Beresina, to dis- guise tlicir adventurous march the more completely from the enemy. They were moving towards fatal war. He had then determined to halt as a threatening conqueroron the borders of the Dwina and the Borislheiies, to wliicli he now returned as a disarmed fugitive. At that time lie rej^arded the ennui of six winter immths, which he would have been detained on these rivers as his f;reatest enemy ; and to overcome it, this second Ca>sar intended there to have dic- tated his Commentaries."— Seuur, torn, ii., p. '23i. 2 Sef!ur, torn, ii., p. 27«. 3 Scgur, torn, ii., p. 202. 2Q 594 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1812 Borizoff, when loud shouts from the forest at first spread confusion among their ranks, under the idea of an unexpected attack ; but this fear was soon changed into joy, when they found themselves on the point of uniting with the army of Victor and Oudinot, amounting to 50,000 men, complete and provided with every thing. Yet whatever the joy on the part of the grand army, it was at least equalled by the astonishment of their comrades, when they recognised the remains of the innume- rable liost which had left them in such splendid equipment, and now returned in the guise, and with the gait and manner, of specti-es raised from a churchyard. They filed past their happier com- I'ades with squalid countenances, their uniform re- placed by women's pelisses, or what various rags each could jjick up ; their feet bare and bleeding, or pi-otected by bundles of filthy rags instead of shoes. All discipline seemed gone ; the officer gave no command, the soldier obeyed none. A sense of common danger led them to keep together and to struggle forward, and mutual fatigue made them take repose by the same fires ; but what else they had learned of discipline was practised rather by instinct than by duty, and in many cases was altogether forgotten. ^ The army of the two Mareclials, however, though scarce recovered from their astonishment, joined the ranks of the grand army, and, as if disorder had been infectious, very soon showed a disposition to get rid of that military disci])line, which their new associates had flung aside.— Leaving Napoleon on his advance to the river, it is now necessary to notice the motions of the Russians. The glory and the trophies of the marcli of the grand army had been enough entirely to satisfy Koutousoff. They were indeed sufficient to gorge such a limited ambition as that general might be supposed to possess at his advanced age, when men are usually more bent on saving than on winning. From the 15th to the 19th November, the Rus- sians had obtained possession of 228 guns, had made 26,000 prisoners, of whom 300 were officers, besides 10,000 men slain in battle, or destroyed by fatigue. Satisfied witli such advantages, the cau- tious veteran proceeded by short journeys to Kopyn, on the Dnieper, without crossing that river, or attempting to second the defence of the Beresina by an attack on the rear of the enemy. It is true, that the Russian army had sustained great losses ; not less, it was said, than 30,000 sick and wounded, were for the present unable to serve, although the greater part of them afterwards re- covered. It is no less true, that the Russian sol- diers suffered greatly from want of hospitals, being unprovided for a struggle on such an extensive scale as Napoleon's invasion gave rise to. Nor can it be denied that Koutousoff's minute attention to the proper providing of his army with all neces- saries was highly laudable. Yet we must still be ' Pemir, torn, ii., p. 283. - " Tlie Emperor came out from his barrack, cast his eves on the otlier side of the river. ' I have outwitted the admiral ' (he could not pronounce the name Tchitchagoff ;) ' he believes nie to be at the point where I ordered the false attack ; he is running to Borizoff.' His eyes sparkled with joy and impa- tience ; he urged the erection of the bridges, and mounted twenty pieces of cannon in batterv. These were commanded by a brave officer with a wooden leg, called Brechtel ; a ball ear- ned it off during the action, and knocked him down. 'Look,' he said, to one uf his gunners, ' for another leg in waggon, No. 6. He fitted it on, and continued his firing." — Rapp, p. 246. of opinion, that an object so important as the cap- ture of Buonaparte and the destruction of his army, would have vindicated, even if the soldier himself had been appealed to, two or three forced marches, with the hardships attending them. Such, how- ever, was not Koutousoff's opinion ; he halted at Kopyn, and contented himself with despatching his Cossacks and light troops to annoy Napoleon's rear. The danger not being pressing on the part of the grand army of Russia, Napoleon had only to apprehend the opposition of Tchitchagoff, whose army, about 35,000 men in all, was posted along the Beresina to oppose the passage of Buonaparte wherever it should be attempted. Unfortunately, the admiral was one of an ordinary description of people, who, having* once determined in their own mind, that an adversary entertains a particular design, proceed to act upon that belief as an abso- lute certainty, and can rarely be brought to reason on the possibility of his having any other purpose. Thus, taking it for granted that Napoleon's attempt to cross the Beresina would take place below Bori- zoff, Tchitchagoff' could not be persuaded that the passage might be as well essayed above that town. Napoleon, by various inquiries and reports trans- mitted through the Jews, who, for money, served as spies on both sides, contrived to strengthen Tchitchagoff in the belief that he was only design- ing a feint upon Studzianka, in order to withdraw the attention of the Russians from the Lower Bere- sina. Never was a stratagem more successful. '■* On the very day when Napoleon prepared for the passage at Studzianka, Tchitchagoff, instead oi noticing what was going forward above Borizoff, not only marched down the river with all the forces under his own immediate command, but issued ordei-s to the division of Tschaplitz, which amount- ed to six thousand men, and at present watched the very spot wliei-e Napoleon meant to erect his bridges, to leave that position, and follow him in the same direction. These were the very orders which Buonaparte would have dictated to the Russian leader, if he had had his choice. When the French arrived at Studzianka, their first business was to prepare two bridges, a woi'k which was attended with much danger and diffi- culty. They laboured by night, expecting in the morning to be saluted with a cannonade from the Russian detachment under Tschaplitz, which oc- cupied the heights already mentioned, on the oppo- site bank. The French generals, and particularly Murat, considered the peril as so eminent, that they wished Buonaparte to commit himself to tlie faith of some Poles who knew the coimtry, and leave the army to their fate; but Napoleon rejected the proposal as unworthy of him.s All night the French laboured at the bridges, which were yet but little advanced, and might have been easily demolished by the artillery of the Russians. But 3 " Ney took me apart : he said to me in German, ' Our si- tuation is unparalleled ; if Napoleon extricates himself to-day, he must have the devil in him.' We were very uneasy, and there was sufticicnt cause. Murat came to us, and was not less solicitous. ' I have proposed to Napoleon,' he observed to us, ' to save himself, and cross the river at a few leagues distance from hence. I have some Poles who would answer for his safety, and would conduct him to Wilna, but he rejects the proposal, and will not even hear it mentioned. As for me, I do not think we can escape.' We were all three of the same oi>inion." — Rapp, p. 245. 1812.J LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 59j what was the joy and surprise of the French to Bce, with the earliest beams of the nioriiinjj, that artillery, and those Russians in full march, re- treating from their position ! Availing himself of their disappearance, Buonaparte threw across a body of men who swam their horses over the river, with each a voltigeur behind him. Thus a fooling was gained on the other bank of this perilous Btream. Great part of Victor's army had moved lip the river towards Studzianka, while the Last division lay still at Borizoff, of which town that inartchal had possession. This constituted a rear- guard to protect the army of Napoleon during the critical moment of its passage, from the interrup- tion which might be expected from the corps of Witgenstein. During the 26tli and STth, Napoleon pushed troops across the river, those of Oudinot forming the advance ; and was soon so secure, that Tscha- plitz, discovering his error, and moving back to regain his important position at Studzianka, found the French too strongly posted oil the left bank of the Beresina, for his regaining the opportunity which he had lost. He halted, therefore, at Stak- liowa, and waited for reinforcements and orders. Meanwhile, the passage of the Beresina continued, slowly indeed, for the number of stragglers and tlie quantity of baggage was immense ; yet by noon Napoleon and his guards had crossed tlie river.' Victor, whose division constituted the rear- guard of the grand army, had relieved the Impe- rial Guards in their post on the left bank ; and Partouneaux, who formed the rear of the whole army, was moving from Borizoff, where he had been stationed witTi the purpose of fixing the ene- my's attention upon the spot. No sooner had he left the town than it was again in the hands of the Russians, being instantly occupied by PlatofF. But the indefatigable Witgenstein was in mo- tion on the left bank, pressing forward as Victor closed up towards Napoleon; and, throwing himself betwixt Studzianka and Borizoff, on a plain called Staroi- Borizoff, he cut off Partouneaux's division from the rest of the French army.. That general made a gallant resistance, and attempted to foi-ce his way at the sword's point through the troops opposed to him. At length the Hettraan Platoff, and the Russian partisan Seslawin, coming up, the French general found himself entirely over- powered, and after a brave resistance laid down liis arms. Three generals, with artillery, and ac- cording to the Russian accounts, about 7000 men, fell into the hands of the Russians — a prize the more valuable, as the prisoners belonged chiefly to the unbroken and unexhausted division of Victor, and comprehended 800 fine cavah-y in good order.^ To improve this advantage, the Russians threw a bridge of pontoons across the Beresina at Bori- zoff, and Tchitchagoff and Witgenstein having communicated, resolved on a joint attack upon both banks of the river at once. With this pur- pose, upon the 28th of November, Admiral Tchi- tchagoff moved to Stakhowa, upon the right bank, to reinforce TschapUtz,and assault that part of the 1 " When Napoleon saw them fairly in possession of the opposite bank, he exclaimed, ' Beliold my star.isain appear!' for he was a stroof; believer in fatality."— Segur, t an. ii., p. 295. 2 " Napoleon was deeply affected with so unexpected a m-tfortune— ' Must this loss come to spoil all after h.ivin;; French army which had crossed the Beresina : and Witgenstein with PlatofF marched towards Stud- zianka, to destroy the Emperor's rear-guard, which no exertion on the part of Napoleon or liis gene- rals had yet been able to get across the river. Thus, the extraordinary good fortune of finding a place of passage, and of being enabled by an un- common chance to complete his bridges without opposition, was so far from placing Napoleon in safety, that his dangers seemed only to multiply around him. But yet upon his side of the river, now the right bank, his own presence of mind, and the bravery of his soldiers, gave him a decided superiority, and the tardiness, to say the least, of Tchitchagoff's motions, insured his safety. Tschaplitz, who seems to have been a brave and active officer, commenced the battle by advancing from Stakhowa. But he was worsted by the French, who were supei'ior in numbers, and he received no succours from the admiral, though re- peatedly demanded.' In this manner were the French enabled to force their way towards a vil- lage called Brelowau, through deep morasses, and over long bridges or railways, formed of the trunks of pine-trees, where a bold attack might have ren- dered their advance impossible. The least exer- tion on the part of Tchitchagoff might have caused these bridges to be burnt ; and as combustibles were laid ready for the purpose, it required but, according to S^gur's expression, a spark from the pipe of a Cossack, to have set them on fire. The destruction of this railway, enclosing the French between the morass and the river, must have ren- dered the passage of the Beresina entirely useless. But it was not so decreed ; and the French, under Oudinot, were enabled to preserve the means of a movement so essential to their safety. Meanwhile, the scene on the left bank had become the wildest and most hori'ible which war can exhibit. On the heights of Studzianka, Victor, who commanded the French rear-guard, amounting perhaps to 8000 or 10,000 men, was prepared to cover the retreat over the bridges. The right of this corps d'armc'e rested on the river ; a ravine full of bushes covered their front, but the left wing had no point of support. It remained, according to the military phrase, in the air, and was covered by two regiments of cavahy. Behind this defen- sive line were many thousands of stragglers, min- gled with the usual followers of a camp, and with all those individuals who, accompanying, for various reasons, the French from Moscow, liad survived the liorrors of the march. Women, children, do- mestics, the aged and the infants, were seen among the wretclied mass, and wandered by the side of this fatal river, like the fabled spectres which throng the banks of the infernal Styx, and seek in vain for passage. The want of order, which it was im- possible to jireserve, the breaking of the bridges, and the time spent in the repair — the feare of the unhappy wretches to trust themselves to the dan- gerous and crowded passages, had all opei-ated to detain them on the right bank. The baggage, which, in spite of the quantity already lost, of the escaped as by a miracle, and having completely beaten the Russians." "—' Rapi', p. 24fi. 3 The conduct of the admiral was so unaccountable on this occasion, that some atteniiited to ex|>lain it on his naval lia- bits, and to suppose that he was prevented from sending the rLinfoicements by the wind being contrary. — S. 59G SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1812. lUfficulty of transportation, and of Napoleon's pre- cise orders, amount) d still to a very great number of carts, wains, and the like, and which was now augmented by all that belonged to the troops of Oudinot and Victor, was seen, some filing towards the bridges, and the greater part standing in con- fusion upon the shore. The artillery itself, such as remained, was in no better state. Such was the condition of matters at the bridge, when Witgenstein, warm from his victory over Partouneaux, marching down the left bank of the Beresina, engaged in a fierce combat with the rear- guard under Victor ; and the balls of the Russians began to fall among the mingled and disordered mass which we have endeavoured to describe. It was then that the whole body of stragglers and fu- gitives rushed like distracted beings towards the bridges, every feeling of prudence or himianity swallowed up by the animal instinct of self-preser- vation. The horrible scene of disorder was aug- mented by the desperate violence of those who, determined to make their own way at all risks, threw down and trampled upon whatever came in their road. The weak and helpless either shrunk back from the fray, and sat down to wait their fate at a distance, or, mixing in it, were thrust over the bridges, erushed under carriages, cut down perhaps with sabres, or trampled to death under the feet of their countrymen. All this while the action con- tinued with fury, and, as if the Heavens meant to match their wrath with that of man, a hurricane arose, and added terrors to a scene which was al- ready of a character so dreadful. About mid-day the French, still bravely resist- ing, began to lose ground. The Russians, coming gradually up in strength, succeeded in forcing the ravine, and compelling them to assume a position nearer the bridges. About the same time, the larger bridge, that constructed for artillery and heavy carriages, broke down, and multitudes were forced into the water. The scream of mortal agony, which arose from the despairing multitude, became at this crisis for a moment so universal, that it rose shrilly audible over the noise of the elements and the thunders of war, above the wild whistling of the tempest, and the sustained and redoubled hourras of the Cossacks. The witness from whom we have this information, declares that the sound was in his ears for many weeks. This dreadful scene conti- nued till dark, many being forced into the icy river, some throwing themselves in, betwixt absolute des- pair, and the faint hope of gaining the opposite bank by swimming, some getting across only to die of cold and exhaustion. As the obscurity came on, Victor, with the remainder of his troops, which was much reduced, quitted the station he had defended BO bravely, and led them in their turn across. All night the miscellaneous multitude continued to throng along the bridge, under the fire of the Rus- sian artillery, to whom, even in the darkness, the noise wliich accompanied their march made them a distinct mark. At daybreak, the French engi- neer. General Eblc, finally set fire to the bridge. All that remained on the other side, including many prisoners, and a great quantity of guns and baggage, became the prisoners and the prey of the • S6gur, torn, ii., p. 317; Joniini, torn, iv., p 195. * " For a long time we had had no news from France ; we were ignorant of what was going ou in the grand duchy ; we Russians. The amount of the French loss was never exactly known ; but the Russian report, con- cerning the bodies of the invaders which were col- lected and burnt as soon as the thaw permitted, states that upwards of 36,000 were found in the Beresina.' CHAPTER LXIII. Napoleon determines to return to Paris — He leaves Smorgoni on 5th December — reaches Warsaw on the 10th — Curious Intervieic with the Abbe de Pradt — Arrices at Dresden on the \Ath — and at Paris on the 18fh,at midnight — Dreadful IStateof the Grand Army, ichen left by Napoleon — Arrixe at Wilna, whence they are driven by the Cossacks, directing their flight upon Kotono — Dissensions among the French Generals — Cautious Policy of the Austrians under Schwartzenberg — Precarious state of Macdonald — He retreats upon Tilsit — ■ D^Yorck separates his Troops from the French — 3Iacdonald effects hisretreat to Konigsberg — Close of the Russian expedition, with a loss on the part of the French o/ 450,000 3Ien in Killed and Pri- soners — Discussion of the Causes which led to this ruinous Catastrophe. When the army of Buonaparte was assembled on the other side of the Beresina, they exhibited symptoms of total disorganisation. The village of Brilowau, where they halted on the night of their passage, was entirely pulled down, that the mate- rials might supply camp-fires ; and a considerable part of Buonaparte's headquarters was included in the same fate, his own apartment being with diffi- culty saved from the soldiery. They could scarcely be blamed for this want of discipline, for the night was deadly cold ; and of the wet and shivering wretches who had been immersed in the icy river, many laid their heads down never to raise them more. On the 29th November, the Emperor left the fatal banks of the Beresina, at the head of an army more disorganised than ever ; for few of Oudinot's corps, and scarcely any belonging to Victor's, who were jet remaining, were able to resist the general contagion of disorder. They pushed on without any regular disposition, having no more vanguard, centre, or rear, than can be ascribed to a flock of sheep. To outstrip the Russians was their only desire, and j-et numbers were daily surprised by the partisans and Cossacks. Most fortunately for Napoleon, the precaution of the Duke of Bassano had despatched to the banks of the Beresina a di- vision of French, commanded by General Maison, who were sufficient to form a rear-guard, and to protect this disorderly and defenceless mass of fu- gitives. Thus they reached Malodeczuo on the 3d December.'^ Here Buonaparte opened to his chief confidants his resolution to leave the army, and push forward to Paris. The late conspiracy of Mallet had con- vinced him of the necessity of his presence there.' His remaining with an army, which scarce had existence in a military sense, could be of no use. He was near Prussia, where, from reluctant allies, wer» informed of it at Malodcczno. Napoleon received nine- teen iesiiatches at once." — Rapp, p. 249. 3 The reader will find the details of this singular attemvt in the succeeding chapter. 1812.} LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 597 the inhabitants were likely to be changed into bit- ter enemies. He was conscions of what he luul meditated against the King of Prussia, had he re- turned victorious, and judged from his own pur- poses the part which Frederick was likely to adopt, in consequence of this great reverse in his fortunes. This resolution being adopted, Napoleon an- nounced that preparations for his departure shoidd be made at Smorgoni, intending to remain at Ma- lodeczno till he should be joined by General Maison with the rear-guard, which was left a day's march behind the main body. He now waited until it should close up with liim. They came at last, but with Tschaplitz and the Russians at their heels. Intense cold (the thermometer being twenty de- grees below zero) prevented any thing more than skirmishes between them. On the oth December, Buonaparte was at Smor- goni, where he again received a welcome reinforce- ment, being joined by Loison, advancing at the head of the gari-ison of Wilna, to protect his retreat to that place, and whose opportune assistance gave a new roar-guai-d, to supply that commanded by Maison, which the war and weather had already rendered as incapable of effectual service as those whom they had protected from the banks of the Beresina to Smorgoni. Loison had orders to take in his turn this destructive duty, for which purpose he was to remain a day's march, as usual, behind the mass of what had been the army. The order of the march to Wilna thus arranged, Napoleon determined on his own departure. Three sledges were provided ; one of which was prepared to caiTy him and Caulaincourt, whose title the Emperor proposed to assume while travelling in- cognito, although their tigvn'es were strikingly dis- similar, the Duke of Vicenza being a tall, raw-boned, stiff-looking man. In a general audience, at which were present the King of Naples, the viceroy, Ber- thier, and the mare'chals, Napoleon announced to them that he had left Murat to command the army, as generalissimo. He talked to them in terms of hope and confidence. He promised to check the Austrians and Pi-ussians in their disposition for war, by presenting himself at the head of the French nation, and 1,200,000 men; — he said he had ordered Ney to Wilna, to reorganise the army, and to strike such a blow as should discourage the advance of the Russians ; — lastly, he assured them of winter-quarters beyond the Niemen. He then took an affectionate and individual fai-ewell of each of his generals, and, stepping into his traineau, a lively emblem of the fisliing-boat of Xerxes, he departed from Smorgoni at the late hour of ten at night.' With what feelings this extraordinary man left the remains of the army, we have no means even of guessing. His outward bearing, during his ex- treme distresses, had been in general that of the utmost firmness ; so that such expressions of grief or irritation, as at times broke from him, were picked up and registered by those who heard them, as curious instances of departure from his usual 1 " Napoleon passed throush the crowd of his officers, who ■were drawn up in an avenue as he passed, bidding them adieu merely bv forced and melancholy smiles; their Rood wishes, equally silent, and exjjrcssed oiilv bv respectful fiestures, he carried with him. He and Caulaincuurl shiil themselves up in a carriane; his Mameluke and Wakasuwitcli, captain of his (iuard, occupied the box ; Duroc and Lobau followed in a •ledge."— Seoub, torn, ii., p. 337. . state of coiTiposure. To preserve his tranquillity he permitted no details to be given him of the want and misery with which he was surrounded. Thus, when Colonel d'Albignac brought news of Ney's distresses, after the battle of Wiazma, he stopped his mouth by .«aying sharplj', " He desired to know no particulars." It was of a piece with this reso- lution, that he always gave out orders as if the whole Imperial army had existed in its virions di- visions, after two-thirds had been destroyed, and the remainder reduced to an undisciplined mob. " Would you deprive me of my tranquillity?" he said angrily to an officer, who thought it necessary to dwell on the actual circumstances of the army, when some orders, expressed in this maimer, had been issued. And when the persevering functionary persisted to explain — thinking, perhaps, in his simplicity, that Napoleon did not know that which in fact he only was reluctant to dwell upon — he reiterated angrily, " I ask you, sir, why you would deprive me of my tranquillity?"^ It is evident, that Napoleon must have known the condition of his army as well as any one around him ; but, to admit that he was acquainted with that which he could not remedy, would have been acknowledging a want of power inconsistent with the character of one, who would willingly be thought ratlier the controller than the subject of Fate. Napoleon was none of those princes men- tioned by Horace, who, in poverty and exile, lay aside their titles of majesty, and language of autho- rity. The lieadquarters of Smorgoni, and the residences of Porto Ferrajoand Saint Helena, can alike bear witness to the tenacity with which lift clung not only to power, but to the forms and cir- cumstance attendant upon sovereignty, at periods when the essence of that sovereignty was either endangered or lost. A deeper glance into his real feelings may be obtained from the report of the Abbe' de Pradt, which is well worth transcrib- ing-' After narrowly escaping being taken by the Rus- sian partisan Seslawin, at a hamlet called Youpra- noui. Napoleon reached Warsaw upon the 10th Decembei'. Here the Abbe de Pradt, then minis- ter of France to the Diet of Poland, was in the act of endeavouring to reconcile the various rumours which poured in from every quarter, when a figure like a spectre, wrapped in furs, which were stiffened by hoar-frost, stalked into his apartments, sup- ported by a domestic, and was with difficulty recog- nised by the ambsssador as the Duke of Vicenza. " You here, Caulaincourt ? " said the astonished prelate. — " And where is the Emperor ?" — " At the hotel d'Angletcrre, waiting for you." — " Why not stop at the palace ? " — " He travels incognito." — ■ " Do you need any thing?" — " Some Burgundy or Malaga." — " All is at your service — but whither are you travelling?" — " To Paris." — " To Paris ! But where is the army?" — " It exists no longer," said Caulaincourt, looking upwards. — " And the victory of the Beresina — and the 6000 prisoners ?"* — " We got across, that is all — the prisoners were 2 S(:'gur, tom. ii., p. 320. 3 Histoire de rAmbassado dans le Grand Duch^ de VareoTi, en 1H12, p. 2(>7. * This alludes to cxaRperated reports circulated by Maret, Duke of iiassano, then residing at Wilna. of a pretended vic- tory obtained by Napoleon, at the passage at Studzianka. — S. 598 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1812. a few hundred men, who have escaped. We have had other business than to guard them." His curiosity thus far satisfied, the Abbe de Pradt liasteneii to the hotel. In the yard stood three sledges in a dilapidated condition. One for the Emperor and Caulaincourt, the second for two officers of rank, the third for the Mameluke Rustan and another domestic. He was introduced with some mystery into a bad inn's bad room, where a servant wench "was blowing a fire made of green wood. Here was the Emperor, whom the Abl)e de Pradt liad last seen when he played King of Kings among the assembled sovereigns of Dresden. He was dressed in a green pelisse, covered with lace and lined with furs, and, by walking briskly about the a]>artment, was endeavouring to obtain the warmth which the chimney refused. He saluted " Mon- sieur I'Ambassadeur," as he termed him, with gaiety. The abbe' felt a movement of sensibility, to which he was disposed to give way, but, as he says, " Tlie poor man did not understand me." He limited his expressions of devotion, therefore, to helping Napoleon off" with his cloak. To us, it seems that Napoleon repelled the effusions of the Bishop of Maline's interest, because he did not choose to be the object either of his interest or his pity. He heard from his minister, that the minds of the inhabitants of the grand duchy had been much changed since they had been led to despair of the regeneration of their country ; and that they were already, since they could not be free Poland- ers, studying how to reconcile themselves with their former governors of Prussia. The entrance of two Polish ministers checked the ambassador's com- munications. The conversation was maintained from that moment by Napoleon alone ; or rather he indulged in a monologue, turning upon the sense he entertained that the failure of his Russian expedi- tion would diminish his reputation, while he strug- gled against the painful conviction, by numbering up the plans by which he might repair his losses, and alleging the natural obstacles to which he had been obliged to succumb. " We must levy 10,000 Poles," he said, " and check the advance of these Jlussians. A lance and a horse are all that is ne- cessary. — There is but a single step betwixt the sublime and the ridiculous."^ The functionaries congratulated him on his escape from so many dangers. " Dangers ! " he replied ; " none in the world. I live in agitation. The more I bustle the better I am. It is for Kings of Cockaigne to fatten in their palaces — horseback and the fields are for me. — From the sublime to the ridiculous there is but a single step — Why do I find you so much alarmed here?" " We ai'e at a loss to gather the truth of the news about the army." " Bah !" replied the Emperor; "the army is in a superb condition. I have 120,000 men — I have beat the Russians in every action — they are no longer the soldiers of Friedland and Eylau. The army will recruit at Wilna — I am going to bring up 300,000 men^ — Success will render the Russians fool-hardy — I will give them battle twice or thrice upon the Oder, and in a month I will be again on the Njemen — I have more weight when on my throne, than at the head of my army. — Certainly I quit my soldiers with regret; but I must watch 1 " Du sublime au ridicule il ii'y a. qu'un pas?" Austria and Prussia, and I have more weight seat- ed on my throne than at the head of my army. All that has happened goes for nothing — a mere misfortune, in which the enemy can claim no merit — I beat them evei'y where- -they wished to cut me off" at the Beresina — I made a fool of that ass of an admiral" — (He could never pronounce the name Tchitchagoft') — " I had good troops and cannon — the position was superb — 600 toises of marsh — a river" This he repeated twice, then run over the distinction in the 29th bulletin between men of strong and feeble minds, and proceeded. " I have seen worse affairs than this — At Marengo I was beaten till six o'clock in the evening — next day I was master of Italy — At Essling, that arch- duke tried to stop me — He published something or other — My army had already advanced a league and a half— I did not even condescend to make any disposition. All the world knows how such things are managed when I am in the field. I could not help the Danube rising sixteen feet in one night — Ah ! without that, there would have been an end of the Austrian monarchy. But it was written in Heaven that 1 should marry an archduchess." (This was said with an air of much gaiety.) " In the same manner, in Russia, I could not prevent its freezing. They told me every morning that I had lost 10,000 horses during the night. Well, farewell to you ! " He bade them adieu five or six times in t\ie course of the harangue, but always returned to the subject. "Our Norman horses are less hardy than those of the Russians— they sink under ten degrees of cold (beneath zero.) It is the same with the men. Tjook at the Bavarians ; there is not one left. Perhaps it may be said that I stopped too long at Moscow ; that may be true, but the weather was fine— the winter came on pre- maturely — besides, I expected peace. On the 5th October, I sent Lauriston to treat. I thought of going to St. Petersburgh, and I liad time enough to have done so, or to have gone to the south of Russia, or to Smolensk. Well, we will make head at Wilna ; Murat is left there. Ha, ha, ha ! It is a great political game. Nothing venture, nothing win — It is but one step from the sublime to the ludicrous. The Russians have shown they have character — their Emperor is beloved by his people — they have clouds of Cossacks — it is something to have such a kingdom — the peasants of the crown love their government^ — the nobility are all mount- ed on horseback. They proposed to me to set the slaves at liberty, but that I would not consent to — they would have massacred every one. I made regular war upon the Emperor Alexander, but who could have expected such a blow as the burn- ing of Moscow ? Now they would lay it on us, but it was in fact themselves who did it. That sacrifice would have dope honour to ancient Rome." He returned to his favourite purpose of checking the Russians, who had just annihilated his grand army, by raising a large body of Polish lancers, to whom, as things stood, it would have been ditticult to have proposed any adequate motive for exertion. Tile tire went out, and the counsellors listened in frozen despair, while, keeping himself warm by walking up and down, and by his own energies, the Emperor went on with his monologue ; now betraying, in spite of himself, feelings and senti- ments which he would have concealed ; now dwell> ing upon that which he wished others to believe; 1812.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. and often repeating, as the burden of his harangue, the apliorism which he has rendered immortal, L'oncerniiig the vicinity of the subhme and the ludicrous. His passage through Silesia being mentioned, he answered in a doubtful tone, " Ha, Prussia?" as if questioning the security of that route. At length he decided to depart in good earnest ; cut short the respectful wii^hes for the preservation of his liealtli with the bi'ief assurance, that he " could not be in better health were the very devil in him ;" and threw liiniself into the humble sledge which carried Ctesar and his fortunes. The horses sprung forward, nearly overturning the carriage as it crossed the courtyard gate, and disappeared in the darkness. Such is the lively account of the Abbe' de Pradt, who declares solemnly, tliat on taxing his memory to the utmost, he accuses himself of neither want of accuracy nor forgetfulness. Napo- leon does not deny that such a long conversation took place, but alleges that the abbe has caricatured it. In the meanwhile, he said he scratched an order for Monsieur I'Ambassadeur to return im- mediately to Paris ;■ which, considering what had happened in Russia, and was about to happen in Poland, could not but be a most welcome mandate, especially as it was likely to be soon enforced by the lances of the Cossacks. Napoleon continued to pass on with as much speed as possible. He said, when at St. Helena, that he was nigh being arrested in Silesia.* " But the Prussians," he said, " passed the time in con- sulting which they ought to have employed in action. They acted like the Saxons, of whom Charles XII. said gaily, when he left Dresden, ' They will be deliberating to-day whether they should have ai'restcd me yesterday.'" If such an idea was entertained by any one, it may have been by some of the Tugend-Bund, who might think it no crime to seize on one who made universal liberty his spoil. But we do not believe that Frederick ever liarboured the thought, while he continued in alliance with France. Meanwhile, Napoleon continued his journey in secrecy, and with rapidity. On the 14th December he was at Dresden, where he hud a long private conference with the good old King, who did not feel his gratitude to the Emperor, as a benefactor, abated by his accumulated misfortunes. The inter- view — how different from their last — was held in the hotel where Buonaparte alighted, and where Augustus came to visit him incognito. On the 18th, in the evening, he arrived at Paris, where the city had been for two days agitated by the cir- culation of the Twenty-ninth Bulletin, in which the veil, though with a reluctant hand, was raised up to show the disasters of the Russian war. It may not be thought minute to mention, that Napoleon and his attendant had difficulty in pro- curing admittance to the Tuileries at so late an hour. The Empress had retired to her private apartment. Two figures muffled in furs entered the anteroom, and one of them directed his course to the door of the Empress's sleeping chamber. ' " He certainly had a long conversation with me, whicli he misrepresents, as minlit be expected ; and it was at the very moment when lie was deliverinf; a long prosing speech, which app'^ared to me a mere string of absurdity and impertinence, that 1 sciawled on the corner of tlie chimney-piece the ojder to withdraw him from his embassy, and to send him as soon ta possible to France ; a circumstance which was the cause 599 The lady in waiting hastened to throw herself be- twixt the intruder and the entrance, but, recognis- ing the Emjjeror, she shrieked aloud, and alarmed Maria Louisa, who entered the anteroom. Their meeting was extremely affectionate, and showed, that, amidst all his late losses. Napoleon had still domestic happiness within his reach. We return to the grand army, or rather to the assemblage of those who had once belonged to it, for of an army it had scarce the semblance left. The soldiers of the Imperial Guard, who had hi- therto made it their jiride to preserve some degree of discipline, would, after the departure of Napo- leon, give obedience to no one else. Murat, to whom the chief command had been delegated, seemed scarcely to use it, nor when he did was he obeyed. If Ney, and some of the Marechals, still retained authority, they were only attended to from habit, or because the instinct of discipline revived when the actual battle drew near. They could not, however, have offered any effectual defence, nor could they have escaped actual slaughter and dis- persion, had it not been for Loison's troops, who continued to form the rear-guard, and who, never having been on the eastern side of the fatal Bere- siiia, had, amid great suffering, still preserved suf- ficient discipline to keep their ranks, behave like soldiers, and make themselves be respected, not only by the Cossacks, but by Tschaplitz, Witgeii- stein, and the Russians detached from the main army, who followed them close, and annoyed them constantly. The division of Loison remained like a shield, to protect the disorderly retreat of the main body. Still, some degree of order is so essential to hu- man society, that, even in that disorganized mass, the stragglers, which now comprehended almost the whole army, divided into little bands, who assisted each otlier, and had sometimes the aid of a miserable horse, which, when it fell down under the burden of what they had piled on it, was torn to pieces and eaten, while life was yet palpitating in its veins. These bands had chiefs selected from among themselves. But this species of union, though advantageous on the whole, led to particu- lar evils. Those associated into such a fi'aternity would communicate to none save those of their own party, a mouthful of rye-dough, which, seasoned with gunpowder for want of salt, and eaten with a bouille' of horse-flesh, formed the best part of their food. Neither would they permit a stranger to warm himself at their fires, atid when spoil was found, two of these companies often, especially if of different countries, fought for the possession of it ; and a handful of meal was a sufficient tempta- tion for putting to death the wretch who could not defend his boot}-. The prisonei-s, it is said (and we heartily wish the fact could be refuted,) were parked every night, without receiving any victuals whatever, and perished, like impounded cattle, from want of food, cold, and the delirious fury which such treatment inspired. Among these un- fortunates some became cannibals, and the samo of a good deal of menimcnt at the time, and which the abb# seems ver)' desirous of concealing." — Napolkon, Ixis Cases, tom. ii., p. !I4. 2 " In Silesia, Napoleon was very nearly taken prisoner bf the Prussians ; and at Dresden, he only escaiied a plot for hia seizure, because Lord Walpole, who was at V ienna, dared uot give the signal."— FoicHE, tom. ii., p. 117 600 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WOEKS. [1812. horrible reproach has been cast on the French themselves.' To enhance misfortunes so dreadful, the cokl, which had been for some time endurable, increased on the 6tli December to the most bitter degree of frost, being twenty-seven or twenty-eight degrees below zero. Many dropped down and expired in silence, the blood of others was determined to the head by the want of circulation ; it gushed at length from eyes and moutli, and the wretches sunk down on the gory snow, and were relieved by death. At the niglit bivouacs, the soldiers approached their frozen limbs to the fire so closely, that, falling asleep in that posture, their feet were scorched to the bone, while their hair was frozen to the ground. In tliis condition they were often found by the Cos- sacks, and happy were those upon whom the pur- suers bestowed a thrust with the lance to finish their misery. Other horrors there were, which are better left in silence. Enough has been said to show, tliat such a calamity, in such an extent, never before darkened the pages of histoi'y. In this hor- rible retreat, 20,000 recruits had joined the army since crossing the Beresina, where, including the corps of Oudinot and Victor, they amounted to 80,000 men. But of this sum of 80,000 men, one- lialf perished betwixt the Beresina and the walls of Wilna.2 In such a plight did the army arrive at Wilna, where great provirfon had been made for their re- ception. The magazines were groaning with plenty, but, as at Smolensk, the administrators and com- missioners, terrified for their own responsibility, dared not issue provisions to a disorderly mob, who could neither produce authority for drawing ra- tions, nor give a regular receipt. The famished wretches fell down in the streets before the maga- zines, and died there, cursing with their latest breath the ill-timed punctiliousness of office, which refused to starving men tlie morsQl that might have Saved their lives. In other places of the town, stores both of provision and liquor were broken open by the desperate soldiery, plundered and wasted. Numbers became intoxicated, and to those, as they sunk down in the street, death came before sobriety. The sick who went to the hospitals found them crowded, not only with the dying, but with the dead, whose corpses were left to freeze or to putrefy on the stairs asid in the corridors, and sometimes in the apartments of those who yet sur- vived. Such were the comforts of Wilna, from which so much had been hoped. Still, however, some of the citizens, moved by pity or terror, or from desire of gain (for many sol iiers had still about their persons some remnants of the spoils of Moscow,) were willing to give lodging and food to these exhausted phantoms, who begged such relief sometimes with furious threats and imprecations, sometimes in the plaintive tone of men ready to perish.' Disti'ibutions began also to be made at the public stores ; and men who for long had not eat a morsel of bread, or reposed themselves upon any better lair than the frozen earth, or under any other canopy save that of the snow-fraught sky, deemed it Paradise to enjoy the most common household comforts, of which we think so little while we enjoy them, yet are miser- able when they are abridged or withdrawn. Some ' S,00() Prisoners, comprehending JS generals, 3n0:i officers, and upwards of l!«),OU:i men, . . . .'93,000 Total, . 45(i,()0C The relics of the troops which escaped from that overwhelming disaster, independent of the two auxiliary armies of A-ustrians and Prussians, who were never much engaged in its terrors, might be about 40,000 men, of whcmi scarcely 10,000 were Frenchmen. • The Russians, notwithstanding the I care that was taken to destroy these trophies, took seventy-five eagles, colours, or standards, and up- wards of 900 pieces of cannon. Thus had the greatest military captain of the I age, at the head of an innumerable array, rushed upon his gigantic adversary, defeated his army, and destroyed, or been the cause of the destruction of his ca])ital, only to place himself in a situation where the ruin of nearly the whole of his own ! force, without even the intervention of a general action, became the indispensable price of his safe return. The causes of this total and calamitous failure I lay in miscalculations, both moral and physical, I wliich were involved in the first concoction of the [ enterprise, and began to operate from its very i commencement. We are aware that this is, with 1 the idolaters of Napoleon, an unpalatable view of the case. They believe, according to the doctrine which he himself promulgated, that he could be j conquered by the elements alone. This was what I he averred in the twenty -ninth bulletin. Till the 6th November he stated that he had been uni- formly successful. The snow then fell, and in six days destroyed the character of the army, depressed their courage, elated that of the " despicable" Cos- sacks, deprived the French of artillery, baggage, of those two-thirds had not seen the Kremlin."— FoucHfc torn, ii., p. 118. 1812.] IJFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. G03 and cavalry, and reduced them, with little aid from the Russians, to the melancholy state in which iliey returned tg Poland. This opinion Napoleon wished to perpetuate in a medal, on which the retreat from Moscow is represented by the figure of Eolus blowing upon the soldiers, who are shown shrinking from the storm, or falling under it. The same statement he always supported ; and it is one of those tenets which his extravagant admirers are least willing to relinquish. Thi-ee questions, however, remain to be exa- mined ere we can subscribe to this doctrine. — I. Does the mere fall of snow, nay, a march through a counti-y covered with it, necessarily, and of itself, infer the extent of misfortune here attributed to its agency ] — II. Was not the possibility of such a storm a contingency which ought in reason to have entered into Napoleon's calculations? — III. Was it the mere severity of the snow-storm, dreadful as it was, which occasioned the destruction of Buonaparte's army ; or, did not the effects of cli- mate rather come in to aid various causes of min, which were inherent in tliis extravagant expedi- tion fi'om the veiy beginning, and were operating actively, when the weather merely came to their assistance ! On the first question it is needless to say much. A snow, accompanied with hard frost, is not neces- sarily destructive to a retreating army. The weaker individuals must perish, but, to the army, it affords, if they are provided for the season, bet- ter opportunities of moving than rainy and open Weather. lu the snow, hard frozen upon the sur- face, as it is in Russia and Canada, the whole face of the country becomes a road ; and an army, lightly equipped, and having sledges instead of h'ains, may move in as many parallel columns as they will, instead of being confined, as in moist weather, to one high-road, along which the divi- sions must follow each otiier in succession. Such an extension of the front, by multiplying the num- ber of marching columns, must be particularly convenient to an army which, like that of Napo- leon, is obliged to maintain itself as much as pos- sible at the expense of the country. Where there are only prolonged columns, following each other over the same roads, the marauders from the first body nmst exhaust the country on each side ; so that the corps which follow must send their pur- veyors beyond the ground which has been already pillaged, until at length the distance becomes so great, that the rearward must satisfy themselves with gleaning after the wasteful harvest of those who have preceded them. Supposing six, eight, or ten columns marching in parallel lines upon the same front, and leaving an interval betwixt each, they will cover six, eight, or ten times the breadth of country, and of course supply themselves more plentifully, as well as much more easily. Such cohunns, keeping a parallel fi-ont, can, if attacked, receive reciprocal aid by lateral movements more pasily than when assistauce must be sent from the van to the rear of one long moving line ; and the march being lateral on such occasions, does not ' " Sir Walter takes Rrcat pains to prove that the extraor- dinary severity of the winter was not the principal cause of this frightful catastrophe. He is facetious about the snow, to which he believes, or i>retends to believe, that the twenty- ninth bulletin attributes the disaster; whereas, it was not 'lie snow alone, but a cold of thirty degrees below ^ero. Aitd infer tlie lossj of time, and other inconveniences inferred by a counter-march from the front to sup- port the rear. Lastly, the frost often renders bridges unneces-sary, fills ravines, and makes mo- rasses passable ; thus compensating, in some degree, to a marching army, for the rigorous temperature to which it subjects them. But, ■2dly, It may be asked, if frost and snow are so irresistible and destructive in Russia, as to infer the destruction of whole armies, why did not these casualties enter into the calculations of so great a general entering on such an immense undertaking I Does it never snow in Russia, or is frost a rare phenomenon there in the month ot November I It is said that the cold weather began earlier than usual. This, we are assured, was not the case ; but, at any rate, it was most unwise to suffer the safety of an army, and an army of such numbers and importance, to depend on the mere chance of a frost setting in a few days sooner or later.' The fact is, that Napoleon, whose judgment was seldom misled save by the ardour of his wishes, had foreseen, in October, the coming of the frost, as he had been aware, in July, of the necessity of collecting sufficient supplied of food for his army, yet without making adequate provision against what he knew was to happen, in either case. In the 22d bulletin, it is intimated, that the Moskwa, and other rivers of Russia, might be expected to be frozen over abotit the middle of November, which ought to have prepared the Emperor for the snow and frost commencing five or six days sooner ; which actually took place. In the 26th bulletin, the necessity of winter-quarters is admitted, and the Emperor is represented as looking luxuriously around him, to consider whether he should choose them in the south of Russia, or in the friendly country of Poland. The weather is then stated to be fine, " but on the first days of November cold was to be expected. Winter-quarters, therefore, must be thought upon ; the cavalry, above all, stand in need of them." It is impossible that he, under whose eye, or by whose hand, these bulletins were drawn up, could have been surprised by the arrival of snow on the 6th November. It was a probability foreseen, though left unprovided for. Even the most ordinary precaution, that of rough-shoeing the horses of the cavalry and the draught-horses, was totally neglected ; for the bul- letins complain of the shoes being smooth. This is saying, in other words, that the animals had not been new-shod at all ; for French horses may be termed always rough-shod, until the shoes are grown old and worn smooth through use. If, therefore, frost and snow be so very dangerous to armies. Napoleon wilfully braved their rigour, and by his want of due preparations, brought upon himself the very disiister of which he complained so heavily. Thirdly, Though unquestionably the severity of the frost (lid greatly increase the distress and loss of an armv sufi'eriiig under famine, nakedness, and have we not often known, in the severe winters of the nnrtti o( France, where tlie cold is slinht in comparison with that o( Russia— travellers to perish uiider the snow ? How then can it be denied that the extreme severity of the winter w.t» tlu cause of the disaster?"— l.ouis bl'oSAPAiiTR. G04 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1812. privations of evei'y kind, yet it was neither the tirst, nor, in any respect, the principal, cause of tlieir disasters. The reader must keep in remem- brance tlie marcli through Lithuania, in wliich, without a blow struck. Napoleon lost 10,000 horses at once, and nearly 100,000 men, when passing through a country \\liich was friendly. Did this loss, which happened in June and July, arise from the premature snow, as it has been called, of the Gth of November ? No, surely. It arose from what the bulletin itself describes as " the uncer- tainty, the distresses, the marches and counter- marches of the troops, their fatigues and suffer- ances ;" to the system, in short, of forced marches, by which, after all, Na])oleon was unable to gain any actual advance. This cost him one-fourth, or nearly so, of his army, before a blow was struck. If we suppose that he left on both his flanks, and in his rear, a force of 100,000 men, under Mac- donald, Sclnvartzenberg, Oudinot, and others, he commenced the actual invasion of Russia Proper with 200,000 soldiers. A moiety of this large force perished before lie reached Moscow, which lie entered at the head of less than 100,000 men. The ranks had been thinned by fatigue, and the fields of battle and hospitals'must answer for the remain- der. Finally, Napoleon left Moscow on the 19th October, as a place where he could not remain, and yet from which lie saw no safe mode of exit. He was then at the head of about 120,000 men ; so much was liis army recruited by convalescents, the collection of stragglers, and some reserves which had been brought up. He fought the unavailing though most honouralily sustained battle of Malo- Yarrowslavetz ; failed in forcing his way to Ka- louga and Toula ; and, like a stag at bay, was forced back on the wasted and broken-up road to Smolensk by Borodino. On this road was fought the battle of Wiazina, in which the French loss was very considerable ; and his columns were harassed by the Cossacks at every point of their march, and many thousands of prisoners were taken. Two battles so severely fought, besides the defeat of Murat and constant skirmishes, cost the French, in killed and wounded, (and every wounded man was lost to Napoleon,) not less tlian 25,000 men ; and so far had the French army been dimi- nished. This bi'ought him to the 6th November, until which day not a flake had fallen of that snow to which all his disasters are attributed, but which in fact did not commence until he had in a great measure experienced them. By this time also, his wings and reserves had undergone severe fighting and great loss, without any favourable results. Thus, welinigh three-fourths of his ori- ginal army were destroyed, and the remnant re- duced to a most melanclioly and disorderly condi- tion, before commencement of the storm to which he found it afterwards conveiiient to impute his calamities. It is scarcely necessary to notice, that 1 " Sir Walter Scott lias not, in this outraKe against Napo- leon, the merit of novelty: and what is more ])aint'ul, Fronch writers have been suilty of repeatin;; the ridiculous accusa- tion. What ! he who threw himself upon his ftisantic adver- sary at the head of an innumerable army, and conducted it six hundred leasues from his country; wlio defeated all the ar[nies of his enemy— burned his capital, or was tlie cause of its destruction— had such a man lost his senses? The expe- dition to Russia, according to common rules, was illjudsed and rash, and the more so when undertaken without the basis Of I'olaud ; and when we consider tlie formation of tlie grand i when the snow did begin to fall, it found Napoleon not a victor, but a fugitive, quitting ground before his antagonists, and indebted for his safety, not to the timidity of the Russians, but to the over cau- tion of their general. The Cossacks, long before the snow-tempest commenced, were muttering against Koutousoff for letting these skeletons, as they called the French army, walk back into a bloodless grave. When the severe frost came, it aggravated greatly the misery, and increased the loss, of the French army. But Winter was only the ally of the Russians ; not, as has been contended, their sole protectress. She rendered the retreat of the grand army more calamitous, but it had already been an indispensable measure ; and was in the act of being executed at the lance-point of the Cossacks, before the storms of the north contributed to overwhelm the invaders. What, then, occasioned this most calamitous catastrophe ? We venture to reply, that a moral error, or rather a crime, converted Napoleon's wisdom into folly ; and that he was misled, by the injustice of his views into the great political, nay, military errors, which he acted upon in his attempt to realize them.' We are aware there are many who think that the justice of a quarrel is of little moment, pro- viding the aggressor has strength and courage to make good what his adversary murmurs against as wrong. With such reasoners, the race is uni- formly to the swift, and the battle to the strong ; and they reply to others with the profane jest of the King of Prussia, that the Deity always espouses the cause of the most powerful. But the maxiiii is as false as it is impious. Without expecting miracles in this later age, we know that the world is subjected to moral as well as physical laws, and that the breach of the former frequently carries even a temporal punishment along with it. Let us try by this test the conduct of Napoleon in the Russian war. The causes assigned for his breach with Russia, unjust in their essence, had been put upon a plan of settlement ; yet his armies continued to bear down upon the frontiers of the Russian Empire ; so that to have given up the questions in dispute, with the French bayonets at his breast, would have been on the part of Alexander a surrender of the national independence. The demands of Napo- leon, unjust in themselves, and attempted to be enforced by means of intimidation, it was impos- sible for a i)roud people, and a high-spirited prince, to comply with. Thus the first act of Buonaparte went to excite a national feeling, from the banks of the Boristhenes to the wall of China, and to unite against him the wild and uncivilized inha- bitants of an extended enipire, possessed by a love to their religion, their government, and their coun- try, and having a character of stern devotion, which he was incapable of estimating. It was a remark- army, composed of so many different nations, and that Napo- leon' persisted in the i)roject in spite of all obstacles, and the disajiprobation of the mainrity of his greatest Kenerals, we are astonislied liuw he Kucccedcd in invading a great i>ortioirof the vast tirntory uf Hussia, and ]ienetiated as far as the capi- tal of that enipire. Whatever his enemies may assert, had it not been for tlie extraordinary havoc of the winter, the grand army would have returned to the frontiers of Poland, esta- blished itself on that line, and menaced the Russian em|)ire anew, .and in a more detiiiitive manner, during the following campaign."— Louis Buonapartk, p. iili. 1812.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPAP.TE. G05 able cliaracteristic of Napoleon, that when he had once fixed his opinion, he saw every thing as he wished to see it, and was apt to dispute even realities, if they did not coincide with his precon- ceived ideas. He had persuaded himself, that to beat an army and subdue a capital, was, with the influence of his personal ascendency, all that was necessary to obtain a triunqjhant peace. He had especially a confidence in his own command over the minds of such as he had been personally inti- mate with. Alexander's disposition, he believed, ■was perfectly known to him ; and he entertained no doubt, that by beating his army, and taking his capital, he should I'esume the influence which he had once held over the Russian Emperor, by grant- ing him a peace upon moderate terms, and in which the acknowledgment of the victor's superior- ity would have been the chief advantage stipulated. For this he hurried on by forced marches, losing so many thousands of mm and horses in Lithuania, which »n attention to ordinary rules would have saved from destruction. For this, when his own prudence, and that of his council, joined in re- commending a halt at Witepsk or at Smolensk, he hurried forward to the fight, and to the capture of the metropolis, which he had flattered himself was to be the signal of peace. His wishes were appa- rently granted. Borodino, the bloodiest battle of our battling age, was gained — Moscow was taken — but he had totally tailed to calculate the effect of these events upon the Russians and their empe- ror. When he expected their submission, and a ransom for their capital, the city was consumed in his presence ; yet even the desertion and destruc- tion of Moscow could not tear the veil from his eyes, or persuade him that the people and their prince would prefer death to disgrace. It was his reluctance to relinquish the visionary hopes which egotism still induced him to nourish, that prevent- ed his quitting Moscow a month earlier than he did. He had no expectation that the mild climate of Fontainbleau would continue to gild the ruins of Moscow till the arrival of December ; but he could not forego the flattering belief, that a letter and proposal of pacification must at last fulfil the anticipations which he so ardently entertained. It was only the attack upon Murat that finally dis- pelled this hope. Thus a hallucination, for such it may be termed, led this great soldier into a train of conduct, which, as a military critic, he would have been the first to condemn, and which was the natural consequence of his deep moral error. He was hurried by this self-opinion, this ill-founded trust in the predomi- nance of his own personal influence, into a gross neglect of the usual and prescribed rules of war. He put in motion an immense army, too vast in numbers to be supported either by the supplies of the country through which they marched, or by the pi'ovisions they could transport along with them. And when, plunging into Russia, he de- feated her armies and took her metropolis, he neglected to calculate his line of advance on such an extent of base, as should enable him to consoli- date his conquests, and turn to i-eal advantage the victories which he attained. His army was but 1 " Tliis was, on Napoleon's part, a new snare held out to the devoledness and credulity of a K^'ucrous nation; who, struck with consternation, thoii^ht th.it their chief, chastened by misfortune, was ready to seize the first favourable oppor- precarionsly connected with Lithuania when he was at Moscow, and all comnnmieation was soon afterwards entirely destroyed. Thus, one tinjust purpose, strongly and passionately entertained, marred the councils of the wise, and rendered vain the exertions of the brave. We may read the moral in the words of Claudian. " Jam non ad culmina remm Injustos crevisse queior; tollunturiii altum, Ut lapsu graviore ruaiit." Claudian, in Rnflnum, Lib. i., -v. 21. CHAPTER LXIV. Effects of Napoleon^s return vpoii the Parisians — . Congratulations and Addresses by all the j.iubHo Functionaries — Conspiracy of M allet — very near- ly successful — Hole at last defeated — The impres- sion made by this event upon Buonajxirte — Dis- cussions u-ith the Pope, vho is brouijht to France, but remains inflexible — State of Affairs in Spain — Napoleon's great and successful exertions to re- cruit his Army — Guards of Honour — In the month of April, the Army is raised to 350,000 men, independentl y of the troops left in garrison in Germany, and in Spain and Italy. Upon the morning succeeding his return, which was like the sudden a])pearance of one dropped from the heavens, Paris resounded with the news ; which had, such was the force of Napoleon's cha- racter, and the habits of subjection to which the Parisians were inured, the eff'ect of giving a new impulse to the whole capital. If the impressions made by the twenty -ninth bulletin could not be effaced, they were carefully concealed. The grum- blers suppressed their niurmui's, which had begun to be alarming. The mourners dried their tears, or shed them in solitude. The safe return of Na- poleon was a sufficient cure for the loss of 500,000 men, and served to assuage the sorrows of as many widows and orphans.' The Emperor convoked the Council of State. He spoke with apparent frankness of the misfortunes which had befallen his army, and imputed them all to the snow. — " All had gone well," he said ; " Moscow was in our power — every obstacle was overcome — the conflagration of the city had produced no change on the flourishing condition of the French army ; but winter has been productive of a general cala- mity, in consequence of which the army had sus- tained very great losses." One would have thought, from his mode of stating the matter, that the snow had surprised him in the midst of vic- tory, and not in the course of a disastrous and in- evitable retreat The Moniteur was at first silent on the news from Russia, and announced the advent of the Emperor as if he had returned from Fontainbleau ; but after an interval of this ajiparent coldnes-, like the waters of a river in the thaw, accumulating behind, and at length precii)itating themselves over, a barrier of ice, 'arose the general gratulation of the public functionaries, whose power and profit must stand or fall with the dominion of the Emperor, and whose voices alone were admitted to represent tunitv of bringinR b-ick peace, and of at length consolidatirR llie foundation of general happiness."— KovjiiK, torn, ii .p. 118. COG SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PEOSE WORKS. L'1812. inose of tlie people. The cities of Rome, Florence, Milan, Turin, Hamburgh, Amsterdam, Mayence, and whatever others there were of consequence in the empire, joined in the general asseveration, that the presence of the Emperor alone was all that was necessary to convert disquietude into happiness and tranquillity. The most exaggerated praise of Na- poleon's great qualities, the most unlimited devo- tion to his service, the most implicit confidence in his wisdom, were the theme of these addresses. Their flattery was not only ill-timed, considering the great bss which the country had sustained ; but it ivas so grossly exaggerated in some instances, as to ihi'ow ridicule even upon the high talents of the party to whom it was addressed, as daubers are often seen to make a ridiculous caricature of the finest original. In the few circles where criticism on these eff'usions of loyalty might be whispered, the authors of the addresses were compared to the duped devotee^ in Moliere's comedy, who, instead of sympathizing in his wife's illness, and the gene- ral indisposition of his family, only rejoices to hear that Tartuffe is in admirable good health. Yet there were few even among these scoffers who \vouId have dared to stay behind, had they been commanded to attend the Emperor to Notre Dame, that Te Deum might be celebrated for the safe return of Napoleon, though purchased by the total destruction of his great army. But it was amongst the public offices that the return of the Emperor so unexpectedly, produced the deepest sensation. They were accustomed to go on at a moderate rate with the ordinary routine of duty, while the Emperor was on any expedition ; but his return had the sudden effect of the appear- ance of the master in the school, from which he had been a short time absent. All was bustle, alertness, exertion, and anticipation. On the present occasion, double diligence, or the show of it, was exerted ; for all feared, and some with reason, that their con- duct on a late event might have incurred the severe censure of the Emperor. We allude to the con- spiracy of Mallet, a singular incident, the details of which we have omitted till now. During Buonaparte's former periods of absence, the goverimient of the interior of France, under the management of Cambacere's,went on in the ordinary course, as methodically, though not so actively, as when Napoleon was at the Tuileries ; the system of administration was accurate, that of superin- tendence not less so. The obligations of the public functionaries were held as strict as those of military men. But during the length of Napoleon's absence on the Russian expedition, a plot was formed, (vhich served to show how little firm was the hold which the system of the Imperial government had on the feelings of the nation, by what slight means its fall might be efifected, and how small an interest ' "1 shall make two observations on this passage: 1st, lam persuaded that this consi)iracy was the work of the Jacobin faction, vho always laid in wait to profit by every favourable occasion. This opinion is confirmed by many of the avowals whicli escaped Fouche in his memoirs. 2dly, The fallacy of the sentiment attributed by Sir Walter Scott to the notion with respect to Najjoleon, is proved by the slight success of this conspiracy, when he was not only absent, but as well as his armies, at to considerable a distance from France ; it is also proved by his return from the island of Elba, in the month of iNlarch. luls. I tliink that all tliose who would after this deny tlic attachment of tlie nation to the Emperor, would also deny tlie light of day,"— Louis Uuo.vai'ARTB, p. 80. 2 " A secret society in the army, whose immediate object it a new revolution would have excited.' It seemed that the Emperor's power showed stately and stable to the eye, like a tall pine-tree, which, while it spreads its shade broad around, and raises its head to heaven, cannot send its roots, like those of the oak, deep into the bowels of the earth, but, spreading them along the shallow surface, is liable to be overthrowji by the first assault of the whirl- wind. The final purpose of Mallet is not known. He was of noble birth, and served in the Mousque- taires of the royal household before the Revolution, which inclined many to think that he had the inte- rest of the Bourbons in view. As, however, he had risen to the head of chef de brigade in the Republican army, it is more probable that he be- longed to the sect of Philadelphes.''' In 1808, General Mallet was committed to prison, as con- cerned in an intrigue against the Emperor ; and he was still under the restraint of the police, when he formed the audacious scheme which had so nearly succeeded. While under a confinement now le- nient, in a Maison de Sante, he was able to execute, or procure to be executed, a forged paper, pur- porting to be a decree of the Senate, announcing officially the death of the Emperor, the abolition of the Imperial government, and the establishment of a provisional committee of administration. This document was to appearance attested by the offi- cial seal and signatures. On the 22d of October, at midnight, he escaped from his place of confinement, dressed himself in his full uniform, and, accompanied by a corporal in the dress of an aide-de-camp, repaii'ed to the prison of La Force, where he demanded and obtained the liberation of two generals, Lahorie and Guidal, who were confined under circumstances not dissimilar to his own. They went together to the barracks at the Minims, not then inhabited by any part of the truest and most attached followers of Napoleon, who, while his power was tottering at home, were strewing with their bones the snows of Russia and the deserts of Spain, but by battalions of raw con- scripts and recruits. Here Mallet assumed an air of absolute authority, commanded the drinns to beat, ordered the troops on parade, and despatched parties upon diff'ei'ent services. No one disputed his right to be obeyed, and Soulier, connnandant of the troops, placed them at his absolute disposal, being partly, as he himself alleged, confused in mind by a fever which afflicted him at the time, partly, perhaps, influenced by a check for 100,000 francs, which was laid down upon his bed, to cover, it was said, a gratuity to the soldiers, and an issue of double pay to the offi- cers. One division seized Savary, the minister of police, and conducted him to prison. Another party found it as easy to arrest the person of the was to overthrow the Imperial power, and whose ultimate pur])ose9 were not perhaps known to themselves. Their founder was Colonel Jacques Joseph Odet, a Swiss, at once a debauchee and an enthusiast, on the plan of his countryman Rousseau. He was shot the ninht before the battle of Wa- gram, not, as liis followers alleged, by a party of Austrians, but by gendarmes, commissioned for that purpose. His sect continued to subsist, and Massena did not escape susi)icions of being implicated in its intrigues. There was a communi- cation in their name to Lord Wellington, in May Hit*!); but the negotiation was not of a character which the ISritish gene- ral chose to encourage " — Soutiiky's I'cnhtsuhtr ITar, vol. li.. p. 303. -S. 1812.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. G07 prefect of police. A battalion of soldiers, under the same authority, occii]iicd the ]ilace de Greve, and toolc possession of tlic hotel do Ville ; while Conipte Frochot, wlio had been for thirteen vears the Prefect of the Seine, stupified by the sudden- ness of the intelligence, and flattered perhaps, by findine; his own name in the list of the provisional comr.iiUee of government, had the complaisance to put the conspirators in possession of the tower of St Jacques, fi'om which the tocsin was usually sjunded, and get an apartment in the holel de Villc arranged for the reception of the new admi- nistration. But the principal conspirator, like Fiesco at Genoa, perished at the moment when his audacious enterprise seemed about to be crown- ed with success. Hitherto none had thought of disobeying the j)retended decree of the Senate. Rumour l)ad prci)ared all men for the death of the Emperor, and the subsequent revolution seemed a consequence so natural, that it was readily acquies- ced in, and little interest shown on the subject. But Mallet, who had himself gone to obtain possession of the headquarters in the place Veu- dome, was unexpectedly resisted by General IIul- lin. Prepared for every circumstance, the despe- rado fired a pistol at the head of the general, and wounded him grievously ; but in the meanwhile, he was himself recognised by Laborde, chief of the military police, who, incredulous that his late cap- tive would have been selected by the Senate for _ the important duty which he was assuming, threw liimself on Mallet, and made him prisoner. Thus ended the conspiracy.' The soldiers, who had been its blind instruments, were marched back to the barracks. Mallet, with twenty-four of his as- sociates, most of them military men, were tried by a military tribunal, and twelve of them were shot in the plain of Grenelle, 30th of October. He met his death with the utmost firmness.^ The sun was rising on the Hospital of Invalids, and the woi-k- men were employed in gilding that splendid dome, for which Buonaparte had given express orders, in imitation, it was said, of those which he had seen in Moscow. The prisoner made some remarks upon the improvement which this would be to the capital. As he stepped towards the fatal ground, he said, mysteriously, but sternly, " You have got the tail, but you will not get the head." From this expression it has been gathered, that, as the con- spiracy of the infernal machine, formed originally among the Jacobins, was executed by the Royalists, so this plot was the device of the Royalists, though committed to the execution of republican hands.^ The truth, though it must be known to some now alive, has never been made public. This was the news which reached Buonaparte on the fatal 6th of November, betwixt Wiasma and Smolensk, and which determined his retreat from the army at Smorgoni, and his rapid journey to Paris. It was not so much the conspiracy which alarmed him, as the supineness or levity with which the nation, at least Paris, its capital, seemed ready to abandon the dynasty which he had hoped to ren- der perpetual. He was even startled by the num- ber of executions, and exclaimed against the indis- 1 Savarv, torn, iii., pp. 13, 32; Fouclid, torn, ii., pp. IdO, UK. 2 " Mallet died with frreat faiifif'roi'il, cnrrj'ng witli liim tlic •ecrct of one of the boldest coujJS-Uc-main whicli the grand criminate severity with \\hicli so many officers had been led to death, although rather dupes than ac- complices of the principal conspirator. " It is a massacre," he said ; " a fusillade ! What impres- sion will it make on France?" When Napoleon reached the metropolis, he found the Parisians as little interested in the execution of the criminals, as they had been in their ejihemeral success. But the sting remained in his own mind, and on the first audience of his ministers, he ex- claimed against ideology, or, in other words, against any doctrine which, appealing to the general feel- ings of patriotism or of liberty, should resist the indefeasible and divine right of the sovereign. Ho sounded the praises of Harlai and Mole', ministers of justice, who had died in protecting the rights of the crown ; and exclaimed, that the best death would be that of the soldier who falls on the field of battle, if the end of the magistrate, who dies in defence of the throne and laws, was not still more glorious.* This key-note formed an admirable theme for the flourishes of the various counsellors of the sections, to whom the fate of Frochot, the jicccant prefect, had been submitted with reference to the extent of his crime and his punishment. Not even the ad- dresses to James II. of Britain (who had at least a hereditary right to the throne he occupied) poured forth such a torrent of professions, or were more indifi'erently backed with deeds, when the observant courtiers were brought to the proof, than did those of the French functionaries at this period. " What is life," said the Comte de Chabrol, who had been created Pi'efect of Paris in room of the timorous Frochot — " What is life, in comparison to the im- mense interests which rest on tlu; sacred head of the heir of the emj)ire ? For me, whom an unex- pected glance of your Imperial eye has called from a distance to a post so eminent, what I most value in the distinction, is the honour and right of setting the foremost example of loyal devotion." It was the opinion of M. des Fontanges, senator, peer of France, and grand-master of the Imperial University, that " Reason pauses with respect before the mystery of power and obedience, ana abandons all inquiry into its nature to that religion which made the persons of kings sacred, after the image of God himself It is His voice which humbles anarchy and factions, in proclaiming the divine right of sovereigns ; it is the Deity himself wlio has made it an unalterable maxim of France, an unchangeable article of the law of our fathers ; it is Nature who appoints kings to succeed each other, while reason declares that the royalty itscH is immutable. Permit, sire," he continued, " that the University of Paris turn their eyes for a mo- ment from the throne which you fill with so much glory, to the august cradle of the heir of your grandeur. We unite him with your Majesty in the love and respect we owe to both ; and swear to him beforehand the .same boundless devotion which we owe to your Majesty." In better taste, because with less affectation of eloquence, M. Seguier, the President of the Court of Paris, contented himself with declaring, that the (jxiclia of our Revolution bequeaths to history."— Foixhf, torn. ii.. ji. II."). •' I'lie Memoirs of FouchC' contain a specific averment to tliiM iHect.— S. < Monitcur, Dec. 21, 1012; Fouche, torn, ii , p 120. 608 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1812-13. magistrates ol Paris were the surest sjipports of tlie Imperial autlioritj' — tliat their predecessors had encountered perils in defence of monarchy, and they in their turn were ready to sacrifice every thing for the sacred person of the Emperor, and for perpetuating his dynasty. Under cover of these violent protestations, the unfortunate Frochot escaped, as a disabled vessel drops out of the line of battle under fire of her consorts. He was divested of his offices, but per- mitted to retire, either to prosecute his studies in ideology, or to indoctrinate himself into more deep acquaintance in the mysteries of hereditary right than he had hitherto shown himself possessed of.' We have selected the above examples, not with the purpose of inquiring whether the orators (whom we believe, in their individual capacity, to have been men of honour and talents) did or did not redeein, by their after-exertions, the pledges of which they were so profuse ; but to mark with deep reprobation the imiversal system of assenta- tion and simulation, to which even such men did not disdain to lend countenance and example. By such overstrained flatteries and protestations, coun- sellors are degraded and princes are misled — truth and sincere advice become nauseous to the ear of the sovereign, falsehood grows familiar to the tongue of the subject, and public danger is not discovered until escape or rescue has become im- possible. Yet it cannot be denied that the universal tenor of these vows and protestations, su-pported by Buonaparte's sudden arrival and firm attitude, had the efiect of suppressing for a time discontents, which were silently making way amongst the French people. The more unthinking were influenced by the tenor of sentiments which seemed to be uni- versal through the empire ; and, upon the whole, this univei-sal tide of assentation operated upon the internal doubts, sorrows, discontents, and approach- ing disaffection of the empire, like an efiusion of oil on the surface of a torrent, whose murmurs it may check, and whose bubbling ripples it may smooth to the eye, but the deep and dark energy of whose course the unction cannot in reality check or subdue. To return to the current of our history. Buo- naparte having tried the temper of his Senate, and not finding reason to apprehend any opposition among his subjects, proceeded, while straining every effort, as we shall presently see, for supporting fo- reign war, to take such means as were in his power for closing domestic wounds, which were the more dangerous that they bled inwardly, without any external effusion to indicate their existence. The chief of these dissensions was the dispute with the Pope, which had occasioned, and continued to foster, so much scandal in the Galilean Church. We have mentioned already, that the Pope, refus- ing to consent to any alienation of his secular domin- ' He obtained a pension on the restoration of Lonis XVIII., with tlie title of lionorary counsellor, which he had forfeited in July, llll.i, in consequence of having accepted, durinp the Hundred Ihivs, the situation of Prefect of the Bouches-du- Khonc. Hedied in I(W8. 2 'I knew Pius the Seventh from the time of his journey to Paris in 18(4, and from that period until his death I never ceased to receive from the venerable Pontiff marks, not of benevolence only, but even of confidence and affection. Since Hie year lUU I have resided at Rome : I have often had occa- ions, h.id been forcibly carried off from Rome, removed to Grenoble, then brought back over the Alps to Savona, in Italy. Napoleon, who denied that he had authorised this usage towards the father of the Church, yet continued to detain him at Savona. He was confined there uritil June, 1812. In tlie meantime, a deputation of the French bishops were sent with a decree by Napoleon, de- termining, that if his holiness should continue to refuse canonical institution to the French clera;v, as he had done ever since the seizure of the city of Rome, and the patrimony of Saint Peter's, a council of prelates should be held for the purposa of pronouncing his depo.^ition. On 4th September, 1811, the holy father ad- mitted the deputation, listened to their arguments with patience, then knelt down before them, and repeated the psalm, Jitdica me, Domine. When the prelates attempted to vindicate themselves, Pius VII., in an animated tone, threatened to ful- minate an excommunication again.st any one who should attempt to justify his conduct. Then, in- stantly recovering his natural benignity of disposi- tion, he offered his hand to the oftended bishops, who kissed it with reverence. The French pre- lates took leave sorrowfully, and in tears. Several of them showed themselves afterwards opposed to the views of Napoleon, and sustained imprisonment in consequence of their adhesion to what appeared to them their duty. The chemi.sts of our time have discovered, that , some substances can only be decomposed in par- ticular varieties of gas ; and apparently it wa.s, in like manner, found that the air of Italy only con- firmed the inflexibility of the Pope. His Holiness was hastily transported to Fontain- bleau, where he arrived IStli June, 1812. The French historians boast, that the old man was not thrown into a dungeon, but, on the contrary, was well lodged in the palace, and was permitted to attend mass — a wonderful condescension towards the head of the Catholic religion. But still he was a captive. He abode at Fontainbleau till Napo- leon's return from Russia; and it was on the 19th January, 1813, that the Emperor, having left Saint Cloud under pretext of a hunting-party, suddenly presented himself before his venerable prisoner. He exerted all the powers of influence which he possessed, and they were very great, to induce the Pontiff" to close with his propositions; and we readily believe that the accounts, which charge him with having maltreated his person, are not only unauthenticated, but positively fal.se.^ He rendered the submission which he required more easy to the conscience of Pius VII., by not demanding from him any express cession of his temporal rights, and by gi-anting a delay of six mouths on the sub- ject of canonical instalment. Eleven articles were agreed on, and subscribed by the Emperor and the Pope. But hardly was this done ere the feud broke out sion to .^ee him. and I can affirm, that in many of myintcr- viewg with his holiness, he assured me that he was treated by Napoleon, in every personal respect, as he could have wished. These are his very words: — ' Personalmcnte non ho avuto di che dolermi ; non ho mai mancato di nulla; la mia persona fu sempre rispettata e trattata in modo da non potermi lag- nare.' ' I had nothing to complain of personally ; I wanted for nothing ; my person was always respected, and treated in a way to afford me no ground of complaint.' "— Lovis Blo.\«- P.\ BTS. 1813.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. GOO afresh. It was of iniport.ince to Napoleon to liave the schism soldered up as soon as possilile, since the Pope refused to acknowledge the validity of his second marriage, and, of course, to ratify the legi- timacy of his son. He, tlierefore, published the articles of treaty in the Montteur, as containing a new concordat.' The Pope complained of this, stating, that the articles jiublished were not a con- cordat in themselves, hut only the preliminaries, on which, after due consideration, such a treaty might have been formed. He was indignant at what he considered as circumvention on the part of the Emperor of France, and refused to abide by the alleged concordat. Thus failed Napoleon's attempt to close the schism of the Church, and the ecclesiastical feuds recommenced with more acri- mony than ever. Looking towards Spain, Napoleon saw his affairs there in a better posture than he could have ex- pected, after the battle of Salamanca, and the cap- ture of Madrid. Lord Wellington, indifferently supported by the Spanish army, among whom quar- rels and jealousies soon rose high, had been unable, from want of a sufficient battering-train, to take the fortress of Burgos ; and was placed in some dan- ger of being intercepted by Soult's army, w ho had raised the siege of Cadiz, while engaged with that under D'Erlon, with whom was the intrusive King. The English general, therefore, with his usu.al pru- dence, I'etreated into the territories of Portugal, and Napoleon, seeing that his army in Spain amounted to 270,000 men, thought them more than sufficient to oppose what forces Spain could present, with the regular allied army of perhaps 70,000 at most, under Lord Wellington's command. He withdrew, accordingly, 150 skeletons of battalions, which he meant to make the means of disciplining his young conscripts. It was now that the hundred cohorts, or 100,000 youths of the First Ban of National Guards, who had been pluccd in frontier garrisons, under the declaration that they were not, under any pretence, to gQ beyond the limits of France, were converted into ordinary soldiers of the line, and destined to fill up the skeleton corps which were brought from Spain. Four regiments of guai'ds, one of Polish cavalry, and one of gendarmes, were at the same time withdrawn from the Peninsula. The sailors of the French fleet, whose services were now in- deed perfectly nominal, were landed, or brought rather from the harbours and maritime towns in which they loitered away their time, and formed into corps of artillery. This reinforcement might comprehend 40,000 men. But while his credit continued with the nation, the conscription was Napoleon's best and never-failing resource, and with tlie assistance of a decree of the Senate, it once more ])!aced in his hands the anticipation of the year 1814. This deci'ee carried his levies of every kind to 350,000 men. The remounting and recruiting of the cavalry was a matter of greater difficulty, and to that task was to be joined the restoration of the artillery and materiel of the army, all of which had been utterly destroyed in the late fatal retreat. But the vaults under the Tuileries were not yet exhausted, al- though they had contributed largely to the pre- parations for the campaign of the preceding year. 1 Sec .Monitcur, Feb. 1.5, i;il:!. A profusion of treasure was expended ; every arti- san, wliose skill could be made use of, was set to work ; horses were purchased or procured in every direction; and such was the active spirit of Napo- leon, and the extent of his resources, that he w:.a able to promise to the Legislative Representatives that he would, without augmenting the national burdens, provide the sum of three hundred millions of francs, which were wanted to repair the losses of the Russian campaign. V/e must not forget, that one of the ways and means of recruiting the cavalry, was a spi cies of conscription of a new invention, and which was calculated to sweej) into the ranks of the army the youth of the higher ranks, whom the former draughts had spared, or who had redeemed them- selves from the service by finding a substitute. Out of this class, hitherto exempted from the con- scription. Napoleon proposed to levy 10,000 youtlis of the higher ranks, to be formed into four I'cgi- ments of Guards of Honour, who were to be re- garded much as the troops of the royal household under the old system. This idea was encouraged among the courtiers and assentators, who repre- sented the well-born and well-educated youths, as eager to exchange their fowling-pieces for muskets, their shooting-dresses for uniforms, and their rustic life for the toils of war. I'oliticians saw in it something of a deeper design than the mere adding ten thousand to the mass of recruits, and conceived that this corps of proprietors was proposed with the view of bringing into the Emperor's power a body of hostages, who should guarantee the fidelity of their fathers. The scheme, however, was in. terrupted, and for a time laid aside, owing to tho jealousy of the Imperial Guard. These Prajtoriaii Bands did not relish the introdjction of such patri- cian corps as those proposed, whose privileges th.ev conceived might interfere with their own ; and accordingly the institution of the Guard of Honour was for some time suspended. The wonderful energies of Napoleon's mind, and the influence w Inch he could exert over the minds of others, were never so striking as at this period of his reign. He had returned to his seat of empire at a dreadful crisis, and in a most calamitous con- dition. His subjects had been ignorant, for six weeks, whether he was dead or alive, and a for- midable conspiracy, w hich was all but successful, had at once shown that there was an awakening activity amongst his secret enemies, and an apathy and indifference amongst his apparent friends. When lie arrived, it was to declare a dreadful catastrophe, of which his ambition had been the cause ; the loss of 500,000 men, with all their arms, ammunition and artillery; the death of so many children of France as threw the whole country into mourning. He had left behind him cold and in- voluntary allies, changing fast into foes, and foes, encouraged by his losses and his flight, threaten ing to combine Eui'ope in one great crusade, ha\ - ing for its object the demolition of his power. No sovereign ever presented himself before his jieopU; in a situation more precarious, or overclouded by such calamities, arrived or in prospect. Yet Napoleon came, and seemed but to stamp on the earth, and armed legions arose at his call ; the doubts and discontents of the j)ublic disap- peared as mists at sun-rising, and tho same conti- dence which had attended liis prosperous fortunes 610 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [181; reviveil in its full extent, despite of his late reverses, j In the month of April his army was increased, as we have seen, by 350,000 men, in addition to the Sfreat garrisons maintained in Dantzic, Thorn, Modlin, Zamosk, Czenstochau, Custrin, &e., ang- mentod as they now were by the remains of the grand armv, wjiich hail found refuge in these places of strength. He had, besides, an active levy of forces in Italv, and a very large army in Spain, notwithstanding all the draughts which his present necessitv had made him bring out of that slaughter- house. 'Whether, therefore, it was Napoleon's pur- pose to propose peace or carry on war, he was at the head of a force little inferior to that which he had heretofore commanded. Having thus given some account of the internal state of France, it is now necessary to look abroad, and examine the consequences of the Russian cam- pakii upon Europe in general. CHAPTER LXV. Murat haves the Grand Army abnqyth/ — Eugene appointed in his place — Measures taken by the Kinq of Prussia for his disenthraldom — lie leaves Berlin for Breslau — Treaty shjned between Russia and Prussia early in March — Alexander arrives at Breslau on \bth; on the Xdth Prussia declares War against France — Warlike preparations of Prussia — Universal enthusiasm — Blucher ap- pohtted Generalissimo — Vindication of the Crvwn Prince of Sweden for joining the Confederacy anainst France — Proceedings of Austria — Un- abated spirit and ■pretensions of Napoleon — A Reiency is appointed in France during his ab- sence, and Maria Louisa appointed Regent, with nominal powers. The command of the relics of the grand army had been conferred upon Murat, when Napoleon left them at Smorgoni. It was of too painful and disagreeable a nature to afford any food to the ambition of the King of Naples ; nor did he accept it as an adequate compensation for various mortifi- cations which he had sustained during the campaign, and for which, as has already been noticed, he nourished considerable resentment against his bro- ther-in-law. Having, besides, more of the soldier than of the general, war lost its charms for him when he was not displaying his bravery at the head of his cavalry ; and to augment his impatience, he became jealous of the authority which his wife was exercising at Naples during his absence, and longed to return thither. He, therefore, hastily disposed of the troops in the various Prussian fortresses recently enumerated, where the French maintained garrisons, and suddenly left the army upon the 1 6th January. Napoleon, incensed at his conduct, an- nounced his departure, and the substitution of Eugene, the Viceroy of Italy, in the general com- mand of the army, with this note of censure :— " The viceroy is more accustomed to the manage- ment of military affairs on a large scale, and besides, enjoys the full confidence of the Emperor."' This 1 Moiiiteur, 27tli January, 1813. On tlie i.'4th, Napoluon wrote thus to his sister, tlie Queen of Naples ;— ■' Your hus- band quilted the army on the 16th. He is a brave man in the field of battle; but he is more cowardly than a woman or a monk wlien not in presence of the enemy. He has no moral courage."— Baron 1''ain, Munuscript dc, 1813, torn, i., p. DO. oblique sarcasm greatly increased the coldness bC' tvvixt the two brothers-in-law.^ Meantime, the Russians continued to advance without opposition into Prussia, being desirous, by their presence, to bring that country to the deci- sion which they had long expected. Tiie manner in wliich Prussia had been treated by France ; the extreme contributions which had been levied from her ; the threats which had been held out of alto- gether annihilating her as a state ; the occupation of her fortre.sses, and the depriving her of all the rights of independence, constituted an abuse of the rights of conquest, exercised in consequence of superior force, which was sure to be ended so soon as that force ceased to be predominant. Napoleon, it is true, had the affectation to express confidence in the friendship of Prussia in his adversity, which he had never cultivated in prosperity. It would have been as reasonable in the patron of a Turkish cruiser, to expect his galley-.slaves to continue, out of a point of honour, to pull the oars, after the chain was broken which fettered them to their benches. Accordingly, King Frederick took his measures to shake himself free of the French yoke ; but ho did so with wisdom and moderation. Whatever wrongs the Prussians had sustained from the French, the King of Prussia had sought no means of avenging them, even when routed armies, falling back on his dominions in a defenceless condition, might have been destroyed, in their desolate state, by his peasantry alone. Popular violence, arising from the resentment of long-suffered injuries, did indeed practise cruelties on the French at Konigs- berg and elsewhere ; but it was against the will of the government, which suppressed them as much as possible. The King did not take any measures to intercept the retreat even of Napoleon himself, although there was ground to expect he might have come to that resolution. He renewed the armis- tice concluded by D'Yorck ; he suffered the dis- tressed and frozen remains of the grand army to augment the hostile garrisons Avhich had occupied his own strongest fortresses. He observed, in short, all the duties of an ally, though an unwilling one, until the war, in which he was engaged as an auxi- liary, was totally ended, by the defeat and disper- sion of the army of his principal. It is the more proper to enter at large into this topic, because the French historians usually mention the conduct of the King of Prussia on this occasion as defection, desertion, or some such word, indicating a breach of faith. Nothing can be more unjust. It was not, surely, to be expected, that Fi-ede- rick was to submit liis own dominions to the de- vastation of the Russians, by continuing a war in which his share was only secondary ; nor was it rational to believe, that a country so much oppressed would neglect the means of emancipation which now presented themselves. It is, therefore, no marvel that Prussia should have taken this favour- able opportunity for throwing off a yoke which she had found so oppressive. Nay, it is believedj on good grounds, that the course adopted by the King of Prussia was not only that of wisdom and patri- 2 " The Emperor was very much dissatisfied with liis con- duct ; and it is well for the KinR of Najjles that he did not pass through France, wliere lie would certainly liave met with a very unfavourable reception." — Savakv, torn, iii., p. 43. 1813.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. Gil olisni. but even of necessity ; for it is very probable, that, if he had refused to lead his subjects against the French, they might, in that moment of excita- tion, have found some one else to have placed at the head of the government. He had, as we have already said, denounced the convention entered into by D'Yorck and Massenbach, and ordered tliem both to Berlin for the purpose of undergoing trial. But the generals had rem.ained quietly in command of their troops,^ affording a strong exam- ple, that, had Frederick laboured ever so much for that purpose, it would have been vain, if not hazardous, to Iiave opposed his royal authority to the impulse of the national spirit. Before the King took his final resolution, he re- solvedj as a measure of prudence, to secure his own person, lest, like Ferdinand and the Spanish Bour- bons, he should be seized upon as a hostage. He therefore suddenly left Berlin on 22d January, 1813, and betook himself to Breslau,* where there were no French soldiery. Immediately afterwards he published an address to his people, calling his armies together, and giving the signal to the pa- triotism of thousands who longed to arise in arms. The French ambassador was, nevertheless, invited to follow the King to Breslau, where a variety of discussions immediately took place betwixt him and the Prussian cabinet. To the complaints of exactions and oppressions of every kind, the French negotiators could only- reply by reminding the Prussians, that Napoleon had, after decisive victory, suffered the nation to retain the name of independence, and the King to wear a pi'ecarious crown. A robber would have the same defence against restoring the booty he had acquired from a traveller, if he stated, that though he had despoiled, he had not murdered him. It was by the right of the strongest that France had acquired that influence over Prussia which she exercised so severely ; and, according to the dictates of common sense and human nature, tthen the advantage was on Prussia's side, she had a right to regain by strength what she had lost by weakness. Every obligation, according to the maxim of the civil law, is made void in the same manner in which it is rendered binding ; as Arthe- gal, the emblematic champion of justice in Spen- ser's allegory, decrees as law, that what the sea has brought the sea may resume. On the 1st of Mai-ch, or about that period, Prus- sia, returning to a system which nothing but the extremity of her circumstances had ever inter- rupted, signed a treaty of alliance, offensive and defensive, with Russia. On the 15th March, the Emperor Alexander arrived at Breslau. The meet- ing was affecting betwixt the two sovereigns, who had been such intimate friends, and had alwajs retained the same personal attachment for each other, although the circumstances of controlling necessity had made them enemies, at a period when it was of importance to Russia to have as few foes as possible thrown into the scale against her. Tlie King of Prussia wept. " Courage, my brother," said Alexander ; " these are the last tears which Napoleon shall caur e you to shed." On the 16th March, Prussia declared war against 1 " Upon receiving the news that the King of Prussia had escaped, Napoleon regretted he liad not treated liini as lie had done Ferdinand Vll. and tlie Poi)e. 'This is not tlie first instance,' said lie, ' tlial in politics, generosity is a bad toun- France. There is, in the paper containing this de- nunciation, much reasoning respecting th'" extent of contributions due and received, which might have been summed up in the declaration, that " France had made Pi-ussia her subject and htr slave, but that now Prussia was enabled to act for herself, and shake off the fetters which violence had imposed on hu the love and courage of his people that the King sought means to extricate himself, and to restore to his monarchy the independence which is necessary to ensure the future prosperity of the kingdom." The Emperor Napoleon received that declaration of war, with the calmness of one by whom it had been for some time expected. " It was better," he said, " to have a declared enemy than a doubtful ally." * By the Prussians at large it was heard with all the rapture of gratified hope, and the sacrifices which they made, not willingly only, but eagerly, show more completely than any thing else can, the general hatred against France, and the feelings which that nation had excited during her career of success. From a country so trampled down and exhausted as Prussia, it might have been thought slender means of warfare could be provided. But venge ance is like the teeth of the dragon, a seed which, wherever sown, produces a crop of warriors. Free- dom too, was at stake ; and when a nation is war- ring for its own riglits, who shall place a limit to its exertions ? Some preparation had been made by the monarch. The jealousy of Fiance had li- mited the exercise of the Prussian militia to 25,000 men yearly. But the government had contrived to double this amount, by calling out the militia twice in the year, and training on the second occai- sion the same number, but different individuals from those who had been first summoned. Thus, a certain portion of discipline had become general among the Prussian youtli, and, incited by the de- sire of their country's freedom, they rushed to bat- tle against France as to a holy warfare. The means of providing artillery had also been sedulously aug- mented. This was not to be a war of posts or for' tresses, but of fields of battle and of bayonets. Many, therefore, of the brass pieces of ordnance, which garnished the walls of such towns and for- tresses as were yet unoccupied by the French, had been recast, and converted into field-pieces. Money was scarce, but England was liberal ; and besides, the Prussian nobles and burgesses taxed themst Ives to the uttermost. Even the ladies gave up their diamonds and gold ornaments, for chains and bracelets beautifully wrought out of iron, the state enjoying the advantage of the exchange. In a fu- ture age, these relics, when found in the female casket, will be more valuable than the richest In- dian jewels. Meanwhile the resentment and desire of re- venge, which liad so long smouldered in the bo- sellor." He sencrous towarde Prussia!!"— Fouche, torn, ii, p. 1J7. 2 See Savary, toin. iii., p. 44. G12 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1813. snms of the Prussians, broke forth with the foi'ce of a volcano. Tlie youth of every description rush- ed to fill the ranks, the distinctions of birth were forgotten, nay, in a great measure abolished ; no question was asked of the Prussian, but whether he was able and willing to assist in the liberation of his country. The students, the cultivation of whose minds generally adds to their feeling for national freedom and national honour, arrayed tliemseh'es into battalions and squadrons. Some formed the Black Bands, who at this time distin- tjuished themselves ; others assumed the arms and dress of the Cossacks, whose name had become so terrible to the French. In generalj these volun- teers were formed into mounted and dismounted squadrons of chasseurs, whose appearance differed from that of the line only in their uniform being dark green instead of blue. Their discipline, f )rmed on a system devised by Scharnhorst, was admirably calculated to give fresh levies the de- gree of training and discipline necessary to render them serviceable, without pretending to give them the accuracy in details which experience alone can teach. In a few weeks numerous armies were on foot, and Prussia, like a strong man rousing himself from slumber, stepped forward to assume her rank among independent nations. There could not be a greater contrast than between the same nation in her hour of presumption, her period of depres- sion, and her present form of regeneration. To the battle of Jena the Prussians had marched as to an assured conquest, with a splendid army, well disposed, and admirably appointed, but conducted with that negligence which is inspired by a pre- simiptuous degree of confidence, and that pride which goes before destruction. In the campaign of 1812, the Black Eagles stoo]iing their dishon- oured crests beneath those of France, they went a discouraged and reluctant band of auxiliaries, to assist in the destruction of that power, whose sub- jugation they were well aware must lead to their iwn irretrievable bondage. And now, such was the change of a few weeks, nay, not many days, that Prussia again entered the lists with an army, still deficient in its material provisions, but com- posed of soldiers whose hearts were in the trim, whom misfortunes had taught caution, and oppres- sion had roused to resistance ; who knew, by me- lancholy experience, the strength of their powerful adversary, but were not the less disposed to trust in their own good swords and good cause. A leader was selected, admiraljly formed by na- ture to command a national army at such a crisis. This was the celebrated Blneher, one of the few Prussian generals, who, even after the battle of Jena, continued to maintain the fame of the Great Frederick, under whom he had been trained, and to fight until every ray of hope had been entirely destroyed. This high-spirited and patriotic officer had remained in obscurity during the long period of the French domination. He was one of those ardent and inflexiljle characters that were dreaded by Napoleon, whose generosity, however it might ' " Sworn from his cradle Reme's relentless foe, Sicli uentrous hate the Punic champion bore ; Thj lake, O Thrasymei.e, beheld it glow. And Cannx's walls and Trebia's crinison'd shore." Shenstone. — S. * " Bluchcr," faid Naimlco", .^t St. Helena, " is a very 612 display itself otherwise, was seldom observed to forgive those who had shown a steady and con- scientious opposition to his power. Such men he held his enemies in every sense, personal as well as political ; and, watched closely by the police, their safety could only be ensured by living strictly retired. But now the old warrior sprang eagerly from his obscure retreat, as in the ancient Roman shows a lion might have leaped from his dark den into the arena of the crowded amphitheatre, on which he was soon to act his terrible part. Blu- eher, was, indeed, by character and disposition, the very man whom the exigence and the Prussian nation required to supi)ort a national war. He was not possessed of war as a science, nor skilled in planning out the objects of a campaign. Scharn- horst, and after him Gneisnau, were intrusted with that part of the general's duty, as being completely acquainted with strategic ; but in the field of bat- tle no man possessed the confidence of his soldiers so completely as General Blucher. The first to advance, the last to retreat, he was seldom too much elated by victory, and never depressed by bad success. Defeated to-day, he was as ready to renew the battle to-morrow. In his army was no instance of whole divisions throwing down their arms, because they conceived their line broken or their flank turned. It was his system, that the greater part of fighting consists in taking and giv- ing hard blows, and on all occasions lie presented himself with a good grace to the bloody exercise. He was vigilant, too, as taught by the exercise of his youih in the light cavalry ; and so enterprising and active, that Napoleon was heard to complain, with his accustomed sneer, that " he had more trouble from that old dissipated hussar, than from all the generals of the allies beside." Deeply re- senting the injuries of his country, and his own exile, Blucher's whole sotil was in the war against France and her Ruler ; and utterly devoid of the milder feelings of modern militaiy leaders, he en- tered into hostilities with tlie embittered and per- sonal animosity which Hannibal entertained of old against the Roman name and nation.' Such were the character and energies of the veteran to whom Prussia now confided the defence of her dearest rights, the leading of her youth, and the care of her freedom.'-' Sweden, or, we ought rather to say, the Crown Prince, had joined the confederacy, as already mentioned, and the spleen of Buonaparte, personal as well as public, had been directed even more against him than against the King of Prussia. The latter was represented as a rebellious and ungrate- ful vassal, tlie first as a refugee Frenchman who had renounced his country. The last accusation, so grossly urged, was, i( possible, more unreasonably unjust than the first. The ties of our native country, strict and intimate as they are, may be dissolved in more ways than one. Its lawful government may be overthrown, and the faithful subjects of that government, exiled to foreign countries for their adherence to it, may lawfully bear arms, which, in that case, are not brave soldier, 7«i hnn sabrcnr. He 1b like a bull who shuts his eyes, and, seeing no danger, rushes on. He committed a thousand faults; and, hud it not been for circumstances, I could repeatedly have made liiiii prisoner. He is stubliorn and indefatigable, afraid of nothing, and very much attached to his country." — Niqwlcvn in Exile, vol i., p- idO. 1813.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 613 directed against the home of tlioir fathers, but against the band of tliicves and robbers by which it is temporarily occupied. If this is not flie case, what are we to tliink of tlie Revolution of 1()})8, and the invasion of King William ? In like man- ner, it is possible for a native of France or Britain Bo to link himself with another country, as to trans- fer to it the devotion which, in the general case, is only due to the land of his birth. In becoming the heir of the crown of Sweden, Bernadotte had be- come in fact a Swede ; for no one, circumstanced as he was, is entitled, in interweaving his personal fortunes with the fate of the nation which adopts liim, to make a reserve of any case in which he can be called to desert their interest for that of another country, though originally his own. In assuming a French genera! for their Crown Prince, Sweden no doubt intended to give a pledge that she meant to remain on terms of amity with France ; but it would be a wide step to argue from thence that it was her purpose to subject herself as a conquei'ed province to that empire, and to hold the prince whom slie had chosen to be no better than the lieutenant of Napoleon. This was indeed the construction which the French Emperor put upon the kingdoms of his own creati(Mi — Holland, Westphalia, Spain, and so forth. But in these countries the crowns were at least of his confer- riiig. That of Sweden, on the other hand, was given by the Diet at Orebro, representing the Swe- dish people, to a person of their own election ; nor had Buonaparte any thing to do in it farther, than by consenting that a French subject should become King of Sweden ; which consent, if available for any thing, must be certainly held as releasing Ber- nadotte from every engagement to France, incon- sistent with the duties of a sovereign to an inde- pendent kingdom. When, therefore, at a period only a few months afterwards. Napoleon authorised piracies upon the Swedish conmierce, and seized, with armed hand, upon the only portion of the Swedish territories which lay within his grasp, nothing could be more unreasonable than to require, that because the Crown Prince was born in Beam, he should there- fore submit to have war made upon him in his capacity of King of Sweden, w ithout making all the resistance in his power. Supposing, what might easily have chanced, that Corsica had remained a onstituent part of the British dominions, it would liave been ridiculous to have considered Napoleon, when at the head of the French government, as bound by the duties of a liege subject of George III., simply because he was born at Ajaccio. Yet tliere is no difference betwixt the cases, excepting in the relative size and importance of France and Corsica; a circumstance which can have no influ- ence upon the nature of the obligations incurred by those who are born in the two countries, It may be readily granted, that a person in the situation of the Crown Prince nuist sutfer as a man of feeling, when opposed to the ranks of his own countrymen. So must a judge, jf unhappily called upon to sit in judgment and pronounce sentence upon a brother, or other near relation. In both cases, public duty must take place of private or per.sonal sentiment. While the powers of the North formed this coa- lition, upon terms better concerted, and with forces •.»f a different character from those which had ex- isted upon former less fortunate occasions, Austria looked upon the a])proaching strife with a hesita- ting and doubtful eye. Her regard f(n' a sovereign allied to her royal family by so close a tie as Na- poleon, had not prevented her cabinet from feeling alarm at the overgrown power of France, and the ambition of her ruler. She had reluctantly contri- buted an auxiliary force to the assistance of France in the last campaign, and had taken the posture of a neutral so soon as circumstances permitted. Tlie restoration of independence to the world must re- store to Austria the provinces which she had lost, especially Illyria and the Tyrol, and at the same time her influence both in Italy and Germany. But this might be obtained from Napoleon disabled, and willing to purchase his ransom from the repri sals of allied Europe, by surrender of his preten- sions to universal monarchy ; and Austria there- fore concluded it best to assume the office of me- diator betwixt France and the allies, reserving to herself to throw her sword into the scales, in case the forces and ambition of Napoleon should again predominate ; while, on the other hand, should peace be restored by a treaty formed under her aus|)ices, she would at once ])rotect the son-in-law of her Emperor, regain her lost provinces and de- cayed influence, and contribute, by destroying the arrogant pretensions of France, to the return of tranquillity to Europe. Otto, the French minister at Vienna, could al- ready see in the Austrian administration a disposi- tion to revive the ancient claims which had been annulled by the victories of Napoleon, and wrote to his court, even in the beginning of January, thaj they were already making a merit of not instantly declaring war against France. A mission of Ge- neral Bubna to Paris put a more favourable cha- racter upon the interference of the Austrian minis- ters. He informed the French Cabinet that the Emperor Francis was about to treat with France as a good ally, providing Austria was permitted also to treat w ith others as an independent nation.* It was in short the object of Austria, besides recovering her own losses (of which that cabinet, constantly tenacious of its objects, as it is well known to be, had never lost siglit,) to restore, as far as possible, some equilibrium of power, by which the other states, of which the European rejiublic was composed, might beoomo, as formerly, guaran- tees for the freedom and independence of each other. Such was not the system of Napoleon. He would gladly gratify any state who assisted him in hostilities against and the destruction of another, with a handsome share of the spoil ; but it was* contrary to his i)olicy to allow any one a jirotecting veto in behalf of a neutral power. It was accord- ing to his system, in the present case, to open to Austria his determination to destroy Prussia en- tirely, and to assure her of Silesia as her share of the booty, if she would be his ally in the war. But he found, to his surprise, that Austria had adopted a different idea of policy, and that she rather saw her interest in supporting the weak against the strong, than, while grasping at selfish objects, in winking at the engrossing aml)ilion of the ruler of France. Neither did he leave the Austrian Cabi- net long in the belief, that his losses had in any degree lowered his lofty pvete;isions» or induced Fouchd, torn, ii., p. 124. G14 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [i8i; him to descend from the high claims which he has formed of universal sovereignty. From his decla- rations to the Senate and Representative Body of France, one of two things was plain ; either that no sense of past misfortunes, or fear of those wliich might arrive, would be of any avail to induce him to abandon the most unjustifiable of his usurpations, the most unreasonable of his pretensions ; or else that he was determined to have his armed force re-established, and his sword once more in his hand ; nay, that he had settled that a victory or two should wash out the memory of his retreat from Moscow, before he would enter into any treaty of pacification. The notes in the Moniteur, during this winter of 1812-13, which were always written by himself, contained Buonaparte's bold defiance to Europe, and avowed his intention to maintain, abreast of each other, the two wars of Spain and Germany. He proposed at once to open the campaign in Germany (though lie had lost the alliance both of Prussia and Austria,) with an army of double the imount of that which marched against Russia, and to reinforce and keep up the armies of Spain at their complete establishment of 300,000 men. " If any one desired," he said, " the price at which he was willing to grant peace, it had been expressed in the Duke of Bassano's letter to Lord Castle- reagh, before commencement of the campaign of ]81-2."» When that document is referred to, it will be found to contain no cession whatever on the part of Franco, but a proposal that England should yield up Si)ain ( now almost liberated,) to his brother Joseph, with tlie admission that Portugal and Sicily, none of which kingdoms Napoleon had the means of making a serious impression upon, might remain to their legitimate sovereigns. In other words, he would desist from pretensions which he had no means to make good, on condition that every point, wliich was yet doubtful, should be conceded in his favour. It was extravagant to suppose that Britain, after the destruction occasioned by the Russian retreat, would accept terms which were refused when Na- poleon was at the head of his fine army, and in the full hope of conquests. When, therefore, Austria offered herself as a mediator at the court of St. James's, the English ministers contented tliem- selves with pointing out the extravagant preten- sions expressed by France, in documents under- stood to be authentic, and demanding that these should be disavowed, and some concessions made • or promised by Napoleon, ere they would hamper themselves by any approach to a treaty. Upon the whole, it was clear, that the fate of the world was once more committed to the diance of war, and that probably much more liuinan blood nuist be spilled, ere any principles could be settled, cu which a general pacification might be grounded. A step of state policy was adopted by Napoleon, obviously to conciliate his father-in-law, the Aus- trian Emperor. A regency was established during his absence, and the Empress, Maria Louisa, was ' Fouclie, torn, ii., p. 125. - " As the Empress- UcKcnt could not authorise, by her sig- nature, tlie presentation of any snmliis consuUitm, nor the promulgation of any law, the piirt she had to act was limited to hur appearance at tlie council-board. Besides, she was herself under the tutorsliip of Cambaceres, who w;is himself named regent. But her authority was curtailed of all real or effectual power ; for he reserved to him- self exclusively the privilege of presenting all de- crees to be passed by the Senate, and the Empress had only the right to preside in that body.* CHAPTER LXVI. State of the French Grand Army — The Russiam advance, and show themselves on the Elbe — The French evacuate Berlin, and retreat on the Elbe ■ — The Crown Prince of Sweden joins the Allies, with 35,000 Men — Dresden is occupied by the Sovereigns of liussia and Prnssia — Marshal Bessieres killed on 1st May — Battle of Ltitzen fought on the 2d. — The Allies retire to Bautzen — Hamburgh taken possession of by the Danes and French — Battle of Bautzen fought on the 20th and 2\st May — The Allies retire in good order — The French Generals, Bruyeres and Duroc, killed on the 22d. — Grief of Napoleon for the Death of the latter- — An Armistice signed on Ath June. We must once more look out upon Germany, to which country, so long the scene on which were fought the quarrels of Europe, the success of the Russians, and the total discomfiture of the army of Napoleon, had again removed the war. We left the wrecks of the grand army thronging in upon the fortresses lield by their countrymen in I'russia, where they were deposited as follows : — Into Thorn were thrown by Murat, before he left the grand armv 6,000 men. Into Modlin, ..." H.OOO IntoZamosc 4,0(i(» Into Graudentz, Prussians, fi,000 Into Dantzic .30,(iOO 54,000 This total of ,t4,000 men comprehended tlie sole remaining part of what Napoleon continued to call the grand army of Russia ; in which country, how- ever, not one-third of them had ever been, having been employed in Lithuania or Volhynia,and having thus escaped the horrors of the retreat. Almost all these troops were sickly, some distressingly so. The garrison towns, were, however, filled with them, and put in a state of defence judged suffi- cient to have checked the advance of the Russians.' It would, in all probability, have done so upon any occasion of ordinary war ; for Russia having not only gained back Lithuania, but taken posses- sion of Warsaw, and that part of Poland which formerly belonged to Prussia, ought not, in a com- mon case, to have endangered her success by ad- vancing beyond the Vistula, or by plunging her armies into Silesia, leaving so many fortresses in the rear. But the condition of Prussia, waiting the arrival of the Russians as a signal for rising at once, and by her example encouraging the genei'al insurrection of Germany, was a temptation too powerful to be resisted, although unquestional^ly there was a risk incurred in giving way to it. The directed by Savary. In fact, after the regency was set in mo- tion, tlie siiul of tlie government did not the less travel with Napoleon, who did not fail of issuing forth numerous derieen from all his moveable headquarters." — Fouche, toi.i u., p. 137. 3 Sec Jomini, toni. iv., p. 271- LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 1813.] various fortresses were therefore masked with a certain ininiber of troops ; and the Russian light corps, advancing beyond the Hne even of the Oder, began to show themselves on the Elbe, joined every where by the inhabitants of tlie country, who, influenced by the doctrines of the Tugend- Bund, and fired with detestation of the French, took arms wherever their deliverers appeared. The Fi'ench every where retired, and Prince Eugene, evacuating Berlin, retreated upon the Elbe. It seemed as if the allies had come armed with lighted matches, and the ground had been strewed with gunpowder ; so readily did the Germans rise in arms at the hourra of a body of Cossacks, or even at the distant gleam of their lances. The purpose of the war was not, however, to procure partial and desultory risings, from which no permanent benefit could be expected ; but to prepare the means of occupying the north of Germany by an army conducted by one of the most celebrated gene- rals of the age, and possessed of regular strength, sufficient to secure what advantages might be gain- ed, and tlnis influence the final decision of the eventful campaign. While the light troops of Russia and Prussia overran Germany, at least the eastern and northern provinces, the King of Sweden, in virtue of the convention into which he had entered at Abo, crossed over to Stralsund in the month of May, 1813, with a contingent amounting to 35,000 men, and anxiously awaited the junction which was to h.ave placed under his connnand such corps of Russians and Germans as should increase his main body to 80,000 or 100,000. With such a force, the Crown Prince proposed to undertake the offen- sive, and thus to compel Napoleon, when he should take the field, to make head at once against his force upon his left flank, and defend himself in front against the advancing armies of Russia and Prussia. The proclamations of independence sent abroad by the allies, made them friends wherever they came ; and three flying corps, under Czerni- cheff, Tettenborn, and Winzengerode, spread along both sides of the Elbe. The French retreated every where, to concentrate themselves under the walls of Madgeburg, and other fortified places, of which they still held possession. Meantinie, Hamburgh, Lubeck, and other towns, declared for the allies, and received their troops with an alacrity, which, in the case of Hamburgh, was severely punished by subsequent events. The French general, Morand, endeavoured to put a stop to the stream of what was termed defec- tion, and occupied Luiieburg, which had declared for the allies, with nearly 4000 men. His troops were already in the place, and about to proceed, it was said, to establish military tribunals, and punish the political crimes of the citizens, when the Rus- sians, commanded by the active Czernichefl', sud- denly appeared, forced their way sw(jrd in hand Into the town, and on 2d April, 1813, killed or took prisoners the whole of Jlorand's corps. The Vice- i"oy, Eugene, attempted to impose some bounds on the audacity now manifested by the allies, by striking a bold blow u])on his side. He marched suddenly from the neighbourhood of Madgeburg, with a view of surprising Berlin ; but was himself surprised at Mockern, driven back, defeated, and obliged to shut himself up in Madgeburg, where he was blockaded. Glo The predominance of the allies in the north of Germany seemed now so effectually ascertained, that the warmest adherents of France appeared disposed to desert her cause. Denmark began to treat with the allies, and even on one occasion, as will be hereafter noticed, made a demonstration to join them in arms. The King of Saxony, who had been always Na- poleon's most sincere friend, dared not now abide the storm. He retreated to a place of security in Franconia, while his army separated themselves from the French, and, throwing themselves into Torgau, began to stipulate for a neutrality, which would probably have terminated like that of D'Yorck, in their actually joining the allies. Davoust retreated to the northward, after blow- ing up the fine bridge at Dresden, amid the tumul- tuary opposition and execration of the inhabitants. Dresden itself soon after became the headquarters of the Emperor of Russia and King of Prussia who were received with joyful acclamations by all classes of the citizens. In like manner, three of the fortresses held by the French in Prussia — Thorn, Spandau, and Czen- stochau — surrendered to the allies, and aff'orded hope that the French might be dislodged from the rest in the course of the summer. But the farther results of the activity of the allied generals were in a great measure prevented, or postponed, by the arrival of the numerous forces which Napoleon had so speedily levied to restore his late losses. It would be severe to give the name of rashness to the conduct of the allies, in this bold advance into the middle and north of Germany. A great part of their power was of a moral cliaracter, and consisted in acting upon the feelings of the Ger- nmns, who were enchanted with the prospect oi freedom and inde|)endence. Still there was much audacity in the allied monarchs venturing across the Elbe, and subjecting themselves to the en- counter of Napoleon and his numerous levies, before their own resources had been brought forward. It was now, however, no time to dispute which plan ought to have been preferred ; the sovereigns of Russia and Prussia had no other alternative than to follow out boldly that from which they could not now retreat. Eugene, at the approach of the new French levies through the passes of the Thuringian mountains, removed to Madgeburg, and formed a junction with them on the Saale. The fiu-ce in total iriight amount to 115,000 present in the field; the greater part, however, were new levies, and many almost mere boys. The allied army was collected towards Leipsic, and lay full in N.apoleon's road to that cit}', and from thence to Dresden, which was the point on which he advanced. It has been thought that the plains of Lutzen would have been the most advantageous field of battle for the allies, whose strength lay in their fine body of cavalry ; to which it has been replied, that ' they expected to encounter Buonaparte on the other side of the Saale, and there to have obtained open ground for their cavalry, and a field fitting for their vengeance in the plains of Jena. But though the activity of the allies had of late been sufficient to distress Napol(!on's lieutenants, it was not as yet adequate to match that of the Emperor himself. An important change had lately taktui place in their army, by the death of the veteran Koutousoff, G16 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1813. ID whose place Witgeiistein liad succeeded to the supreme command. Skirmishes took place at Weissenfels and Po- serna, upon 29th April and 1st May, on which last day an event occurred distressing to Buonaparte's feelings. A contest took place in the defile of Rip- jnich, near Poserna, which was only remarkable for the death of an excellent officer. Marshal Bessieres, whose name the reader must remember as the leader of Napoleon's household troops, from the time they bore the hv.mlile name of Guides, until now that they were the Imperial Guard, and he (heir Colonel-general, coming up to see how the action went, w-as killed by a camion-shot. His body was covei-ed with a white sheet, and the loss concealed as long as jiossible from the guards, who were much attached to him. Upon a for- mer occasion, when his horse was killed, Buo- naparte told him he was obliged to the bullet, for making it known to him how much he was beloved, since the wliole guard had wept for him. His time was, liowever, now come. He was sincerely la- mented by Napoleon, who was thus, when the world was going harder against him than formerly, deprived of an early and attached folIower."^ I3ut the war kept its pace. The French army con- tinued to advance upon I.eipsic on the south ; the allies approached fi'om the north to defend the place. The centre of the French army was stationed at a village called Kaya. It was under the command of Ney. lie was suf-tained by the Imperial Guard, with its fine artillerv, dr?.wn up before the well- known town of Lutzen, which, having seen the last conflict of Gustavus Adolphus, was now to witness a moi'e bloody tragedy. Marmout, who commanded the riglit, extended as far as the defile of Poserna, and rested with his left upon the centre. The left wing of the French reached from Kaya to the Elster. As they did not expect to be brought to action in that place, or upon that day (JMay ^d,) Najioleon was pressing forward from Ids right, Lauristou being at the head of the column, with the purpose of ]iossessing himself of Leipsic, behind which he expected to see the ai-my of the allies. But these, encouraged by the presence of the Emperor Alexander and King of Prussia, had formed the daring resolution of marching south- ward along the left bank of the Elster during the night, transporting themselves to the right bank in the morning, and assaulting with the choicest of tlieir troops, under Bhicher, the centre of the French, led by Ney. The fury of the attack was irresistible, and, in despite of a most obstinate de- fence, the allies obtained possession of Kaya, the j)oint on which tlie centre of the French army re-ted. This was a crisis worthy of Napoleon's genius, and he was not wanting 'to himself. As- sailed on the flank when in the act of advancing in Column, he yet contrived, by a masterly movement, to wheel up his two wings, so as in turn to outflank those of the enemy. He hurried in person to bring up his guard to support the centre, which was in fact ne^irly broken through. The combat was the more desperate and deplorable, that on the one • Napolpfin causpcl tlie remains r, pulverized all the schemes of the allies; and tlie cloudy train of intrigues, formed by the Cabin(;t of St James's as having been destroyed, like tiie Gordian knot under the sword of Alex- ander. The eloquence of Cardinal Maury, who friends, as if to prepare liira for tlie sevcro reverse.s which sli8 had yet in store" 2 Jomini, torn, iv., p. 274; Military Reports to the Empress; Savary, torn, iii., p. Cfi: Haron Hain, "torn, i., p. 2(7 ; Lord Catli' cart's liesp.atch, Loniion Gazette, May 25. ISIP..] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 617 said Te Dcuin on tlie occasion at Paris,' was equal- ly ttoriil ; until at lenii;th his wonder was raised so high, as scarce to admit that the hero who sur- mounted so many difficulties, performed so many duties, united so much activity to so much foi'c- sight, such brilliancy of conception to such accu- racy of detail, was only, after all, a mortal like himself and the congregation. The battle of Lutzen had indeed results of im- portance, Ihough inferior by far to those on which such high Ciilduviiig was bestowed by the court I hapluin and the bulletins. The allied nipnarchs fell back upon the Mulda, and all hope of engag- ing Saxony in the general cause was necessarily adjourned. The French troops were again admit- ted into Toi'gau by the positive order of their Sovereign, notwithstanding the o])position of the Saxon general Thielman. The King of Saxony returned from Prague, his last place of refuge, and came to Dresden on tlie l'2tli. Napoleon made a military fete to receive the good old monarch, and conducted him in a kind of triumph through his beautiful capital. It could afford little pleasure at present to the paternal heart of Frederick Augus- tus ; for while that part of Dresden which was on the left side of the Elbe was held by the French, the other was scarcely evacuated by the allies ; and the bridge of boats, burnt to the water's edge, was still the subject of contest betwixt the parties — the French seeking to re])air, the allies to destroy it. Another consequence of the battle of Lutzen was, that the allies could no longer maintain themselves on the Elbe. The main army, however, only re- tired to Bautzen, a town near the sources of the Spree, about twelve French leagues from Di-esden, where they selected a sti-ong position. An army of observation, under Bulow, was destined to cover Berlin, should the enemy make any attempt in that direction ; and they were thus in a situation equally convenient for receiving reinforcements, or retiring upon Silesia, in case of being attacked ere such succours came up. They also took mea- sures for concentrating their army, by calling in their advanced corps in all directions. One of the most unpleasant consequences was their being obliged upon the whole line to with- draw to the right side of the Elbe. Czernicheff and Tettenborn, whose appearance had occasioned Hamburgh, and other towns in that direction, to declare themselves for the good cause, and levy men in behalf of the allies, were now under the necessity of abandoning them to the vengeance of the French, who were certain to treat them as revolted subjects. The fate of Hamburgh in parti- cular, in itself a town so interesting, and which liad distinguished itself by the number and s])irit of the volunteers which were raised there in the cause of the allies, was peculiarly tantalizing. No sooner were the main body of the allies withdrawn on the 9th May, than the place was fiercely attacked by Davoust at the head of 5000 or 6000 men, uttering denunciations of vengeance against the city for tlie ])art it had taken. When this force, which they possessed no adequate means of rejielling, was in the act of approaching to storm the place,tliealarmedcitizei)sof Hamburgh, to their 1 " The FniprcsR expressed Rroat jny at tlie event, because, s'lc sail!, it would secure hercoiiiitrymen, wliom she suspected of waverine. Slie ordered Te Dnivi to be siiiig at Notre name, wliltlier slie herself rci>aired in state. She was attended by own wonder, were supported by Danish artillery and gun-boats, sent from Altoiia to protect the citv. This kindness had not been expected at the hand of the Danes, who had as yet been understood to be the allies of Franco. But the reality was, that as the Danish treaty with the allies was still in dependence, it was thought that this voluntary espousal of the cause of their neighbour might have a good effect upon the negotiation. Some- thing perhaps might arise from the personal zeal of Biiicher, the commandant of Altona, who was a relation of the celebrated Prussian general. The Danes, however, after this show of friendship, eva- cuated Hamburgh on the evening of the 12th of May, to return shortly after in a very different character ; for it being, in the interval, ascertained that the allies wore determined to insist upon Den- mark's ceding Norway to Sweden, and the news of the battle of Lutzen seeming to show that Na- jioleon's star was becoming again pre-eminent, the Danish Prince broke off his negotiation with the allies, and returned to his league, offensive and de- fensive, with France. Tlie hopes and fears of the citizens of Hamburgh were doomed to be yet further tantalized. The Crown Prince of Sweden was at .Stralsund with a cfinsiderable army, and 3000 Swedes next appear- ed for the purpose of protecting Hamburgh. But as this Swedi.sh army, as already mentioned, was intended to be augmented to the number of 90,000, by reinforcements of Russians and Prussians, which had not yet appeared, and which the Crown Prince was soliciting with the utmost anxiety, he could not divide his forces without ri.skiiig the grand objects for which this large force was to be col- lected, and the additional chance of his Swedish army, of whose blood he was justly and'wisely frugal, being destroyed in detail. We may add to this, that from a letter addressed by the Crown Prince to Alexander, at this very period, it ap- pears he was agitated with the greatest doubt and anxiety concerning the arrival of these important reinforcements, and justly ap]n'ehensive for the probable consequences of their being delayed. At such a crisis, therefore, he was in no condition to throw any jiart of his forces into Hamburgh as a permanent garrison. The reasons urged for withdrawing the Swedish troops seem sufficient, but the condition of the citi- zens of Hamburgh was not the le.ss hard, alternately deserted by Russians, Danes, and Swedes. On the 30th of May, 5000 Danes, now the allies of France, and 1500 French troops, took possession of the town, in the name of Na])oleon. They kept good discipline, and only plundered after the fashion of regular exactions ; but this occupation was the jn-elude to a train of distresses, to which Hamburgh was subjected during the whole continuance of the war. Meanwhile, though this forlorn city was lost for the time, the war continued in its neigh- bourhood. The gallant Czernicheff, as if to avenge himself for the coiii])ulsory retreat of his Cossacks from Hamburgh, contrived, near Ilalberstadt, to cut off a body of French irifantry forming a hollow square of musketry, and having fourteen field-pieces. It the whole court, and the troops of the Runrd, and tlie public, received her with expressions of the most ardent enthusiiwm." — Savarv, tora. iii., p. Gr. 618 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1813. was seen on this occasion, that these sons of the desert were somethintt very different from miser- able hordes, as the.v were termed in the language with which the French writers, and Napoleon liim- self, indulged their spleen. At one shrill whoop of their commander, they dispersed themselves much in the manner of a fan when thrown open ; at another signal, each horseman, acting for him- self, came on at full gallop. Thus they escaped in a considerable degree the fire of the enemy which could not be pointed against any mass, penetrated the square, took the cannon, made prisoners near ICOO men, and piked or sabred more than 700, not a Frencliman escaping from the field of battle. This skirmish was so successfully managed on Czernicheff's part, that a French force, much su- perior to his own, came up in time to see the exe- cution done, but not to render assistance to their countrymen. In the meanwhile, Dresden was the scene of political negotiations, and its neighbourhood re- sounded with the din of war. Count Bubna, on the part of the Austrian Emperor, made the strongest remonstrances to Buonaparte on the sub- ject of a general peace, while it seems probable that Napoleon endeavoured to dazzle the Cabinet of Vienna with such views of individual advantage, as to make her declare without scruple for his side. The audiences of Count Bubna were prolonged till long past midnight, and matters of the last import- ance seemed to be under discussion. The war was for a few days confined to skirmishes of doubtful and alternate success, maintained on the right bank of the Danube. On the 12th :\lay, Ney crossed the river near Torgau, and menaced the Prussian territories, directing himself on Sprom- berg atid Hoyerswerder, as if threatening Berlin, which was only protected by Bulow and his army of observation. The purpose was probably, by ex- citing an alarm for the Prussian capital, to induce the allies to leave their strong position at Bautzen. But they remained stationary there, so that Napo- leon moved forward to dislodge them in person. On the 18th May he quitted Dresden. In his road towards Bautzen, he passed the ruins of the beau- tiful little town of Bischoffswerder, and expressed jiarticular sympathy upon finding it had been burnt by the French soldiery, after a rencounter near the spot with a body of Russians. He declared that he would rebuild the place, and actually pre- sented the inhabitants with 100,000 francs towards repairing their losses. On other occasions, riding where the recently woimded had not been yet re- moved, he expressed, as indeed was his custom, for he could never view bodily pain without sym- pathy, a very considerable degree of sensibility. " His wound is incurable. Sire," said a surgeon, upon whom he was laying his orders to attend to one of these miserable objects. — " Try, however," said Napoleon ; and added in a suppressed voice — " There will always be one fewer of them," — meaning, doubtless, of the victims of his wars. Napoleon's is not the only instance in which men have trembled or wept, at looking upon the details of misery which have followed in consequence of some abstract resolutions of their own. Arriving at Bautzen on the 21st, the Emperor in person reconnoitred the formidable position of the allies. They were formed to the rear of the town of Bautzen, which was too much advanced to make a part of their position, and had the Spree in their front. Their right wing rested on fortified eminences, their left upon wooded hills. On their right, towards Hoyerswerder, they were watched by Ney and Lauriston, who, of course, were pre- pared to act in communication with Napoleon. But the allies disconcerted this part of the Emperor's scheme with singular address and boldness. They surprised, by a movement from their right, a column of 7000 Italians, and so entirely routed them, that those who escaped dispersed and fled into Boliemia ; after which exploit, De Tolly and D'Yorck, who had commanded the attacking divi- sion, again united themselves with the main force of the allies, and resumed their place in the line. Ney moved to the support of the Italians, but too late either for rescue or revenge. He united himself with the Emjieror about three in the after- noon, and the army accomplished the passage of the Spree at difi'erent points, in front of the allied army. Nap^^ileon fixed his headquarters in the deserted town of Bautzen ; and his army, advan- cing towards the enemy slowly and with caution, bivouacked, with their line extending north and south, and their front to the allies. The latter concentrated themselves with the same caution, abandoning whatever points they thought too dis- tant to be effectually maintained ; their position covering the principal road towards Zittau, and that to Goerlitz ; their right wing (Prussians) rest- ing upon the fortified heights of Klein, and Klein- Bautzen, which were the keys of the position, while the left wing (composed of Russians) was supported by wooded hills. The centre was rendered unap- proachable by commanding batteries. As it was vain to think of storming such a posi- tion in front, Napoleon had recourse to the ma- nojuvre of modern war, which no general better understood — that of turning it, and thereby render- ing it unserviceable. Ney was, therefore, directed to make a considerable circuit round the Russian extreme right, while their left was attacked more closely by Oudinot, who was to engage their atten- tion by attempting to occujiy the valleys, and de- bouching from the hills on which they rested. For this last attempt the Russians were prepared. ^li- loradowitch and the Prince of Wirtemberg made good the defence on this point with extreme gal- lantry, and the fortune of the day, notwithstanding the great exertions of Buonaparte, seemed to be with the allies. The next attempt was made on the fortified heights on the right of the allies, defended by the Prussians. Here also Napoleon encountered great difficulties, and sustained much loss. It was not till he brought up all his reserves, and com- bined thefn for one of those desperate exertions, which had so often turned the fate of battle, that he was able to succeed in his purpose. The attack was conducted by Soult, and it was maintained at the point of the bayonet. At the price of nearly four hours' struggle, in the course of which the heights were often gained, lost, and again retaken, the French remained masters of them. At the very time when their right point of sup- port was carried by the French, the corps of Ney, with that of Lauriston and that of Rcgnier, amount- ing to 60,000 men, had established themselves in the enemy's rear. It was then that Blueher was compelled to evacuate those heights which he had defended so long and so valiantly. 1S13.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. G19 But althouj]jh the allies were thus turned upon b(>th Hanks, and their wings in consequence forced in upon their centre, their retreat was as orderly as it had been after the battle of Lutzen. Not a gun was taken, scarce a j)risoner made ; the allies re- tired as if on the parade, placed their guns in posi- tion wherever the ground pex-mitted, and repeat- edly compelled the pursuers to deploy, for the purpose of turning them, in which operation the French suffered greatly.' The night closed, and the only decided advan- tage which Napoleon had derived from this day of Kirnage, was the cutting off the allies from their retreat by the great roads on Silesia, and its capi- ta], Breslau, and driving them on the more im- practicable roads near to the Bohemian frontier. But they accomplished this unfavourable change (;f position without being thrown into disorder, or prevented from achieving the same skilful defence l)y which their retreat had hitherto been pro- tected. The whole day of the 22d of ^lay was spent in attacks upon the rear of the allies, which were always repelled by their coolness and military con- duct. The Emperor Napoleon placed himself in the very front- of the pursuing column, and ex- posed his person to the heavy and well-aimed fire by which Aliloradowitch covered his retreat. He urged his generals to the pursuit, making use of such expressions as betokened his impetuosity. " You creep, scoundrel," was one which he applied to a general officer upon such an occasion. He lost patience, in fact, when he came to compare the cost of the battle with its consequences, and said, in a tone of bad humour, " What, no results after so much carnage — not a gun — not a prisoner I — these people will not leave me so much as a nail." At the heights of Reichembach, the Russian rear-guard made a halt, and while the cuirassiers of the guards disputed the pass with the Rassian lancers, the French general Bruyeres was struck down by a .bullet. He was a veteran of the army of Italy, and favoured by Buonaparte, as having been a companion of his early honours. But For- tune had reserved for that day a still more severe trial of Napoleon's feelings. As he surveyed the last point on which the Russians continued to make a stand, a ball killed a trooper of his escort close by his side. " Duroc," he said to his ancient and faithful follower and confidant, now the grand- master of his palace, " Fortune has a spite at us to-day." It was not yet exhausted. Some time afterwards, as the Emperor with his suite rode along a hollow way, three cannon were fired. One ball shivei-ed a tree close to Napoleon, and rebounding, killed General Kircheuner, and mortally wounded Duroc, whom the Emperor had just spiiken to. A halt was ordered, and for the rest of the day Napoleon remained in front of his tent, surrounded by his guard, who pitied their Emperor, as if he had lost one of his children. He visited the dying man, whose entrails were torn by the shot, and expressed his affection and regret. On no other but that single occasion was he ever observed so much exhausted, or absorbed by grief, as to decline listening to military details, or giving military orders. " Every thing to-mor- ■ Jomini, torn, iv., p. .T04; Manuscript de 1813, torn, i., p. 415 J.ilitary Ueports to the EiiiprtiS. row," was his answer to those who ventured to ask his commands. He made more than one decree in favour of Duroc's fismily, and impledged the sum of 200 Napoleons in the hands of the pastor in who.-.e house Duroc had expired, to raise a monument to his memory, for which he dictated a modest and affecting epitaph.'^ In Bessieres and Duroc, Napoleon lost two of his best ofScers and most attached friends, whose sentiments had more influence on him than others in whom he reposed less confidence. The double deprivation was omeu of the worst kind for his fortunes. In resuming the sum of the loss arising from the battle, we must observe that the French suf- fered most, because the strong position of the allies covered them from the fire. Nevertheless, the allies lost in slain and wounded about 10,000 men. It would take perhajjs 5000 more to approximate the amount of the French loss. On the day preceding that sanguinary battle, an armistice had been proposed by Count Nesselrode, in a letter to Caulaincourt, Duke of Vicenza, in compliance, it was stated, with the wishes of the Court of Vienna ; it was seconded by a letter from Count Stadion to Talleyrand, whom, as well as Fouche, Napoleon had summoned to his presence, because, perhaps, he doubted the effect of their in- trigues during his absence, and in his difficulties. This armistice was to be preliminary to a nego- tiation, in which Austria proposed to assume the character of mediator. In the meanwhile Napoleon marched forward, occupied Breslau (from which the princesses of the Prussian royal family removed into Bohemia,) and reheved the blockade of Glogau, where the garrison had begun to suffer by famine. Some bloody skirmishes were fought without any general result, and where Victory seemed to distribute her favours equally. But the main body of the allies showed no inclination to a third general en- gagement, and retreating upon Upper Silesia, not even the demonstration of advance upon Berlin itself could bring them to action. The armistice was at length agreed upon, and signed on the 4tli of June. Buonaparte showed either a sincere wish for peace, or a desire to be considered as entertaining such, by renouncing the possession of Breslau and Lower Silesia to the allies, which enabled them to regain their commu- nications with Berlin. The interests of the world, which had been so long committed to the decision of the sword, seemed now about to be rested upon the arguments of a convention of politicians. CHAPTER LXVII. Chaiuje in the results furmerJ y prud need by the French Victories — Despondency of the Generals — Decay ill the discipline of the Troops — Vieirs of Austria — Arguments in favour of Peace stated and dis- citssed — Pertinacity of Naj'olcon — IState of the French Interior — kid from him by the slavery o, the Press — Interview bttu'ut JVapoleon and the Austrian Minister 3Ietternich — Delays in the JS'ei/otiations — Plan of Pacification proposed by Austria, on 1th August — The Armu. 147. ■• " 1 hate the hawk who always lives in w.it." 1813.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. G21 dominion, into a co-oi'dinate prince among the in- dependent sovereigns of Europe. If he meant to prosecute the war, they nrged, that his lingering in Saxony and Prussia would cer- tainly induce Austria to join the coalition against him ; and that, supposing Dresden to be the pivot of his operations, he would be exposed to be taken in flank by the immense armies ot" Austria descend- ! ing upon the valley of the Elbe, from the passes of I the Bohemian mountains. Another, and a very opposite course of measures, would, said the same counsellors, be at once a gua- rantee to Austria of the French Emperor's peace- able intentions, and tend to check and intimidate the other allies. Let Napoleon evacuate of free will the blockaded fortresses upon the Oder and Elbe, and thereby add to his army 50,000 veteran troops. Let him, with these and liis present army, fall back on the Rhine, so often acknowledged as the natural boundary of France. Who would dare to attack him on his own strong frontier, with such an army in front, and all the resources of France in his rear J Not Austria ; for, if assured that. Napoleon had abandoned his scheme to make France victorious, and limited his views to making her happy, that power would surely desire to maintain a dynasty connected with her own, on a throne which might become a protection and orna- ment to Europe, instead of being her scourge and terror. The northern nations, Russia, Prussia, and Sweden, would have no motive to undertake so wild a crusade as a march to the Rhine ; and Great Britain, her conunerce restored, and the peace of the continent established, could not, if she were desirous, find any sound reason for protract- ing the war, which she had always carried ou against the system, not the person, of Buonaparte, until events showed that they were indivisible. Thus France, by assuming an attitude which ex- pressed moderation as well as firmness, might cause the swords of the allies to fall from their liands without another drop of blood being shed. Indeed, although it may appear, that by the course recommenaed Napoleon must have made great sacrifices, yet, as circumstances stood, he resigned claims dependent on the chance of war, rather than advantages in possession, and yielded up little or nothing that was firmly and effectually part of his empire. Tiiis will a})pear from a glance at the terms of the supj)osed surrender. Spain he must have relinquished all claim to. But Napoleon had just received accounts of the decisive battle of Vittoria, which sealed the eman- cipation of the Peninsula ; and he must have been aware, that in this long-contested point he would lose nothing of which the fate of war had not pre- viously deprived him, and wouldobtain fortiiesouth- \ve.-5tern provinces of France protection against the army of the Duke of Wellington, which already threatened invasion. Germany was indeed partly in Napoleon's pos- session, as far as the occupation of fortresses, and such treaties as he had imposed on his vassal-prin- ces, could give him influence. But the whole nation, in every city and province, was alienated from France and her ruler, on account of the paramount sovereignty which he had assumed, and the distresses which he had brought upon them by the unceasing dcmarid of troops for distant expe- ditions, and by his continental system. Besides, the enfranchisement of Germany was the very question of war and peace ; and that not being granted. Napoleon must have been well aware that he must fight out the battle with Russia, Prussia, and Sweden, the insurgent Germans ready to arise on every hand, and all the weighty force of Aus- tria to back them. If peace was to be established on any terms, the destruction of the unnatural in- fluence of France on the right side of the Rhine must have been an indispensable article; and it was better for Napoleon to make the cession volun- tarily, than to wait, till, through the insurrection of the people, and the discontent of the monaichs lately his dependents, the whole system should ex- plode and go to pieces of itself. England would, doubtless, insist on the libera- tion of Holland ; yet even this could be no great sacrifice on the part of Napoleon, who would have retained Flanders, and the whole left side of the Rhine, from Huningen to Clevcs, including the finest territories of the ancient Dukes of Burgundy, which had never belonged to the former Kings of France. The emancipation of Holland might have been also compensated, by the restoration of some of the French colonies. England has never made hard bargains on the occasion of a general peace. There might have been difficulties on the subject of Italy ; but the near connexion betwixt the Emperors of Austria and France offered various means of accommodating these. Italy might, for example, have made an appanage for Eugene, or, in the case of such existing, for Buonaparte's second son, so as to insure the kingdoms of France and Italy passing into distinct and independent sove- reignties in the next reign ; or, it is believed, that if Austria had been absolutely determined to break off the treaty for this sole object, she would have found the belligerent powers uiclined in their turn to act as mediators, and been herself compelled to listen to mode^-ate terms. From what has been said, it would appear that . such cessions as have been hinted at, would at once have put an end to the war, leaving Napoleon still in possession of the fairest kingdom of Europe, augmented to an extent of territory greatly beyond what her most powerful nionarchs before him had ever possessed ; while, on the other hand, the countries and claims which, in the case supposed, he was called upon to resign, resembled the wounded mast in the tempest, which the seaman cuts away purposely, as endangering the vessel which it has ceased to assist. But it unfortunately happened, that Buonaparte, genej-ally tenacious of his own opuiion, and particularly when his reputation was concerned, imagined to himself that he could not cut away the mast without striking the colours which were nailed to it ; that he could not resign his high pretensions, however unreasonable, with- out dinuning his personal glory, in the lustre of which he placed his happiness.' ' " Sir Walter Scott must allow tliat the end has too clearly shown now well this opinion of Napoleon was founded. 1 cnnfess liavinc, at this period, urf,'ed a peace at whatever price it nii;;ht be obtained, and having used every eftoi t, however feeble, to inUaence my brother; but 1 also conlt--5, 1 then believed peace really was desired ; whereas subsequent eventp have proved, that the desti uction of Na)>ole(in and the abase- ment of France, were the objetts in view."— Louis Blonv I'AI'.TK. G22 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1813 He would not, tlierefore, listen to those, who, with such arguments as we have above stated, pressed him to make a virtue of necessity, and as- sume a merit from giving up what lie could not attempt to hold, without its being in all probability wrested from him. He persisted in maintaining the contrary, referred back to the various instances in wliich he had come off in triumph, when every other person had desjmired of liis safety, and had previously protested against the hazardous means which he used to ascertain it. This pertinacity did not arise solely out of the natural confidence in his own superiority, which always attends minds so powerful and so determined ; it was fos- tered by the whole coiu'se of his life. " At the age of thirty," he said of himself, " I had gained victories — I had influenced the world — I had ap- pca-sed a national tempest — had melted parties into one — had rallied a nation. I have, it must be al- lowed, been spoiled by success — I have always been in supreme command. From my first en- trance into life I have enjoyed high power, and circumstances and my own force of character have been such, that from the instant I gained a supe- riority, I have recognised neither masters nor Jaws."i To a confession so ingenious, the historian can add nothing. It is no wonder, that one to whom luck had been uniformly favourable, should love the excitation of the play, and, making cast after cast in confidence of his own fortune, press the winning game until it became a losing one, instead of withdrawing from the table, as prudence would have dictated, wjien the stakes deepened, and the luck began to change. Napoleon had established in his own mind, as well as that of others, an opi- nion, that he, in his proper person, enjoyed an am- nesty from the ordinary chances of fortune.^ This was a belief most useful to him, as it was received by others, but dangerous in his own adoption of it, smce it hindered liim from listening in his own case to calculations, which in that of others he would have allowed to be well founded. Both Talleyrand and Fouche gave their master the advantage of their experience on this occasion, and touched with less or more reserve upon the terror which his ambition had spread, and the de- termination of the allies, as well as Austria, not to make peace without such a guarantee as should protect them against future encroachments. Na- poleon rejected their opinion and advice with dis- dain, imputing it to their doubts in the persever- ing exertions of his genius, or to an anxiety for their own private fortunes, wliich induced them to desire at all risks the end of the war. His military counsellors endeavoured to enforce similar advice, with the same want of success. Ber- thier, with the assistance of the celebrated engineer, Rogniat, had drawn up a plan for removing the French army, reinforced with all the garrisons wliich they had in Germany, from the line of the Elbe to that of the Rhine. " Good God !" exclaimed Buonaparte, as he glanced at the labours of his adjutant-general, " ten lost battles could not bring me so low as you ' Journal, &o. par le Cointt de Las Cases, torn, iv., partie ytitme, p. 26. -S. 2 Tlie following is a ludicrous instance. When the explo- sion of the infernal machine took place, a bystander nished into a company, and exclaimed, " The First "Consul is blown up." An Austrian veteran chancing to be of the party, who would have me stoop, and that, too, when 1 com- mand so many strong places on the Elbe and Oder. Dresden is the point on which I will manoeuvre to receive all attiicks, while my enemies develope themselves like a line of circumference round a centre. Do j'ou suppose it possible for troops of various nations, and variously commanded, to act with regularity upon such an extensive line of ope- rations ? The enemy cannot force me back on the Rhine, till they have gained ten battles ; but allow me only one victory, and I will march on their capitals of Berlin and Breslau, relieve my garri- sons on the Vistula and Oder, and force the allies to such a peace as shall leavi? my glory untar- nished. Your defensive retreat does not suit me; besides, I do not ask you for plans, but for assist- ance to carry into execution my own projects." ^ Thus Napoleon silenced his military as well as his civil counsellors. But there was one adviser whose mouth he had stopt, whose advice, if it could have reached him, would probably have altei'ed his fatal resolution. One of Buonaparte's most imjio- ■litic as well as unjustifiable measures had been, his total destruction of every mode by which the public opinion of the people of France could be manifested. His system of despotism, which had left no manner of expression whatever, either by public meetings, by means of the press, or through the representative bodies, by which the national sentiments on public affairs could be made known, became now a serious evil. The manifestation of public opinion was miserably supplied by the voices of hii-ed functionaries, who, like artificial fountains, merely returned back with various flourishes the sentiments with which they had been supplied from the common reservoir at Paris. Had free agents of any kind been permitted to report upon the state of the public mind. Napoleon would have had be- fore hiin a picture which would have quickly sum- moned him back to France. He would have heard that the nation, blind to the evils of war, while dazzled with victory and military glory, had be- come acutely sensible of them so soon as these evils became associated with defeats, and the occa- sion of new draughts on the population of France. He would have learned that the fatal retreat of Moscow, and this precarious campaign of Saxony, had awakened parties and interests which had long been dormant — that the name of the BourboLs was again mentioned in the west- — that 50,000 reci\s.»rt conscripts were wandering through France, form- ing themselves into bands, and ready to join any standard which was raised against tlie imperial au- thority ; and that, in the Legislative Body, as well as the Senate, there was already organised a tacit opposition to his government, that wanted but a moment of weakness to show itself. All this, and more, he would have learned; and must have been taught the necessity of concentrat- ing his forces, returning to the frontiers of France, recovering the allegiance of those who hesitated, by accepting the best terms of peace which he could extort from the allies, and assuming on the Rhine such a firm attitude of defence as should at once overawe domestic dissatisfaction, and repel had witnessed Napoleon's wonderful escapes during the Italian ciimpaigns, exclaimed, in ridicule of the tacile credu- lity of the newsmonger, " lie blown up! — Ah, you little knov/ your man — I will wager at this moment he is as well as ai>i of us. I know all liis tricks many a day since." — S. 3 Fouche, torn, ii., p. 152. 3813.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. r,2:i foreign invasion. But the least spiracle, ijy wliich tlie voice of France could find its way to the ears of her sovereign, was cft'cctnally closed. The fate of Napo'eon turned on tliis circumstance ; for the sovereign who deprives himself of the means of collecting the general sense of the nation over which he rules, is like tlie householder wlio de- stroys his faithful mastiff. Both may, perhaps, alarm their master by Laying without just cause, or at an inconvenient time ; but when the hour of ! action comes, no other sentinel can supply the want I of their vigilance. The armistice now afforded an apt ocr-asion for arranging a general peace, or rather (for that was the reai purpose) for giving Austria an opportunity of declaring what were her real and definitive in- tentions in this iniexpected ci'isis, which had ren- dered her to a great degree arbitress of the fate of Europe. Napoleon, from his first aiTival in Saxony, had adopted a belief, that although Austria was likely to use the present crisis as an ojiportunity of compelling him to restore the Illyrian provinces, and perhaps other territories of which former wars had deprived her, yet that in the end, the family connexion, with the awe entertained for his talents. Would prevail to hinder her cabinet from uniting their cause to that of the allies. An expression had dropt from the Austrian minister Metternich, which would have altered this belief, had it been reported to him. Marat, Duke of Bassano, had pressed the Aus- trian hard on the ties arising from the marriage, when the Austrian answered em]ihatically, " The marriage — yes, the marriage — it was a match founded on political considerations; but'' This single brief word disclosed as much as does the least key when it opens the strongest cabinot — it made it clear that the connexion formed by the marriage would not prevent Austria from tak- ing the line in the j>resent dispute which general policy demanded. And this was soon seen when Count Metternich came to Dresden to have an au- dience of Napoleon. This celebrated statesman and accomplished courtier had been very acceptable at the Tuileries, and Napoleon seems to have imagined him one of those i)ersons whose gaiety and good-humour were combined with a flexible character, liable to be mastered and guided by one of power and energy like his own. This was a great mistake. Jletter- nich, a man of liveliness and address when in so- ciety, was firm and decisive in business. He saw that the opportunity of controlling the absolute power of France and of Buonaparte had at length arrived, and was determined, so far as Austria was concerned, and under his administration, that no partial views or advantages should prevent its being uffectna'ly employed. His interview with Napo- leon took place at Dresden on the '28th June, and the following particulars are accredited : — Napoleon always piqued himself on a plain, down- right style of negotiation, or rather upon his system of at once announcing the only terms on which he would consent to negotiate. He w ould hear of no counter-project, and admit of no medium betwixt the resumption of hostilities, and acceptance of peace upon the terms which it suited him to dictate. This frank and unanswerable mode of treating greatly tended to abridge the formalities of dijjlo- niacy ; it had but this single disadvantage, that it was only suitable for the lips of a victor, whose re- newal of war was to be, in all human probability, the resuming a career of victory. Such a tone ol negotiation became the Roman Preetor, when he environed with a circle the feeble Eastern monarch, and insisted on a categorical answer to the terms he had proposed, ere he should step beyond the line ; and perhaps it became Napoleon, when, at Campo Formio, he threw down the piece of porcelain, de- claring that the Austrian empire should be destroy- ed in tl'.e same manner, unless they instantly ac- cepted his conditions. But the same abrupt dicta- torial manner was less felicitously employed, when the question was to i)ersuade Austria not to throw her force of 200,000 men into the scale of the allies, which already too equally balanced that of France ; yet that ill-chosen tone may be observed in the following conference. Napoleon upbraided Metternich with having fa- voured his adversaries, by being so tardy in open- ing the negotiation. He intimated that the Aus- trian minister perha])S staid away, in order that France might be reduced to a lower state than at the opening of the campaign ; while now that he had gained two battles, Austria thrust in her me- diation, that he might be prevented from following up his success. In claiming to be a negotiator, Austria, he said, was neither his friend nor his im- partial judge — she was his enemy. " You were about to declare yourself," he said, " when the victory at Lutzen rendered it prudent in the first j)lace to collect more forces. Now you have as- sembled behind the screen of tlie Bohemian moun- I tains 200,000 men under Schwartzenberg's com- mand. All, Metternich ! I guess the purpose of i your Cabinet. You wish to profit by my embar- rassments, and seize on the favourable moment to regain as much as you can of what I liave taken from you. The only question with you is, whether you will make most by allowing me to ransom my- self, or by going to war with m.e ? — You are uncer- tain on tliat point ; and perhaps yoxi only come j here to ascertain wliich is your best course. Well, i let us drive a bargain — how much is it you want?" t To this insulting commencement IMetternich re- plied, that " the only advantage desired by his ! master, was to see that moderation and respect for i the riglits of nations which filled his own bosom, restored to the general councils of Europe, and such a well-balanced system introduced as should place the universal tranquillity under the guarantee ol an association of independent states." It was easy to see which way this pointed, and to anticipate the conclusion. Napoleon affected to treat it as a figure of speech, which was to cloak I the private views of Austria. " I speak clearly," < he said, " and come to the point. Will it suit you to accept of Illyria, and to remain neuter? — Your ; neutrality is all I recinire. I can deal with the Russians and Prussians with my own army." — " Ah, Sire," replied Metternich, " it depends solely on your Alajesty to unite all our forces with yours. But the truth must be tohl. Matters are come to that extremity that Austria cannot remain neutral — We must be with you, or against you."' After this explicit declaration, from which it was to be inferred that Austria would not lay aside her arms, unless Buonaparte would comply with the Foudi(5, toni. ii., p. l-!8. Sec also Savary, torn. iiL p TS G24 scorrs miscellaneous prose works. [1813. terms whicli she had fvcd iipion as the conditions of a cjeneral pacificatinn, and that slie was deter- mined to refuse all that might be offered as a bribe for her neutrality, the Em])eror of France and the Austrian statesman retired into a cabinet, apart from the secretaries, where it is to be presunied Metternich communicated more specifically the conditions which Austria had to propose. Napo- leon's voice was presently heard exclaiming aloud, " What ! not only lUyria, but half of Italy, the restoration of the Pope, and the abandoning of Poland, and the resignation of Spain, and Holland, and the confederation of the Rhine, and Switzer- land ! Is this your moderation I You hawk about your alliance from the one camp to the other, where the greatest partition of territory is to be obtained, and tlien you talk of the independence of nations ! In plain truth, you would have Italy ; Sweden demands Norway ; Prussia requires Sax- onv ; England would have Holland and Belgium — You would dismember til e French empire ; and all these changes to be operated by Austria's mere threat of going to war. Can you pretend to win, by a single stroke of the pen, so many of the strongest fortresses in Europe, the keys of which I have gained by battles and victories ? And think you that I will be so docile as to march back my soldiers, with their arms reversed, over the Rhine, the Alps, and the Pyrenees, and by subscribing a treaty, which is one vast capitulation, deliver my- self, like a fool, into the hands of my enemies, and trust for a doubtful permission to exist, to their generosity ? Is it when my army is triumphing at the gates of Berlin and Breslau, that Austria hopes to extort such a cession from me, without striking a blow or drawing a sword ? It is an affront to expect it. And is it my father-in-law who enter- tains such a project? Is it he who sends you to me ? In what attitude would he place me before the eyes of the Fi-ench people ! He is in a strange mistake if he supposes that a mutilated throne citn, in France, afford shelter to his daughter and his grandson Ah, Metternich," lie concluded, " what has England given you to induce you to make war on me ? " The Austrian minister, disdaining to defend him- self against so coarse an accusation, only replied by a lof)k of scorn and resentment. A profound silence followed, during which Napoleon and Met- ternich traversed the apartment with long steps, without looking at each other. Napoleon dropt his hat, perhaps to give a turn to this awkward situa- tion. But Metternich was too deeply affronted for any uftice of courtesy, and the Emperor was obliged to lift it himself. Buonaparte then resumed the discourse, in a more temperate strain, and said he did not yet despair of peace. He insisted that the congress should be assembled, and that, even if hostilities should recommence, negotiations for peace should, nevertheless, not be discontinued. And, like a wary trader, when driving a bargain, he whispered Metternich, that his offer of lUyria was nut Ids laist tcord.^ His last word, however, had been in reality spo- ken, and both he and Metternich were fully ac- quainted with each other's views. Metternich had refused all private conditions which could be offered to detach Austria from the general cause, and Buo- ' Fouclic, torn, ii., i>. Ijii uaparte had rejected as an insult any terms whicli went to lower him to a rank of equality with the other sovereigns of Europe. He would be Caesar or nothing. It did not mend the prospect of nego- tiation, that he had formally insulted one of the persons most infl^uential in the Austrian councils. The chance of peace seemed farther off than ever. Accordingly, all the proceedings at the Congress of Prague were lingering and evasive. The meet- ing; had been fixed for tlie 5th July, and the disso- lution was postponed till the 10th August, in order to allow time for trying to adjust the disputed claims. England had declined being concerned with the armistice, alleging she was satisfied that Napoleon would come to no reasonable terms. Caulaincourt, to whom Buonaparte chiefly trusted the negotiation, did not a])pear till '25th July, de- tained, it was idly alleged, by his services "as an officer of the palace. Austria spun out the time by proposing that the other commissioners should hold no direct intercourse, but only negotiate through the medium of the mediator. Other disputes arose : and, in fact, it seems as if all parties manoeuvred to gain time, with a view to forward military pre- parations, rather than to avail themselves of the brief space allowed for adjusting the articles of peace. At length, so late as the 7th August, Aus- tria produced her plan of pacification, of which the basis were the following : — I. The dissolution of the grand duchy of Warsaw, which was to be divi ded between Russia, Prussia, and Austria. II. The re-establishment of the Hanseatic towns iij their former independence. III. The reconstruc- tion of Prussia, assigning to that kingdom a frontier on the Elbe. IV. The cession to Austria of the maritime town of Trieste, with the Illyrian pro- vinces. The emancipation of Spain and Holland, as matters in which England, no party to the Con- gress, took chief interest, was not stirred for the present, but reserve eadquartei-s of the Emperor of Russia and King of Prussia, to announce to tliese sovereigns tliat the armistice was broken off. Metternich and Caulaiucourt still continued their negotiations ; and Napoleon seemed on a sudden sincerely desirous of the peace about which he had hitherto trifled. Metternich persisted in his de- mand of Trieste and the Hanse towns. He i-ejected the extension of the Confederation of the Rhine, as a demand made at a time so ill-clioseu as to be nearly ridiculous ; and he required that the inde- pendence of Germany should be declared free, as well as that of Switzerland. Buonaparte at length consented to all these . demands, which, if they had been admitted during his interview with ^Metternich, on 28tli June, or declared to the Congress before the lOtli August, must have availed to secure peace. It is probable, either that Napoleon was unwilling to make his mind up to consent to terras which he thought humiliating, or that he made the concessions at a time when they would not, in all likelihood, be accepted, in order that he might obtain the chance of war, yet preserve with his subjects the credit of having been willing to make peace. It has been said, with much plausibility, that the allies, on their part, were confirmed in their reso- hition to demand high terms, by the news of the decisive battle of Vittoria, and the probability, that, in consequence, the Duke of Wellington's army might be soon employed in the invasion of France. Napoleon entertained the same impression, and sent Soult, the ablest of his generals, to make a stand, if possible, against the victorious English general, and protect at least the territory of France it^elf.i CHAPTER LXVIII. Amount and distribution of the French Army at the resumption of Hostilities — of the Armies of the Allies — Flan of the Campaign on both sides — Return of Moreau from America, to join the Allies — Attach on Dresden by the Allies on 2Qth August — Napoleon arrives to its succour — Battle continued on the 27th — Death of General Moreau — Defeat and Retreat of the Allies, tcith great loss — Napoleon returns from the pursuit to Dres- den, indisposed — Vandamme attacks the Allies at Culm — is dridn back toicards Feterswald — Conflict on the heights of Feterswald — Vandamme is Defeated and made prisoner — Effects of the victory of Culm, on the Allies — and on Napo- leon. At no period during the armistice had the hopes of peace been so probable, as to suspend for a mo- ment the most active preparations for war. ' The court of Napoleon were amused at this time by an incident connected with Soult's departure. As he had been designed to command in the German campaign, this new des- tination compelled him to sell his horses, and make various other inconvenient sacrifices to the hurry of the moment. His wife, the Duchess of Dulmatia, a lady of a spirit equal to that of the Rreat soldier to whom she was wedded, went boldly into the Emperor's presence to state her grievances ; to insist that her Imsband had been subjected to too much fatiguing service, and to remonstrate against his being emiiloyed in tlie Pyrenees. " Go, madam," said Napoleon sternly ; '" remcm- bnr that I am not your husband, and if 1 were, you dared not use me thus. Go, and remember it is a wife's duty to assist her liusliand, not to tease him." Such Avas jwith everv re- bl)ect to the lady, who might, notwiihstanding, do well to be VOL. II. Napoleon, determined, as we have already seen to render Dresden the centre of his operations, had exei'ted the utmost industry in converting that beautiful capital into a species of citadel. All the trees in the neighbourhood, including those wliich so much adorned the public gardens and walks, had been cut down, and employed in the construc- tion of a chain of redoubts and field-works, secured by fosses and palisades, which were calculated to render the city very defensible. But, besides Dresden itself, with the neighbouring mountain- fortresses, the French Emperor possessed as strong- ly fortified places, Torgau, Wittenberg, Magde- burg, and others on the Elbe, which secured hira the possession of the rich and beautiful valley of that river. He had established an intrenched camp at the celebrated position of Pirna, and tlirown a bridge of boats over the Elbe, near Koenigstein, for the purpose of maintaining a communication betwixt that mountain-fortress and the fort of Stolpen. This showed Napoleon's apprehension of an attack from the mountains of Bohemia, behind which the Austriaus had been assembling their army. In this destined battle-gi-ound. Napoleon assembled the young conscripts, who continued to pour from the French frontier ; and who, by a singularly ingenious species of combination, were learning the duties of their new condition, even while, with arms in their hands for the first time, tliey were marching to the field of action.^ In the beginning of August, Napoleon had as- sembled about 250,000 men in Saxony and Silesia. This great force was stationed so as best to con- front the enemy on the points where they had assembled their troops. At Leipsic, there were collected 60,000 men, under command of Oudinot. At Loewenberg, Goldberg, Bantzlau, and other towns on the borders of Silesia, were 100,000 men, commanded by Macdonald. Another army of 50,000 were quartered in Lusatia, near Zittau. St. Cyr, with 20,900, was stationed near Pirna, to observe the mountains of Bohemia, and the jiasses through which the Ellje discharges its waters upon Saxony. In Dresden the Emperor himself lay with his guard, amounting to 25,000 men, the flower of his army. Besides these hosts, Buona- parte had a considerable anny in Italy under the Viceroy Eugene ; and 25,000 Bavarians were as- sembled as an army of reserve, under General Wrede. Almost all his old lieutenants, who had fought, and won so often in his cause, were sum- moned to attend this important war ; and even Murat, who had been on indifferent terms with Ixis relative, came anew from his beautiful capital oi Naples, to enjoy the pleasure of wielding his sabre against his old friends the Cossacks. The preparations of the allies were upon a scale equally ample. The accession of the Austrians angry,) the Imperial " Taming of a Shrew."— See ilimoirei de FoucHE, tom. ii., p. 144. 2 According to orders accurately calculated, the little bands of recruits, setting oft from different points, or dejjots on the frontier, met together at places as>igned, and, as their num- bers increased by each successive junction, were formed first into companies, next into battalions, and last into regiments; learning, of course, to iiractise successively the duties belong- ing to these various bouies. When they joined the army, these combinations, which had but been adoiited tcmj)orarily, were laid aside, tlie union of the marching battalion dissolved, and tlie conscrijits distributed among old regiments, whose ex- ample might complete the di!ici]>Uuu which they had thus learr.ed in a general way.— S 2 S C26 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1813. had placed at disposal in Bohemia 120,000 men, to wliom the allies joined 80,000 Russians and Prus- sians, which brought the whole force to 200,000 men. Schwartzenberg had been selected to com- mand this, which was called the grand army of the allies — a judicious choice, not only as a fitting compliment to the Emperor of Austria, who had joined the confederacy at so critical a moment, but on account of Schwartzenberg's military talents, his excellent sound sense, penetration, good-humour, and placidity of temper ; qualities essential in every general, but especially in him upon whom reposes the delicate duty of commanding an army com- posed of different nations. This large host lay in and about Prague, and, concealed by the chain of hills called the Erzgebirge, was ready to rush into Saxony as soon as an opportunity should offer of surprising Dresden. The other moiety of the original invading army amounting to 80,000, consisting of Russians and Prussians, called the army of Silesia, and com- manded by Blucher, defended the frontier of that country, and the road to Breslau. Nearer the gates of Berlin was the Crown Prince of Sweden, with an army consisting of 30,000 Swedes, and about 60,000 Prussians and Russians ; the former being the corps of Bulow and Tauenzein, the latter those of Winztngerode and Woronzoff. Besides these armies, Walmoden, with a force consisting of 30,000 Russians, Prussians, and insurgent Ger- mans, was at Schwerin, in the duchy of Meeklen- berg ; Hiller, with 40,000 Austrians, watched the Italian army of the Vicei'oy ; and the Prince of Reuss confronted the Bavarian troops with an army equal in strength to Wrede's own. The allies had agreed upon a plan of operations equally cautious and effective. It is believed to have been originally sketched by the Crown Px-ince of Sweden, and afterwards revised and approved by the celebrated Moreau. That renowned French general had been induced, by the complexion of matters in Europe, and the invitation of Russia, to leave America, join the camp of the allies, and bring all the knowledge of the art of war, for which he was so famous, to enlighten their mili- tary councils. His conduct in thus passing over to the camp of France's enemies, has been ably defended by some as the act of a patriot who desired to destroy the despotism which had been established in his country, while others have cen- sured him for arming against his native land, in revenge for unworthy usage which he had received from its ruler. Much of the justice of the case must rest upon what we cannot know— the pur- pose, namely, of Moreau, in case of ultimate suc- cess. He certainly had not, as Bernadotte might plead, acquired such rights in, and such obligations to another country, as to supersede the natural claims of his birth-place. Yet he might be justi- fied in the eye of patriotism, if his ultimate object really was to restore France to a rational degree of liberty, under a regulated government ; and such it is stated to have been. Any purpose short of this must leave him guilty of the charge of having sacrificed his duty to his country to his private revenge. He was, however, highly honoured by the Emperor of Russia in particular ; and his presence was justly considered as a great accession to the council of war of the allies. So many men of talent and two of them masters of the Fi'encU tactics, had no difficulty in divining the mode in which Buonaparte meant to conduct the present campaign. They easily saw that he intended to join his strong and effective reserve of the Guard to any of the armies placed on the fron- tier of Saxony, where a point of attack presented itself; and thus advance upon, overpower, and destroy the enemy whom he should find in front, as the hunted tiger springs upon the victim which he has selected out of the circle of hunters, who surround him with protended spears. To meet this mode of attack, which might otherwise have been the means of the allied armies being defeated successively and in detail, it was resolved that the general against whom Buonaparte's first eff'ort should be directed, should on no account accept of the proffered battle, but, withdrawing his troops before the Emperor, should decoy him as far as possible in pursuit, while at the same time the other armies of the allies should advance upon his rear, destroy his communications, and finally effect their purpose of closing round him in every direction. The grand army, commanded by Schwartzen- berg, was jiarticularly directed to this latter task, because, while it would have been dangerous in Napoleon on that point to have sought them out by storming the mountain-passes of Bohemia, nothing could be more easy for Schwartzenberg than to rush down upon Dresden when Buonaparte should leave that city uncovered, for however short an interval. Bluclier was the first who, advancing from Sile- sia, and menacing the armies of Macdonald and Ney, induced Buonaparte to march to join them with his Guard, and with a great body of cavalry commanded by Latour Maubourg. He left Dres- den on the 15th August; he threw bridges over tlie Bober, and advanced with rapidity, bringing forward Macdonald's division in aid of his own force. But the Prussian general was faithful to the plan laid down. He made an admirable retreat across the Katzbaeh, admitting the French to nothing but skirmishes, in which the allies had some advantage. Finally, he established himself in a position on the river Niesse, near Jauer, so as to cover Silesia and its ca])ital. On the 21st August, Napoleon learned the in- teresting news, that while he was pressing forward on the retreating Prussians, Dresden was in the utmost danger of being taken. His guards had instant orders to i-eturn to Saxony. He himself set out early on the 23d. It was full time ; for Schwartzenberg, with whom came the Sovereigns of Russia and Prussia, as well as General Moreau, had descended from Bohemia, and, concentrating their grand army on the left bank of tJie Elbe, were already approaching the walls of Dresden, Napo- leon's point of support, and the pivot of his opera- tions. Leaving, therefore, to Macdonald the task of controlling Blucher, the Emperor set out with the elite of his army ; yet, with all the speed he could exert, very nearly came too late to save the object of his solicitude. General St. Cyr, who had been left with about 20,000 men to observe the Bohemian passes, was in no condition to make a stand, when they poured out upon him six or seven times his own number. He threw himself with his troops into Dresden, in hopes, by means of its recent fortifications, to de- fend it until the arrival of Napoleon. The allies I8i;3.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. G27 having found little resistance on their march, dis- played their huge army before the city, divided into four columns, about four o'clock on the 25th August, and instantly commenced the assault. If they should be able to take Dresden before it could be relieved by Buonaparte, the war might be con- sidered as nearly ended, since they would in that ease obtain complete command of his line of com- numication with France, and had at their mercy his recruits and supplies of every kind. The scheme of attack was excellently laid, but tlie allied generals did not pursue it with the neces- s.iry activity. The signal for onset should have heen given instantly, yet they paused for the arri- val of Klenau, with an additional corps d'armee, and the assault was postponed until next morning. On the 26111, at break of day, the allies advanced in six columns, under a tremendous fire. They carried a great redoubt near the city -gate of Dippol- r'iswalde, and soon after another; they closed on the French on every point ; the bombs and balls began to fall thick on the streets and houses of the terrified city ; and in engaging all his reserves, St. Cyr, whose conduct was heroical, felt he had yet too few men to defend works of such extent. It was at this crisis, while all thought a surrender was inevitable, that columns, rushing forward with the rapidity of a torrent, were seen advancing on Dresden from the right side of the Elbe, sweeping over its magnificent bridges, and pressing through the streets, to engage in the defence of the almost ovei'powered city. The Child of Destiny himself was beheld amidst his soldiers, who, far from exhi- biting fatigue, notwithstanding a severe forced march from the frontiers of Silesia, demanded, with loud cries, to be led into immediate battle. Napoleon halted to reassure the King of Saxony, who was apprehensive of the destruction of his capital, while his troops, marching through the city, halted on the western side, at those avenues, from which it was designed they should debouche upon the enemy. Two sallies were then made under Napoleon's eye, by Ney and Mortier. The one column, pour- ing from the gate of Plauen, attacked the allies on the left flank ; the others, issuing from that of Pirna, assailed their right. The Prussians were dislodged from an open space, called the Great Garden, which covered their advance upon the ramparts ; and the war began already to change its face, the allies drawing off from the points they had attacked so fiercely, where they found tliem secured l>y these unexpected defenders. They remained, however, in front of each other, the sentinels on each side being in close vicinity, until next morn- ing. On the 27th of August, the battle was renewed under torrents of rain, and amid a tempest of wind. Napoleon, mancEuvring with excellence altogether his own, caused his troops, now increased by con- centration to nearly 200,000 men, to file out from the city upon different points, the several columns diverging from each other like the sticks of a fan when it is expanded ; and thus directed them upon such points as seemed most assailable along the allies' whole position, which occupied the heights from Plauen to Strehlen. In this manner, his plan assisted Ijy the stormy weather, which served to conceal his movements, he commenced an attack upon both flanks of the enemy. On the left he ob- tained an advantage, from a large mterval left m the allied line, to receive the division of Klenau, who were in the act of coming up, but exhausted with fatigue and bad weather, and their muskets rendered almost unserviceable. In the mean- while, as a heavy cannonade was continued on both sides. Napoleon observed one of the batteries ol the Young Guard slacken its fire. General Gour- gaud, sent to inquire the cause, brought informa- tion that the guns were placed too low to repl} with advantage to the enemy's fire from the high ground, and that the Ijalls from the French battery were most of them lost in the earth. " Fire on, nevertheless," was the Emperor's reply ; " we must occupy the attention of the enemy on that point." The fire was resumed, and from an extraordi- nary movement amongst the troops on the hill, the French became aware that some person of high rank had been struck down. Napoleon supposed that the sufferer must be Schwartzenberg. He paid him a tribute of regret, and added, wth the sort of superstition peculiar to his mind, " He, then, was the victim whom the fatal fire at the ball indi- cated ? ' I always regarded it as a presage — it is now plain whom it concerned." Next morning, however, a peasant brought to Napoleon more precise accounts. The officer of distinction had both legs shattered by the fatal bullet — he was transported from the field on a bier composed of lances — the Emperor of Russia and King of Prussia had expressed the greatest sorrow and solicitude. The man ended this accoimt by bringing the fallen officer's dog, a greyhound, whos? collar bore the name of Moreau. This great gene- ral died a few days afterwards, having suffered am- putation of the wounded hmbs, which he bore wjth great fortitude. His talents and personal worth were undisputed, and those who, more bold than we ai'e, shall decide that his conduct in one in- stance too much resembled that of Coriolanus and the Constable of Bourbon, must yet allow that the fault, like that of those great men, was atoned for by an early and a violent death. Moreau is said to have formed the plan on which the attack on Dresden was conducted. His death must therefore have disconcerted it. But besides this, the alhes had calculated upon Buonaparte's absence, and upon the place being slightly defended. They were disappointed in both respects ; and his sudden arrival at the head of a choice, if not a nu- merous army, had entirely changed the nature of the combat. They had become defenders at the very time when they reckoned on being assailants ; and their troops, particularly the Austrians, who liad in former wars received such dreadful cause to recollect the name of Napoleon, were discou- raged. Even if they repelled the French into Dres- den, they had provided no magazines of support in front of it, should the allied army be designed to remain there. Jomini, the celebrated Swiss en- gineer, who had exchanged, some short time before the service of Napoleon for that of the Emperor Alexander, ])roposed the daring plan of changing the front of the army during the action, and at- tacking in force the left of the French, which might have turfaed the fortune of the day. But the ex- periment was thought, with some justice, too peril- ' Given on account of the marriage of Napoleon and Maria Louiba.— See ante, p. 516. 628 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1813. ous to be attempted, with a discouraged and dis- ordered army. A retreat was, therefore, resolved upon, and, owing to the weather, the state of tlie roads, and the close pursuit of the French, it was a disastrous one. The successful operations of the French had established the King of Naples on the western road to Bohemia, by Freyberg ; and Vandamme, witli a strong division, blocked up that which led directly southward up the Elbe, by rirna. The two principal roads being thus closed against Schwartzenberg and his army, nothing remained for them but to retreat through the interval be- tween these highways by such country paths as they could tind,"wliich, bad in themselves, had been rendered almost impassable by the weather. They were pursued by the French in every direction, and lost, what had of late been unusual, a great number of prisoners. Seven or eight thf)usand of the French were killed and wounded ; but the loss of the allies was as great, while their prisoners, almost all Austrians, amounted to from 1 3,000 to 1.5,000. This is admitted by Boutourlin. The French carry the loss to 50,000, which is an obvi- ous exaggeration ; but half the number does not probably exceed the real extent of the loss. It is singular, however, that in such roads as have been described, the allies, out of more than one hun- dred guns which they brought into position, should have lost only twenty-six. It was, notwithstand- ing, a battle with important consequences, such as had not of late i-esulted from any of Wapoleon's great victories.' It proved, indeed, the last favour of an unmixed character which Fortune reserved for her ancient favourite, and it had all the dazzl- ing rapidity and resistless strength of an unexpected thunderbolt. Having seen this brilliant day to a close. Napo- leon returned to Dresden on horsebaclc, his grey capote and slouched hat streaming with water, while the indifferent appearance of his horse and furniture, his awkward seat and carriage, made a singular contrast with those of Murat, whose bear- ing as a horseman was inimitable, and whose battle- dress was always distinguished by its theatrical finery.'^ The venerable King of Saxony received his de- liverer with rapture, for to him, personally, Buo- naparte certainly was such, though considered by many of his subjects in a very different light. Na- poleon behaved generously after the action, distri- buting money among the citizens of Dresden, who had suffered from the cannonade, and causing the greatest cai-e to be taken of the wounded and pri- soners belonging to the allies. The next morning this ever-vigilant spirit was again on horseback, directing his victorious troops in pursuit of the enemy. They were despatched in different columns, to pursue the allies on the broken roads by which they were compelled to retreat, and to allow them no rest nor refuge. No ' Jomini, torn, iv., p. 390; Savary, torn. iii.. p. HiG ; Military Keports to the Emjirtss ; Baron Fain, torn, ii., ]). 309. 2 Baron d"Odelebcn, Relation Circonstanci(5e, torn, i., p. 10«. 8 To be precise— a shoulder of mutton, stuffed with garlic, was the only dinner which his attendants could procure for liim on the 27th. Mahomet, who was a favouriteof Napoleon, suffered by indulpinp in similar viands. But the shoulder of mutton, in the case of the Arabian prophet, had the conde- frame, even of iron, could have supported the fa- tigues of both mind and body to which Napoleon had subjected himself within the last three or four days. He was perpetually exposed to the storm, and had rarely taken rest or refreshment. He is also stated to have sufl'ered from having eaten hastily some food of a coarse and indigestible qua- lity .^ Through one or other, or the whole of these causes combined. Napoleon became very much in- disposed, and was prevailed upon to return in his carriage to Dresden, instead of remaining at Pirna, more close in the rear of his pursuing battalions, to direct their motions. The French officers, at least some of them, ascribe to this circumstance, as the primary cause, a great, critical, and most unexpected misfortune, which befell his arms at this time. On the 2.9th of August, the French still con- tinued to push their advantages. The King of Naples, Marmont, and St. Cyr, were each pressing upon the pursuit of the columns of the allies, to which they had been severally attached. A corps d'arme'e, of about 30,000 men, had been intrusted to the conduct of Vandamme, whose character as a general, for skill, determined bravery, and activity, was respected, while he was detested by the Ger- mans on account of his rudeness and rapacity, and disliked by his comrades because of the ferocious obstinacy of his disposition.'* With this man, who, not without some of the good qualities which dis tinguished Buonajjarte's officers, presented even a caricature of the vices ascriVted to them, the mis- f(n'tunes of his master in this campaign were des- tined to commence. Vandamme had advanced as far as Peterswald, a small town in the Erzgebirge, or Bohemian mountains, forcing before him a column of Rus- sians, feeble in number, but excellent in point of character and discipline, commanded by Count Ostermann, who were retreating upon Toplitz. This town was the point on which all tlie retiring, some of which might be almost termed the fugitive, divisions of tlie allies were directing their course. If Vandamme could have defeated Ostermann, and carried this place, he might have established him- self, with his corps of 30,000 men, on the only road practical for artillery, by which the allies could march to Prague ; so that they must either have remained enclosed between his corps d'armee, and those of the other French generals who pressed on their rear, or else they must have abandoned their guns and baggage, and endeavoured to cross the mountains by such wild tracks as were used only by shepherds and peasants. It was on the 29th, in the morning, that, acting under so strong a temptation as we have men- tioned, Vandamme had the temerity to descend the hill from Peterswald to the village of Culm, which is situated in a very deep valley betwixt that town and Toplitz. As he advanced towards Toplitz, it appeared that his plan was about to be crow ncd Bcension to give its consumer warning of its deleterious quali- ties, though not till he had eaten too much for his health.— S. ■1 The Abb^ de Pradt represents Vandamme at Warsaw, as beating with his own hand a priest, the secretary of a Polish bishop, for not having furnished him with a supply of Tokay, although the poor man had to plead in excuse that King .To- rome had tlie day before carried off all that was in the cellar A saving was ascribed to Buonaparte, " that if he had had two Vandammes in his service, he must have made the one hang the other."— S. 1813.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 629 with success. The persons of the Empcroi- of Rus- sia and tlie King of Prussia, tlio nieniljers of their Cabinet, and the whole depot of the lieadquarters of the allies, seemed now within his clutch, and, already alarmed, his expected jiroy were beginning to attempt their eseajie in ■ different directions. Vandamme seemed within a hand's grasp of the prize ; for his operation, if complete, nnist have totally disorganised the allied army, and the French might perhaps have pursued them to the very gates of Prague, nay, of Vienna. The French advanced-guard was within half a league of Top- litz, when of a sudden Count Ostcrmann, who had hitherto retreated slowdy, halted, like a wild-boar brought to bay, and commenced the most obstinate and inflexible resistance. His troops were few, but, as already said, of excellent (juality, being a part of the Imperial Russian Guard, whom their commander gave to understand, that the safety of their father (as the Russians afFectionately term the Emperor) depended upon their maintaining their ground. Never was the saying of Frederick II., that the Russians might be slain but not routed, more completely verified. They stood firm as a grove of pines opposed to the tempest, while Vandamme led down corps after corps, to support his furious and repeated attacks, until at length he had brought his very last reserves from the commanding ground of Peterswald, and accu- mulated them in the deep valley between Culm and Toplitz. The brave Ostermann had lost an arm in the action, and his grenadiers had suff'ered severely ; but they had gained the time neces- sary. Barclay de Tolly, who now approached the scene of action, brought up the fu-st columns of the Russians to their support ; Schwartzenberg sent other succours ; and Vandamme, in his turn, overpowered by numbers, retreated to Culm as night closed. Prudence would have recommended to the French to have continued their retreat during the night to the heights of Peterswald ; but, expecting probably the appearance of some of the French columns of pursuit, morning found Vandamme in the valley of Culm, where night had set upon him. In the meantime, still greater numbers of the allied corps, which were wandering through these moun- tain regions, repaired to the banners of Schwart- zenberg and Barclay, and the attack was renewed upf)n the French column at break of day on the 30th, with a superiority of force with which it was fruitless to contend. Vandamme therefore disposed himself to retreat towards the heights of Peters- wald, from which he had descended. But at this moment took place one of the most singular acci- dents which distinguished this eventful war. Among other corps d'armee of the allies, which were making their way through the mountains, to rally to the main body as they best could, was that f the Prussian General Kleist, who had evaded the pursuit of St. Cyr, by throwing himself into the wood of Schoenwald, out of which ho debouched on the position of Peterswald, towards which Van- damme was making his retreat. While, therefore, Vandamme's reti'eating columns were ascending the heights, the ridge which they proposed to gain was seen suddenly occupieii by the troops of Kleist, in such a state of disorder as announced they were escaped from some pressing scene of danger, or hurj-ying on to some hasty attack. When the Prussians came in sight of the French, they conceived that the latter were there for the purpose of cutting them off; and, instead of taking a position on the heights to intercept Vandamme, tliey determined, it would seem, to precipitate themselves down, break their way through hia troops, and force themselves on to Toplitz. On the other hand, the French, seeing their way inter- rupted, formed the same conclusion with regard to Kleist's corps, which the Prussians had done concerning them ; and each army being bent on making its way through that opposed to them, the Piiissians rushed down the hill, while the French ascended it with a bravery of despair, that supplied the advantage of ground. The two armies were thus hurled on each other like two conflicting mobs, enclosed in a deep and narrow road, forming the descent along the side of a mountain. The onset of the French horse, under Corbineau, was so desperate, that many or most of them broke through, although the acclivity against which they advanced would not, in other circum- stances, have permitted them to ascend at a trot ; and the guns of the Prussians were for a moment in the hands of the French, who slew many of the artillerymen. The Prussians, however, soon rallied, and the two struffEclino; bodies again mixing toge- ther, fought less for the purpose of victory or slaughter, than to force their way through each other's ranks, and escape in opposite directions. All became for a time a mass of confusion, the Prussian generals finding themselves in the middle of the French — the French officers in the centre of the Prussians. But the army of the Russians, who were in pursuit of Vandamme, appearing in his rear, put an end to this singular conflict. Gene- rals Vandamme, Haxo, and Guyot, were made prisoners, with two eagles and 7000 prisoners, besides a great loss in killed and wounded, and the total dispersion of- the army, many of \Yhom, how- ever, afterwards rejoined their eagles.* The victory of Culm, an event so unexpected and impoi'tant in a military view, was beyond appreciation in the consequences which it produced upon the moral feelings of the allied troops. Be- fore this most propitious event, they were retiring as a routed army, the officers and soldiers com- plaining of their generals, and their generals of each other. But now their note was entirely altered, and they could sing songs of triumph, and appeal to the train of guns and long columns of prisoners, in support of the victory which they claimed. The spirits of all were reconciled to the eager prosecutii>n of the war, and the hopes of liberation spread wider and wider through Ger- many. The other French corps d'armee, on the contrary, fearful of committing themselves as Van- damme had done, paused on an iving at the verge of the Bohemian mountains, and followed no far- ther the advantages of the battle of Dresden. The king of Nai)les halted at Sayda, Marmont at Zinnwalde, and St. Cyr at Liebenau. The head- quarters of the Emperor Alexander remained at Toplitz. Napoleon I'cceived the news of this calamity, however unexpected, with the imperturbable calm- ness which was one of his distingui.-hing qualities. General Corbineau, who commanded in the singular ' Joniiiii, torn, iv., p. XJ!) ; L';inin Fiiin, torn, ii., p. 321. eso SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1813. charge of the cavalry up the hill of Peterswald, presented himself before the Emperor in the con- dition in which he escaped from the field, covered with his own blood and that of the enemj', and holding in his hand a Prussian sabre, which, hi the thick of the mele'e, he had exchanged for his own. Napoleon listened composedly to the details he had to give. " One should make a bridge of gold for a flying euemy," he said, " where it is impossible, as in Vandanmie's case, to oppose to him a bulwark of steel." He then anxiously exa- mined the instructions to Vandamme, to discover if any thing had inadvertently slipped into them, to encourage the false step which that general had taken. But nothing was found which could justify or authorise his advancing beyond Peterswald, although the chance of possessing himself of Top- litz must have been acknowledged as a strong temp- tation. « Tliis is the fate of war," said Buonaparte, turning to Murat. " Exalted in the morning, low enough before night. There is but one step between triumph and ruin." He then fixed his eyes on the map which lay before him, took his compass, and repeated, in a reverie, the following verses : — " J'ai servi, commande, vaincu qxiarante annecs ; Du monde, entre mes mains, j'ai vu les destinees, Et j'ai toujours connu qu'en chaque ^venement Le destin des 6tats dependait d'un moment." CHAPTER LXIX. Military Proceedings in the north of Germany — Luckau submits to the Crown Prince of Sweden — Battles of Gross-Beeren and, Katzhach — Opera- tions of Ney upon Berlin — He is defeated at Dennewitz on the 6th September — Difficult and embarrassing situation of Napoleon — He aban- dons all the right side of the Elbe to the Allies — Operations of the Allies in order to effect a junc- tion — Counter-exertions of Napoleon — The French Generals averse to continuing the War in Ger- many — Dissensions betwixt tli^m and the Emperor ^Napoleon at length resolves to retreat upon Leipsic. The advices which arrived at Dresden from the north of Germany, were no balm to the bad tidings from Bohemia. We must necessarily treat with brevity the high deeds of arms performed at a con- siderable distance from Napoleon's person, great as ■was their influence upon his fortunes. Mare'chal Blucher, it will be remembered, re- treated across the river Katzbach, to avoid the engagement which the Emperor of France endea- voiu-ed to press upon him. The Ci'own Prince of Sweden, on the other hand, had his headquarters at Potsdam. Napoleon, when departing to succour Dresden, on the 21st of August, left orders for Oudiuot to advance on Berlin, and for Macdonald to march upon Breslau, trusting that the former had force enough to conquer the Crown Prince, the latter to defeat Blucher. Oudinot began to move on Berlin by the road of tVittenberg, on the very day when he received the orders. On the other hand, the Crown Prince of Sweden, concentrating his troops, opposed to the French general a total force of more than 80,000 > Baron I'ain, torn ii., j). 3;.8: Jomini, tom. iv., p. 404. men, drawn up for the protection of Berlin. The sight of that fair city, with its towers and steeples, determined Oudinot to try his foi'tune with his an- cient comrade in arms. After a good deal of skir- mishing, the two armies came to a more serious battle on the 23d August, in which General Reg- nier distinguished himself. He commanded a corps which formed th.e centre of Oudinot's army, at the head of which he made himself master of the vil- lage of Gross-Beeren, which was within a short distance of the cr ntre of the allies. The Prussian general, Bulow, advanced to recover this import- ant post, and with the assistance of Borstal, who attacked the flaidi of the enemy, he succeeded in pushing his columns into the village. A heavy rain having prevented the muskets from being serviceable, Gross-Beeren was disputed with the bayonet. Yet, towards nightfall, the two French divisions of Fournier and Guilleminot again at- tacked the village, took it, and remained in it till the morning. But this did not re-establish the battle, for Regnier having lost 1500 men and eight guns, Oudinot determined on a general retreat, which he conducted in the face of the enemy with great deliberation. The Crown Prince obtained other trophies ; Luckau, with a garrison of a thousand French, submitted to his arms on 28th August.' Besides these severe checks on the Prussian frontier. General Girard, in another quarter, had sustained a defeat of some consequence. He had sallied from the garrison of Magdeburg, after the battle of Gross-Beeren, with five or six thousand men. He was encouraged to this movement by the removal of the blockading brigade of Hersch- berg, who, in obedience to orders, had joined the Crown Prince to oppose the advance of Oudinot. But, after the battle of Gross-Beeren, as the Prus- sian brigade was returning to renew the blockade of Magdeburg, they encountered Girard and his division near Leitzkau, on 27th August. The French were at first successful, but CzernichefT having thrown himself on them with a large body of Cossacks, Girard's troops gave way, losing six cannons, fifteen hundred prisoners, and all their baggage. During this active period, war had been no less busy on the frontiers of Silesia than " on those of Bohemia and Bi'andenburg. Marechal Macdonald, as already mentioned, had received orders from Napoleon to attack Blucher and his Prussians, who had retired beyond the Katzbach, and occupied a position near a town called Jauer. In obedience to this order, the marechal had sent General Lauri- ston, who commanded his right wing, to occupy a position in front of Goldberg, with orders to des- patch a part of his division under General Puthod, to march upon Jauer, by the circuitous route of Schonau. The eleventh corps, which formed the centre of ^Macdonald's force, crossed the Katzbach at break of day, under his own command, and advanced towards Jauer, up the side of a torrent called the Wuthende (i. e. raging) Niesse. The third corps, under Souham, destined to form the left wing, was to pass the Katzbach near Liegniti5, and then moving southward, were to come upon the marechal's left. With this left wing marched the cavalry, under Sebastiani.^ 3 Jomini, tom. iv., p. 409 ; Baron Fain, torn, ij., p. 334. ]8i?; LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 031 It cnanced that, on this very 2Gtli of August, Bhiclier, aware that Buonaparte was eiigajjed at Dresden by the descent of the allies from Bohemia, thought it a good time to seek out his opponent and fight him. For this purpose, he was in tlie act of descending tlie river in order to encounter Macdonald, when the niarc'chal, on his part, was ascending it, expecting to find him in his position near Jauer. The stormy weather, so often referred to, with mist and heavy rain, concealed from eacli other the movements of the two armies, until they met in the fields. They encountered in the plains which extend between Wahlstadt and the Katzbach, but under circumstances highly unfavourable to the French mare'chal. His right wing was divided from his centre ; Lauriston being at Goldberg, and fiercely engaged with the Russian General Lan- geron, with whom he had come into contact in the front of that town ; and Puthod at a much greater distance fi-om the field of battle. Macdonald's left wing, with the cavalry, was also far in the rear. Blucher allowed no leisure for the junction of these forces. His own cavalry being all in front, and ready for action, charged the French without per- mitting them leisure to get into position ; and when they did, their right wing indeed rested on the Wuthende-Niesse, but the left, which should have been covered by Sebastiani's cavalry, was altoge- ther unsupported. Message on message was sent to liasten up the left wing; but a singular fatality prevented both the cavalry and infantry from arriving in time. Different lines of advance had been pointed out to Souham and Sebastian! ; but Souham, heaiing the firing, and impatient to place himself on the road which he thought likely to lead him most speedily hito action, unluckily adopted that which was ap- pointed for the cavalry. Thus 5000 horse, and five times the number of infantry, being thrown at once on the same line of march, soon confused and embarrassed each other's motions, especially in passing the streets of a village called Kroitsch, a long and narrow defile, which the troops presently crowded to such a degree with foot and horse, baggage and guns, that there was a total impossi- bility of effecting a passage. Macdonald, in the meanwhile, supported his high reputation by the gallantry of his resistance, though charged on the left flank, which these mis- takes had left uncovered, by four regiments of ca- valry, and by General KarpofF, with a whole cloud of Cossacks. But at length the day was decidedly lost. The French line gave way, and falling back on the Wuthende-Niesse, now doubly raging from torrents of rain, and upon the Katzbach, they lost a great number of men. As a last resource, Mac- donald put himself at the head of the troops, who were at length debouching from the defile of Kroitrich ; but they were driven back with great slaughter, and the skirmish in that quarter con- cluded the battle, with much loss to the French. The evil did not rest here. Lauriston being also under the necessity of retreating across the Katzbach, while Puthod, who had been detached towards Schonau, was left on the right-hand side of that river, this corps was speedily attacked by the enemy, and all who were not killed or taken ffniained prisoners. The army which Buonaparte destined to act iu Silesia and take Breslau, was, therefore, for the present, completely disabled. The French are admitted to have lost 15,000 men, and more than a hundred guns. Though the battles of Gross-Beeren and Katz- bach were severe blows to Buonaparte's plan of maintaining himself on the Elbe, he continued ob- stinate in his determination to keep his ground, with Dresden as his central point of support, and attempted to turn the bad fortune wliich seemed to haunt liis lieutenants (bixt which in fact arose from their being obliged to attempt great achieve- ments with inadequate means,) by appointing Ney to the command of the Northern army, witli strict injunctions to plant his eagles on the walls of Ber- lin. Accordingly, on the 6th September, Ney toot charge of the army which Oudinot had formerly- commanded, and which was lying linder the walls of Wittenberg, and, in obedience to the p]m])eror's orders, determined to advance on the Prussian capital. The enemy (being the army commanded by the Ci'own Prince) lay rather dispersed upon the grounds more to the east, occupying Juterbock, Belzig, and other villages. Ney was desirous to avoid approaching the quarters of any of them, or to give the least alarm. That mare'chal's object was to leave them on the left, and, evading any encounter with the Crown Prince, to throw his force on the road from Torgua to Berlin, and enter mto communication with any troops which Buona- parte might despatch from Dresden upon the same point. On examining the plan more closely, it was found to comprehend the danger of rousing the Prince of Sweden and his army upon one point, and that \^'as at Dennewitz, the most southern village lield by the allies. It was occupied by Tauentzein with a large force, and could not be passed without the alarm being given. Dennewitz might, however, bo m.asked by a sufficient body of troops, under screen of which the marechal and his main body might push forward to Dahme, without risking an engage- ment. It was concluded, that the rapidity of their motions would be so great as to leave no time for the Crown Prince to concentrate his forces for in- teri'upting them. On the 5th, Ney marched from Wittenberg. On the 6th, the division of Bertrand, destined to mask Dennewitz, formed the left flank of the army. When they approached the village, Tauentzein, who commanded there, took the alarm, and drew up between Dennewitz and the French division. If Berti'and had only had to maintain himself for a short interval in that dangerous position, it would have been well, and he might have made head against Tauentzein, till the last file of Ney's army' had passed by ; but by some miscalculation (which began to be more common now than formerly among the French officers of the staff,) the corps of Bertrand was appointed to march at seven in the morning, whil« the corps which were to be protected by him did not move till three hours later. Bertrand was thus detained so long iu face of the enemy, that his demonstration was converted into an action, his false attack into a real skirmish. Presently after the battle became sharp and seri- ous, and the corps on both sides advancing to sus- tain them were engaged. Bulow came to support Tauentzein — Regnier advanced to repel Bulow — Guilleminot hastened up on the French side— and Uox'stel came to support the Russians. However C32 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1813. tmprerneditated, the battle became general, as if by common consent. The Prussians suffered heavily from the French artillery, but without giving way. The Swedes and Russians at length came up, and the line of Ney began to yield ground. That general, who had hardly, though all his forces were engaged, made his post good against the Russians alone, despaired of success when he saw these new enemies appear. He began to retreat ; and his first movement in that direction was a signal of flight to the 7th corps, composed chiefly of Saxons not over well inclined to the cause of Napoleon, and who there- fore made it no point of honour to fight to the deatli in his cause. A huge blank was created in the French line by their flight ; and the cavalry of the allies rushing in at the gap, the army of Ney was cut into two parts ; one of which pushed for- wards to Dahme with the mare'chal himself; the other, with Oudinot, retreated upon Scharnitz, Ney afterwards accomplished his retreat on Tor- gau. But the battle of Dennewitz had cost him 10,000 men, forty-three pieces of cannon, and abundance of vvai'like trophies, relinquished to the adversary, besides the total disappointment of his object in marching towards Berlin.' These repeated defeats, of Gross-Beeren, Katz- bach, and Dennewitz, seemed to intimate that the French were no longer the invincibles they had once been esteemed ; or at least, that when they yet worked miracles, it was only when Buonaparte was at their head. Others saw the matter in a different point of view. They said that formerly, when means were plenty with Buonaparte, he took care that his lieutenants were supplied with forces adequate to the purposes on which they were to be employed. But it was surmised that now he kept the guard and the tlite of his forces under his own immediate command, and expected his lieu- tenants to be as successful with few and raw troops as they had formerly been with numbers, and ve- terans. It cannot, however, be said that he saved his own exertions ; for during the month of Sep- tember, while he pei'sisted in maintaining the war in Saxony, although no affjiir of consequence took place, yet a series of active measures showed how anxious he was to bring the war to a decision under his own eye.''' In perusing the brief abstract of movements which follows, the reader will remember, that it was the purpose of Buonaparte to bring the allies to a battle on some point, where, by superior numbers or superior skill, he might obtain a dis- tinguished victory : while, on the other hand, it was the policy of the allies, dreading at once his talents and his despair, to avoid a general action ; to lay waste the ground around the points he occu- pied ; restrict his communicatious ; raise Germany in arms around him ; and finally, to encompass and hem him in when his ranks were grown thin, and the spirit of his soldiers diminished. Keeping these objects in his eye, the reader, with a single glance at the map, will conceive the meaning of the follow- ing movements on cither side. Having deputed to Ney, as we have just seen, tlie task of checking the progress of the Crown Prince, and taking Berlin if possible, Buonaparte started in person from Dresden on the 3d September, lu hopes > Jouiim, torn, iv., p. 41C; Baron Fain, torn ii., p. XH. of fetching a blow at Blucher, whose Cossacks, since the battle of the Katzbach, had advanced eastward, and intercepted a convoy even near Bautzen. But agreeably to the plan adopted at the general head- quarters of the allies, the Prussian veteran fell back and avoided a battle. Meanwhile, Napoleon waa recalled towards Dresden by the news of the defeat of Ney at Dennewitz, and the yet moi'e pressing intelligence that the allies were on the point of de- scending into Saxony, and again arraying them- selves under tlie walls of Dresden. The advanced guard of Witgenstein had shown itself, it was said, at Pirna, and the city was a prey to new alarms. The French Emperor posted back towards the Elbe, and on the 9th came in sight of Witgenstein. But the allied generals, afraid of one of those sud- den strokes of inspiration, when Napoleon seemed almost to dictate tei'ms to fate, had enjoined Wit- genstein to retreat in his turn. Tlie passes of the Erzgebirge received him, and Buonaparte, follow- ing him as far as Peterswald, gazed on the spot where Vandamme met his unaccountable defeat, and looked across the valley of Culm to Toplitz, where his rival Alexander still held his head-quar- ters. With the glance of an ej'e, the most expert in military affairs, he saw the danger of involving himself in such impracticable defiles as the valley of Culm, and the roads which communicated with it, and resolved to proceed no farther. Napoleon, therefore, returned towards Dresden, where he arrived on the r2th September. In hia retreat, a trifling skirmish occurred, in which the son of Blucher was wounded, and made prisoner. A victory was claimed on account of this affair, in the bulletin. About the same pei'iod, Blucber advanced upon the French troops opposed to him, endangered their communications with Dresden, and compelled them to retreat from Bautzen, and Neustadt, towards Bischoffswerder and Stolpen. While Buonaparte thought of directing himself eastward towards this indefatigable enemy, his at- tention was of new summoned southward to the Bohemian mountains. Count Lobau, who was placed in observation near Gieshubel, was attacked by a detachment from Schwartzenberg's army. Napoleon hastened to his relief, and made a second attempt to penetrate into these mountain recesses, from which tlie eagles of the allies made such re- peated descents. He penetrated, upon this second occasion, beyond Culm, and as far as Nollendorf, and had a skirmish with the allies, which was rather unfavourable to him. The action was broken off by one of the tremendous storms which distin- guislied the season, and Buonaparte again retreated towards Gieshubel. On his return to Dresden, he met the unpleasant news, that the Prince-Royal was preparing to cross the Elbe, and that Bulow had opened trenches before Wittenberg ; whiii Blucher, on his side, approached t/ie right tank of tlie river, and neither Ney nor Macdonald had suf- ficient force to check their progi-ess. On the 21st September, Napoleon once again came in person against his veteran enemy, whom he met not far from Hartlia ; but it was once more in vain. The Prussian field-niare'chal was like the phantom knight of the poet. Napoleon, when he advanced to attack him, found no substantial body against which to direct his blows. 2 .Tomiiii. torn, iv., p. 4:23. 1813.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 633 riie Emperor spent some hours at the miserable thrice-sacked village of Hartha, deliberating, pro- bably, whether he should press on the Crown Prince or Blucher, and disable at least one of these adver- saries by a single blow ; but was deterred by re- flecting, that the time necessary for bringing either of them to action would be employed by Schwart- zenberg in accomplishing that purpose of seizing Dresden, which his movements had so frequently indicated. Thus Napoleon could neither remain at Dresden, without suffering the Crown Prince and Blucher to enter Saxony, and make themselves. masters of the valley of the Elbe, nor make any distant movement against those generals, without endangering the safety of Dresden, and, with it, of his lines of com- munication with France. The last, as the more irreparable evil, he resolved to guard against, by retreating to Dresden, which he reached on the '24th. His mare'chals had orders to approach closer to the central point, where he himself had his head- quarters ; and all the right side of the Elbe was abandoned to the allies. It is said by Baron Ode- leben,* that the severest orders were issued for de- stroying houses, driving off cattle, burning woods, and rooting up fruit-trees, reducing the country in short to a desert (an evil reward for the confidence and fidelity of the old King of Saxony,) but that they were left unexecuted, partly owing to the humanity of Napoleon's lieutenants, and partly to the rapid advance of the allies. There was little occasion for this additional cruelty ; for so dread- fully had these pi-ovinces been harassed and pillaged by the repeated passing and repassing of troops on both sides, that grain, cattle, and forage of every kind, were exhausted, and they contained scarce any other sustenance for man or beast, except the potato crop, then in the ground. After his return to Dresden, on the 24tli Sep- tember, Napoleon did not leave it till the period of his final departure ; and the tenacity with which he held the place, has been compared by some critics to the wilful obstinacy which led to his tarrying so long at Moscow. But the cases were different. We have formerly endeavoured to show, that Napoleon's wisdom in the commencement of this campaign would have been to evacuate Ger- many, and, by consenting to its liberation, to have diminished the odium attached to his assumption of universal power. As, however, he had chosen to maintain his lofty pretensions at the expense of these bloody campaigns, it was surely prudent to hold Dresden to the last moment. His retreat from it, after so many losses and disappointments, would nave decided the defection of the whole Confedera- tion of the Rhine, which already was much to be dreaded. It would have given the allied armies, at present separated from each other, an opportunity to form a junction on the left side of the Elbe, the consequences of which could hardly fail to be de- cisive of his fate. On the other hand, while he re- mained at Dresden, Napoleon was in a condition to operate by shortmarches upon the communications of the allies, and might hope to the last that an oppoi'tunity would be afforded him of achieving Some signal success against one or other of them, or perhaps of beating them successively, and in de- > Relation Circonstanci<5e dc la Cam)'ugiie dt 1U13 en Saxc, toDi. i., p. 234. tail. The allied sovereigns and their generals were aware of this, and, therefore, as we have seen, acted upon a plan of extreme caution, for which they have been scoffed at by some French writers, as if it were the result of fear rather than of wisdom. But it was plain that the time for more decisive operations was appi-oachiiig, and, with a view to such, each party drew towards them such reinforcements as they could command. Buonaparte's soldiers had suffered much by fa- tigue and skirmishes, though no important battle had been fought ; and he found liimself obliged to order Augereau, who commanded about 16,000 men in the neighbourhood of Wurtzberg, to join him at Dresden. He might, however, be said to lose more than he gained by this supply ; for the Bavarians, upon whose inclinations to desert the French cause Augereaii's army had been a check, no sooner saw it depart, than an open and friendly intercourse took place betwixt their amiy and that of Austria, whicli lay opposed to them ; negotia- tions were opened between their courts, without much affectation of concealment ; and it was gene- rally believed, that only some question about the Tyrol prevented their coming to an immediate agreement. The allies received, on their side, the reinforce- ment of no less than 60,000 Russians, under the command of Bennigscn. Thc.most of them came from the provinces eastward of Moscow ; and there were to be seen attending them tribes of the wandering Baskirs and Tartars, figures unknown in European war, « earing sheep-skins, and armed with bows and arrows. But the main body con- sisted of regular troops, though some bore rather an Asiatic appearance. This was the last rein- forcement which the allies were to expect ; being the arriere-ban of the almost boundless empire of Russia. Some of the men hq,d travelled from the wall of China to this universal military rendezvous. Their utmost force being now collected, in num- bers greatly sujjerior to that of their adversary, the allies proceeded to execute a joint movement by means of which they hoped to concentrate their forces on the left bank of the Elbe ; so that if Napoleon should persist in remaining at Di'esden, he might be cut off from communication with France. With this view Blucher, on the 3d Octo- ber, crossed the Elbe near the junction of that river with the Schwarze Elster, defeated Bertrand, who lay in an entrenched camp to dispute the pas- sage, and fixed his headquarters at Duben. At the same time, the Crown Prince of Sweden in like manner transferred his army to the left bank of the Elbe, by crossing at Roslau, and entered into communication with the Silesian army. Thug these two great armies were both transferred to the left bank, excepting the division of Tauent- zein, which was left to maintain the siege of Wit- tenberg. Ney, who was in front of these move- ments, having no means to resist such a prepon- derating force, retreated to Leipsic. Simultaneously with the entrance of the Crown Prince and Blucher into the eastern division of Saxony from the north-west, the gi'and army of the allies was put in motion towards the same dis- trict, advancing from the sou'h by Sebastians-Berg and Chemnitz. On the 5th October, the head- quarters of Prince Schwartzenberg were at Mu- rienberx. C34 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1813. These movements instantly showed Buonaparte the measures about to be taken by the alHes, and tlie necessity of preventing their junction. This he proposed to accomplish by leaving Dresden with all his disposable force, attacking Blucher at Duben, and, if possible, annihilating that restless enemy, or, at least, driving him back across the Elbe. At the same time, far from thinking he was about to leave Dresden for ever, which he had been employed to the last in fortifying yet more Btrongly, he placed a garrison of upwards of 15,000 men in that city under St. Cyr. This force was to defend the city against any corps of the allies, which, left in the Bohemian mountiiins for that purpose, niiuht otherwise have descended and occu- pied Dresden, so soon as Napoleon removed from it. The King of Saxony, his Queen and family, preferred accomp.anying Napoleon on his adventu- rous journey, to remaining in Dresden, where a siege was to be expected, and where subsistence was already become difficult. The same alertness of movement, which secured Blucher on other occasions, saved him in the pre- sent case from the meditated attack on Duben. On the 9th of October, hearing of Napoleon's approach, he crossed the Mulda, and formed a junc- tion with the army of the Ci'own Prince, near Zoerbig, on the left bank of that river. Napoleon, once more baffled, took up his headquarters at Duben on the 10th. Here he soon learned that the Crown Prince and Blucher, apprehensive that he might interpose betwixt them and the grand army of Schwartzenberg, had retreated upon the line of the Saale during the night preceding the 11 th. They were thus still placed on his commu- nications, but beyond his reach, and in a situation to communicate with their own grand army. But this movement to the westward, on the part of the allies, had this great inconvenience, that it left Berlin exposed^ or inadequately protected by the single division of Tauentzein at Dessau. This did not escape the falcon eye of Napoleon. He laid before his mare'chals a more daring plan of tactics than even his own gigantic imagination had (excepting in the Moscow campaign) ever before conceived. He proposed to recross the Elbe to the right bank, and then resting his right wing on Dresden, and his left on Hamburgh, there to main- tain himself, with the purpose of recrossing the Elbe on the first appearance of obtaining a success over the enemy, dashing down on Silesia, and raising the blockade of the fortresses upon the Oder. With this purpose he had already sent Regnier and Bertrand across the Elbe, though their ostensible mission had nothing more important than to raise the siege of Wittenberg. The counsellors of the Emperor were to a man iissatisfied with this plan. It seemed to them that remaining in Germany was only clinging to the defence of what could no longer be defended. They appealed to the universal disaffection of all tlie Germans on the Rhine, and to the de struction of the kingdom of Westphalia, recently effected by no greater farce than Czernicheff, with a pulk of Cossacks. They noticed the almost declared defection of all their former friends, alluded to their own diminished numbers, and remonstrated against a jjlan which was to detain the army in a wasted country, inhabited by a population gra- dually becoming hostile, and surrounded with ene- mies whom they could not defeat, because they would never fight but at advantage, and who pos- sessed the means of distressing them, while they had no means of retorting the injuries they re- ceived. This, they said, was the history of tlie last three months, only varied by the decisive de- feats of Gross-Beeren, Katzbach, and Dennewitz. Napoleon remained from the 11th to the 14th of October at Duben, concentrating his own forces, w-aiting for news of the allies' motions, and remain- ing in a state of uncertainty and inactivity, very different from .his usual frame of mind and natural habits. " I have seen him at that time," says an eyewitness,^ " seated on a sofa beside a table, on which lay liis charts, totally unemployed, unless in scribbling mechanically large letters on a sheet of white paper." Consultations with his best gene- rals, which ended without adopting any fixed de- termination, varied those unpleasing reveries. The councils were often seasons of dispute, almost of dis- sension. The want of success had made those dis- satisfied with each other, whose friendship had been cemented by uniform and uninterrupted prosperity. Great misfortunes might have bound them together, and compelled them to regard each other as common sufferers. But a succession of failures exasperated their temper, as a constant drizzling shower is worse to endure than a thunder-storm. Napoleon, while the mare'chals were dissatisfied with each other and with him, complained, on his part, that fatigue and discouragement had over- powered most of his principal officers ; that they had become indifferent, lukewarm, awkward, and tliere- fore unfortunate. " The general officers," he said, " desired nothing but repose, and that at all rates." On the other hand, the marechals asserted that Napoleon no longer calculated his means to the ends which he proposed to attain — that he suffei-ed himself to be deceived by phrases about the predo- minance of his star and his destiny — and ridiculed his declaration that the woi'd Impossible was not good French. They said that such phrases were well enough to encourage soldiers ; iTut that mili- tary councils ought to be founded on more logical arguments. They pleaded guilty of desiring re- pose ; but asked which was to blame, the horse or the rider, when the over-ridden animal broke down with fatigue ? At length Napoleon either changed his own opinion, or deferred to that of his military ad- visers; the orders to Regnier and Bertrand to advance upon Berlin were annulled, and the re- treat upon Leipsic was resolved upon. The loss of three days had rendered the utmost despatch necessary, and Buonaparte saw himself obliged to leave behind him in garrison, Davoust at Ham- burgh, Lemarrois at Magdeburg, Lapoype at Wit- tenberg, and Count Narbonne at Torgau. Still he seems to have anticipated some favourable I chance, which might again bring him back to the line of the Elbe. « A thunderbolt," as he him- self expressed it, " alone could save him ; but all was not lost while battle was in his power, and a single victory might restore Germany to his obedience." 1 Baron Oiklc'bcn, in his interesting CircuirstaDtial Notice of the Cani])aiyn8 in Saxony. — S. 1813.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. cr.5 CHAPTER LXX. Napoleon reaches Leipsic on \5th of October — Statement of the French and Allied Forces — Battle OF Leipsic, commenced on \6th, and ter- minates with disadrantage to the French at night- fall — Napoleon despcdches General Mchrfeldt (Jiis prisoner) to the Emperor of Austria, with proposals for an armistice — No answer is re- turned — The battle is reneiced on the morning of the \^th, and lasts till night, when the French are compelled to retreat, after immense loss on both sides — They evacuate Leipsic on the I9th, the Allies in full ]nirsuit — Blowing up of one of the bridges — Prince Poniatoirski drowned in the Elster — 25,000 French are made prisoners — 7'he Allied Sovereigns meet in triumph, at noon, in the Great Square at Leipsic — King of Saxony sent under a Guard to Berlin — Refections. The last act of the gi-and drama, so fav as the scene lay in Germany, was now fast approaching. During the two first weeks of October, the various movements of the troops had been of an indecisive character ; but after the 1 4th, when the belligerent powei's became aware of each other's plans, the corps of the allies, as well as those of the French, streamed towards Leipsic as to a common centre. Leaving Duben, the Emperor reached Leipsic early on the 15th of October, and received the agreeable information that his whole force would be in twentj-four hours under the walls ; that the grand army of Austria was fast approaching ; but that his demonstration against Berlui had alarmed Blucher, and therefore that mare'chal might be longer of advancing, from his anxiety to protect the Prussian capital. An opportunity of fighting the one army without the presence of the other, was what Napoleon most anxiously desired. In the meantime, cannon were heard, and shortly after Mui'at brought an account of a desperate cavalry skirmish, in which each party claimed the victory. He himself, mai-ked by the splendour of his dress, had with difficulty escaped from a young Prussian officer, who was- killed by an orderly dra- goon that waited upon the King of Naples. An- other remarkable circumstance in this skirmish was, the distinguished behaviour of a Prussian re- giment of cuirassiers. When complimented on their behaviour, they replied, " Could we do other- wise ? — this is the anniversary of the battle of Jena." Such a spirit prevailed among the allies, nor is it to be supposed that that of the French was infe- rior. If the one had wrongs to avenge, the other had honours to preserve. The venerable town of Leipsic forms an irregular square, surrounded by an ancient Gothic wall, with a terrace planted with trees. Four gates — on the north those of Halle and Ranstadt, on the east the gate of Grimma, and on the south that called Saint Peter's gate — lead from the town to the suburbs, which are of great extent, secured by walls and barriers. Upon the west side of the town, two rivers, the Pleisse and the Elster, wash its walls, and flowing through meadows, divide themselves into several branches, connected by marshy islands. Leipsic cannot, therefore, be esteemed capable of approach by an enemy in that direction, cxctpting by a succession of bridges which cross those rivers and their connecting streams. The first of these bridges leads to a village called Lindeneau, aud thence to Mark-Ranstadt. It is close to the gate of the city which takes its name from that village. This road forms the sole communication betwixt Leipsic and the banks of the Rhine. On the east side, the river Partlia makes a large semicircular bend around the city, enclosing extensive plains, with various heights and points of elevation, which make it well adapted for a military position ; on the south the same species of ground continues, but more broken into eminences, one of which is called the Swedish Camp, from the wars, doubtless, of Gustavus Adolphus; another is called the Sheep- walk of Meusdorf ; it is then bounded by the banks of the Pleisse. This line is marked by a variety of villages, which, in the fearful days which we are now to describe, gained a name in history. About the village of Connewitz begins the marshy gi'ouud, inundated by the Pleisse and Elster. It was on this last line that, on the 15th October, the columns of the grand army of the allies were seen hastily advancing. Napoleon immediately made his artangements for defence. Lindenau, through which ran the Mark-Ranstadt road, by which the French must retreat, was occupied by Bertrand. Poniatowski, advancing to the right bank of the Pleisse, held all the villages along the side of the river — Connewitz, Lofsnig, Dooblitz, and so on to Markleberg. As the line of defence swept to the eastward, Augereau was established on the elevated plain of Wachau. He was supported by Victor and Lauriston at a considerable village called Leibertwolkowitz. Cavalry were posted on the wings of these divisions. The Imperial Guards were placed in the rear as a reserve, at a village named Probstheyda; and Macdonald occupied a gentle and sweeping rising-ground, extending from Stoetteriz to Holzhausen. On the opposite, that is, the northern side of the city, Marmont occupied a line betwixt Moeckern and Euterizt. His troops were intended to make head against Blucher, whose approach from the north was momentarily to be apprehended. Almost all along the ground thus defended, but especially on the south front, the allies had prepared columns of attack ; and the sentinels of both armies were, when evening fell, in some places within musket- shot of each other. Neither side, however, seemed willing to begin the battle, in which the great question was to be decided, whether France should leave other nations to be guided by their own princes, or retain the unnatural supremacy with which she had been invested by the talents of one great soldier. The number of men who engaged the next morning, was said to be 136,000 French, omitting the corps of Souham, who was not engaged, and of Regnier, who was not yet come up. The allies are by the same accounts rated at 230,000, without counting the division of the Crown Prince, or that of Bennigsen, which had not as yet joined. Almost all the statements assign a predominating force to the allies of 80,000 or 100,000 men superior to their enemy. It thus appears that they had at last acted according to Napoleon's own idea of the art of war, which he defined as the art of assembling the greatest number upon a given point. Napoleon himself visited all the posts, gave his last orders, aud took the opportunity, as he Ire- G36 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1813. quently did on tlie eve of battle, to distribute eagles to those regiments of Augercau's division, wliieh, being new levies, had not yet received these mili- tary emblems. The ceremony, performed with warlike pomp, may remind the reader of the an- cient fashion of making knights on the eve of a battle. The soldiers were made to swear never to abandon their eagles; and the Emperor con- cluded by saying, in a loud voice, " Yonder lies the enemy. 'Swear that you will rather die than permit Fi-ance to be dishonoured." — " We swear it!" exclaimed the battalions. "Long live the Emperor!" And unquestionably they kept their word in the tremendous series of actions which followed. Napoleon's preparations were made chiefly upon the southern side of Leipsic. It has been supposed, though, we think, with small probability, that he scarce expected a serious attack upon the northein side at all. In the evening, howevei", of the 15th, three death-rockets {feux de mort,) displaying long brilliant trains of white light, were observed to rise high in the southerly quarter of the heavens, and they were presently answered by four of a red colour, which were seen in the distant north. It was concluded that these were signals of communi- cation between the grand army of the allies, and those of the Crown Prince and Blucher. The lat- ter, therefore, must be at no incalculable distance. Napoleon remained in the rear of his own guards, behind the central position, almost opposite to a village called Gossa, which was occupied by the allies. At break of day, on the 1 6th October, the battle began. The French position was attacked along all the southern front with the greatest fury. On the French right, the village of Markleberg was fiercely assaulted by Kleist, while the Austrian division of Mehrfeldt, making their way through the marshes to the left bank of the Pliesse, threat- ened to foi'ce themselves across that river. Ponia- towski, to whom the defence was confided, was obliged to give ground, so that the Emperor was compelled to bring up the troops under Sou- ham, which had joined during the night, and which had been designed to support Marmont on the north of Leipsic. Mare'chal Victor defended the village of Wachau, in front of the position, against Prince Eugene of Wirtemberg. The town of Leibortwolkowitz was made good by Lam'iston against Klenau. The allies made %ix desperate attempts on these points, but all were unsuccessful. They were now something in the condition of wrestlers who have exhausted themselves in vain and premature efforts ; and Napoleon in turn as- Buming the off"ensive, began to show his skill and power. Macdonald was ordered to attack Klenau, and beat him back from Leibertwolkowitz, with the cavalry of Sebastiani; while two divisions de- scended to sustain Genei'al Lauriston. It was about noon when this general advance took place along the centre of the French. It was for some time fearfully successful. The village of Gossa, hitherto occupied by the allies, and in the very centre of their line, was carried by the bayonet. The eminence called the Sheepwalk was also in danger oi being lost, and the exertions of Mac- donald put him in possession of the redoubt called the Sweilish Camp. The desperate impetuosity of the French had fairly broken through the centre of the allies ; and Napoleon, as if desirous not to lose a moment in proclaiming his supposed victory, sent the tidings to the King of Saxony, who com- manded all the church-bells in the city to be rung for rejoicing, even while the close continued roar of the cannon seemed to give the lie to the merry peal. The King of Naples, in the meantime, with Latour jMaubourg, and Kellermann, poured through the gap in the enemy's centre, and at the head of the \\hole body of cavalry thundered forward as far as Magdeburg, a village in the rear of the allies, beai'ing down General Rayefskoi, with the gi-eua- diers of the reserve, who threw themselves forward to oppose their passage. But at this imminent moment of peril, while the Fi'ench cavalry were disordered by their own suc- cess, Alexander ordered the Cossacks of his guard, who were in attendance on his pei-son, to charge. They did so with the utmost fury, as fighting under the eye of their sovereign, disconcerted Buona- parte's manoeuvre, and bore back with their long lances the dense mass of cavah*y who had so nearly carried the day. In the meantime, while the carnage was con- tinuing on the southern side of Leipsic, a similar thunder of ai-tillery commenced on the right, where Blucher had arrived before the city, and suddenly come into action with Marmont, with at least three men for one. Breathless aides-de-camp came gal- loping to reclaim the troops of Souham, which, for the purpose of supporting Poniatowski, had been withdrawn from their original destination of assist- ing Marmont. They could, not however, be re- placed, and Blucher obtained, in consequence, great and decided results. He took the village of Moeckern, with twenty pieces of artillery, and two thousand prisoners ; and when night separated the combat, had the advantage of having greatly nar- rowed the position of the enemy. But the issue on the south side of Leipsic con- tinued entirely indecisive, though furiously con- -tested. Gossa was still disputed, taken and retaken repeatedly, but at length remained in possession of the allies. On the verge of the Pleisse, the combat was no less dreadful. The Austrians of Bianchi's division poured on Marldeberg, close to the side of the river, with the most dreadful yells. Ponia- towski, with Augereau's assistance, had the utmost difficulty in keeping his ground. From the left side of the Pleisse, Schwartzenberg manosuvred to push a body of horse across the swampy river, to take the French in the rear of the position. But such of the cavalry as got through a very bad ford, were instantly charged and driven back, and their leader. General Mehrfeldt, fell into the hands of the French. An Austrian division, that of Guilay, manoeuvred on the left bank of the Pleisse, as far down as Lindenau, and the succession of bridges, wliich, we have r.aid, forms on the western side the sole exit from Leipsic towards the Rhine. This was the only pass which remained for retreat to the French, should they fail in the dreadful action which was now fighting. Guilay might have de- stroyed these bridges; but it is believed he had orders to leave open that pass for reti-eat, lest the French should be rendered utterly desperate, when there was \v> anticipating what exertions they might be goaded to. The battle, thus fiercely contested, coutimicd to 1813.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPAIITE. G37 rage till nightfall, when the bloody work ceased as if by mutual consent. Three cannon-shot, fired as a signal to the more distant points, intimated that the conflict was ended for the time, and the armies on the soumern line retired to rest, in each other's presence, in the very positions which they had occupied the night before. The French had lost the ground which at one period they had gained, but they had not relinquished one foot of their ori- ginal position, though so fiercely attacked during the whole day by greatly superior numbers. On the north their defence had been less successful. War- mont had been forced back by Bluchcr, and the whole line of defence on that side was crowded nearer to the walls of Leipsic' Napoleon, in the meantime, had the melancholy task of arranging his soldiers for a defence, sure to be honourable, and yet at length to be unavailing. Retreat became inevitable ; yet, how to accomplish it through the narrow streets of a crowded city ; how to pass more than 100,000 men over a single bridge, while double that number were pressing on their rear, was a problem which even Buonapai'te could not solve. In this perplexity, he thought of appealing to the sentiments of affection which tlie Emperor of Austria must necessarily be supposed to entei'tain for his daughter and grandchild. The capture of General Mehrfeldt served opportunely to afford the means of conmiunication with the better grace, as, after the battle of Austei"litz, this was the individual, who, on the part of the Empe- ror of Germany, had solicited a personal interview, and favourable terms from Napoleon. In a private interview with this officer, Napoleon received tlie confirmation of what he had long apprehended, the defection of the King of Bavaria, the union of his army with that of Austria, and their determina- tion to intercept him on his return to the Rhine. This fatal intelligence increased his desii-e of peace, and he requested, yet in terms of becoming dignity, the intercession of his father-in-law. He was now willing to adopt the terms proposed at Prague. He offered to renounce Poland and lUyria. He would consent to the independence of Holland, the Hanse towns, and Spain ; but he wished this last to be delayed till a general peace. Italy, he proposed, should be considered as independent, and jireserved in its integrity. Lastly, as the price of the armis- tice to be immediately concluded, he was willing to evacute Germany and retreat towards the Rhine. These terms contained \\hat, at an early part of the campaign, and voluntarily tendered, would have been gladly accepted by the allies. But Buona- parte's own character for ability and pertinacity ; the general impression, that, if he relinquished his views for a time, it was only to recur to them in a more favourable season ; and his terrible power of making successful exertions for that purpose, har- dened the hearts of the allied sovereigns against what, from another (could any other save Buona- pjirte be supposed in his situation) would, in the like circumstances, have been favourably received. " Adieu, General Mehrfeldt," said Napoleon, dis- missing his prisoner; " when, on my part, you name the word armistice to the two Emperors, I doulit not that the voice which then strikes their ears will awaken many recollections." Words aifecting by ' Jomiiii, torn, iv., pj). •150, •Hii ; Baron Fain, torn ii., p. 384 ; Baron d'Odelebeii, torn, ii., p. 32 ; Savary, torn iii., p. their simplicity, ami which, coming from so proud a heart, and one who was reduced to ask the gene- rosity which he had formerly extended, cannot be recorded without strong sympathy. General iVIehrfeldt went out, like the messenger from the ark, and long and anxiously did Buona- parte expect his return. But he was the raven envoy, and brought back no olive branch. Napo- leon did not receive an answer imtil his troops had recrossed the Rhino. The allies had engaged themselves solemnly to each other, that they would enter into no treaty with him while an individual of the French army remained in Germany. Buonaparte was now engaged in preparations for retreat ; yet he made them with less expedition than the necessities of the time required. Morning came, and the enemy did not renew the attack, waiting for Bennigsen and the Prince-Royal of Sweden. In the meanwhile, casks, and materials of all kinds being plenty, and labourers to be col- lected to any extent, it seems, that, by some of the various modes known to militai\v engineers,^ tem- porary bridges might have been thrown over the Elster and the Pleisse, which are tranquil still rivers, and the marshes betwixt them rendered sufficiently passable. Under far more disadvanta- geous circumstances Napoleon had bridged the Beresina within the space of twelve hours. This censure is confirmed by a most competent judge, the general of ciigiiieers, Rogniat, who affirms that there was time enough to have completed six bridges, had it been employed with activity. The answer, that he himself, as chief of the engineer department at the time, ought to have ordered and prepared these means of reti'eat, seems totally insufficient. Napoleon did not permit his gene- rals to anticipate his commands on such important occasions. It is said, indeed, that the Emperor had given orders for three bridges, but that, in the confusion of this dreadful period, that was seldom completely accomplished which Napoleon could not look after with his own eyes. Nothing of the kind was actually attempted, except at a place called the Judges' Garden ; and that, besides hav- ing its access, like the stone bridge, through the town of Leipsic, was constructed of too slight ma- terials. Perhaps Napoleon trusted to the effect of Mehrfeldt's mission ; perhaps he had still latent hopes that his reti-eat might be uimecessary ; per- haps he abhorred the thought of that manoeuvre so much, as to lead him entirely to confide the neces- sary preparations to another ; but certain it is, the exertion was not made in a manner suitable to the occasion. The village of Lindenau, on the left side of the rivers, was nevertheless secured. The 17th, as we have said, was spent in prepa- rations on both sides, without any actual hostilities, excepting when a distant cannonade, like the growling of some huge monster, showed that war was only slumbering, and that but lightly. At eight o'clock on the ifith of October, the battle was renewed with tenfold fui'v. Napoleon had considerably contracted his circuit of defence ; on the external i-ange of heights and villages, wdiich had been so desperately defended on the 16th, the allies now foimd no opposition but that of outposts. The French were posted in an interior line nearer - ijce Sir Howard iJouijIas's work on Military Bridges.— G38 SCOTT'S INIISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1813. r.i) Leipsie, of which Probtsheyda was the central point. Napoleon himself, stationed on an eminence called Thonbei'g, commanded a prospect of the whole field. Masses were drawn up behind the villages, which relieved their defendei's from time to time with fresh troops ; cannon were placed in their front and on their flanks, and every patch of wooded ground which afforded the least shelter, was filled with tirailleurs. The battle then joined on all sides. The Poles, with their gallant general Poniatowski, to whom this was to prove the last of his fields, defended the banks of the Pleisse, and the villages connected with it, against the Prince of Hesse Homberg, Bianchi, and Colleredo. In the centre, Barclay, Witgenstein, and Kleist, advanced on Probtsheyda, where they were opposed by the King of Naples, Victor, Augereau, and Lauriston, under the eye of Napoleon himself. On the left, Macdonald had drawn back his division from an advanced point called Holtzhausen, to a village called StcEtteritz, which was the post assigned to them on the new and restricted line of defence. Along all this extended southern line, the fire con- tinued furious on both sides, nor could the terrified spectators, from the walls and steeples of Leipsie, jierceive that it either advanced or recoiled. The French liad the advantage of situation and cover, the allies that of greatly superior numbers ; both were commanded by the first generals of their country and age. About two o'clock afternoon, the allies, under Genei'al Pirch and Prince Augustus of Prussia, forced their way headlong into Probtsheyda ; the camp followers began to fly ; the noise of the timudt overcame almost the fii-e of the artillery. Napoleon in the rear, but yet on the verge of this tunuilt, preserved his e!itii-e tranquillitj'. He placed the reserve of the Old Guard in order, led them in person to recover the village, and saw them force their entrance, ere he retreated to the emi- nence from which he observed the action. During the whole of this eventful day, in which he might be said to fight less for victory than for safety, this wonderful man continued calm, decided, collected, and supported his diminished and broken squadrons in their valiant defence, with a presence of mind and courage, as determined as he had so often exhibited in directing the tide of onward victory. Perhaps his military talents were more to be ad- mired, when thus contending at once against For- tune and the superiority of numbers, than in the most distinguished of his victories, when the fickle goddess fought upon his side. The allies, notwithstanding their gallantry and their numbers, felt themselves obliged to desist from the murderous attacks upon the villages which cost them such immense loss ; and di-awing back their troops as they brought forward their guns and howitzers, contented themselves with maintaining a dreadful fire on the French masses as they showed themselves, and thi'owing shells into the villages. The French replied with great spirit ; but they had fewer guns in position, and, besides, their ammuni- tion was falling short. Still, however, Napoleon completely maintained the day on the south of Leipsie, where he was present in person. On the north side of Leipsie, the superiority of numbers, still greater than that which existed on ' Jomini, torn, iv., y.p. 465, 4U0 ; Baron Fain, torn, ii., i>. 403. the south, placed Ney in a precarious situation He was pressed at once by the army of Blucher and by that of the Crown Prince, which was now come up in force. The latter general forced his way across the Partha, with three columns, and at three different points ; and Ney saw himself obliged to retreat, in order to concentrate his forces nearer Leipsie, and communicate by his right with the army of Napoleon. Tlie Russians had orders to advance to force this new position, and particularly to drive back the advar.ced guard of Regnier, stationed on an eminence called Heiterblick, betwixt the villages of Taucha and Paunsdorf. On a sudden, the troops who occupied the French line on that point, came forward to meet the allies, with their swords sheathed, and colours of truce displayed. This was a Saxon brigade, who, in the midst of the action, embraced the time and opportunity to desert the service of Napoleon, and declare for independence. These men had an unquestionable right to espouse the cause of their country, and shake off the yoke of a stranger, which Saxony had found so burden- some ; but it is not while on the actual battle- ground that one side ought to be exchanged for the other ; and those must be in every case accounted guilty of treachery, who, bringing their swords into the field for one party, shall suddenly, and without intimation given, turn them against the power in whose ranks they had stood. The Russians, afraid of stratagem, sent the Saxon troops, about 10,000 in number, to the rear of the position. But their artillery were imme- diately brought into action ; and having expended during that moniing one half of their ammunition on the allies, they now bestowed the other half upon the French army. By this unexpected disas- ter, Ney was obliged to contract his line of defence once more. Even the valour and exertions of that distinguished general could not defend Schoenfeld. That fine village forms almost one of the northern suburbs of Leipsie. It was in vain that Buonaparte despatched his reserves of cavalry' to check the advance of the Crown Prince. He defeated all opposition that presented itself, and pressed Ney into a position close under the walls of Leipsie. The battle once more ceased on all points ; and after the solemn signal of three cannon shot had been heai-d, the field was left to the slain and the wounded.' Although the French army kept its gi'ound most valiantly during the whole of this tremendous day, there was no prospect of their being able to sustain themselves any longer around or in Leipsie. The allies had approached so close to them, that their attacks might, on the third day, be expected to be more combined and simultaneous than before. The superiority of numbers became more efficient after the great carnage that had taken place, and that for the simple reason, that the army which had greatest numbers could best afford to lose lives. It is said also by Baron Fain,^ that the enormous number of 250,000 cannon-bullets had been ex- pended by the French during the last four days, and that there only remained to serve their guns about 16,000 cartridges, which could scarce sup- port a hot fire for two hours. This was owing to the great jjark of artillery having been directed oc » Manuscriiit dc ISI.'i, par le Baron Fain, torn, ii., p 420. 1813.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. G:39 Torgau, another cii'cumstaiice which servos to show how little Buonaparte dreamed of abandoning the Elbe when he moved from Dresden. To this tlie increasing scarcity of provisions is to be added ; so thatevery thing combined to render Napoleon's long- er stay at Dresden altogether impossible, especial- ly when the Bavarian general, now his declared ene- my, was master of his communications with France. The retreat, however necessar}-, was doomed inevitably to be disastrous, as is evident from the situation of the French army, cooped up by supe- rior forces under the walls of a large town, the narrow streets of which they must traverse to reach two bridges, one of recent and hasty con- struction, by which they must cross the Pleisse, the Elster, and the marshy gromid, streams, and canals, which divide them fi"om each other ; and tlien, added to this was the necessity of the whole army debouching by one single r(jad, that which leads to Lindenau, and on which it would be im- possible to prevent dreadful confusion. But there was no remedy for these evils ; they must neces- sarily be risked. The retreat was commenced in the night time ; and Buonaparte, retiring in pei'son to Loipsic, spent a third exhausting night in dictating the ne- cessary orders for drawing the corps of his army successively within the town, and transferring them to the western bank of the two rivei's. The French ti'oops accordingly came into Leipsic from all sides, and filling the town with the ineffable confusion which always must attend the retreat of so large a body in the presence of a victorious enemy, they proceeded to get out of it as they best could, by the way prescribed. Macdonald and Poniatowski, with their corps, were appointed to the perilous l^onour of protecting the i-ear. " Prince," said Napoleon, to the brave Polish prince, " you must defend the southern suburbs." — " Alas, sire," he answered, " I have but few soldiers left." — " Well, but you will defend them with what you have ?" —" Doubt not, sire, but that we will make good our ground ; we are all ready to die for your Ma- jesty's service." — Napoleon parted with this brave and attached prince, upon whom he had recently bestowed a marechal's baton. They never met again in this world. The arrival of daylight had no sooner shown to the allies the commencement of the French retreat, than their columns began to advance in pursuit on every point, pushing forward, with all the animation of victory, to overtake the enemy in the suburbs and streets of Leipsic. The King of Saxony, the magistrates, and some of the French generals, en- deavoured to secure the city from the dangers which were to be expected from a battle in the town, betwixt the rear-guard of the French and the advanced guard of the allies. They sent pro- posals, that the Frencn army should be permitted to effect their retreat unmolested, in mercy to the unfortunate town. But when were victorious ge- nerals prevented from prosecuting military advan- tages, by the mere consideration of humanity ? Napoleon, on his side, was urged to set fire to the suburbs, to check the pressure of the allies on his rear-guard. As this, however, must have occa- sioned a most extensive scene of misery, Buona- parte generously refused to give such a dreadful order, which, besides, could not have been executed without compromising the safety of a great part of his own rear, to whom the task of destruction must have been committed, and who would doubt less immediately have engaged in an extensive scene of plunder. Perhaps, also. Napoleon might be influenced by the feeling of what was due to the confidence and fidelity of Frederick Augustus of Sayony, who, having been so long the faithful follower of his fortunes, was now to be abandoned to his own. To have set fire to that unhappy monarch's city, when leaving him behind to make terras for himself as he could, would have been an evil requital for all he had done and suffered in the cause of France ; nor would it have been nuich better had Napoleon removed the Saxon King from his dominions, and destroyed all chance of his making peace with the irritated sovereigns, by transporting him along with the French army iu its calamitous retreat. At nine o'clock Napoleon had a farewell inter- view with Frederick Augustus, releasing him foi'- mally from all the ties whidi had hitherto com- bined them, and leaving him at liberty to form such other alliances as the safety of his states might require. Their parting scene was hurried to a conclusion by tlie heavy discharge of musketry from sevei-al points, which intimated that the allies, forcing their way into the subm'bs, were fighting hand to hand, and from house to house, with the French, who still continued to defend them. The King and Queen of Saxony conjured Buonaparte to mount his horse, and make his escape ; but, before he did so, he discharged from their ties to France and to himself the King of Saxony's body guard, and left them for the protection of the rojal family. When Napoleon attempted to make his way to the single point of exit, by the gate of Ranstadt, which led to the bridge, or succession of bridges, so often mentioned, he found reason for thinking his personal safety in actual danger. It must be remembered, that the French army, still number- ing neai-ly 100,000, were pouring into Leipsic, pur- sued by more than double that mmiber, and that the streets were encumbered with the dead and wounded, with artillery and baggage, with columns so wedged up that it was impossible for them to get forward, and with others, who, almost despe- rate of their safety, would not be left behind. To fight his way through this confusion, was impossi- ble even for Napoleon. He and his suite were obliged to give up all attempts to proceed in the direct road to the bridge, and turning in the other direction, he got out of the city through .Saint Peter's Gate, moved on until he was in siglit of tne advancing columns of the allies, then turning along the eastern suburb, he found a circuitous by-way to the bridges, and was enabled to get across. But the temporary bridge w hich we have before men- tioned had already given way, so that there re- mained only the old bridge on the road to Linde- nau, to serve as an exit to the whole French army. The furious defence which was maintained in the suburbs, continued to check the advance of the allies, otherwise the greater part of the French army must inevitably have been destroyed. But the defenders themselves, with their brave com^ manders, were at length, after exhibiting prodigies of valour, compelled to retreat ; and ere they could reach the banks of the river, a dreadful accident had taken place. C40 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1813. The bridge, so necessary to the escape of this distressed army, had been mined by Buonaparte's orders, and an officer of engineers was left to exe- cute tlie necessary measure of destroying it, so soon as the allies should ap]iroach in force sufficient to occupy the pass. Whether the officer to whom this duty was intrusted had fled, or had fallen, or had been absent from his post by accident, no one seems to have known ; but at this critical period a sergeant commanded the sappers in his stead. A body of Swedish sharp-shooters pushed up the side of the river about eleven o'clock, with loud cries and huzzas, firing upon the ci'owds who were win- ning their way slowly along the bridge, while Cos- sacks and Hulans were seen on the southern side, i-ushing towards the same spot ; and the troops of Saxony and Baden, wlio had now entirely changed sides, were firing on the French from the wall of the suburbs, which they had been posted to defend against the allies, and annoying the retreat which they had been destined to cover. The non-com- missioned officer of engineei's imagined that the re- treat of the French was cut off, and set fire to the mine, that the allies might not take possession of the bridge for pui'suing Napoleon.' The bridge exploded with a horrible noise. This catastrophe effectually intercepted the re- treat of all who remained still on the Leipsic side of the river, excepting some individuals who suc- ceeded by swimming through the Pleisse and the Elster. Among these v,as the brave Marechal Macdonald, who surmounted all the obstacles op- posed to his escape. Poniatowski, the gallant ne- phew of Stanislaus, King of Poland, was less fortu- nate. He was the favourite of his countrymen, who saw in their imagination the crown of Poland glittei'ing upon his brow. He himself, like most of the Poles of sense and reflection, regarded these hopes as delusive ; but followed Napoleon with un- flinching zeal, because he had always been his friend and benefactor. Besides a thousand other acts of valour, Poniatowski's recent defence of the extreme right of the French position was as bril- liant as any part of the memorable resistajice at Leipsic. He had been twice wounded in the pre- vious battles. Seeing the bridge destroyed, and the enemy's forces thronging forward in all direc- tions, he drew his sabre, and said to his suite, and a few Polish cuirassiers, who followed him, " Gen- tlemen, it is better to fall with honour than to surrender." He charged accordingly, and pushed through the troops of the allied army opposed to him, in the course of which desperate attempt he was wounded by a musket shot in the arm. Other enemies appeared ; he threw liimself upon them with the same success, making his way amongst them also, after receiving a wound through the cross of his decoration. He then plunged into the Pleisse, and with the assistance of his staff-officers. ' This story was at first doubted, and it was supposed that Napoleon had commanded the bridge to be blown .up, with the selfish purpose of securing his own retreat. But, from all concurring accounts, the explosion took place in the manner, and from the cause, mentioned in the text. There is, not- withstanding, an obscurity in the case. A French officer of engineers, by name Colonel Monfort, was publicly announced as the person through whose negligence or treachery the post was left to subordinate keeping. Nevertheless, it is said, that the only oflficer of that name, in the engineer service of liuoTia- parte's army, was actually it Mcntz when the battleof Leijisic took place. This is alluded to bv General Grouchy, who, in a note upon his interesting Observations on General Gourgaud's Account of the Campaign of 1815, has this remarkable pas pot across that river, in which his horse was lost. '1 hough much exhausted, he mounted anciher liorse, and seeing that the enemy were already occupying the banks of the Elster with riflemen, he plunged into that deep atid marshy river, to rise no more. Thus bravely died a prince, who, in one sense, may be termed the last of the Poles.* The remainder of the French army, after many had been killed and drowned in an attempt to cross these relentless rivei-s, received quarter from the enemy. About 2.5,000 men were made prisoners, and as Napoleon seems only to have had about 200 guns at the battle of Hannau, many nmst have been aban(l'>ned in Leipsic and its neighbourhood.^ The quantity of baggage taken was immense. The triumph of the allied monarchs was complete. Advancing at the head of their victorious forces, each upon his own side, the Emperor of Russia, the King of Prussia, and the Crown Prince of Sweden, met and greeted each other in the great square of the city, where they were soon joined by the Em- peror of Austria. General Bertrand, the French commandant of the city, surrendered his sword to these illustrious personages. No interview took place between the allied monarchs and the King of Saxony. He was sent under a guard of Cos.sacks to Berlin, nor was he afterwards restored to his tin-one, until he had paid a severe fine for his ad- herence to France. When reflecting npon these scenes, the rank and dignity of the actors naturally attract our observa- tion. It seems as if the example of Buonaparte, in placing himself at the head of his ai'mies, had in some respects changed the condition of sovereigns, from the reserved and retired dignity in which most had remained, estranged from the actual toils of government and dangers of war, into the less ab- stracted condition of sharing the risk of battle, and the labours of negotiation. Such scenes as those whicli passed at Leipsic on this memorable day, whether we look at the parting of Napoleon fi-om Frederick Augustus, amid the fire and shouting of hostile armies, or the triumphant meeting of the allied sovereigns in the great square of Leipsic, had been for centuries only to be paralleled in romance. But considerhig how important it is to the people that sovereigns should not be prompt to foster a love of war, there is great room for question whe- ther the encouragement of this warlike pi'opensity be upon the whole a subject for Europe to congra- tulate itself upon. Policy and the science of war alike dictated a rapid and close pursuit after the routed French ; but the allied army had been too much exhausted by the efforts required to gain the battle, to admit of its deriving the full advantage from success. There was a great scarcity of provisions around Leipsic ; and tlie stores of the city, exhausted by tlie French, afforded no relief. The bridge which sage :— "One would wish to forget the bulletin, which, after the battle of Leipsic, delivered to the bar of public opinion, as preliminary to bringing him before a military commission. Colonel Monfort of the engineer service, gratuitously accused of the breaking down the bridge at Leipsic." Neither the colonel nor the non-commissioned officer was ever brought to a court-martial. — S. 2 His body was found, and his obsequies performed with great military pomp; both ihe victors and vanquished attend- ing him to the tomb, with every honour which could be ren- dered tn his remains. — S. 3 " The French were computed to have Inst SO.Oiin men, in- cluding the sick abandoned in the hospitals at Leipsic, and 2.')fi guiis."— LoKU liUi;G;iEKSH, Opcnilwus, iSc- p. 28. 1813.] LIFE OF NAPOLEOX BUONAPARTE. G41 bad been desh-oyed was as iiccossarv for the ad- vance of the allies as tlie rclreat of Naiioloon. Besides, it must be admitted that an allied army is always less decided and rapid in its movements than one which receives all its impulses from a single commander of strong and vigorous talents. Of this we shall see more proofs. But, in tlie meantime, a great point was gained. The libera- tion of Germany was complete, even if Napoleon should escape tlie imited armies of Aush'ia and Bavaria, which still lay betwixt him and the banks of the Rhine. And indeed the battles which lie fought for conquest terminated at Leipsic. Those which he afterwards viaged were for his own life and the sceptre of France. CHAPTER LXXI. Retreat of the French from Germany — General De- fection of JVapoleon^s Partisans — Battle of Hanau fought on ZOlh and 31rf October — NajM- leon arrives at Paris on 9th Koxemher — State in which he finds the jjuhlic mind in the capital — Fate of the French Garrisons left in Germany — Arrival of the Allied Armies on the banks of the Rhine — General tiew of jVapoleon's political re- lations — Italy — Spain — Restoration of Ferdi- nand — Liberation of the Pope, tcho returns to Rome — Emancipation of Holland. Napoleon was now on his retreat, and it proved a final one, from Germany towards France. It was performed with disorder enough, and great loss, though far less than that which had attended the famous departure from Moscow. The troops, according to Baron d'Odeleben, soured by misfor- tune, marched with a fierce and menacing air, and the guards in particular indulged in every excess. In this disordered condition. Napoleon passed through Lutzen, late the scene of his brilliant suc- cess, now witness to liis disastrous losses.. Kis own courage was unabated ; he seemed indeed pensive, but was calm and composed, indulging in no vain regrets, still less in useless censures and recriminations. Harassed as he passed the defiles of Eckartsberg, by the light troops of the allies, he pushed on to Erfurt, where he hoped to be able to make some pause, and restore order to his disorganised followers. On the •23d of October, he reached that city, which was rendered by its strong citadel a conve- nient rallying point ; and upon collecting the re- port of his losses, had the misfortune to find them much greater than he had apprehended. Almost all the German troops of his amiy were now with- drawn from it. The Saxons and the troops of Baden he had dismissed with a good grace ; other contingents, which saw their sovereigns on the point of being freed from Napoleon's supremacy, withdrew of themselves, and in most cases joined the allies. A great many of those Frenchmen who arrived at Erfurt were in a miserable condition, and without arms. Their wretched appearance extorted from Buonaparte the peevish observation, 1 " The hasty joumeyof the King of Naples throuKh France "treated general surprise. The first idea excited by it was, chat tlie Emperor had commissioned liim to assemble the army and form a junction with tlie force under tlie viceroy, in Older to protect Italy from an invasion, which appeared to be VOL. II. " They are a set of scoundrels, ^\•ho are going to the devil ! — In this way I shall lose 80,000 men before I can get to the Rhine." The spirit of defection extended even to those who were nearest to the Emperor. Murat, dis- couraged and rendered impatient by the incessant misfortunes of his brother-in-law, took leave, under pretence, it was said, of bringing forces up from the French frontier, but in reality to return to his own dominions, without further allying his fortunes to those of Napoleon.^ Buonaparte, as if influenced by some secret presentiment that they should never again meet, embraced his old companion-in-arms repeatedly ere they parted. The Poles who remained in Napoleon's army showed a very generous spirit. He found himself obliged to appeal to their own honour, whether they chose to remain in his service, or to desert him at this crisis. A part had served so long under his banners, that- they had become soldiers of for- tune, to whom the French camp served for a native country. But many others were men who had assumed arms in the Russian campaign, with the intention of freeing Poland from the foreign yoke under which it had so long groaned. The manner in which Napoleon had disappointed their hopes could not be forgotten by them ; but they had too much generosity to revenge, at this crisis, the injus- tice with which they had been treated, and agreed unanimously that they would not quit Napoleon's service until they had escorted him safely beyond the Rhine, reserving their right then to leave hi* standard, of which a great many accordingly avail- ed themselves. Napoleon passed nearly two days at Erfurt, during which the re-organisation of his troops ad- vanced rapidly, as the magazines and stores of the place were sufficient to recruit them in every de- partment. Their reassembled force amounted to about 80,000 men. This, together with the troops left to their fate in the garrison towns in Germany, was all that remained of 280,000, with which Na- poleon liad begun the campaign. The garrisons amounted to about 80,000, so that the loss of the French rose to 120,000 men. These garrisons, so imprudently left beliind, were of course abandoned to their fate, or to the discretion of the enemy ; Napoleon consoling himself with the boast, " that if they could form a junction in the valley of the Elbe, 80,000 Frenchmen might break through all obstacles." Instructions were sent to the various commanders, to evacuate the places they held, and form such a junction ; but it is believed that none of them reached the generals to whom they were addressed. It is probable that, but for the relief afforded by this halt, and the protection of the citadel and defences of Erfurt, Napoleon, in his retreat from Leipsic, must have lost all that remained to him oi an army. He had received news, however, of a character to preclude his longer stay in this place of refuge. The Bavarian army, so lately his allies, with a strong auxiliary force of Austrians, amounting in all to 30,000, under Wrede, were hurrying from the banks of the Inn, and had contemplated, and the execution of which was at that time rendered probable, by the movements of the En"libh troojis in Sicily, ^obody attributed hia return to any otuer object "— Savarv, torn, iii., p. lit!. 2 T 642 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1813 reached Wurtzburg on tlie Mayne, with the pur- pose of throwing tliemselves in hostile fashion between the army of Napoleon and the frontier of Franco. In addition to this unpleasing intelli- gence, he learned that the Austrians and Prussians were pressing forward, as far as Weimar and Laugensalza, so that he was once more in danger of being completely surrounded. Urged by these circumstances. Napoleon left Erfurt on the 25th of October, amid weather as tempestuous as his fortunes. An unfortunate determination of the allied coun- cils directed Marshal Blucher to move in pursuit of Napoleon by Giessen and Wetzlar, and commanded liim to leave the direct road to the banks of the Rhine, by Fulda and Gelnhaussen, open for the march of an Austrian column, expected to advance from Schmalkald.' The most active and energetic of the pursuers was thus turned aside from Napo- leon's direct path of retreat, and the Austrians, to whom it was yielded, did not come up in time to overtake the retreating enemy. The French were still followed, however, by the arrival of Cossacks under their adventurous leaders, Platoff, Czerni- eheff, Orloff-Denizoff, and Kowaiski, who continued their harassing and destructive operations on their flanks and their rear. In the meanwhile, General Wrede, notwithstand- ing the inferiority of his forces to those of Buona- parte, persevered in his purpose of barring the return of Napoleon into France, and took up a posi- tion at Hanau for that purpose, where he was joined by the chiefs of the Cossacks already men- tioned, who had pushed on before the advance of the French army, in hopes that they might afford Wrede their assistance. If Blucher and his troops had been now in the rear of Napoleon, his hour had in all probability arrived. But Wrede's force, of whom he had been unable to bi-ing up above 45,000 men, was inferior to the attempt, almost always a dangerous one, of intercepting the retreat of a bold and desperate enemy upon the only road which can lead him to safety. It was upon a point, also, where the Bavarians had no particular advan- tage of position, which might have presented natu- ral obstacles to the progress of the enemy. Upon the 30th, the Bavarians had occupied the large wood of Lamboi, and were disposed in line on the right bank of a small river called the Kint- zig, near a village named NeuhofF, where there is a bridge. The French threw a body of light troops into the wood, which was disputed from tree to tree, the close fire of the sharpshooters on both sides resembling that of a general chasse, such as is practised on the continent. The combat was sustained for several hours without decided suc- cess, until Buonaparte commanded an attack in force on the left of the Bavarians. Two battalions of the guards, under General Curial, were sent into the wood to support the French tirailleurs ; and the Bavarians, at the sight of their grenadier- caps, imagined themselves attacked by the whole of that celebrated body, and gave way. A suc- cessful charge of cavalry was at the same time made on Wrede's left, which made it necessary for him to retreat behind the Kintzig. The Austro- ' This account of Blucher's march is derived from Lord BuTEhersh's " Memoir of the Operations of the Allied Armies in ia]3 and 1014," pp. 35, &c.— Ed, (1842.) Bavarian army continued to hold Hanau ; but as the main road to Frankfort does not lead directly through that town, but passes on the south side of it, the desired line of retreat was left open to Na- poleon, whose business it was to push forward to the Rhine, and avoid farther combat. But the rear-guard of the French army, consisting of 18,000 men, under command of Mortier, was still at Gelnhaussen ; and Marmont was left with three corps of infantry to secure their retreat, while Buonaparte, with the advance, pushed on to Wil- liamstadt, and from thence to llockstadt, in the direction of Frankfort. On the morning of the 31st, Marmont made a double attack upon the town of Hanau, and the po- sition of Wrede. Of the first, he possessed himself by a bombardment. The other attack took place near the bridge of NeuhofF. The Bavarians had at first the advantage, and pushed a body of 1000 or 1200 men across the Kintzig ; but the instant attack and destruction of these by the bayonet, im- pressed their general with greater caution. Wrede himself was at this moment dangerously wounded, and the Prince of Oettingen, his son-in-law, kilIe(J on the spot. General Fresnel, who succeeded Wrede in the command, acted with more reserve. He drew off from the combat ; and the French, more intent on prosecuting their march to the Rhine than on improving their advantages over the Bavarians, followed the Emperor's line of retreat in the direction of Frankfort. An instance of rustic loyalty and sagacity was displayed during the action, by a German miller, which may serve to vary the recurring detail of military movements. This man, observing the fate of the battle, and seeing a body of Bavarian infan- try hard pressed by a large force of French cavalry, had the presence of mind to admit the water into his mill-stream when the Bavarians had passed its channel, and thus suddenly interposed an obstacle between them and the pursuers, which enabled the infantry to halt and resume their ranks. The sa- gacious i)easant was rewarded w'ith a pension by the King of Bavaria. The loss of the French in this sharp action was supposed to reach to about 6000 men ; that of the Austi'o-Bavarians exceeded 10,000. Escaped from this additional danger. Napoleon arrived at Frank- fort upon the 30th October, and left, upon the first November, a town which was soon destined to receive other guests. On the next day he arrived at Maycnce, (Mentz,) which he left upon the 7th November, and arriving on the 9th at Paris, con- cluded his second unsuccessful campaign. The Emperor had speedy infoi'mation that the temper of the public was hy no means tranquil. The victory of Hanau, though followed by no other effect than that of getting clear of the enemy, who had presumed to check the retreat of the Emperor, alone shed a lustre on the arms of Napoleon, which they greatly needed, for his late successive misfortunes had awakened both critics and mur- murers. The rupture of the armistice seemed to be the date of his declension, as indeed the junction of the Austrians enabled the allies to bear him down by resistless numbers. Nine battles had been fought since that period, including the action at Culm, which, in its results, is well entitled to the name. Of these, Buonaparte only gained two — those of Dresden and Hanau ; that at Wachau waa 1813.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. C43 indecisive ; while at Gross-Becren, at Jnucr on the Katzbacli, at Culm, at Deiinewitz, at Moekerii, and at Leipsie, the allies obtained decisive and important victories. The French had been still more unfortunate in the number of bloody skirmishes which were fought almost every where through the scene of war. They were outnumbered in cavalry, and especially in light cavalry ; they were outnumbered, too, in light corps of infantry and sharpshooters ; for the Germans, who had entered into the war with general enthusiasm, furnished numerous rein- forcements of this description to the regular armies of the allies. These disasters, however they might be glossed over, had not escajied the notice of the French ; nor was it the sight of a few banners, and a column of 4000 Bavarian prisoners, ostentatiously paraded, that prevented their asking, what was be- come of upwards of "200,000 soldiei-s — what charm had dissolved the Confederation of the Rhine — and why they lieard rumours of Russians, Austrians, Prussians, Germans, on the east, and of English, Spanish, and Portuguese on the south, approaching the inviolable frontiers of the great nation 1 Dur- ing the bright sunshine of prosperity, a nation may be too much dazzled with victory ; but the gloomy horizon, obscured by advei-sity,- shows objects in their real colours. The fate of the garrisons in Germany, which Buonaparte had so imprudently omitted to evacu- ate, was not such as to cure this incipient disaffec- tion. The Emperor had never another opportunity during this war, to collect the veteran troops thus unhappily left behind, under his banner, though often missing them at his greatest need. The dates of their respective surrender, referring to a set of detached facts, which have no influence upon the general current of history, may be as well suc- cinctly recited in this place. St. Cyr, at Dresden, finding himself completely abandoned to his own slender resources, made on the 11th of November a capitulation to evacuate the place, with his garrison of 35,000 men, (of whom very many were, however, invalids,) who were to have a safe conduct to France, under engagement not to serve against the allies for six months. Schwartzenberg refused to ratify the capitulation, as being much too favourable to the besieged. He offered St. Cyr, who had already left Dresden, to replace him there in the same condition of defence which he enjoyed when the agreement was entered into. This was contrary to the rules of war ; for how was it possible for the French, commandant to be in the same situation as before the capitulation, when the enemy had be- come completely acquainted with his means of defence, and resources ? But the French general conceived it more expedient to submit, with his army, to become prisoners of war, reserving his right to complain of breach of capitulation. Stettin surrendered on the 21st of November, after an eight months' blockade. Eight thousand French remained prisoners of war. Here the Prussians regained no less than 350 pieces of artil- lery. On the 29th of November, the important city of Dantzic surrendered, after trenches had been open ' Three to one, according to the general rule of war, is the proiiorlion of a blockading army to the garrison which it masks. before it for forty days. As in the case of Dres- den, the sovereigns refused to ratify the stipulation, which provided for the return of the garrison to Fi'ance, but made the commandant, Rapp, the same proposal which had been offered to the Mai-cchal St. Cyr, which Rapp in like manner declined. About 9000 French were therefore sent prisoners into Russia. But the Bavarians, Westphalians, and Poles, belonging to the gaiTison, were per- mitted to return to their homes. Many of them took service with the allies. The detention of this garrison must also be recorded against the allies as a breach of faith, which the temptation of dirainisli- ing the enemy's forces cannot justify. After the battle of Leipsie, Tauentzein had been detached to blockade Wittenberg, and besiege Tor- gau. The latter place was yielded on the 26th December, with a garrison of 10,000 wretches, amongst whom a pestilential fever was raging. Zamosc, in the ducliy of Warsaw, capitulated on the 22d, and Modlin on the 25th of December. At the conclusion of the year 1813, only the fol- lowing places, situated in the rear of the allies, remained in the hands of the French ; Hamburgh, Madgeburg, Wittenberg, Custrin, Glogau, with the citadels of Erfurt and of Wurtzburg,' the French having in the last two instances evacuated the towns. Two circumstances are remarkable conceraing the capture of the surrendered fortresses. The first is the dismal state of the garrisons. The men, who had survived the Russian campaign, and who had been distributed into these cities and fortresses by Murat, were almost all, from the hardships they had endured, and perhaps from their being too suddenly accommodated with more genial food, subject to diseases which speedily became infectious, and spread from the military to the inhabitants. When the severities of a blockade were added to this general tendency to illness, the deaths became numerous, and the case of the survivors made them envious of those who died. So virulent was the contagion at Torgau, that the Pi-ussians, to whom the place was rendered on the 26th December, did not venture to take possession of it till a foi-tnight afterwards, when the ravage of the pestilence began to decline. Thus widely extended, and thus late prolonged, were the fatal effects of the Russian expedition. The other point worth notice is, that the surren- der of each fortress rendered disposable a blockad- ing army of the allies, proportioned to the strength of the garrisons, which ought, according to the rules of war, to be at least two to one."^ Thus, while thousands after thousands of the French were marched to distant prisons in Austria and Russia, an addition was regularly made to tlie armies of the allies, equal at least to double the number of those that were withdi-awu from the French army. While these successes were in the act of being obtained in their rear, the allied sovereigns of Russia and Prussia advanced upon the Rhine, the left bank of which was almost entirely liberated from the enemy. It is a river upon which all the Germans look with a national pride, that sometimes takes almost the appearance of filial devotion. But where there is little apprehension of relief or of strong sorties, the number may be much reduced. — S. C44 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1S1.1. When the advanced guard of the army of the allies first came in siiilit of its broad majesty of flood, tliey hailed the Father River with such reiterated shouts, that those who were behind stood to their arms, and pressed forward, supposing that an action was about to take jilace. The proud and exulting feeling of recovered independence was not confined to those brave men wlio had achieved the liberation of their country, but extended every where, and animated the whole mass of the popu- lation of Germany. The retreat of the French armies, or their relics, across the land which they had so long overrun, and where they had levelled and confounded all national distinctions, might be compared to the abatement of the gi-eat deluge, when land-marks which had been long hid from the eye began to be once more visible and distinguished. The recon- struction of tl>e ancient sovereignties was the instant occupation of the allies. From the very field of battle at Leipsic, the Electoral Prince of Hesse departed to assume, amid the acclamations of the inhabitants, the sove- reignty of the territories of his fathers. The allies, on 2d November, took possession of Hanover and its dependencies in name of the King of England. The gallant Duke of Brunswick, whose courage, as well as his ardent animosity against Buonaparte, we have already had occasion to commemorate, returned at the same time into the possession of his hereditary estates ; and the ephemeral kingdom of Westphalia, the apjianage of Jerome Buonaparte, composed out of the spoils of these principalities, vanished into air, like the palace of Aladdin in the Arabian tale. Those members of the Confederacy of the Rliine who had hitherto been contented to hold their crowns and coronets, under the condition of being liege vassals to Buonaparte, and who were as much tired of his constant exactions as ever a drudging fiend was of the authority of a necromancer, lost no time in renouncing his sway, after his talisman was broken. Bavaria and Wirtemberg had early joined the alliance — the latter power the more willingly, that the Crown Prince had, even during Napoleon's supremacy, refused to acknowledge his sway. The lesser princes, therefore, had no alternative but to declare, as fast as they could, their adhei-ence to the same cause. Their ministers thronged to the headquarters of the allied sovereigns, where they were admitted to peace and fraternity on the same general terms ; namely, that each state should con- tribute within a certain period, a year's income of their territories, with a contingent of soldiers double in numbers to that formerly exacted by Buonaparte, for maintaining the good cause of the alliance. They consented willingly ; for though the demand might be heavy in the meantime, yet, with the downfall of the French Emperor, there was room to hope for that lasting peace which all men now believed to be inconsistent with a continuance of his power. Waiting until their reinforcements should come from the interior of Germany, and until the subor- dinate princes should bring forward their respec- tive contingents of troops, and desirous also to give Napoleon another opportunity of treating, the allied sovereigns halted on the banks of the Rhine, and cantoned their army along the banks of that river. This afforded a space to discover, whether the lofty mind of Napoleon could be yet ii duced to bend to such a peace as might consist with the material change in the circumstances of Europe, effected in the two last campaigns. Such a pacification was particularly the object of Austria ; and the greater hope was entertained of its being practicable, that the same train of misfortunes which had driven Napoleon beyond the Rhine, had darkened his poli- tical horizon in other quarters. Italy, so long the scene of his triumphs, was now undergoing the same fate as his other conquests, and rapidly melting away from his grasp. At the beginning of tlie campaign, the Viceroy Eugene, witli about 45,000 men, had defended the north of Italy, with great skill and valour, against the Aus- trian general, Hiller, who confronted him with supe- rior forces. The frontiers of Illyria were the chief scene of their military operations. The French maintained themselves there until the defection of the Bavarians opened the passes of the Tyrol to the Austrian army, after which, Eugene was obliged to retire behind the Adige. The warlike Croatians declaring in favour of their ancient sovereigns of Austria, mutinied, and rose in arms on several points. The important seaport of Trieste was taken by the Austrians on the 21st of October. General Nugent had entered the mouth of the Po with an EngUsh squadron, with a foi'ce sufficient tc occupy Ferrara and Ravenna, and organise a gene- ral insurrection against the Fi'ench. It was known also, that Murat, who had begun to fear lest he should be involved in the approaching fall of Napo- leon, and who remembered, with more feeling, the affronts which Napoleon had put upon him from time to time, than the greatness to which he had been elevated by him, was treating with the allies, and endeavouring to make a peace which should secure his own authority under their sanction. Thus, there was no point of view in which Italy could be regarded as a source of assistance to Buonaparte : on the contrary, that fair country, the subject of his pride and his favour, was in the greatest danger of being totally lost to him. The Spanish Peninsula afforded a still more alarming prospect. Tlie battle fif Vittoria had en- tirely destroyed the usurped authority of Joseph Buonaparte, and Napoleon himself had become desirous to see the war ended, at the price of totally ceding the kingdom on which he had seized so un- justifiably, and which he had, in his fatal obstinacy, continued to grasp, like a furious madman holding a hot iron until it has scorched him to the bone. After that decisive battle, there was no obstacle in front to prevent the Duke of Wellington from entering Finance, but he chose first to reduce the strong frontier forti-esses of Saint Sebastian and Pampeluna. The first capitulated finally on the 9th September ; and notwithstanding the skill and bravery of Soult, which were exerted to the utter- most, he could not relieve Pampeluna. The Eng- lish army, at least its left wing, passed the Bidassoa upon the 7th October, and Pampeluna suri-endered on the 31st of the same month. Thus was the most persevering and the most l)ated of Buonaparte's enemies placed in arms upon the French soil, under the command of a general wlio had been so uni- formly successful, that he seemed to move hand in hand with victory. It was but a slender consola- tion, in this state of matters, that Suchet, the Duke of Albufera, still maintained himself in Catalonia 1813.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. G45 his hoadiiuartcrs beinc; at Barcelona. In fact, it would have been of infinitely more importance to Buonaparte, had the marcchal and those troops, who had not yet been discouraged by defeat, been on the north side of the Pyrenees, and ready to co- operate in defence of the frontiers of France. To pai'ry this pressing danger. Napoleon had recourse to a plan, which, had it been practised the ^■ea^ before, might have placed the affairs of Spain on a very different footing. He resolved, as we have hinted, to desist from the vain undertaking, which had cost himself so much blood and treasure ; to undo his own favourite work ; to resign the claims of his brother to the crown of Spain ; and, by re- storing the legitimate sovereign to the throne, en- deavour to form such an alliance with him as might take Spain out of the list of his enemies, and per- haps add her to that of his friends. Had he had recourse to this exjiedient in the previous year, Ferdinand's appearance in Spain might have had a very important eft'ect in emljroiling the councils of the Cortes. It is well known that the unfortu- nate distinctions of Royalists and Liberalists, were already broken out among the Spaniards, and from the colours in which his present Majesty of Spain has since shown himself, there is great room to doubt whether he had either temper, wisdom, or virtue sufficient to act as a mediator betwixt the two classes of his subjects, of which both were in- clined to carry their opposite opinions into ex- tremes. It is more than probable that a civil war might even then have taken place, between the King, desirous of regaining the plenitude of autho- rity conferred on him by the ancient constitution, and the Cortes, anxious to maintain the liberties wiiich they had recently recovered, and carried, by their new constitution, to the extent of republi- can license. If such a war had arisen. King Fer- dinand would probably have fallen into the snare prepared for him by Buonaparte, and called in his late jailor, in the ca]>acity of his ally, against the Cortes, and perhaps also against the English, who, though not approving of the theoretical extrava- gances of the system of government, which had divided the patriots into two civil factions, must, nevertheless, have considered that assembly as the representatives of the Spanish people, and the allies with whom the British had formed their league. Talleyrand is said to have recommended the libe- ration of Ferdinand at a much earlier period. He called the measure an olla podrida for Spain. But Napoleon's present concession came too late, and was too evidently wrung from him by the most pressing necessity, to permit Ferdinand, however desirous of his liberty, to accept of it on the terms offered. The reader may, indeed, be curious to know in what language Napoleon could address the prince whose person he had seized and imprisoned like a kidnapper, and on whose throne he had so long and so pertinaciously endeavoured to support a usiu'per. Perhaps, when writing the following letter, Buonaparte was himself sensible that his conduct admitted of no glossing over ; he, there- fore, came to the point, it will be observed, at once, trusting probably that the hojic of being i-estored to his liberty and king'V>m would be so agreeable in itself, that the cai)tive monarch would not be disposed strictly to criticise the circumstances which had occasioned so pleasing an offer, or tlie cxprcs- aions in which it was conveved. " My Cousin — The state of my einoire and of my political situation, lead me to put a final adjust- ment to the affairs of Sjiain. The English arc ex- citing anarchy and jacobinism ; th-vv endeavour to overthrow the crown and the nobility, in order to establish a republic. I cannot, without being deejily affected, think on the destruction of a nation wliieh interests me, both by its neighbourhood, and its common interest concerning maritime commerce. I wish to re-establish the relations of friendship and good neighbourhood, which have so long been established betwixt France and Spain. You will therefore listen to what the Comte de la Forest will propose in my name," &c. Considering the terms of this letter, and con- trasting them with the manner in which the friend- ly relations alluded to had been broken oft", and that in which the interest taken by Napoleon in the kingdom of Spain had been displayed, the hy- pocritical professions of the writer were too obvi- ously dictated by necessity, to impose upon the meanest understanding. The answer of Ferdinand was not without dignity. He declined to treat without having an opportunity of consulting with the Regency of Spain, and required permission to hear a deputation of his subjects, who might at once inform him of the actual state of affairs in Spain, and point out a remedy for the evils under which the kingdom suffered. " If," said the prince, in his reply to Napoleon's proposal, " this liberty is not permitted to me, 1 prefer remaining at Valenray, where I have now lived four years and a half, and whei'e I am willing to die, if such is God's pleasure." Finding the prince firm upon this score. Napoleon, to whom his freedom might be possibly some advantage, and when his captivity could no longer in any shape benefit him, consented that Ferdinand should be liberated upon a treaty being drawn up between the Duke of St. Carlos, as the representative of Ferdinand, and the Comte de la Forest, as pleni- potentiary of Napoleon ; but which treaty should not be ratified until it had been approved of by the Regency. The heads were briefly these : — I. Na- poleon recognised Ferdinand as King of Spain and the Indies. II. Ferdinand undertook that the English should evacuate Spain, and particularly Minorca and Centa. III. The two governments became engaged to each other, to place their rela- tions on the footing prescribed by the treaty of Dunkirl;, and which had been maintained until 1772. Lastly, Tlie new king engaged to pay a suitable revenue to his father, and a jointure to his mother, in case of her survivance ; -and provision was made for re-establishing the commercial rela- tions betwixt France and Spain. In this treaty of Valencay, subscribed the 11th of December, l!!i;^>, the desire of Buonaparte to embroil Sjjain with her ally Great Bi'itain, is visible not only in the second article, but in the third. For as Napoleon always contended that his opposi- tion to the rights exercised on the sea by the Eng- lish, had been grounded on the treaty of Utrecht, his reference to that treaty upon the present occa- sion, shows that he had not yet lost sight of his Continental System. The Regency of Spain, when the treaty of Va- le)u;ay was laid before them, refused to ratify it, botii in virtue of a decree of the Cortes, which, as early as January, 1811, declared that there should 646 SCOTT'S MrSCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1813. he neither truce nor negotiation with France, until the King should enjoy his entire liberty, and on account of their treaty with England, in which Spain engaged to contract no peace without Eng- land's concurrence. Thus obliged to renounce the hopes of fettering Spain, as a nation, with any con- ditions, Buonaparte at length released Ferdinand from his confinement, and permitted him to return to his kingdom, upon his personal subscription of the treaty, trusting that, in the political alterations which his arrival might occasion in Spain, some- thing might turn up to serve his own views, which could never be advanced by Ferdinand's continuing in confinement. Nothing of the kind, however, took place, nor is it needful either to detain the reader farther with the Spanish affairs, or again to revert to them. Ferdinand is said, by the French, to have received Napoleon's proposals with mucli satisfaction, and to have written a letter of thanks to the Emperor for his freedom, obtained after nearly six years' most causeless imprisonment. If so, the circumstance must be received as evidence of Ferdinand's singulai'ly grateful disposition, of which we believe there are few other examples to be quoted. The liberated monai'ch returned to his territories, at the conclusion of all this negotiation, in the end of March 1814. The event is here an- ticipated, that there may be no occasion to retui'n to it. Another state-prisoner of importance was libera- ted about the same time. Nearly at the commence- ment of the year 1814, proposals had been trans- mitted, by the agency of Cardinal Maury and the Bishops of Evrenx and Plaisance, to Pius VII., still detained at Fontainbleau. His liberation was tendei'ed to him ; and, on condition of his ceding a part of the territories of the Church, he was to be restored to the remainder. " The dominions of Saint Peter are not my property," answered the Pontiff; "they belong to the Church, and I cannot consent to their cession." — " To prove the Empe- ror's good intentions," said the Bishop of Plaisance, " I have orders to announce your Holiness' return to Rome." — " It must, then, be with all my cardi- nals," said Pius VII. — " Under the present cii-cum- stances, that is impossible." — " Well, then, a car- riage to transport me is all I desire — I wish to be at Rome, to acquit myself of my duties as head of the Church." An escort, termed a guai'd of honour, attended him, commanded by a colonel, who treated his Ho- liness with much respect, but seemed disposed to suffer no one to speak with him in private. Pius VII. convoked, however, the cardinals who were at Fontainbleau, to the number of seventeen, and took an affecting farewell. As the Pope was about to depart, he commanded them to wear no decora- tion received from the French Government ; to ac- cept no pension of their bestowing ; and to assist at no festival to which they might be invited. On the 24th of January, Pius left Fontainbleau, and returned by slow journeys to Savona, where he re- mained from the 19th of February to the 10th of March. He reached Fioi'enzuola on the 23d, where his French escort was relieved by an Aus- trian detachment, by whom the Pontiff' was received with all the usual honours ; and he arrived at Rome on the 1 8th of May, amid the acclamations of thousands, who thronged to receive his benediction. With such results terminated an act of despotic authority, one of the most impolitic, as well as un. popular, practised by Buonaparte during his reign. He himself was so much ashamed of it, as to dis- own his having given any orders for the captivity of the Pontiff, though it was continued under his authority for five years and upwards. It was re- markable, that when the Pope was taken from Rome as a prisoner, Murat was in possession of his dominions, as the connexion and ally of Buona- parte ; and now his Holiness found the same Murat and his army at Rome, and received from his hands, in the opposite character of ally of the Em- peror of Austria, the re-delivery of the patrimony of Saint Peter's in its full integrity. Thus was restored to its ancient allegiance that celebrated city, which had for a time borne the title of SECOND in the French dominions. The re- volution in Holland came also to augment the em- barrassments of Napoleon, and dislocate what re- mained of the immense additions which he had at- tempted to unite with his empire. That country had been first impoverished by the total destruction of its commerce, under pretence of enforcing the continental system. It was from his inability to succeed in his attempt to avert this pest from the peaceful and industrious Dutchmen, that Louis Buonaparte had relinquished in disgust a sceptre, the authority of which was not permitted to protect the people over whom it was swayed. The distress which followed, upon the introduc- tion of these unnatural restrictions into a country, the existence of which depended on the freedom of its commerce, was almost incredible. At Am- sterdam, the population was reduced from 220,000 to 190,000 souls. In the Hague, Delft, and else Avhere, many houses were pulled down, or suffered to fall to ruin by the proprietors, from inability to pay the taxes. At Haarlem, whole streets were in desolation, and about five hundred houses were entirely dismantled. The preservation of the dikes was greatly neglected for want of funds, and the sea breaking in at the Polders and elsewhere, threatened to resume what human industry had withdrawn from her reign. The discontent of the people arose to the highest pitch, and their thoughts naturally reverted to the paternal government of the House of Orange, and the blessings which they had enjoyed under it. But with the prudence, which is the distinguishing mark of the national character, the Dutch knew, that un- til the power of France should be broken, any attempt at insurrection in Holland must be hope- less; they therefore contented themselves with form- ing secret confederations among the higher order of citizens in the principal towns, who made it their business to prevent all premature disturbances on the part of the lower classes, insinuating them- selves, at the same time, so much into their favour, that they were sure of having them at their dispo- sal, when a propitious moment for action should arise. Those intrusted with the secret of the in- tended insurrection, acted with equal prudence and firmness ; and the sagacious, temperate, and rea- sonable character of the nation was never seen to greater advantage than upon this occasion. The national guards were warmly disposed to act in the cause. The rumours of Buonaparte's retreat from Leipsic — " for such an host Fled not in silence llirough the afi'rightcd deep," 1813.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 647 united to prepare the public mind for resistance to the foreign yolvc ; and the approach of General Bulow towards the banks of the Yssel, became the signal for general insurrection. On the 14 th November, the Orange flag was hoisted at the Hague and at Amsterdam, amid the ancient acclamations of " Orauge-boven " (Up with the Orange.) At Rotterdam, a small party of the I3utch patriots, of the better class, waited on the prefect, Le Brun, Duke of Placentia, and, showing the orange cockade which they wore, addressed the French general in these words : — " You may guess fi'om these colours the purpose which has brought us hither, and the events which are about to take place. You, who are now the weakest, know that we are strongest — and we the strongest, know that you are the weakest. You will act wisely to depart from this place in quiet ; and the sooner you do so, you ai'e the less likely to expose yourself to insult, and it may be to danger." A revolution of so important a nature had never certainly been announced to the sinking party, with so little tunmlt, or in such courteous terms. The reply of General Le Brun was that of a French- man, seldom willing to be outdone in politeness : — " I have expected this summons for some time, and am very willing to accede to your proposal, and take my departure immediately." He mount- ed into his carriage accordingly, and drove through an immense multitude now assembled, without meeting any other insult than being required to join in the universal cry of Orange-boven. The Dutch were altogether without arms when they took the daring resolution to re-construct their ancient government, and were for some time in great danger. But they were secured by the advance of the Russians to their support, while forces from England were sent over, to the num- ber of 6000 men, under General Graham, now Lord Lynedoch ; so that the French troops, who had thrown themselves into two or three forts, were instantly blockaded, and prevented from dis- turbing the country by excursions. No event during the war made a more general and deep impression on the mind of the British nation, than .tlie libei-ation of Holland, which is well entitled by a recent author, " one of the most fortunate events which could at that moment have taken place. The rapidity with which the Dutch, from being obstacles to the invasion of France, became the instruments by which that under- taking was most facilitated, could only have been brought about through the detestable system of government which Buonaparte had pursued with them." ' Thus victory, having changed her course, like some powerful spring-tide, had now, in the end of the year 1813, receded at every point from the do- minions which its strong and rapid onward course had so totally overwhelmed. CHAPTER LXXIL Preparati'jTis of Napoleon against the Invasion of France — Terms of Peace offered by the Allies — 1 See Memoirof the ()i)erationsnftlie Allied Armies in 11J13 and lai4, by Major General Lord Burgliersh ; second edition, p 4<>. * French Eiwcyto tlie Duke of Saxo Weimar. Congress held at Manheim — Lord Castlereagh — Manifesto of the Allies — Buonaparte's Ixejily — /SVfflfe of Parties in France — The pojmlathin of Prance, in general, wearied of the War, and de- sirous of the Deposition of Buonaparte — His unsuccessful attempts to arouse the national spirit — Council of State Extraordinary held Nor. ]lth, when neic taxes are imposed, and a neic Conscrip- tion of 300,000 men decreed. — Gloom of the Coun- cil, and violence of Buonaparte — lieport of the State of the Nation presented to Napoleon by the Leglsl'atlre Body — The Legislative Body is pro- rogued — Unceasing activity of the Emperor — Na- tional Guard called out — Nap)oleon, presenting to them his Empress and Child, takes leave of the People — lie leaves Paris for the Armies. While these scenes were passing in the vicinity of France, the Emperor was using every effort to bring forward, in defence of her teri-itory, a force in some degree corresponding to the ideas which he desired men should entertain of the great nation. He distributed the seventy or eighty thousand men whom he luid brought back with him, along the line of the Rhine, unmoved by the opinions of those who deemed them insufficient in number to defend so wide a stretch of frontier. Allowing the truth of their reasoning, he denied its efficacy in the present instance. Policy now demanded, he said, that there should be no voluntary abatement of the lofty pre- tensions to which France laid claim. The Austrians and Prussians still remembered the campaigns of the Revolution, and dreaded to encounter France once more in the character of an armed nation. This apprehension was to be kept up as long as possible, and almost at all risks. To concentrate his forces would be to acknowledge his weakness, to confess that he was devoid of means to supply the exhausted battalions ; and what might be still more impru- dent, it was making the nation itself sensible of the same melancholy truth ; so that, according to this reasoning, it was necessary to keep up appearances, however ill seconded by realities. The allied so- vereigns, on the other hand, were gradually ap- proaching to the right bank of the Riiine their im- mense masses, which, including the reserves, did not, perhaps, amount to less than half a million of men. The scruples of the Emperor of Austria, joined to the respect entertained for the courage of the French, and the talents of their leader, by the coalition at large, influenced their councils at this pei-iod, and beibi-e resuming a train of hostilities which must involve some extreme conclusian, they resolved once more to offer terms of peace to the Emperor of France. The agent selected on this occasion was the Baron de St. Aignan,^ a French diplomatist of I'eputation, residing at one of the German courts, who, falling into the hands of the allies, was set at liberty, with a commission to assure the French Emperor of their willingness to enter into a treaty on equal terms. The English Government also publicly announced their readiness to negotiate for a peace, and that they would make considerable concessions to obtain so great a blessing.^ Napo- leon, therefore, had anotlier opportunity for nego- 3 " M. Metternicli told me, that he wished Napoleon to be convinced that tlie greatest impartiality and moderation pre- vailed ill the councils of the allied imw'ers ; but that they felt themselves strong iu proportion to their moderation : that G48 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1813. tiating, upon such terms as must iudecil (lepri\'e liim of the unjust supi'eniacy among European councils whieli lie had attempted to secure, but would have left him a high and honourable seat among the sovereigns of Eui-ope. But the pertina- city of Napoleon's disposition qualified him ill for a negotiator, imless when he had the full power in his own hand to dictate the terms. His detei-- niined firmness of purpose, in many cases a great advantage, proved now the very reverse, as it pre- vented him from anticipating absolute necessity, by sacrificing, for the sake ot peace, something which it was actually in his power to give or retain. This tenacity was a peculiar feature of his charac- ter. He might, indeed, be brought to give up his claims to kingdoms and provinces which were already put beyond his power to recover ; but when the question regarded the cession of any thing which was still in his possession, the grasp of the lion itself could scai'ce be more unrelaxing. Hence, as his misfortunes accumulated, the nego- tiations between him and the allies came to resem- ble the bargain driven with the King of Home, according to ancient history, for the books of the Sibyls. The price of peace, like that of those mysterious volumes, was raised against him upon every renewal of the conferences. This cannot surprise any one who considers, that in proportion to the number of defeats sustained and power diminished, the demands of the party gaining the advantage must naturally be heightened. This will appear from a retrospect to former ne- gotiations. Before the war with Russia, Napoleon might have made peace upon nearly his own terms, providing they had been accompanied with a disavowal of that species of superior authority, which, by the display of his armies on the frontiers of Poland, he seemed disposed to exercise over an independent and powerful empire. There was '.lothing left to be disputed between the two Empe- rors, excepting the point of equality, which it was impossible for Alexander to yield up, in justice to himself and to his subjects. The Congress at Prague was of a different com- plexion. The fate of wai", or rather the conse- quence of Napoleon's own rashness, had lost him au immense army, and had delivered from his predominant influence, both Prussia and Austria ; and these powers, united in alliance with Russia and England, had a title to demand, as they had the means of enforcing, such a treaty as should secure Prussia from again descending into a state which may be compared to that of Helots or Gibeonites ; and Austria from one less directly dependent, but by the continuance of which she was stripped of many fair provinces, and exposed along her frontier to suffer turmoil from all the wars which the too well-known ambition of the French empire might awaken in Germany. Yet even then the terms proposed by Prince Metter- nich stipulated only the liberation of Germany from French influence, with the restoration of the Ulyrian provinces. The fate of Holland, and that of Spain, were remitted till a general peace, to which England should be a party. But Buona- noneof tiiem cntiTtaiiipd desi.'iis apaiiist the dynasty of tlic F.mpcror Najioleon ; tliat England was much more moderate than was supposed : and that there never was a more lavoiir- alile moment for treatmR witli that power."— M. iiE Saint Aiu.na.n's Il'porl. Sec MoiUlwlvn, torn, ii., Appendix. parte, though Poland and lilyria might be con- sidered as lost, and the line of the Elbe and Oder as iudefensible against the assembled armies of the allies, refused to accept these terms, unless clogged with the condition that the Hanse Towns should remain under French influence ; and did not even transmit this qualified acquiescence to a ti'eaty, until the truce appointed for the jjurpose of the congress had expired.' After gaining six battles, and after the allies had redeemed their pledge, that they would not hear of farther negotiation while there was a French soldier in Germany, except as a prisoner, or as belonging to the garrison of a blockaded fortress, it was natural that the demands of the confederated sovereigns should rise ; more espe- cially as England, at whose expense the war had been in a great measure carried on, was become a party to the conferences, and her particular objects must now be attended to in their turn. The terjns, therefore, proposed to Napoleon, on which peace and the guarantee of his dynasty might be obtained, had risen in proportion to the success of his enemies. The Earl of Aberdeen,^ well known for his lite- rature and talents, attended, on the part of Great Britain, the negotiations held with the Baron St. Aignau. The basis of the treaty proposed by the allies wei-e — That Frar.ce, divesting herself of all the uimatural additions with which the conquests of Buonaparte had invested her, should return to her natural limits, the Rhine, the Alps, and the Pyrenees, which of course left her in possession of the rich provinces of Belgium. The independence of Italy, Germany, and Holland, were absolutely stipulated. Spain, whom the power of Great Britain, seconded by her own eft'orts, had nearly freed of the French yoke, was to be in like manner restored to independence, under Ferdinand. Such were the outlines of the terms pi-oposed. But it is generally admitted, that if Buonaparte had shown a candid wish to close with them, the stipulations might have been modified, so as to be more agreeable to him than they sounded in the abstract. There were ministers in the cabinet of the allied sovereigns who advised aiv acquiescenco in Eugene Beauharnois, of whom a very favourable opinion was entertained, being receiv(;d as King of the upper p.nrt of Italy, while Murat retained the .southern half of that peninsula. The same coun- sellors would not have objected to holding Holland as sufficiently independent, if the conscientious Louis Buonaparte were placed at its head. As for Spain, its destinies were now beyond the influence of Napoleon, even in his own opinion, since he wa^ himself treating with his captive at Valenjay, for re-establishing him on the throne. A treaty, therefore, might possibly have been achieved by help of skilful management, which, while it affirmed the nominal independence of Italy and Holland, would have left Napoleon in actual possession of all the real influence which so powerful a mind could have exercised over a brothor, a step-son, and a brother-in-law, all indebted to him for their rise to the rank they held. His power might have 1 Fouch^, torn, ii., p. li:(>.] - George Hamilton Gordon, fourth Earl of Aberdeen. K.T F.K.S., aiidP.S.A. 1813.] LIFE or NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 649 Icon thus consolidated in the most formidable manner, and his empire placed in such security, that he could fear no aggression on any quarter, and had only to testify pacific intentions towards otlier nations, to ensui'e the perfect tranquillity of France, and of the world. But it did not suit the high-soaring ambition of Napoleon to be contented with such a degree of power as was to be obtained by negotiation. His favourite phrase on such occasions, -which indeed he had put into the mouth of Maria Louisa upon a recent occasion,' was, that he could not occupy a throne, the glory of which was tarnished. This was a strange abuse of words ; for if his glory was at all impaired, as in a military point of view it cer- tainly was, the depreciation arose from his having lost many great battles, and could not be increased by his acquiescing in such concessions as his defeat rendered necessary. The loss of a battle neces- sarily infers, more or less, som.e censure on the conduct of a defeated general ; but it can never dis- honour a patriotic prince to make such sacrifices as may save his people from the scourge of a jirotracted and losing warfare. Yet let us do justice to the memory of a man so distinguished. If a merited confidence in the zeal and bravery of his troops, or in his own transcendent abilities as a general, could justify him in committing a great political error, in neglecting the opportunity of securing peace on honourable terms, the events of the strangely varied campaign of 1814 show sufficiently the ample ground there was for his entertaining such an assurance. At this period, Maret, Duke of Bassano, invited the allies to hold a congress at Manheim, for con- sidering the preliminaries of peace ; and, on the part of Great Britain, Lord Castlereagh, a cabinet minis- ter, was sent over to represent her on this import- ant occasion. Faction, which in countries where free discussion is permitted, often attaches its cen- sure to the best and worthiest of those to whose political opinions it is opposed, has calumniated this statesman during his life, and even after his death. This is one of the evils at the expense of which freedom is purchased ; and it is purchased the more cheaply, that the hour of confutation fails not to come. Now, when his power can attract no flat- tery, and excite no odium, impartial history must write on the tomb of Castlereagh, that his un- daunted courage, manly steadiness, and deep poli- tical sagacity, had the principal share in infusing that spirit of continued exertion and unabated per- severance into the councils of the allies, which sup- ported them through many intervals of doubt and indecision, and finally conducted them to the trium- phant conclusion of the most eventful contest which Europe ever saw.'* Li the meanwhile, both parties proclaimed their anxiety for peace, well aware of the advantageous opinion, which the French public in particular could not fail to entertain of that party, which seemed most disposed to afford the world the bless- ings of that state of rest and tranquillity, which was now universally sighed for. A manifesto was published by the allied mo- narchs,^ in which they complain, unreasonably cer- 1 Speech to the Se'.intc, Oct. ". 2 Robert Stewart, Viscniiiit CastlcrcaRh, was bnrii in I76!l. In \HJ\, he succeeded his father, as -Maniuis of Londonderry, and died in lti2i. tainly, of the preparations which Buonaparte was making for recruiting his army, which augmcntii- tion of the means of resistance, whether Napoleon was to look to peace or war, was equally justifiable when the frontiers of France were surrounded by the allied armies. The rci5t of this state paper was in a better, because a truer tone. It stated, that victory had brought the allies to the Rhine, but they liieant to malce no farther use of their advan- tages than to propose to Napoleon a peace, founded on the independence of France, as well as upon that of every other country. " They desired," as this document stated, " that France should be great, powerful, and happy, because the power of Franco is one of the fundamental bases of the social sys- tem in Europe. They were willing to confirm to her an extent of territory, greater than she enjoyed under her ancient kings ; but they desired, at the same time, that Europe should enjoy tranquillity. It was, in short, their object to arrange a pacifica- tion on such terms as might, by mutual guarantees, and a well-arranged balance of power, preserve Europe in future from the numberless calamities, which, during twenty years, had distracted the world." This publicdeclaration seemed intended to intimate, that the war of the coalition was not as yet directed against the person of Napoleon, or his dynasty, but only against his system of arbi- trary "supremacy. The allies further declared, that they would not lay down their arms until the poli- tical state of Europe should be finally arranged on unalterable principles, and recognised by the sanc- tity of treaties. The reply of Buonaparte to Maret's proposition, is contained in a letter from Caulainconrt to Met- ternich, dated 2d December. It declared that Buonaparte acquiesced in the principle which should rest the proposed pacification on the abso- lute independence of the states of Europe, so that neither one nor another should in future arrogate sovereignty or supremacy in any form whatsoever, either upon land or sea. It was therefore declared, that his Majesty adhered to the general bases and abstracts communicated by M. St. Aignan. « They will involve," the letter added, " great sacrifices on the part of France, but his Majesty would make them without regret, if, by like sacrifices, England would give the means of arriving at a general peace, honourable for all concerned."'' The slightest attention to this document shows that Napoleon, in his ])retence of being desirous for peace on the terms held out in the proposals of the allies, was totally insincere. His answer was art- fully calculated 'to mix up with the diminution of his own exorbitant power, the question of the mari- time law, on which England and all other nations had acted for many centuries, and which gives to those nations that possess powerful fleets, the same advantage, which those that have great armies enjoy by the law martial. The rights arising out of tliis law maritime, had been maintained by Eng- land at the end of the disastrous American war, when the Armed Neutrality was formed for the express purpose of depriving her, in her hour of weakness, of this bulwark of her naval power. _ It had been defended during the present war against 3 Dated Frankfort, Dec. 1, lOia * Sec the correspondence in Savarj's Memoirs, torn, iii., p. HU. G50 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1813. nil Europe, with France and Napoleon at her head. It was impossihlo that Britain should permit any challenge of her maritime rights in the present moment of her prosperity, when not only her ships rode triumphant on every coast, but her own victorious array was quartia-ed on French ground, and the powerful hosts of her allies, brought to the field by her means, were arrayed along the whole frontier of the Rliine. The En-peror of the French might have as well proposed co make the peace which Europe was offering to nim, depend upon Great Britain's ceding Ireland or Scotland. Neither can it be pretended that there was an indirect policy in introducing tliis discussion as an ajiple of discord, which might give cause to dis- union among the allies. Far from looking on the maritime law, as exercised by Britain, with the eyes of jealousy, with which it might at other times have been i-egarded, the continental nations remembered tlie far greater grievances which had been entailed on them by Buonaparte's memorable attempt to put down that law by his anti-commercial system, which had made Russia herself buckle on her armour, and was a cause, and a principal one, of the general coalition against France. As Buonaparte, therefore, could have no hope to obtain any advan- tage, direct or indirect, from mixing up the question of maritime rights with that of the general settle- ment of the continent, and as mere spleen and hatred to Great Britain would be scarce an ade- quate motive in a mind so sagacious, we must suppose this inadmissible stipulation to have been thrown in for the purpose of enabling him to break off the negotiation when he pleased, and cast upon the English the unpopularity attending the breach of it. It is very true that England had offered to make sacrifices for obtaining a general peace ; but these sacrifices, as was seen by the event, regarded the restoration to France of conquered colonies, not the cession of her own naval rights, which, on no occasion whatsoever, a minister of Britain will, can, or dare, permit to be brought into challenge. Accordingly, the acceptance by Buonaparte of the terms transmitted by St. Aignan, being provided with a slip-knot, as it were, by which he could free himself from the engagement at pleasure, was considered, both by the allies, and by a large pro- portion of the people of France, as elusory, and indicating no serious purpose of pacification. The treaty therefcn-e languished, and was not fairly set on foot until the chance of war had been again appealed to.' In the meanwhile, the allies were bringing up their reserves as fast as possible, and Buonaparte on his side was doing all he could to recruit his forces. His measures for this purpose had been adopted long before the present emergency. As far back as the 9th October, the Empress Maria Louisa, in the character of Regent, presided in a meeting of the Senate, held for the purpose of calling for fresh recruits to the armies. She was an object of interest and compassion to all, when announcing the war which had broken out betwixt her father and her husband ; but the following injudicious censure upon her country was put into ' " The Emperor placed no confidence in the sentiments expressed in the declarntiniis of the allies. He had said long before, ' They have apjxiinted my grave as their place of ren- dezvous, but none of them will venture to come first.' He now added, ' Their time of rendezvous has arrived. They the mouth of the young sovereign, without much regard to delicacy. " No one," she said, " can know so well as I what the Fi'ench will have to dread, if they permit the allies to be conquerors." The closing paragraph was also much criticised, as attacliing more importance to the personal feel- ings of the sovereign, than ought to have been ex- clusively ascribed to them in so great a public extremity. " Having been acquainted for four years with the inmost thoughts of my husband, I know with what sentiments he would be afflicted if placed on a tarnished throne, and \\earing a crowu despoiled of glory."''' The decree of the Senate, passive as usual, appointed a levy of 280,000 con- scripts. When Buonaparte arrived at Saint Cloud, after having brought the remains of his once great army to Mayenee, his affairs were even in a worse state than had been anticipated. But before we proceed to detail the measures which he took for redeeming them, it is necessary to take notice of two parties in the state, who, in consequence of the decay of the Imperial power, were growing gradually into importance. Tlie first were the adherents of the Bourbons, who, reduced to silence by the long-continued successes of Buonaparte, still continued to exist, and now resumed their consequence. They had numerous partisans in the west and south of France, and many of them still maintained correspondence with the exiled family. The old noblesse, amongst whom such as did not attach themselves to the court and person of Napoleon, continued to be stanch royalists, had acquired, or rather regained, a considerable influence in Parisian society. The superior elegance of their manners, the seclusion, and almost mystery of their meetings, their cou- rage and their misfortunes, gave an interest to these relics of the history of France, which was increased by the historical remembrances con- nected with ancient names and high descent. Buonaparte himself, by the restoration of nobility as a rank, gave a dignity to tliose who had pos- sessed it for centuries, which his own new creations could not impart. It is true, that in the eye of philosophy, the great man \\ho first merits and wins a distinguished title, is in himself infinitely more valuable and respectable than the obscure individual who inherits his honours at the distance of centuries ; but then he is valued for his personal qualities, not for his noblesse. No one thought of paying those marshals, whose names and actions shook the world, a greater degree of respect wheu Napoleon gave them titles. On the contrary, they will live in history, and be familiar to the imagination, by their own names, rather than those arising from their peerages. But the science of heraldry, when admitted as an arbitrary rule of society, reverses the rule of philosophy, and ranks nobility, like medals, not according to the intrinsic value of the metal, but in proportion to its anti- quity. If this was the case with even the heroes who' had hewed a soldier's path to honours, it was still more so Avith the titles granted by Buona- parte, " upon carpet consideration," and the knights think the lion dead ; and the qucstior is, "Vfho will givethg ass' kick." If France abandon me, I can do nothing.' "— Sa- VARY, torn, iii., p. 13U. 2 Moniteur, Oct. 10, 1813 1813.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. G51 whom he dubbed with unbacked rapier. It might be truly said of these that " Their fire-new stamp of honour scarce was current." ' When, therefore, the repubUcan fury died away, and Buonaparte directed the respect of the people at large towards title and nobility, a distinct and superior influence was acquired by those who pos- sessed such honours by hereditary descent. Napo- leon knew this, and courted, and in ?ome degree feared, the remainder of the old noblesse, who, unless he could decidedly attach them to his own interest, were exposed to surveillance and impri- sonment on circumstances of slight suspicion. They became, however, so circumspect and cautious, that it was impossible to introduce the spies of the police into their salons and private parties. Still Napo- leon was sensible of the existence of this party, and of the danger which might attend upon it, even while his followers had forgot perhaps that the Bourbons continued to live. " I thought him mad," said Ney (whose head, according to Fouche, could not embrace two political ideas,) " when taking leave of the army at Smorgoni, he used the ex- pression, ' The Bourbons will make their own of this.'"''' This party began now to be active, and a Roy- alist confederation organised itself in the centre of France as early as the month of March, 1813. The most distinguished members are said to have been the Dukes of Duras, Tre'mouille, and Fitzjames ; Messrs. de Polignac, Ferrand, Audrien de Mont- morency, Sosthene de la Rochefoucault, Sei'maison, and LaRochejacquelein. Royalist commandei's had been nominated in different quarters — Count Su- zannet in the Lower Poitou, Duras in Orleans and Tours, and the Marquis de Riviere in the province of Berry. Bourdeaux was full of Royalists, most of them of the mercantile class, who were ruined by the restrictions of the continental system, and all waited anxiously a signal for action. Another internal faction, noways desirous of the return of the Bourbons, yet equally inimical to the power of Napoleon, consisted of the old Republi- can statesmen and leaders, with the more zealous part of their followers. These could not behold with indifference the whole fruits of the Revolu- tion, for which so much misery had been endured, so much blood spilled, so many crimes committed, swept away by the rude hand of a despotic soldier. They saw, with a mixture of shame and mortifica- tion, that the issue of all their toils and all their systems had been the monstrous concoction of a military despotism compared with which every other government in Europe might be declared liberal, except perhaps that of Turkey. During tlie monarchy, so long represented as a system of slavery, public opinion had in the parliaments zeal- ous advocates, and an opportunity of making itself known ; but in ijnperial France all was mute, ex- ' Richard III., act i., scene iii. 2 LiS Dinirbons s'en lireraunt. Memoirs of Fuuchd, vol. iii., 11. 87-- S. 3 Foucli6, torn, ii., p. 132. " The conferrinK of this autho- ritv on the Empress Ataria Louisa was (.'ciierally approved. Her Rood and amiable character was well known ; and she was conscquentlv much loved and esteemed. Ever>- one con- nected Willi her household had experience of her kindness; and it miyht with truth be said, that she had won the Rood- will of the nation, which regarded her with an affectionate respect." — Savary, torn, iii., p. 50. * It has been giicn as a sufficient answer to these com- cept the voice of hired functionarici?, mere trumpets of the Government, who breathed not a sound but what was suggested to them. A sense of this de- graded condition united in secret all those wlio de- sired to see a free government in France, and espe- cially such as had been active in the commence- ment of the Revolution. This class of politicians could not desire the re- turn of the family in whose exile they had been active, and had therefore cause to fear the re-action with which such an event might be attended ; but they wished to get rid of Napoleon, whose govern- ment seemed to be alike incuties reidied to certain passages of tlie Empe- ror's speech : lie listened attentively to them ; but did not ad- mit the validity of their excuses, and iiersisted in the senti- ments he had exi)re63ed. 'I'he audience laslid a full Lord Burghcrsh, Operations of the Allied Armie$, p. 72. 656 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [ISM. estimated from the following cireumstance : Dijon, Bummoned by a flying party of cavalry, returned lor answer, that a town containing 30,000 inhabit- ants, could not with honour surrender to fifteen liussars, but tliat if a respectable force appeared before its walls, they were ready to give up. the keys of their city.' This reasonable request was complied with, and Dijou surrendered on 19th January.^ The city of Lj'ons, the second in the empire, had itself nearly fallen into the hands of the Austrians ; but the inhabitants showed a disposition to defend the town, and being reinforced with troops sent to secure a place of such importance, the Austrian general, Bubna, retired from under its walls. It is allowed, that more activity on the part of the allies might have saved this repulse, which was of con- siderable importance. It was the only one which they had yet sustained. While the grand arm)', under Schwartzenberg, was thus advancing into France, the army of Sile- sia, which was the name given to that commanded by the veteran Blucher, consisting, as formeidy, of Prussians and Russians, had made equal progress, though against greater resistance and more diffi- culties. His army advanced in four columns, or gi-and divisions, blockading the strong frontier fort- resses of Metz, SaiTe-Louis, Thionville, Luxem- bourg, and others, passing the defiles of the "Vosges, and pushing forward to Joinville, Vitry, and Saint Dizier. The army of Silesia was tlius placed in communication with the grand army, the advanced divisions of which had penetrated as far into France as Bar-sur-Aube.^ There was yet a third army of the allies, called that of the North of Europe. It was originally commanded by the Prince Royal of Sweden, and consisted of Swedes, Russians, and Germans. But the Crown Prince, whose assistance had been of such material consequence during the campaign of 1813, did not, it appears, take an active share in that of 1814. There may have been two reasons and weighty ones for this inactivity. To assist in driving the French out of Germany, seemed a duty which the Prince of Sweden could not, as such, decline, when the welfare of Sweden demanded it. But an invasion of his native soil might seem to Bernadotte a service unpleasing and unpopular in itself, and in which he could not be so rightfully engaged, at least while the freedom of Germany and the north opened another field of exertions, where his military efforts could be attended with no injury to his personal feelings. Denmark was still in arms, and Davoust still held out at Ham- burgh.; and the presence of the Swedish army and its leader was necessary to subdue the one, and clear the north from the other. It must also be remembered, that Sweden, a poor kingdom, was ' Lord Burghcrsli, Operations, &c., p. 88. * " On receiving the news of the simultaneous invasion of the French territory at so many dift'erent points, Napoleon's tirm- uess of mind did not forsalce him. ' I am two months behind- hand," he said; ' had I that time at command, they should not liave crossed the Khine. This may be attended with se- rious consequences ; but I can do nothing single-handed. Un- less I am assisted, I must fall in the struggle.'" — Savary, torn, iii., p. 185. s " Marshal Blucher established his army at Nancy in fif- teen days from the passage of the Rhine. Wliat would have been the advantages, if, in tlie same period the great arniics had by the end nt' November advanced to the same jiositioii ? ■fhis question bci:iy put to Marshal Noy, he answered, ' Mes- not in a condition to sustain a war at a great dis- tance from its frontier, and arising out of causes in which it was more remotely concerned. Her armies could not be recruited with the same ease as those of the greater powers ; and Bernadotte, therefore, rather chose to incur the censure of being suppo- sed cold in the cause of his confederates, than the risk of losing the only body of troops which Swe- den had been able to fit out, and upon preserving which his throne probably depended. The allied sovereigns, however, directed, that while the Crowr> I'rince remained in the north, a part of the Russinii and Prussian corps, who were placed under his command, should be ordered to march towards France, for the purpose of augmenting the force wliich they already possessed in Holland and Belgium. The Crown Prince having, by a short war with Denmark, compelled that power to yield up her ancient possession of Norway, left Bennigsen to continue the siege of Hamburgh, and advanced in person to Cologne, to assist in the complete liberation of Belgium.* The French troops, which had been drawn together, had been defeated at Mei'.xem by General Bulow, and Sir Thomas Graham ; and although the French flag was still flying at Antwerp and Bergen-op-Zoom, Holland might be considered as liberated. General Winzengerode, at the head of the Russian troops, and the Saxons, under Thiel- man, being the corps detached, as above mentioned, from the army of the Is'orth of Germany, soon reached the Low Countries, and entered into communication with Bulow. General Sir Thomas Graham, with the English and Sa.xons, and with such Dutch and Flemish troops as could be col- lected, was left to blockade Bergen-op-Zoom and Antwerp, whilst Bulow and Winzengerode were at liberty to enter France on the northei-n frontier • And thus, in the hour of need (which soon after- wards arrived,) they were to act as a reserve to the army of Silesia under Blucher. They pushed on as far as Laon. These advances, wliicli carried the armies of the allies so far into the bosom of France, and sur- rounded with blockades the frontier fortres.ses of that kingdom, were not made without an honour- able though ineffectual opposition, on such points where the French military could make any stand against the preponderating iiumbei's of the invader.s. The people of the country in general neither wel- comed nor opposed the allies. In some places they were received with acclamation— in a few others some opposition was tendered — th-^y encountered desperate resistance nowhere. The allies did all that discipline could to maintain strict order among their troops ; but where there were so many free corps — Huhlans, Croats, and Cossacks — whose only pay is what they can plunder, occasional trangrcs- sieurs les allies auraient pil compter leurs journ^cs d'ttapcs jusqu'a Paris." " — LoR^ Burghersh, Operaiiuns, p. Hit •* In a proclamation to the French, issued by Bernadotte from Cologne, Feb. 12, he says, '• Once more in sight, of the banks of this river, where 1 have so often fought for you, 1 feel a desire^o communicate to you my thoughts. It has been the constant effort of your Government to debase everything, that it might despise ever thing : it is time that this system should clianee. All enlightened men desire the ]irescrvatiun of France ; tncy only require that she shall be no longer the scourge of the earth. The allied sovereinns have not coalesced to make war against nations, but to force your Government to recognise the independence of states: Such are their m- tentions, and I pledge myself to you for their sincerity."— Meredith's Jllcinorials (i/' Charles John, p. 2Uit. I. SI 4.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 657 sions necessarily took place. The seT-viees of these irregular troops were, hoivever, indispensable. Tiie Cossacks, in particular, might be termed the eyes of the army. Accustomed to act in small parties when necessary, they threaded woods, swam rivers, and often presented themselves unexpectedly in villages many miles distant from the main army to which they belonged, thus impressing the French with an idea of the numbers and activity of the allies far beyond the truth. These Arabs of the North, as Napoleon termed them, always announced their party as the advanced guard of a considerable force, for whom they ordered provisions and quar- ters to be prepared ; and thus awed the inhabitants into acquiescence in their demands. They are not reported to have been cruel, imless when provoked, but were not in general able to resist temptations to plunder. The excursions of these and other light troops were of course distressing to the French territory. On the other hand, in two or three cases, armed citizens in the towns, summoned by small parties of the allies, fired upon flags of truce, and thus justified severe reprisals. It was said to be by Buonaparte's strict orders, that such actions were committed, the purpose being, if possible, to excite deadly hatred betwixt the French and the allies. Indeed, in the reverse of the circumstances, in which each had formerly stood. Napoleon and the Austrian generals seemed to have exclianged system and sentiments. lie now, as the Arch- duke Charles did in 1809, called out every peasant to arms ; while Schwartzenberg, like Najioleon at that earlier jieriod, denounced threats of military execution, without mercy or quarter, to every rustic wlio should obey the summons. The impartial liistorian must proclaim, in tlie one case as in the other, that the duty of resistance iu the defence of our native country, does not depend on the character of a man's weapons, or the colour of his coat ; and that the armed citizen is entitled, equally with the regular soldier, to the benefit of the laws of war, so long as lie does not himself violate them. But from these various causes, it was plain that the present apathy of the French people was only temporary, and that some sudden and unforeseen cause was not unlikely to rouse so sensitive and high-spirited a people into a state of general resistance, by which the allies could not fail to be great suff"erers. Rapidity in their movements was the most obvious remedy against such a danger ; but this was the military quality least proper to coalitions, whore many people must be consulted ; and besides, was inconsistent with the well-known habits of the Germans, but especially of the Austrians. It seems also, that the allies, having safely formed an almost complete military line from Langres to Chalons, found themselves at some loss how to use their advantages. Nothing could be better situated than their present position, for such a daring enterprise as was now termed a llourra upon Paris ; and as all the high-roads, departing from various points of the extensive line which they held, converged on the capital as a common I'entre, while the tov.ns and villages, through which these roads passed, afforded an ample supply of ' Kor tlic vaiiouf opinions", as to the military operations to be piirs'ied from Laiigrcs, seo tht memoirs drawn up at the provisions, this march might have been accom- plished almost without opposition, but for the tardy movements of the grand army. The real weakness of Napoleon had been disguised by the noisy and exaggerated rumours concerning his pre)iarations ; and now when the allies learned that such an op- portunity had existed, they learned, at the same time, that it was wellnigh lost, or at least that the road to Paris must first be cleared by a series of bloody actions. In these the allies could not dis- guise from themselves the possibility of their re- ceiving severe checks ; and under this apprehension they began to calculate the consequences of such a defeat, received in the centre of France, as that which they had suffered under the walls of Dresden. There was here no favourable screen of mountains to secure their retreat,- no strong positions for checking a pursuing army, as in the case of Van- damnie, and turning a defeat into a victory. The frontier which they had passed was penetrated, not subdued — its fortresses, so strong and numerous, were in the greater part masked, not taken — so that their retreat upon the Rhine must be exposed to all the dangers incident to passing in disorder through a country in complete possession of the enemy. General councils of war seldom agree upon recommending bold measures. In this sense, Solo- mon says, that in the multitude of counsellors there is safety ; meaning that the most cautious, if not the wisest measures, are sure to have the approba- tion of the majority. Accordingly, this spirit predominating in the councils of the alhes, led to a degree of uncertainty in their movements on this momentous occasion, «'Lich, as is usual, endeavoured to disguise itself under the guise of prudence. They resolved that the grand army should halt a short space at Lan- gres, in hopes either that Napoleon, renewing the negotiation, the scene of which was now to be trans- ferred to Chatillon upon the Seine, would avert his present danger, by acquiescing in the terms of the allies ; or that the French nation, an event still less likely to happen, would become tired of the military monarch, whose ambition had brought such distress upon the country. In the meanwhile, the allies declined ihe offers of such royalists as came forward in the name, and for the interest, of the exiled famil}' ; uniformly replying, that they would give no weight to any expression of the sentiments of the French people, unless it was made in some quarter of the kingdom where it could not be sup- posed to be influenced by the presence of the allied arriiy. They trusted chiefly at that moment to the effect of negotiation with the present possessor of the throne.' But Napoleon, as firmly determined in his pur- pose as the allies were doubtful, knowing himself to be the soul of his army, and absolute lord of his own actions, felt all the advantage which a bold, active, and able swordsiiian has in encountering an opponent whose skill is less distinguished, and whose determination is more flexible than his own. The allies had presented in the grand army a front of 97,000 men, jMarJchal Bhu-her one of 40,000, affording a disposable force of 137,000.'^ To oppose Prussian, Austrian, and Russian l>«ail«iiiarlcr&.— Op(Taf/«H*, ^■c, )>p. !)I. i)4, and 1(14. 9 l.oiil BurHlicr-h, ji. '.» ■2 u 658 SCOTTS MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1814 this the FrcDPh Emperor had only, of old troops, independent of those under Suchet in Catalonia, under Soult near Bayonne, and also of garrisons, about 50,000 men ; nor could he hope to add to tliem more than 70,000 conscripts.' Nay, in fact his levies, so far as they could be brought into the field, fell greatly short of this number; for the allies were in possession of a considerable part of the kingdom of France, and, in this moment of ge- neral confusion, it was impossible to enforce the law of conscription, which was at all times obnoxi- ous. It was soon j)roved, that he who so lately had led half a million of men to the Vistula, and 300,000 to the banks of the Elbe, could not now muster, for the protection of the capital of his own empire, a disposable force of more than 70,000 men. The defensive war had no doubt considerable advantages to one who knew so well how to use them. The highways, by which the allies must advance, formed a half or quarter circle of rays, converging, as already mentioned, on Paris as a centre. A much smaller army might, therefore, oppose a large one, because, lying between Paris and the enemy, they must occupy the same roads by a much shorter line of communication than the invaders, who were farther from the centre, where the roads diverged to a greater distance from each other. With this advantage of collocation to ba- lance a great inferioi'ity in numerical force, Buo- naparte advanced to play for the most momentous .stake ever disputed, with a degree of military skill which has never been matched. Arrived at Chalons on the SGth January, Buona- parte took the command of such an army as he had been able to assemble, by the concentration of the troops under the Mare'chals Victor, Marmont, Mac- donald, and Ney, all of whom had retreated from the frontier. So much were the French corps d'ai-mee reduced, that these great and distinguished generals, who, in former times, would have com- manded 60,000 or 70,000 men each, had under them all, when concentrated, but a total of 52,000, to which Najjoleon was only able to add about 20,000, brought from Paris. But no one ever un- derstood better than Buonaparte, the great military doctrine, that victory does not depend on the com- parative result of numerical superiority in general, but on the art of obtaining such a superiority on tlie field of action itself. Blucher was, as usual, the foremost in advance, and Napoleon resolved to bestow on this active and inveterate enemy, the terrible honour of his first attack, hoping to surprise the Silesian corps d'armee before it could receive succour from the army of Schwartzenberg. The mareehal was apprised of the Emperor's purpose, and lost no time in concen- trating his forces at Brienne, on the Aube, fourteen miles below Bar. This is a small village, seated on the ascent of a hill. The place has but two streets ; one of which ascends to the Chateau, oc- cupied formerly as a royal academy for young persons designed for the army ; the other conducts to Arcis-sur-Aube. The Chateau is partly sur- rounded by a park or chase. It was at the military ' Jomini, torn, iv., p. 524. 2 " General Dcjean, feeling himself closely pressed, turned about and pave tlie alarm, by exclaiming, Tlie Cossacks! and at the same time attempted to plunge his sabre into the breast oj one of the assailants, whom he thought he had secured. school of Brienne that Napoleon acquired the ru- diments of that skill in the military art with which he had almost prostrated the world, and had ended by placing it in array against him ; and it was here he came to commence what seemed his last series of efforts for victory ; — like some animals of the chase, who, when hard pressed by the hunters, are said to direct their final attempts at escape upon the point from which they have first started. The alert movements of Napoleon surpassed the anticipation of Blucher. He was at table with his staff in the Chateau. General AlsusieflF, a Russian, occupied the town of Brienne, and Genei'al Sacken's corps was drawn up in columns, on the road from Brienne to La Rothiere. At once a horrible tu- mult was heard. The Russian cavalry, 2000 in number, were completely driven in by those of Napoleon, and at the same moment Ney attacked the town ; while a body of French grenadiers, who, favoured by the wooded and broken character of the ground, had been enabled to get into the park, threatened to make prisoners all who were in the Chateau. Blucher, with his officers, had barely time to reach a postern, where they were under the necessity of leading their horses down a stair, and in that way made their escape with difficulty. The bold resistance of Alsusieff defended the town against Ney, and Saeken advanced to Alsusieff's assistance. The Cossacks also fell on the rear of the French in the park, and Buonaparte's own safety was compromised in the melee.''' Men were killed by his side, and he was obliged to draw his sword in his own defence. At the very moment of attack, his attention was engaged by the sight of a tree, which he recollected to be the same under which, during the hours of recreation at Brienne, he used, when a school-boy, to peruse the Jerusa- lem Delivered of Tasso. if the curtain of fate had risen before the obscure youth, and discovered to him in the same spot, his own image as Emperor of France, contending against the Scythians of the desert for life and power, how wonderful would have seemed the presage, when the mere concur- rence of circumstances strikes the ijiind of those who look back upon it with awful veneration for the hidden ways of Providence ! Lefebvre Des- nouettes fell, dangerously wounded, in charghig at the head of the guards. The town caught fire, and was burned to the ground ; but it was not until eleven at night that the Silesian army ceased to make efforts for recovering the place, and that Blucher, retreating from Brienne, took up a posi- tion in the rear of that town, and upou tliat of La Rothiere. The result of the battle of Brienne was inde- cisive, and the more unsatisfactory to Buonaparte, as the part of Blucher's force engaged did not amount to 20,000 men, and the sole advantage gained over them, was that of keeping the field of battle. Napoleon's principal object, which was to divide Blucher from the grand army, had altoge- ther failed. It was necessary, however, to proclaim the engagement as a victory, and much pains was taken to represent it as such. But when it was af- But the enemy had escaped ; they then darted on the horse- man in the grey great-coat who was somewhat in advance. Corbineau instantly rushed forward ; Gourgaud made tha same movement, and, with a pistol-shot, stretched the Cos- sack dead at Napoleon's feet. ' — Babon Fain, JSIanutcript de, 1814. 1814.] LIFE OF ITAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 659 terwards discovered to be merely a smart skirmish, without any material results, the temporary decep- tion only served to injure the cause of Napoleon. On the first of February, Blucher, strongly rein- forced from the grand army, prepared in his turn to assume the offensive. It would have been Na- poleon's wish to have avoided an engagement ; but a retreat across the Aube, by the bridge of Lesmont, which was the only mode of passing that deep and scarce fordable river, would have exposed his rear to destruction. He therefore risked a genei-al ac- tion. Blucher attacked the hue of the French on three points, assaulting at once the villages of La Rothiere, Dienville, and Chaumont. The conflict, in which the Prince Royal of Wirtemberg distin- guished himself, was hard fought during the whole day, but in the evening, the French were repulsed on all points, and Buonaparte was compelled to re- treat across the Aube, after losing 4000 prisonei-s, and uo less than seventy-three gims. Ney, by the Emperor's orders, destroyed the bridge at Lesmont. The allies were not aware of the amount of their advantage, and suffered the French to retire un- molested.' A general council of war, held at the castle of Brienne [Feb. 2,] now resolved that the two armies (although having so lately found the ad- vantage of mutual support) should separate from each other, and that Blucher, detaching himself to the northward, and uniting under his command the division of D'Yorck and Kleist, both of whom had occupied St. Dizier and Vitry, should approach Paris by the Marne ; while Prince Schwartzenberg and the grand army should descend on the capital by the course of the Seine. The difficulty of find- ing provisions for such immense armies was doubt- less in part the cause of this resolution. But it was likewise recommended by the success of a similar plan of operations at Dresden, and afterwards at Leipsic, where the enemies of Buonaparte ap- proached him from so many different quarters as to render it impossible for him to make head against one army without giving great opportunity of advantage to the others.^ Buonaparte readied Troyes, on which he re- treated after crossing the Aube, in a disastrous condition ; but his junction with his old guard, whose appearance and high state of appointments 'restored courage to the dejected troops who had been beaten at La Rothiere, gave a new impulse to the feelings of his army, and restored the young levies to confidence. He resolved, taking advan- tage of the division of the two armies of the allies, to march upon that of Blucher. But, in order to disguise his purpose, he first sent a small division upon Bar-sur-Seine, to alarm the Austrians with an attack upon their right wing.^ Schwartzenberg immediately apprehended that Buonaparte was about to move with his whole force in that direc- tion ; a movement which, in fact, would have been most favourable for the allies, since it would have left the road to Paris undefended, and open to the w hole. But, terrified by the idea that his left flank might be turned or forced, the Austrian general moved his chief strength in that direction ; thus at once suspending his meditated march on the Seine, and increasing the distance betwixt the grand army ■ Lord Burjjhersh, Operations, 6ic., p. 113; Jomiui, torn. v.. p. ii7. 2 Lord Burghersh, Operatione, 3,) i)cl:w:\rtzcnbcrg recommended the retreat of the Silesian you your corps d'armee, which I have given to Gi- rard ; but I will place you at the head of two divi- sions of the Guard. Go — assume your command, and let there be no more of this matter betwixt us." ' It was upon such occasions, when he subdued his excited feelings to a state of kindness and genero- sity, that Buonaparte's personal conduct seems to have been most amiable. The allies, in the meantime, remembering per- haps, though somewhat of the latest, the old fable of the bunch of arrows, resolved once more to enter into pomnnmication with the Silesian army, and, concentrating near Troyes, to accept of battle, if Buonaparte should offer it. Tlie indefatigable Blucher had already recruited his troops, and, being reinforced by a division of the army of the North, under Langeron, moved southward from Chalons, to which he had retreated after his disas- ter at Montmirail, to Mery, a town situated upon the Seine, to the north-east of Troyes, to which last place the allied monarchs had again removed their headquarters. Here he was attacked with fury by the troops of Buonaparte who made a des- perate attempt to carry the bridge and town, and thus prevent the proposed conmiunication between the Silesian army and that of Schwartzcnbeug. The bi'idge, which was of wood, was set fire to in the struggle. The sharpshooters fought amid its blazing and cracking beams. The Prussians, how- ever, kept possession of Mery. A council of war was now held by the allies. Blucher urged the fulfilment of their original purpose of hazarding an action with Napoleon. But the Austrians had again altered their mind, and determined on a general retreat as far as the line between Nancy and Langres ; the very posi- tion on which the allies had paused when they first entered France. The principal cause alleged for this retrograde movement, by which they must cede half the ground they had gained since their entering France, was, that Augereau, who had hitherto contented himself w ith his successful de- fence of Lyons, had been recruited by considerable bodies of troops from the army of Suchet, which had been employed in Catalonia. Thus reinforced, the French marshal was now about to assume the offensive against the Austrian forces at Dijon, act upon their coiinnunications with Switzerland, and raise in a mass the warlike peasantry of the departments of the Doubs, the Saonne, and the mountains of the Vosges. To prevent such con- sequences, Schwartzenberg sent General Bianchi to the rear with a large division of his forces, to support the Austrians at Dijon; and conceived his army too much weakened by this detachment to retain his purpose of risking a general action. It was therefore resolved, that if the head,quarters of the grand army were removed to Langres^ those of Blucher should be once more established on the Marne,'^ where, strengthened by the arrival of the northern army, v.hich was now approacliing from Flanders, he might resunse his detnonstration upon I'aris, in case Buonaparte should engage himself in the pursuit of the grand army of the allies. This retrograde movement gave much disgust army to Nancy ; lint I'liiehcr (//"(/.. p. IWj,) "took upon liim- self the rtBiJonsiijilily of ilieliiiing ti: conl'urui," &c.— JiD., (1U42.) GG2 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WOKKS. [1814. to the Austrian soldiers, who considered it as the preface to a final abandonment of the invasion. Their resentment showed itself not only in mur- murs and in tearing out the green boughs with which, as in sign of victory, they usually ornarnent their helmets and schakos, but also, as is too frequently the case in similar instances, in neglect of discipline, and excesses committed in the country. To diminish the bad effects arising from this discontent among the troops, Schwartzenberg pub- lished an order of the day,' commanding the officers to enforce the strictest discipline, and at the same time explain to the army tliat the present retreat was only temporary, and that on joining with its reserves, which had already crossed the Rhine, the grand army would instantly resume the offensive, while Field-marshal Blucher, at present moving northward, so as to form a junction with Wlnzengerode and Bulow, should at the same time attack the rear and flank of the enemy. The publishing this plan of the campaign, went far to rouse the dejected confidence of the Aus- trian army. On the evening of the 22d February, an answer to the letter of Schwartzenberg was received, but it was addressed exclusively to the Emperor of Austria ; and w^hile its expressions of respect are bestowed liberally on that power, the manner in which the other members of the coalition are treated, shows unabated enmity, ill-concealed under an affectation of contempt. The Emperor of France expressed himself willing to treat upon the basis of the Frankfort declaration, but exclaimed against the terms which his own envoy, Caulain- court, had proj)Osed to the plenipotentiaries of the other powers. In short, the whole letter indicated, not that Napoleon desired a general peace with the allies, but that it was his anxious wish to break up the coalition, by making a separate peace with Austi'ia. This counteracted in spirit and letter the purpose of the confederates, distinctly ex- pressed in their communication to Napoleon. The Emperor Francis and his ministers were resolved not to listen to any proposals which went to separate the Austrian cause from that of their allies. It was therefore at first resolved that no answer should be sent to the letter ; but the desire of gaining time for bringing up the reserves of the grand army, who were approaching the Swiss frontier under the direction of the Prince of Hesse- Homberg, as also for the union of the army of the north, under Bulow and Winzengerode, with that of Silesia, determined them to accept the offer of a suspension of hostilities. Under these considera- tions. Prince Wenceslaus of Lichtenstein was sent to the headquarters of Napoleon, to ti-eat concerning an armistice. The Emperor seemed to be in a state of high hope, and called upon the Austrians not to sacrifice themselves to the selfish views of Russia, and the miserable policy of England. He appoint- ed Count Flahault his commissioner to negotiate for a line of demarcation, and directed him to meet 1 Lord Buri;liersli, p. 168. 2 Jomiiii, torn, iv., p. 5-29; Lord BurRliersli, Observations, &c., p. !43. 8 Tlie presence of the allies in tlie ancient capital of Cliani- pagne, had reanimated the hopes of tlie parti>ans of the Bnurhons. The Emperor of Russi.1 could not help observing to tliem, " that hu considered the step they had taken a little with the envoy trom the allies at Lusigny, on 24tb February.'-' On the night of the 23d, the French bombarded Troyes, which the allied troops evacuated accord- ing to their latest plan of the campaign. The French entered the town on the 24th, when the sick and wounded, left behind by the allies, were dragged out to grace Napoleon's triumph ; and a scene, not less deplorable, but of another descrip- tion, was performed at the same time. Amid the high hopes which the entrance of the allies into France had suggested to the enemies of Buonaparte's government, five persons, the chief of whom were the Marquis de Vidranges, and t!ie Chevalier de Gouault, had displayed the w hite cock- ade, and other emblems of loyalty to the exiled family. They had received little encouragement to take so decided a step either from the Crown Prince of Wirtembei-g, or from the Emperor Alex- ander ; both of whom, although approving the prin- ciples on which these gentlemen acted, refused to sanction the step they had taken, or to warrant them against the consequences.' It does not appear that their declaration had excited any corresponding en- thusiasm in the people of Troyes or the neighbour- hood ; and it would have been wiser in Napoleon to have ovei-looked such a trifling movement, which he might have represented as arising from the dotage of loyalty, rather than to have, at this criti- cal period, called the public attention to the Bour- bons, by denouncing and executing vengeance upon their partisans. Nevertheless, Napoleon had scarce entered Troyes, when the chevalier Gouault (the other Royalists having fortunately escaped) wag seized upon, tried by a military commission, con- demned, and immediately shot. He died with the utmost firmness, exclaiming, " Vive le Roi .'"* A violent and ill-timed decree promulgated the penal- ty of death against all who sliould wear the decora- tions of the Bourbons, and on all emigrants who should join the allies.'^ The sevei'ity of the mea- sure, so contrary to Napoleon's general conduct of late years towards the Bourbons and their follow- ers, whom he had for a long period scarce even alluded to, made the world ascribe his unusual ferocity to an uncommon state of apprehension ; and thus it gave farther encouragement to those into whom it was intended to strike terror. At this period of the retreat of Schwartzenberg from Troyes, and the movement of Blucher towards the Marne, we must leave the armies which were contending in the interior of France, in order to retrace those movements upon the frontiers, which, though operating at a distance, tended at once to reinforce the invading armies, and to cripple Na- poleon's means of defence. It is difficult for the inhabitants of a peaceful territory to picture to themselves the miseries sus- tained by the country which formed the theatre of this sanguinary contest. While Buonaparte, like a tiger hemmed in by hounds and hunters, now me- naced one of his foes, now sprung furiously upon another, and «hile, although his rapid movements premature ; that the chances of war were uncertain, and that lie should be sorry to see tlicm sacrificed." — Beai'champ. Hist, lie la Ckainpiifjnc de 1814, tom. i., p. 241. ■4 It lias been said that Napoleon had been pcrstiaded to save his life. But the result was similar to the execution ol Clarence. — S. — See Baron Fain, Manuscript de, 1814, p. 156. 5 Dated Troyes, Feb. 24. Monileur, March 1. 1814.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPAHTE. 6C3 disconcerted and dismayed them, he still remained anable to destroy the individuals whom he had as- Bailed, lest, while aiming to do so, he should afford a fatal advantage to those who were disengaged — the scene of this desultory warfare was laid waste in the most merciless manner. The soldiers on both parts, driven to desperation by raj)id marches through roads blocked with snow, or trodden into swamps, became reckless and pitiless ; and, strag- gling from their columns in all directions, commit- ted every species of excess upon the inhabitants. 'J'hese evils are mentioned in the bulletins of Na- p(deon, as well as in the general orders of Schwart- zenlicrg. The peasants, with their wives and children, fled to caves, quarries, and woods, where the latter were starved to death by the inclemency of the season, and want of sustenance ; and the former, collecting into small bodies, increased the terrors of war, by pillaging the convoys of both armies, attacking small parties of all nations, and cutting off the sick, the wounded, and the stragglers. The repeated advance and retreat of the different contending parties, exasperated these evils. Every fresh band of plunderers which arrived, was savagely eager after spoil, in proportion as the gleanings became scarce. In the words of Scripture, what the locust left was devoured by the palmer-woi-m — what escaped the Baskirs, and Kirgas, and Croats of the Wolga, and Cas])ian, and Turkish frontier, was seized by the half-clad, and half-starved conscripts of Napoleon, whom want, hardship, and an embit- tered spirit, rendered as careless of the ties of country and language, as the others \\ere indifferent to the general claims of humanity. The towns and villages, which were the scenes of actual conflict, were frequently burnt to the ground ; and this not only in the course of the actions of importance which we have detailed, but in consequence of in- numerable skirmishes fought in different points, which had no influence, indeed, upon the issue of the campaign, but increased incalculably the dis- tress of the invaded countx'y, by extending the terrors of battle, with fire, famine, and slaughter for its accompaniments, into the most remote and sequestered districts. The woods afforded no con- cealment, the churches no sanctuary ; even the grave itself gave no cover to the relics of mortality. The villages were every where burnt, the farms wasted and pillaged, the abodes of man, and all that belongs to peaceful industry and domestic comfort, desolated and destroyed. Wolves, and other savage animals, increased fearfully in the districts which had been laid waste by human hands, with ferocity- congenial to their own. Thus were the evils which France had unsparingly inflicted upon Spain, Prus- sia, Russia, and almost every European nation, teifibly retaliated within a few leagues of her own metropolis ; and such were the consequences of a system, which assuming military force for its sole principle and law, taught the united nations of Europe to repel its aggi'essions by means yet more formidable in extent than those which had been used in supporting them. ' " The King of Najilcs, bting indisposed, has been obli;;cd to retire from tbecommand of tliearmy, which hehas resifined into the hands of the prince viceroy. The latter is more ac- customed to the direction of large masses, and possesses the entire confidence of the Kmiieror." — Moiiilciir, Jan. 1-7, Hlh'!- 2 See i>aper8 relating to Naples, laid before the Uritish Par- liament in 1815, Pari. Debates, vol. xxxi., )i. l.'iO. :^ The following letter from Napoleon to Mnrat, dated Nan- gis, Feb. IK, 1814, fell into the hands of the allies :— " You are a i;ood soldier in the field of battle; but excel ting there, you CHAPTER LXXIV. Retrospect of Events on the Frontiers — Defection of Murat — Its consequences — Augereau abandons Franche Comte — C'arnot intrusted with the com' mand of Antwerp — Attack on Hen/en-op-Zoom, by Sir Thomas Graham — The Allies take, and evacuate ISoist^on? — Bulow and Winzengerode unite xcith Blncher- — Wellimjton forces his way through the Pays des Gaves — Moyalists in the West — Discontent of the old Republicans — Views of the different Members of the Alliance as to the Dynasties of Bourbon; and Napoleon — Proceed- ings of the Dukes of Berri and. Angoidtvte, and Monsieur — Battle of Orthez — Bonrdeaux surren- dered to Marshal Beresford — Negotiations of Chatillon — Treaty of Chaumont — Napoleoii's contre-projet— Congress at Chatillon broken up. While Napoleon was struggling in the campaign of Paris, for his very existence as a monarch, events were taking place on the frontiers, by all of which his fate was more or less influenced, and in almost all of them unfavourably. Of these events we must give a brief detail, mentioning at the same time, the influence which they individually produced upon the results of the war. The defence of Italy had been committed to Prince Eugene Beauharnois, the viceroy of that kingdom. He was entirely worthy of the trust, but was deprived of any means that remained to him of accomplishing his task, by the defection of Murat. We have often had occasion to describe Murat as distinguished on the field of battle — rather an un- daunted and high-mettled soldier, than a wise com- mander. As a sovereign he had little claim to dis- tinction. He was good tempered, but vain, limited in capacity, and totally uninformed. Napoleon had not concealed his contempt of his understanding, and, after the retreat from Russia, had passed an oblique, but most intelligible censure on him, in a public bulletin.' In writing to the wife of Murat, and his own sister. Napoleon had mentioned her husband disparagingly, as one who was brave only on the field of battle, but elsewhere, as weak as a monk or a woman.''' Caroline, in answer, cautioned her brother to treat her husband with more respect. Napoleon, unaccustomed to suppress his sentiments, continued the same line of language and conduct.^ Meanwhile, Murat, in his resentment, listened to terms from Austria, in which, by the mediation of that state, which was interested in the recovery of her Italian provinces, England was with difficulty induced to acquiesce. In consequence of a treaty formed with Austria, Murat declared himself in favour of the allies, and marched an army of 30,000 Neapolitans to Rome, for the purpose of assisting in the expulsion of the French from Italy. He speedily occupied Ancona and Florence.'* There have no vigour and no character. Take advantage, however, of an act of treachery, which I only attribute to fear, in order to serve me by useful infoniiation. I rely upon you, upon your contrition, upon your promises. The title of king has turned your head. Jf you wisli to preserve the former, keep your witrd."— Pari. VeOales, vol. xxxi., p. 151. ■* On the 5th of March, just belore the battle of Craonno, Napoleon again wrote to Murat: — " I have communicated t-) you my opinion of your conduct. Your siltiation had turned your head. Aly reverses have finished you. i'ou have sut- 664 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PEOSE WORKS. [1814. »vas already in Italy an army of 30,000 Austrians, with whom the viceroy had fought the indecisive battle of Roverbello, after which he retreated to the line of the Adige, on which he made a precarious stand, until tlie war was concluded. The appear- ance of Murat's army on the side of Austria, though he confined himself to a war of proclamations, was calculated to end all French influence in Italy. Counter revolutionary movements, in some of the cantons of Switzerland, and in the mountains of Savoy, tended also to close the door through which Buonaparte had so often transfei'red the war into the Italian peninsula, and from its northern pro- vinces, into the heart of Austria herself. The defection of Murat had the further effect of disconcerting the measures which Napoleon had meditated, for recovery of the south-eastern frontier of France. Augereau had received orders to ad- vance from Lyons, and receive the reinforcements which Eugene was to have despatched from Italy across the Alps. These, it was calculated, would have given the French mare'chal a decisive supe- riority, which might have enabled him to ascend towards the sources of the Saonne, call to arras the hardy peasantry of the Vosgesian mountains, interrupt the communications of the Austrian army, and excite a national and guerilla warfare in the rear of the allies. To stimulate more highly the energies of his early comrade in arms. Napoleon caused the Empress, Maria Louisa, to wait upon the young Duchess of Castiglione (the mar^chal's wife,) to prevail on her to use her influence with her husband, to exert all his talents and audacity in the present crisis.' It was a singular feature of the declension of power, when it was thought that the command of the Em- peror, imposed upon one of his mare'chals, might require being enforced by the interposition of a lady ; or rather, it imjilied that Napoleon was sen- sible that he was requiring of his officer something which no ordinary exertions could enable him to perform. He wrote, liowever, to Augereau himself, conjuring him to remember his early victories, and to forget that he was upwards of fifty years old. But exhortations, whether by a sovereign or lady, cannot supply the want of physical force. Augereau was unable to execute the task imposed upon him, from not receiving the Italian reinforce- ments, which, as matters stood in Italy, Eugene could not possibly spare. Detachments from Su- chet's Spanish veterans did indeed join the mare'- chal at Lyons, and enabled him to advance on General Bubna, whom he compelled to retreat to Geneva. But the arrival of General Bianchi, with a strong reinforcement, which Schwartzenberg had despatched for that purpose, restored the ascend- ency of the allied armies on tliat frontier, especially as the Prince of Hesse-Homberg also approached from Switzerland at the head of the Austrian re- serves. The last general had no difficulty in securing the passes of Saonne. Augereau in consequence was compelled to abandon the country of Gex and Franche Comte, and again to return under the rounded yourself with men who liate France, and who wis-h to ruin you. What you write to me is at vari:ti\ce with your actions. I shall, however, see by your manner of acting at Ancona, if your lieart be still French, and if yon yield to i:e- cessity alone. Bemember that I made you a kinq solely lor the interest of my system. Do not deceive yourself, if you should ceMse to be a Fnncliman, you would be nothing for me."— Pari. l><.bu,Us, vol. x.wi., p. 153. walls of Lyons. Napoleon was not more complai- sant to his old comrade and tutor,'^ than he had been to the other mare'chals in tliis campaign, who had not accomplished tasks which they had not the means to achieve. Augereau was publicly censured as being inactive and unenterprising. The north of Germany and Flanders were equally lost to France, and French interest. Hamburgh indeed still held out. But, as we have already said, it was besieged, or rather blockaded, by the allies, under Bennigsen, to whom the Crown Prince of Sweden had left that charge, when he himself, having put an end to the war with Denmark, had advanced towards Cologne, with the purpose of as- sisting in clearing Belgium of the French, and then entering France from that direction, in support of the Sile.-iian army. The Crown Prince showed no personal willingness to engage in the invasion of France. The causes which might deter him have been already conjectured. The Royalists added another, that he had formed views of placing him- self at the head of the government of France, which the allied monarchs declined to gratify. It is cer- tain that, whether from the motives of prudence or estrangement, he was, after his arrival in Flanders, no longer to be considered as an active member of the coalition. In the meantime, Antwerp was bravely and scientifically defended by the veteran republican, Carnot. This celebrated statesman and engineer had always opposed himself to the strides which Napoleon made towards arbitrary power, and had voted against his election to the .situation of consul for life, and that of emperor. It does not appear that Napoleon resented this opposition. He had been obliged to Carnot before his luiexampled rise, and afterwards, he was so far mindful of him as to cause his debts to be paid at a moment of embar- rassment. Carnot, on his part, took the invasion of France as a signal for every Frenchman to use his talents in the public defence, and, ofiering his services to the Emperor, was intrusted with the command of Antwerp. Bergen-op-Zoom was also still occupied by the French. Tiiis city, one of the most strongly forti- fied in the world, was nearly taken by a coap-de- maln, by Sir Thomas Graham. After a night- attack of the boldest description, the British co- lumns were so far successful, that all ordinary ob.staeles seemed overcome. But tlieir success was followed by a degree of disorder which rendered it unavailing, and many of the troops who had en- tered the town were killed, or obliged to surrender. Thus an enterprise ably planned and bravely exe- cuted, miscarried even in the moiuent of victory, by accidents for which neither the general nor the officers immediately in command could be justly held responsible.^ General Graham was, however, reinforced from England, and was still enabled, with the help of the Swedes and Danes, as well as Dutch and Flemish corps, to check any sallies from Bergen or from Antwerp. The liberation of the Low Countries being so I Manuscript de 1814, p. 130. ^ " Augereau did not know Napoleon until the latter had become a generai-in chief. Augereau was certainly a Rood general, but he owed this to the school ofNapoleon, and at best he was inferior to Massena, Desaix, Kieber and Soult." — Louis Buonaparte, p. 92. 3 London Gazette E.xtraordinary, March 14, 1S14; Lord Buryhcisli, Operatious of the Aliieil Annies, p. 281. J814.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. GO uearly accomplished, Bulow pressed forward on La Fere, and finally occupied Laon. Here, upon the '26th of February, he formed a junction with Winzengerode, who, bequeathing Juliers, Venloo, and Maestricht, to the observation of the Crown Prince, marched through the forest of Ardennes. SoLssons offered a show of desperate resistance, but the commandant being killed, the place was de- livered up. This was on the 1 3tli February, and the allies ought to have held this imjjortant place. But in their haste to join Prince Blucher, they evacuated Soissons, which Morticr caused to be presently reoccupied by a strong French garrison. The possession of tliis town became sh.ortly after- wards a matter of gi'eat consequence. In the mean- time, Bulow and Winzengerode, with their two additional armies, entered into communication with Blucher, of whom they now formed the rear -guard, and more than restored to him the advantage he had lost by the defeats at Montmirail and Champ- Aubert. On the south-western frontier the horizon seemed yet darker. The Duke of Wellington, having en- tered Spain, was about to force his way through the strong country, called the Pays des Gares, the land that is, of the ravines formed by rivers and torrents. He maintained such severe discipline, and paid with such regularity for the supplies which he needed from the country, that he was voluntarily furnished with provisions of every kind ; while the army of Soult, though stationed in the mare'chal's own country, obtained none, save by the scanty and unwilling means of military re- quisition. In consequence of this strict discipline, the presence of the British troops was far from being distressing to the country ; and some efforts made by General Harispe, to raise guerillas among his countrymen, the Basques, to act on the Duke of Wellington's rear, became totally ineffectual. The small seapoi't town of St. Jean de Luz sup- plied the English army with provisii:)ns and rein- forcements. The activity of English commerce speedily seat cargoes of every kind into the har- bour, where before were only to be seen a few fish- ing-boats. The goods were landed under a tariff of duties settled by the Duke of Wellington ; and so ended the Continental System. In tlie meantime, the state of the west of France >vas such as held out the highest p(jlitical results to the British, in case they should be able to over- come the obstacles presented by the strong in- trenched camp at Bayonne, on which Soult rested Vis, right flank, e.xtending a line of great length upon the Adour and the neighbouring Gaves. We have mentioned already the confederacy of Royalists, which was now in full activity, and ex- tended by faithful agents through the whole west of France. They were now at their post, and pre- paring every tiling for an explosion. The police of Buonaparte were neither ignorant of the existence nor purpose of this conspiracy, but they were un- able to obtain such precise information as should detect and crush it. The two Messrs. de Polignac were deeply engaged, and, becoming the subjects of suspicion, it was only by a dexterous and speedy fliglit from Paris that they eluded captivity, or per- haps death. They succeeded in reaching tire army of the allies, and were, it is believed, the first who conveyed to the Emperor Alexander an exact state of the royal party in the iiiterior of France, parti- cularly in the capital, which made a powerful im- pression on the mind of that prince. Throughout the west of France there started up a thousand agents of a party, which were now to awake from a sleej) of twenty years. Bourdeaux, with its loyal mayor. Count Lynch, and the greater part of its citizens, was a central point of the asso- ciation. A great part of the inhabitants were se- cretly regimented and embodied, and had arms in their possession, and artillery, gunpowder, and ball, concealed in their warehouses. The celebrated La Rochejacquelein, made immortal by the simple and sublime narrative of his consort, solicited the cause of the Royalists at the English headquarters, and made repeated and perilous journeys from thence to Bourdeaux, and back again. Saintonge and La Vendee were organised for insurrection by a loyal clergyman, the Abbe' Jaqualt. The brothers of Roche- Aymon prepared Perigord for a struggle. The Duke of Duras had engaged a thousand gentle- men at Touraine. Lastly, the Chouans had again prepared for a rising under the Count de Vitray, and Tranquille, a celebrated leader, called Le Capi- taiiie satis peur. Numerous bands of refractory conscripts, rendered desperate by their state of out- lawry, were ready at Angers, Nantes, and Orleans, to take arms in the cause of the Bourbons, under the Count de TOrge, Monsieur d'Airac, Count Charles d'Autichamp, the Count de Suzannet, and Caudoudal, brother of the celebrated Georges, and his equal in courage and resolution. But all de- sired the previous advance of the B/ue-Ftints, as they called the English, their own being of a dif- ferent colour. Trammelled by the negotiation at Chatilion, and various other political impediments, and anxious especially not to lead these high-spi- rited gentlemen into danger, by encouraging a pre- mature rising, the English ministers at home, and the English general in France, were obliged for a time to restrain rather than encourage the forward zeal of the Royalists. Such caution was the more necessary, as there existed at the same time another conspiracy, also directed against Buonaparte's pei-son, or at least his authority ; and it was of importance that neither should explode until some means could be found of preventing their checking and counteracting each other. This second class of malecontents consisted of those, who, like Buonaparte himself, owed their political consequence to the Revolution ; and who, without regard to the Bourbons, were desirous to get free of the tyranny of Napokon. These were the disappointed and degraded Republicans, the deceived Constitutionalists, all who had hoped and expected that the Revolution would have paved the way for a free government, in which the career of preferment should be open to talents of every description — a lottery in which, doubtless, each hoped that his own abilities would gain some im- portant prize. The sceptre of Napoleon Lad weighed harder upon this class than even upon the RoyaUsts. lie had no dislike to the principles of the latter, abstractedly considered ; he felt some respect for their birth and titles, and only wished to transfer their affections from the House of Bour- bon, and to attach them to that of Napoleon. Ac- cordingly, he distributed em])loymeuts and honoui-s among such of the old noblesse as could be brought to accept them, and obviously felt piide in draw- ing to Ills court names and titles, known in the GGC, SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1814. earlier periods of French history. Besides, until circumstances shook his throne, and enlarged their means of injuring him, he considered the number of the Royalists as small, and their power as des- picable. But from those active spirits, who had traded in revolution after revolution for so many years, he had much more both to fear and to dislike, especially as they were now understood to be headed by his ex-minister Talleyrand, with whose talents, both for scheming and executing political changes, he had so much reason to be acquainted.' To this class of his enemies he imputed the hardy attempt which was made, not without prospects of success, to overthrow his government during his absence in Russia. " You have the tail, but not the head," hal been the words of the principal conspirator, when about to be executed ; and they still rung in the ears of Buonaparte. It was generally sup- posed, that his long stay in Paris, ere he again took the field against the allies, was dictated by his fear of some similar explosion to that of Mallet's conspiracy. Whether these two separate classes of the enemies of Buonaparte communicated with each other, we Iiave no ojiportunity of knowing, but they both had intercourse with the allies. That of Talleyrand's faction was, we believe, maintained at the court of London, through means of a near relation of his own, who visited England shortly before the open- ing of the campaign of which we treat. We have no doubt, that through some similar medium Tal- leyrand held communication with the Bourbons ; and that, in the same manner as the English Re- storation was brought about by a union between the Cavaliers and Presbyterians, there was even then upon foot some treaty of accommodation, by which the exiled monarch was, in regaining the crown, to have the assistance of those, whom, for want of another name, we shall call Constitution- alists, it being undei'stood that his government was to be established on the basis of a free model. It was of the greatest importance that lioth these factions should be cautious in their movements, until it should appear what course the allied mo- narclis were about to pursue in the impending nego- tiation with Buonaparte. The issue of this was the more dubious, as it was generally understood that though the sovereigns were agreed on the great point of destroying, on the one hand, the supremacy of France, and, on the other, in leaving her in possession of her just weight and influence, they entertained a difference of opinion as to the arrange- ment of her future government. The Prince Regent of England, from the gene- rosity of his own disposition, as well as from a clear and comprehensive view of future possibilities, entertained views favourable to the Boui'bons. This illustrious person justly conjectured, that free institutions would be more likely to flourish under the restored family, \\ ho would receive back their crown under conditions favourable to freedom, than under any modification of the revolutionary system, which must always, in the case of Buona- parte's being permitted to reign, be felt as imply- ing encroachments on his imperial power. The Bourbons, in the case presumed, might be sup- posed to count their winnings, in circumstances ' " I now began to watch M. dc Talleyrand narrowly. I considered him as the man who was aljout to become the •eader of a party against the Emperor; though certainly not where the tenacious and resentful mind of Napo- leon would brood over his losses ; and it might be feared, that with a return of fortune he might struggle to repair them. But there were ministers in the British cabinet who were afraid of incui-- ring the imputation of protracting the war by announcing England's adoption of the cause of the Bourbons, which was now of a date somewhat anti- quated, and to which a sort of unhappy fatality had hitherto been annexed. England's interest in the royal cause was, therefore, limited to good wishes. The Emperor Alexander shared in the inclina- tion which all sovereigns must have felt towards this unhappy family, whose cause was in some degree that of princes in general. It was under- stood that Moreau's engagement with the Russian monarch had been founded upon an express assur- ance on the part of Alexander, that the Bourbons were to be restored to the Crown of France under tlie limitations of a free constitution. Prussia, from her close alliance with Russia, and the personal causes of displeasure which existed betwixt Fre- derick and Napoleon, was certain to vote for the downfall of the latter. But the numerous armies of Austria, and her vicinity to the scene of action, rendered her aid indispensable to the allies, while the alliance betwixt her Imperial house and this once fortunate soldier, threw much perplexity into their councils. It was believed that the Emperor of Austria would insist upon Buonaparte's being admitted to ti'eat as sove- reign of France, providing the latter gave sufficient evidence that he would renounce his pretensions to general supremacy ; or, if he continued unrea- sonably obstinate, that the Emperor Francis would desire that a regency should be established, with Maria Louisa at its head. Either course, if adopted, would have been a death's-blow to the hopes of the exiled family of Bourbon. Amid this uncertainty, the princes of the House of Bourbon gallantly determined to risk their own persons in France, and try what their presence might do to awake ancient remembrances at a crisis so interesting. Although the British Ministry refused to afford any direct countenance to the schemes of the Bour- bon family, they could not, in ordinary justice, deny the more active members of that uidiappy race the freedom of acting as they themselves might judge most for the interest of their cause and adherents. To their applications for permis- sion to depart for France, they received from the British Ministry the reply, that the princes of the House of Bourbon were the guests, not the pri- soners, of Britain ; and although the present state of public affairs precluded her from expressly au- thorising any step which they might think proper to take, yet they were free to quit her territories, and return to them at their pleasure. Under a sanction so general, the Duke d'Angouleme set sail for St. Jean de Luz, to join the army of the Duke of Wellington ; the Duke de Berri for Jer- sey, to correspond with tlie Royalists of Brittany ; and Monsieur for Holland, from which he gained the frontiers of Switzerland, and entered France in against the d\nasty sprung from a revolutirn in which he had himself acted so conspicuous a part " — SsAVAav, torn, ii., p. '2-J3. 1814.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. CC7 the rear of the Austrian armies. The movements of tlie two last princes produced no efiects of con- sequence. The Duke de Berri paused in the isle of Jersey, on receiving some unpleasant communications from France respecting the strength of the existing gre and >iii)i!s nf luifiiui- tion were very vague. MettLvnich added, that tliese words mii^lit raise misunderstandings, and that it was better to sub- ctitute otlitrs. He took the pen, and wrote, tliat £nnland would make the Rreatesi sacrifices to obtain a jieiice on (lirse . yJiV. 670 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [ISU. he would part with nothins; willingly ; and, like a child with its toys, that of which there was any attempt to deprive him, became immediately the most valuable of his possessions. Antwerp, indeed, had a particular right to be considered as inestima- ble. The sums he had bestowed on its magnificent basins, and almost impregnable fortifications, were immense. He had always the idea that he might make Antwerp the principal station of a large navy. He clung to this vision of a fleet, even at Elba and Saint Helena, repeating often, that he might have saved his crown, if he would have re- signed Antwerp at Chatillon ; and no idea was more riveted in his mind, than that his refusal was founded on patriotic principles. Yet the chief value of Antwerp lay in the event of another war with Great Britain, for which Buonaparte was thus preparing, while the question was, how the present hostilities were to be closed ; and surely the possi- bility of a navy which had no existence, should not have been placed in competition with the safety of a nation deeply emperilled by the war now waging in the very centre of his kingdom.i This he saw in a different light from that of calm reason. " If I am to receive flagellation," he said, " let it be at least under terms of compulsion."^ Lastly, the temporary success which he had at- tained in the field of battle, was of a character which, justly considered, ought not to have encou- raged the French Emperor to continue war, but, on the contrary, might have furnished a precious opportunity for making peace, before the very sword's point was at his throat. The conditions which he might have made in this moment of tem- porary success, would have had the appearance of being gracefully ceded, rather than positively ex- torted by necessity. And it may be added, that the allies, startled by their losses, would have pro- bably granted him better terms ; and certainly, remembering his military talents, would have taken care to observe those which they might fix upon. The reverses, therefore, in the month of February, which obscured the arms of the combined monarchs, resembled the cloud, which, in Byron's tale, is described as passing over the moon to aff"ord an impenitent renegade the last and limited tei-m for repentance.^ But the heart of Napoleon, like that of Alp, was too proud to profit by the interval of delay thus afforded to him. Tlie tnitli seems to be, that Buonaparte never seriously intended to make peace at Chatillon ; and while his negotiator, Caulaincourt, was instructed to hold out to the allies a pi'oposal to cede the frontier fortresses, he received from the Duke of Bassano the following private directions: — "The Emperor desires that you would avoid explaining yourself clearly upon every thing which may relate to de- liveinng up the fortresses of Antwerp, Mayence, and Alexandria, if you should be obliged to consent to these cessions ; his Majesty intending, even though he should have ratified the treaty, to be guided by the military situation of affairs : — wait till the last moment. The bad faith of the allies in respect to the capitulations of Dresden, Dantzic, ' See Journal, &.C., par M. de Las Cases, torn, iv., pp. 47, 53, Oi. » Manuscript de li)14, p. 186. * " There is a liglit cloud by the moon — "lis passing, and 'twill pass full soon ; If, by llic time its vapoury sail Hath ceased her shrouded orb to veil. and Gorcum, authorises us to endeavour not to be duped. Refer, therefore, these questions to a military arrangement, as was done at Presburg, Vienna, and Tilsit. His Majesty desii'es that you would not lose sight of the disposition which he will feel, not to deliver up those three keys of France, if military events, on which he is willing still to rely, should permit him not to do so, even if he should have signed the cession of all these provinces. In a word, his Majesty wishes to be able, after the treaty, to be guided by existing circumstances, to the last moment. He orders you to burn this let- ter as soon as you have read it." The allies showed, on their side, that the obsti- nacy of Napoleon had increased, not diminished their determination to carry on the war. A new treaty, called that of Chaumont, was entered into upon the 1st of March, between Austria, Russia, Prussia, and England, by which the high contract- ing parties bound themselves each to keep up an army of 150,000 men, with an agreement on the part of Great Britain, to advance four millions to carry on the war, which was to be prosecuted with- out relaxation, until France should be reduced within her ancient limits ; and what further indi- cated the feelings of both parties, the military com- missioners, who had met at Lusigny, to settle the terms of an armistice, broke up, on pretence of being unable to agree upon a suitable Une of de- marcation.* The principal negotiation continued to languish at Chatillon, but without much remaining hope be- ing entertained, by those who were well informed on either side, of the result being favourable. On the 7th March, Rumigny, a clerk of Buona- parte's cabinet, brought to the Emperor, on the evening of the bloody battle of Craonne, the ulti- matum of the allies, insisting that the French envoy should either proceed to treat upon the basis they had offered, namely, that France should be re- duced within her ancient limits, or that Caulain- court should present a contre-projet. His plenipo- tentiary requested instructions ; but it appears that Buonaparte, too able not to see the result of his pertinacity, yet too haughty to recede from it, had resolved, in sportsman's phrase, to die hard. The 10th day of March having passed over, with- out any answer ari'iving from Buonaparte to Cau- laincourt, the term assigned to him for declaring his ultimatum, was extended to five days ; the ple- nipotentiary of France hoping, probably, that some decisive event in the field of battle would either in- duce his master to consent to the terms of the allies, or give him a right to obtain better. It is said, that, during this interval, Prince Wenceslaus of Lichtenstein was again despatched by the Emperor Francis, to the headquarters of Napoleon, as a special envoy, for the purpose of conjuring him to accommodate his ultimatum to the articles settled as the basis of the conferences, and informing him that otherwise the Emperor Francis would lay aside those family considerations, which had hitherto prevented him from acceding to the dispositions of the other allied powers in Thy heart within thee is not chanRed, Then God and man are both avenscd." Byron's Siege of Curinth. — S. * For a copy of the Treaty, see Pari. Debates, vol. xxvii- p. 6:23. 1814.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 671 favour of the dynasty of Bourbon. It is added, that Buonaparte seemed at first silenced and as- tounded by this intimation ; but, immediately reco- vering himself, treated it as a vain threat held out to intimidate him, and said it would be most for the interest of Austria to join in procuring him a peace on his own terms, since otherwise, he might again be forced to cross the Rhine. The Austrian prince retired without rejily ; and from that mo- ment, it has been supposed, the Emperor resigned his son-in-law, without further effort in his favour, to the consequences of his own ill-timed obstinacy.' Caulaincourt, in the meanwhile, played the part of an able minister and active negotiator. He kept the negotiation as li)ng afloat as possible, and in the meantime, used every argument to induce his master to close with the terms of the allies. At length, however, he was compelled to produce a contre-j)rojet, which he hoped might have at least the effect of prolonging the negotiation. But the plan he offered was not only too vague to serve the purpose of amusing the allies, but too inconsistent with the articles adopted by all parties as the basis of the conference, to be a moment listened to. He demanded the whole line of the Rhine — he demanded great part of that of the Waal, and the fortress of Nimeguen, which must have rendered the independence of Holland purely nominal — he required Italy, and even Venice, for Eugene Beauharnois, although this important ar- ticle was not only in absolute contradiction to the basis of the treaty, but peculiarly offensive and injurious to Austria, whom it was so much Buona- parte's interest to conciliate. The possession of Italy embi'aced, of course, that of Switzerland, either directly or by influence ; so th.at in future wars Austria would lie open to the incursions of France along her whole frontier, and, while con- eluding a victorious treaty upon French ground, would have been placed in a worse situation than by that which Buonaparte himself dictated to her at Campo Formio ! There were stipulations, besides, for indemnities to Jerome, the phantom- king of Westphalia ; to Louis, Grand Duke of Berg ; and to Eugene, in compensation of his alleged rights on the grand duchy of Frankfort. Nay, as if determined to show that nothing which he had ever done, even though undone by himself, should now be considered as null, without exacting compensation at the expense of the re"st of Europe, Buonaparte demanded an indemnity for his brother Joseph, not indeed for the crown of Spain, but for that very throne of Naples, from which he had himself displaced him, in order to make room for Murat ! The assembled congress received this imperious communication with equal surprise and displeasure.''' They instantly declared the congress dissolved ; and thus terminated the fears of many, who considered Europe as in greater danger from any treaty that could be made with Buonaparte, than from the progress of his arms against the allies. It was the opinion of such men, and their num- ber was very considerable, that no peace concluded 1 In a AfS. memorandum, Lord Burgliersh denies the whole of this story. He distinctly states that Prince Wenceslaiis of Lichtensteiu was never sent to Buonai>arte after the 23d of February ; and that the account in the text raiRrepresents the feelinRs and intentions of the Emperor of Kussia at the period to which it refers. Compare his "Operationa" under the dates.— Ed. 'ia42.) with Napoleon could be permanent, and that any immediate terms of composition could be only an armed truce, to last until the Emperor of France should feel himself able to spend the remainder of his life in winning back again the conquests which he had spent the earlier part of it in gaining. They insisted that this was visible, from his breaking off the treaty on the sul)ject of Antwerp ; the chief utility of which, to his empire, must have been in the future wars which he meditated with Britain. It was seeking war through peace, not peace by war. Such reasoners were no doubt in many cases prejudiced against Napoleon's person, and inclined to consider his government as a usurpa- tion. But others allowed that Napoleon, abstract- edly considered, was not a worse man than other conquerors, but that a run of success so long un- interrupted, had made war and conquest so familiar to his soul, that to use an expression of the poet, the "earthquake voice of victory" was to him the necessary and indispensable breath of life.^ This passion for battle, they said, might not make Napoleon hateful as a man, for much, far too much, allowance is made in modern morality for the thirst of military fame ; but it must be allowed that it rendered him a most unfit monarch for those with whose blood that thirst was to be stanched. Such reflections are, however, foreign to our present purpose. It was not the least remarkable contingence in these momentous transactions, that as Caulaincourt left Chatillon, he met the secretary of Buonaparte posting towards him with the full and explicit powers of treating which he had so long vainly so- licited.* Had Napoleon adopted this final decision of submitting himself to circumstances but one day earlier, the treaty of Chatillon might have pro- ceeded, and he would have continued in possession of the throne of France. But it was too late. CHAPTER LXXV. Buonaparte marches tipon Blucher, who is in pos- session of Soissons — jlttacks the place withont suc- cess — Battle of Craonne — Blucher retreats on Laon — Battle of Laon — Napoleon is compelled to withdraw on the \\th—He attacks Rheims, which is evacuated by the Russians— Defeat at Bar-sur-Aube of Oudinot and Gerard, who, with Macdonald, are forced to retreat towards Paris — Schicartzenberg wishes to retreat behind the Aube—but the Emperor Alexander and Lord Vastlereaijh opposing the measure, it is determined to proceed upon Paris — Napoleon occupies Arcis — Battle of Arcis — Napoleon is joined, in the nujht after the battli, by 3Iacdonald, Oudinot, and Gerard — and retreats along the Aube. The sword was now again brandished, not to be sheathed or reposed, until the one party or the other should be irretrievably defeated. The situation of Buonajjarte, even after the vic- tory of Montereau, and capture of Troyes, was 2 Napoleon, AK-moires, tom. ii., pp. 432-468 ; Manuscript de 1814, p. 2il6. 3 " The triumph, and the vanity, The rapture of the strife— The earthquake voice of victory. To thee the breath of life."— Bybon. * Baron Fain, p 213. 672 SCO'lTo MISCELLANEOUS PliOSE WORKS. [1814 most discourasjing. (f he advanced on the gi-and army of the allies which he had in front, there was every Hkehhood that they would retire before him, wasting his force in skirmishes, without a possibi- lity of his being aide to force them to a general action ; while, in the meantime, it might be reckon- ed for certain that Blucher, master of the Marne, would march upon Paris, On the contrary, if Na- poleon moved with his chief force against Blucher, he had, in like manner, to apprehend that Schwart- zenb rg would resume the route upon Paris by way of the valley of the Seine. Thus, he could make no exertion upon the one side, without ex- pi*sing the capital to danger on the other. After weighing all the disadvantages on either side. Napoleon determined to turn his arms against Blucher, as most hostile to his person, most rapid in his movements, and most persevering in his pur- poses. He left Oudinot, Macdonald, and Gerard in front of the grand army, in hopes that, however in- ferior in numbers, they might be able to impose upon Schwartzenberg a belief that Napoleon was present in person, and thus either induce the Aus- trian to continue his retreat, or at least prevent him from resuming the offensive. For this purpose the French troops were to move on Bar-sur-Aube, and occupy, if practicable, the heights in that neigh- biiurliood. The soldiers were also to use the cry of Vire VEmpereiu, as if Napoleon had been pre- sent. It was afterwards seen, that as the marechals did not command 40,000 men in all, including a force under Macdonald, it was impossible for them to discharge effectually the part assigned them. In the meanwhile. Napoleon himself continued his lateral march on Blucher, supposing it possible for him, as formerly, to surprise his flank, as the Prussians marched upon Paris. For this purpose he moved as speedily as possible to La Ferte'-Gau- chere, where he arrived 1st March; but Sacken and D' Yorck, who would have been the first victims of this mancEuvre, as their divisions were on the left bank of the Marne, near to Meaux, crossed the river at La Ferte' Jouarre, and formed a junction with Blucher, who now resolved to fall back on the ■ troops of Bulow and Winzengerode. These gene- rals were, it will be remembered, advancing from the frontiers of Belgium. A sudden hard frost rendered the country pass- able, which had before been in so swampy a condi- tion as to render marching very difficult. ' This was much to the advantage of the Prussians. Napo- leon detached the forces under Marmont and Mor- tier, whom he had united with his own, to press upon and harass the retreat of the Prussian field- marechal; while he himself, pushing on by a shorter line, possessed himself of the town of Fismes, about half way betwixt Rheims and Soissons. The oc- cupation of this last place was now a matter of the last consequence. If Blucher should find Soissons open to him, he might cross the ^larne, extricate himself from his pursuers without difficulty, and form his junction with the army of the North. But if excluded from this town and bridge, Blucher must have hazarded a battle on the most disadvan- tageous terms, having Mortier and Marmont on his front. Napoleon on his left flank, and in his rear, a town, with a hostile garrison and a deep river. It was almost a chance, like that of the dice, which party possessed this important place. The Russianshad taken it on 15th February [p. 665,] but being immediately evacuated by them, it was on the 1 9th occupied by Mortier, and garrisoned by 500 Poles, who were imagined capable of the most determined defence. On the 2d March, however, the commandant, intimidated by the advance of Bulow's army of 30,000 men, yielded up Soissons to that general, upon a threat of an instant stoi-m, and no quarter allowed. The Russian standards then waved on the ramparts of Soissons, and Blucher, arriving imder its walls, acquired the full power of uniting himself with his rear-guard, and giving or refusing battle at his pleasure, on the very moment when Buonaparte, having turned his flank, expected to have forced on him a most dis- advantageous action. The Emperor's wrath, exhaled in a bulletin against the inconceivable baseness of the com- mandant of Soissons, who was said to have given up so important a place when he was within hearing of the cannonade on the 2d and 3d, and must thereby have known the approach of the Emperor. 1 In the heat of his wrath, he ordered Soissons to be assaulted and carried by storni at all risks ; but it was defended by General Lange- ron with 10,000 Russians. A desperate conflict ensued, but Langerou retained possession of the town. Abandoning this project. Napoleon crossed the Aisne at Be'ry-au-Bac, with the pui-pose of attacking the left wing of Blucher's army, which, being now concentrated, was strongly posted betwixt the village of Craonne and the town of Laon, in such a manner as to secure a retreat upon the very strong position which the latter town affords. Blucher imagined a manceuvre, designed to show Buonaparte that his favourite system of turning an enemy's flank had its risks and inconveniences. He detached ten thousand horse under Winzengerode, by a circuitous route, with orders that when the French commenced their march on Craonne, they should move round and act upon their flank and rear. But the state of the roads, and other impe- diments, prevented this body of cavalry from getting up in time to execute the intended man- oeuvre. Meanwhile, at eleven in the morning of the 7th March, the French began their attack with the utmost bravery. Ney assaulted the position on the right flank, which was defended by a ravine, and Victor, burning to show the zeal which he had been accused of wanting, made incredible exertions in front. But the assault was met by a defence equally obstinate, and the contest became one of the most bloody and best-sustained during the war. It was four in the afternoon, and the French had not yet been able to dislodge the Russians on any point, when the latter received orders from Blucher to withdraw from the dis- puted ground, and unite with the Prussian army on the splendid position of Laon, which the mare- chal considered as a more favourable scene of action. There were no guns lost, or prisoners made. The Russians, in despite of a general charge of the French cavalry, retreated as on the parade. As the armies, considering the absence of Winzengerode with the detachment of cavalry, and of Langeron with the garrison of Soissons ' Moniteur, March 11. 1814.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 073 were nearly equal, the indecisive event of the battle was the more ominous. Tlie slain and wounded were about the same number on both sides, and the French only retained as a mark of victory the possession of the field of battle.' Napoleon himself followed the retreat of the Russians as far as an inn between Craonne and Laon, called L'Ange Gardien, where he re])osed for the night. He, indeeil, never more needed the assistance of a guardian angel, and his own appears to have deserted his charge. It was here that Ru- migny found him when he presented the letter of Caulaincourt, praying for final instructions from the Emperor ; and it was here he could onlv ex- tract the ambiguous reply, that if he must submit to the bastinado, it should be only by force. At this cabaret, also, he regulated his plan for attack- hig the position of Blucher on the next morning ; and thus ridding himself finally, if possible, of that Silesian army, which had been his object of dis- quietude for forty-two days, during the coui-se of which, scarce two days had passed without their being engaged in serious confiict, either in front or rear. He received valuable information for ena- bling him to make the projected attack, from a re- tired officer, INI. Bussy de Bellay, who had been his schoolfellow at Brienne, who lived in the neigh- bourhood, and was well acquainted with the ground, and whom he instantly rewarded with the situation of an aide-de-camp, and a large appointment. When his plan for the attack was finished, he is said to have exclaimed, " I see this war is an abyss with- out a bottom, but I am resolved to be the last whom it shall devour." The town of Laon is situated upon a table-land, or eminence, flattened on the top, which rises very abruptly above a plain extending about a league in length. The face of the declivity is steep, shelving, almost precipitous, and occupied by terraces serving as vineyards. Bulow defended this town and bank. The rest of the Silesian army was placed on the plain below ; the left wing, composed of Prussians, extending to the village of Athies ; the right, con- sisting of Russians, resting on the hills between Thiers and Semonville. Only the interval of one day elapsed between the bloody battle of Craonne and that of Laon. On the 9th, availing himself of a thick mist. Napoleon pushed his columns of attack to the very foot of the eminence on which Laon is situated, possessed himself of two of the villages, termed Seniilly and Ardon, and prepared to force his way up the hill towards the town. The weather cleared, the French attack was repelled by a tremendous fire from ter- races, vineyards, windmills, and every point of ad- vantage. Two battalions of Yagers, the impetus of tlieir attack increased by the rapidity of the de- scent, recovered the villages, and the attack of Laon in front seemed to be abandoned. The French, however, continued to retain possession, in that quarter, of a part of the village of Clacy. Thus stood the action on the right and centre. The French had been repulsed all along the line. On the left Martchal Marmont had advanced upon the village of Athies, which was the key of Blucher's position in that point. It was gallantly defended 1 " This was the best foiipht action during the campai-in : the numbers engaped on linth sides were nearly equal ; the superiority, if any, being on the side of the French." — Lord UuRCKKRSH, Operations, &c., p. lix;. VOL. II. by D'Yorck and Kleist, supported by Sacken ana Langeron. Marmont made some progress, not- withstanding this resistance, and night found him bivouacking in front of the enemy, and in posses- sion of part of the disputed village of Athies. But he was not destined to remain there till daybrcaJc. Upon the 10th, at four in the morning, just as Buonaparte, arising before daybreak, was calling for his horse, two dismounted dragoons were brought before him, with' the unpleasing intelli- gence that the enemy had made a hourra upon Marmont, surprised him in his bivouac, and cut to pieces, taken, or dispersed his whole division, and they alone had escaped to bring the tidings. A^l the marcfchal's guns were lost, and they believed he was himself either killed or prisoner. Officers sent to reconnoitre, brought l;ack a confirmation of the truth of this intelligence, excepting as to the situation of the mare'ehal. He was onthe road to Rheims, near Corbeny, endeavouring to rally the fugitives. Notwithstanding this great loss, aiid as if in defiance of bad fortune. Napoleon renewed the attack upon Clacy and Semilly ; but all his attempts being fruitless, he was induced to relinquish the undertaking, under the excuse that the position was found impregnable. On the 1 1th, he withdrew from before Laon, having been foiled in all his at- tempts, and having lost thirty guns, and nearly 10,000 men. The allies suffered comparatively little, as they fought under cover. Napoleon halted at Soissons, which, evacuated by Langeron when Blucher concentrated his army, was now again occupied by the French. Napoleon directed its defences to be strengthened, designing to leave ^lortier to defend the place against the advance of Blucher, which, victorious as he was, might be instantly expected. While at Soissons, Napoleon learned that Saint Priest, a French emigrant, and a general in the Russian service, had occupied Rheims, remarkable for the venerable cathedral in which the kings of France were crowned. Napoleon instantly saw that the possession of Rheims would renew the communication betwixt Schwartzenberg and Blu- cher, besides neutralizing the advantages which he himself expected from the possession of Soissons. He moved from Soissons to Rheims, where, after an attack which lasted till late in the night, the Russian general being wounded, his followers were discouraged, and evacuated the place. The utmost horrors might have been expected during a night attack, when one army forced another from a con- siderable town. But in this instance we have the satisfaction to record, that the troops on both sides behaved in a most orderly manner.* In his ac- count of the previous action. Napoleon threw in one of those strokes of fatality which he loved to introduce. He endeavoured to persuade the pub- lic, or perhaps he himself believed, that Saint Priest was shot by a ball from the same canuoii which killed Moreau.' During the attack upon Rheims, Marmont came up with such forces as ho had been able to rally alter his defeat at Athies, and contributed to the success of the assault. He was, nevertheless, re- ceived by Napoleon with bitter reproaches, felt 2 Baron Faiu, p. 193. 8 Monilcur, March 14. 674 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1814. severely by a chief, of whose honour and talents no doubt had been expressed through a long life of soldiership. Napoleon remained at Rheims three days, to re- pose and recruit his shattered army, which was. re- inforced from every quarter where men could be collected. Jansseus, a Dutch officer, displayed a particular degree of military talent in bringing a bodj of about 4000 men, draughted from the gar- risons of the places on the Moselle, to join the army at Rheims ; a movement of great difficulty, consi- dering he had to penetrate through a country which was in a great measure possessed by the enemy's troops.' The halt of Napoleon at Rheims was remark- able, as affording the last means of transacting business with his civil ministers. Hitherto, an au- ditor of the council of state had weekly brought to the Imperial headquarters the report of the minis- ters, and received the orders of the Emperor.^ But a variety of causes rendered this regular commu- nication during the rest of the campaign, a matter of impossibility. At Rheims, also. Napoleon ad- dressed to Caulaincourt, a letter, dated 17th March, by which he seems to have placed it in the power of that plenipotentiary to comply in full with the terms of the allies. But the language in which it is couched is so far from bearing the precise war- rant necessary for so important a concession, that there must remain a doubt whether Caulaincourt would have felt justified in acting upon it, or whe- ther, so acting, Napoleon would have recognised his doing so, if circumstances had made it conve- nient for him to disown the treaty.^ While Napoleon was pursuing, fighting with, and finally defeated by Blucher, his lieutenant-ge- nerals were not more fortunate in front of the allied grand army. It will be recollected that the Mare'chais Oudinot and Gerard were left at the head of 25,000 men, exclusive of the separate corps under Macdonald, with orders to possess them- selves of the heights of Bar-sur-Aube, and prevent Schwartzenberg from crossing that river. They made the movement in advance accordingly, and after a sharp action, which left the town in their possession, they were so nigh to the allied troops, who still held the suburbs, that a battle became unavoidable, and the mare'chais had no choice save of making the attack, or of receiving it. They chose the former, and gained at first some advantages from the very audacity of their attempt ; but the allies had now been long accustomed to stand their ground under greater disasters. Their numerous reserves were brought up, and their long train of artillery got into line. The French, after obtain- ing a temporary footing on the heights of Vernon- fait, were charged and driven back in disorder. Some fine cavalry, which had been brought from the armies in Spain, was destroyed by the over- powering cannonade. The French were driven across the Aube, the town of Bar-sur-Aube was J Baron Fain, p. 194. 2 " Whatever miglit have been the hardships of the cam- paign, and the importance of occasional circumstances. Na- poleon superintended and regularly provided for everything ; and, up to the present nnment, showed himself adequate to direct the afliiirs of the interior, as well as the complicated movements of the army."— Baron Fain, p. 195. 3 The words alleged to convey such extensive powers as to- tally to recall and alter evi.rv former restriction upon Cau- taken, and the defeated mar&lials could only rally their forces at the village of Vandceuvres, about half-way between Bar and Troyes. The defeat of Oudinot and Gerard obliged Mai'c- chal Macdonald, who defended the line of the river above Bar, to retreat to Troyes, from his strong position at La Ferte'-sur- Aube. He therefore fell back towards Vandceuvres. But though these three distinguished generals, ]\Iacdonald, Oudinot, and Gerard, had combined their talents, and united their forces, it was impossible for them to defend Troyes, and they were compelled to retreat upon the great road to Paris. Thus, the headquarters of the allied monarchs were, for the second time during this changeful war, established in the ancient capital of Champagne ; and the allied grand army recovered, by the victory of Bar-sur-Aube, all the territory which they liad yielded up in consequence of Buonaparte's success at Montereau. They once more threatened to descend the Seine upon Paris, being entitled to despise any opposition offered by a feeble line, which Macdonald, Oudinot, and Ge- rard, endeavoured to defend on the left bank. But Schwartzenberg's confidence in his position was lowered, when he heard that Napoleon had taken Rheims ; and that, on the evening of the 1 7th, Ney, with a large division, had occupied Cha- lons-sur-Marne. This intelligence made a deep impression on the Austrian council of war. Their tactics being rigidly those of the old school of war, they esteemed their army turned whenever a French division occupied such a post as interposed betwixt them and their allies. This, indeed, is in one sense true ; but it is equally true, that every division so interposed is itself liable -to be turned, if the hostile divisions betwixt which it is interpos- ed take combined measures for attacking it. The catching, therefore, too prompt an alarm, or consi- dering the consequences of such a movement as irreti'ievable, belongs to the pedantry of war, and not to its science. At midnight a council was held for the purpose of determining the future motions of the allies. The generalissimo recommended a retreat behind the line of the Aube. The Emperor Alexander opposed this with great steadiness. He observed, with jus- tice, that tlve protracted war was driving the coun- try people to despair, and that the peasantry were already taking up arms, while the allies only wanted resolution, certainly neither opportunity nor num- bers, to decide the affair by a single blow. So many were the objections stated, and so diffi- cult was it to bring the various views and intrusts of so many powers to coincide in the same general plan, that the Emperor informed one of his attend- ants, he thought the anxiety of the night must have turned half his hair grey. Lord Castlereagh was against the opinion of Schwartzenbei-g, the rather that he concluded that a retreat behind the Aube would be a preface to one behind the Rhine. Taking it upon him, as became the Minister of laincourt's cxerci^^e of his own opinion, are contained, as ahove stated, in a letter from RlieimS, dated l/th March, 1814. ■' I have charged the Duke of Bassano to answer your letter in detail. 1 give you directly the authority to make such con- cessions as shall be indispensable to maintain the continuance {(irfivil^) of the negotiations, and to amve at a knowledge of tlie ultimatum of the allies; it being distinctly understciod that the treaty shall have for its immediate rcsnit the evacu- ation of our territory, and the restoring prisoners on both sides."— Napoleo.v, Mc'moircs, torn, ii., p. 399. 1814.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. G75 Britain at such a crisis, he announced to the allied powers, that, so soon as they should commence the proposed retreat, the subsidies of England would cease to be paid to them.' It was, therefore, finally agreed to resume offen- sive operations, for which purpose they projiosed to diminish the distance betwixt the allied grand army and that of Silesia, and resume such a communica- tion with Blucher as might prevent the repetition of such disasters as those of Montmirail and Mon- tereau. With this view it was determined to descend the Aube, unite tlieir army at Arcis, offer Napoleon battle, should he desire to accept it, or move boldly on Paris if he should refuse the prof- fered action. What determined them more reso- lutely, from this moment, to approach the capital as soon as possible, was the intelligence which^r- rived at the headquarters by Messieurs de Polig- nac.''^ These gentlemen brought an encouraging account of the progress of the Royalists in the metropolis, and of the general arrangements which were actively pursued for uniting with the inte- rests of the Bourbons that of all others, who, from dislike to Buonaparte's person and government, or fear that the country, and they themselves, must sliare in his approaching ruin, were desirous to get rid of the Imperial government. Talleyrand was at the head of the confederacy, and all were resolved to embrace the first opportunity of show- ing themselves, which the progress of the allies should permit. This important intelligence, coming from such unquestionable authority, strengthened the allies in their resolution to march upon Paris, In the meantime. Napoleon being at Rheims, as stated, on the 15th and 16th March, was alanned by the news of the loss of the battle of Bar, the retreat of the three marechals beyond the Seine, and the demonstrations of the gi'and army to cross that river once more. He broke up, as we have seen, from Rheims on the 17th, and sending Ney to take possession of Chalons, marched himself to Epernay, with the piu'pose of placing himself on the right flank, and in the rear of Schwartzenberg, in case he should advance on the road to Paris. At Epernay, he learned that the allies, alarmed by his movements, had retired to Troyes, and that they were about to retreat upon the Aube, and probably to Langres. He also learned that the niare'chals, Macdonald and Oudinot, had resumed their advance so soon as their adversaries began to retreat. He hastened to form a junction with these persevering leaders, and proceeded to ascend the Aube as high as Bar, where he expected to throw himself into Schwartzenberg's rear, having no doubt that his array was retiring from the banks of the Aube. In these calculations, accurate as far as the in- formation permitted, Buonaparte was greatly mis- led. He conceived himself to be acting upon the retreat of the allies, and expected only to find a rear-guard at Arcis ; he was even talking jocularly of making his father-in-law prisoner during his retreat. If, conti-ary to his expectation, he should find the enemy, or any considerable part of them, Btill upon the Aube, it was, from all he had heard. 1 Lord nursliersh, in his memoranda previon^ly quoted, states tliat Lord Castlcrcauli was not at Troyes upon this oc- casion, tliathemade Dosiicli declaration as sir Waltci Scott ascribes to liim : and tliat any such declaration would liave V»een uncalled for, as Prince Sphwartzcnbtrg was bent on ton- to be supposed his appearance would precipitata their retreat towards the frontier. It has also been asserted, that he expected Mare'chal Macdonald to make a corresponding advance from the banks of the Seine to those of the Aube ; but the orders had been received too late to admit of the neces- sary space being traversed so as to arrive on the morning of the day of battle.' Napoleon easily drove before him such bodies of light cavalry, and sharp-shooters, as had been left by the allies, rather for the purpose of recon- noitring than of making serious opposition. He crossed the Aube at Plancey, and moved upwards, along the left bank of the river, with Ney's corps, and his whole cavalry, while the infantry of his guard advanced upon the right ; his army being thus, according to the French military phrase, d cheval upon the Aube. The town of Arcis had been evacuated by the allies upon his approach, and was occu])ied by the French on the morning of the 20th March. That town foi-ms the outlet of a sort of defile, where a succession of narrow bridges cross a number of drains, brooks, and streamlets, the feeders of the river Aube, and a bridge in the town crosses the river itself. On the other side of Arcis is a plain, in which some few squadrons of cavalry, resembling a reconnoitring party, were observed manceuvring. Behind these horse, at a place called Clermont, the Prince Royal of Wirtemberg, whose name hiis been so often honourably mentioned, was posted with his division, while the elite of the allied army was drawn up on a chain of heights still farther in the rear, called Mesnil la Comtesse. But these forces were not apparent to the vanguard of Na- poleon's army. The French cavalry had orders to attack the light troops of the allies ; but these were instantly supported by whole regiments, and by cannon, so that the attack was unsuccessful ; and the squadrons of the French were repulsed and driven back on Arcis at a moment, when, from the impediments in the town and its environs, the infantry could with difficulty debouche from the town to support them. Napoleon showed, as he always did in extremity, the same heroic courage which he had exhibited at Lodi and Brienne. He drew his sword, threw himself among the broken cavalry, called on them to remember their former victories, and checked the enemy by an impetuous charge, in which he and his staff-officers fought hand to hand with their opponents, so that he was in personal danger from the lance of a Cossack, the thrust of which was averted by his aide-de- camp, Girardin. His Mameluke Rustan fought stoutly by his side, and received a gratuity for his bravery. These desperate exertions afforded time for the infantry to debouche from the town. The Imperial Guards came up, and the combat waxed vei-y warm. The superior number of the allies rendered them the assailants on all points. A strongly situated village in front, and somewhat to the left of Arcis, called Grand Torcy, had been oc- cupied by the French. This place was repeatedly and desperately attacked by the allies, but the French made good their position. Arcis itself was centratinR liis forces at Arcis— wliich he did. Compare " OjiC- rulions," tiC. p. 179. — Ki). (11)42.) - For 3lessieiirs ile I'vlih Jlies. The decline of Napoleon's waning fortunes hav- ing been such, as to turn him aside from an offeired field of battle, and to place him betwixt two armies, each superior in number to his own, called now for a speedy and decisive resolution. The manoeuvres of Schwartzenberg and Blucher tended evidently to form a junction ; and when it is considered that Buonaparte had felt it necessary to retreat from the army of Silesia before Laon, and from the grand army before Arcis, it would have been frenzy to wait till they both closed upon him. Two courses, therefore, remained ; — either to draw back within the closing circle which his enemies were about to form around him, and, re- treating before them until he had collected his whole forces, make a stand under the walls of Paris, aided by whatever strength that capital pos- sessed, and which his energies could have called • Memoir of tlic Operations of the Allied Armies in 1013 and lUU. By Lord Burghcrsh. out ; or, on the contrary, to march eastward, and breaking through the same circle, to operate on the rear of the allies, and on their lines of commu- nication. This last was a subject on which the Austrians had expressed such feverish anxiety, as would probably immediately induce them to give up all thoughts of advancing, and march back to the frontier. Such a result was the ratlier to be hoped, because the continued stay of the allies, and the passage and repassage of troops through an exhausted country, had worn out the itatience of the hardy peasantry of Alsace and Franche Comte', whom the exactions and rapine, inseparable from the movements of a hostile soldiery, had now roused from the apathy with which they had at first wit- nessed the invasion of their territory. Before Lyons, Napoleon might reckon on being reinforced by the veteran army of Sachet, arrived from Cata- lonia ; and he would be jvithin reach of the nume- rous chain of fortresses, which l;ad garrisons strong enough to form an army, if drawn together. The preparations for ai'ranging such a force, and for arming the peasantry, had been in progress for some time. Trusty agents, bearing orders con- cealed in the sheaths of their knives, the collars of their dogs, or about their persons, had been de- tached to warn the various commandants of the Emperor's pleasure. Several were taken bj- the blockading troops of the allies, and hanged as spies, but othei-s made their way. While at Rheims, Buonaparte had issued an order for rousing the peasantry, in which he not only declared their arising in arms was an act of patriotic duty, but denounced as traitors the mayors of the districts who should throw obstructions in the way of a ge- neral levy. The allies, on the contrary, threatened the extremity of military execution on all the pea- santry who should obey Napoleon's call to arms. It was, as we formerly observed, an excellent ex- emplification, how much political opinions depend on circumstances ; for, after the second capture of Vienna, the Austrians were calling out the levy-en - masse, and Napoleon, in his turn, was threatening to burn the villages, and execute the peasants, who should dare to obey. While Napoleon was at Rheims, the affjtirs of the north-east frontier seemed so promising, that Ney offered to take the command of the insurrec- tionary army ; and, as he was reckoned the best officer of light troops in Europe, it is not improbable he might have brought the levies-en-masse on that warlike border, to have fought like the French national forces in the beginning of the Revolution. Buonaparte did not yield to this proposal. Per- haps he thought so bold a movement could only succeed under his own eye. But there were two especial considerations which must have made Napoleon hesitate in adopting this species of back-game, designed to redeem the stake which it was impossible to save by the ordinary means of carrying on the bloody play. The one was the military question, whether Paris could be defended, if Napoleon was to move to the roar of the aUied arm^-, instead of falling back upon the city with the army which he contmanded. The other question was of yet deeper import, and of a political nature. The means of the capital for de- 2 Jomini, torn, iv., 5G-1. 1814.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. G77 fence being supposed adequate, was it likely that Paris, a town of 700,000 inhabitants, divided into factions unaccustomed to the near voice of war, and startled by the dreadful novelty of their situa- tion, would submit to the sacrifices which a suc- cessfnl defence of the city must in every event have required ? Was, in short, their love and fear of Buonaparte so great, that without his personal presence, and that of his army, to encourage, and at the same time overawe them, they would will- ingly incur the risk of seeing their beautiful metro- polis destroyed, and all tne horrors of a sack in- flicted b} the mass of nations whom Napoleon's ambition had been the means of combining against them, and who proclaimed themselves the enemies, not of France, but of Buonaparte ? Neither of these questions could be answered with confidence. Napoleon, although he had em- bodied 30,000 national guards, had not provided arms for a third part of the number. This is hinted at by some authors, as if the want of these arms ought to be imputed to some secret treason. But this accusation has never been put in any tangible shape. The arms never existed, and never were ordered ; and although Napoleon had nearly three months' time allowed him, after his return to Paris, yet he never thought of arming the Parisians in general. Perhaps he doubted their fidelity to his cause. He ordered, it is said, 200 cannon to be provided for the defence of the northern and eastern line of the city, but neither were these obtained in sufficient quantity. The number of individuals who could be safely intrusted with arms, was also much limited. AVhether, there- fore, Paris was, in a military point of view, capable of defence or not, must have, in every event, de- pended much on the strength of the military force left to protect it. This Napoleon knew nmst be very moderate. His hopes were therefore neces- sarily limited by circumstances, to the belief that Paris, though incapable of a protracted defence, might yet hold out for such a space as might en- able him to move to its relief. But, secondly, as the means of holding out Paris were very impei-fect, so the inclination of the citi- zens to defend themselves at the expense of any considerable sacrifice, was much doubted. It was not in reason to be expected that the Parisians should imitate the devotion of Zaragossa. Each Spanish citizen, on that memorable occasion, had his share of interest in the war which all main- tained — a portion, namely, of that liberty and in- dependence for which it was waged. But the Pa- risians were very differently situated. They were not called on to barricade their streets, destroy their suburbs, turn their houses into fortresses, and themselves into soldiers, and expose their pi'operty and families to the horrors of a storm ; and this not for any advantage to France or themselves, but merely that they might maintain Napoleon on the throne. The ceaseless, and of late the losing wars, in which he seemed irretrievably engaged, had rendered his' government unpo])ular ; and it was plain to all, except perhaps himself, that he did not stand in that relation to the people of Paris, when citizens are prepared to die for their sove- reign. It might have been as well expected that the frogs in the fable would, in case of invasion, have risen in a mass to defend King Serpent. It b probable that Buonaparte did not see this in the true point of view ; but that, with the feelings cf self-inipni-tance which sovereigns must naturally acquire from their situation, and which, from hi3 high actions and distinguished talents, he of all sovereigns, was peculiarly entitled to indulge— it is probable that he lost sight of the great dispro- portion betwixt the nation and an individual ; and forgot, amid the hundreds of thousands which Paris contains, what small relation the number of his own faithful and devoted followers bore, not only to those who were perilously engaged in factioiLS hostile to him, but to the great mass, who, in Hotspur's phrase, loved their own shops or barns better than his house.' Thirdly, the consequences of Paris being los*', either from not possessing, or not employing, the means of defence, were sure to be productive of ir- retrievable calamity. Russia, as had been shown, could survive the destruction of its capital, and per- haps Great Britain's fate might not be decided by the capture of London. But the government of France had, during all the phases of the Revolution, depended upon the possession of Paris — a capital which has at all times directed the public opinion of that country. Should the military occupation of this most influential of all capitals, bring about, as was most likely, a political and internal revolution, it was greatly to be doubted, whether the Emperor could make an effectual stand in any other part of his dominions. It must be candidlj' admitted, that this reason- ing, as being subsequent to the fact, has a much more decisive appeai'ance than it could have had when subjected to the consideration of Napoleon. He was entitled, from the feverish anxiety hitherto shown by the Austrians, upon any approach to flank movements, and by the caution of their general pro- ceedings, to think, that they would be greatly too timorous to adopt the bold step of pressing onward to Paris. It was more likely that they would fol- low him to the frontier, with the purpose of pre- serving their communications. Besides, Napoleon at this crisis had but a very slender choice of mea- sures. To I'emain Avhere he was, between Blucher and Schwartzenberg, was not possible ; and, in ad- vancing to either flank, he must have fought with a superior enemy. To retreat upon Paris, was sure to induce the whole allies to pursue in the same di- rection ; and the encouragement which such a re- treat must have given to his opponents, might liavo had the most fatal consequences. Perhaps his par- tisans might have taken more courage during his absence, from the idea that he was at the head of a conquering army, in the rear of the allies, than during his actual presence, if he had arrived in Paris in consequence of a compulsory retreat. Buonaparte seems, as much from a sort of neces- sity as from choice, to have i)referred breaking through the circle of hunters which hemmed him in, tiixsting to strengthen his army with the garri- sons drawn from the frontier fortresses, and with the warlike peasantry of Alsace and Frauche Comte, and, thus reinforced, to advance with rapidity on the rear of his enemies, ere they had time to exe- cute, or perhaps to arrange, any system of offensive operations. The scheme appeai'ed the more Jiojic- ful, as he was peremptory in his belief that his march could not fail to draw after him, in pm-suit. 1 Henry IV., act ii., scene ii. C78 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1814. or observation at least, tlie grand army of Schwart- zeaberg ; the general maxim, that the war could only be decided where he was present in person, being, as he conceived, as deeply impressed by experience upon his enemies as upon his own sol- diers. Napoleon could not disguise from himself, what indeed he had told tlie French public, that a march, or, as he termed it, a hourra upon Paris, was the principal purpose of the allies. Every movement made in advance, whether by Blucher or Schwart- zenberg, had this for its object. But they had uniformly relinquished the undertaking, upon his making any demonstration to prevent it ; and there- fore he did not suspect them of a resolution so ven- turous as to move directly upon Paris, leaving the French army unbroken in their rear, to act upon their line of communication with Germany. It is remarked, that those chess-players who deal in the most venturous gambits are least capable of de- fending themselves when attacked in the same au- dacious manner ; and that, in war, the generals whose usual and favourite tactics are those of ad- vance and attack, have been most frequently sur- prised by the unexpected adoption of offensive ope- rations on the part of their enemy. Napoleon had been so much accustomed to see his antagonists bend their attention rather to parry blows than to aim them, and was so confident in the dread im- pressed by his rapidity of movement, liis energy of assault, and the terrors of his reputation, that he seems to have entertained little apprehension of the allies adopting a plan of operations which had no reference to his own, and which, instead of attempting to watch or counteract his movements in the rear of their army, should lead them straight forward to take possession of his capital. Besides, notwithstanding objections have been stated, which seemed to render a permanent defence impossible, there were other considerations to be taken into view. The ground to the north of Paris is very strong, the national guard was numerous, the lower part of the population of a military chai'acter, and favourable to his cause. A defence, if resolute, liowever brief, would have the double effect of damping the ardour of the assailants, and of de- taining them before the walls of the capital, until Buonaparte should advance to its relief, and thus place the allies between two fires. It was not to be supposed that the surrender of Paris would be the work of a single day. The imanimous voice of the journals, of the ministers of the police, and of the thousands whose interest was radically and deeply entwisted with that of Buonaparte, as- sured their master on that point. The movement to the rear, therefore, though removing him from Paris, which it might expose to temporary alarm, might not, in Buonaparte's apprehension, seriously compromise the security of the capital. The French Emperor, in executing this decisive movement, was extremely desirous to have pos- sessed himself of Vitry, which lay in the line of his ■ " Mon Amie, j'ai ete tous les jours & eheval ; le 20 j'ai pris Arcis-sur-Aube. L'ennemi m'y attaqua a 8 heures du eoir: le raenie soir je I'ai battu, et lui ai fait 4(HI0 niorts: je lui ai Tiris 2 [lieces de canon et iiieme repris 2 ; ayant quitte le 21, rarmee ennemie s'est mise, en battaille pour proteger la marche de ses armees, sur Brienne, et sur Barsiir-Aube, j'ai decide de rne porter sur la Marnc et ses environs afin de la pousserpluj loin da Paris, en me rapprochant de mes places. advance. But as this town containecT a garrison of about 5000 men, commanded by an officer of reso- lution, he returned a negative to the summons ; and Napoleon, in no condition to attempt a coup- de-main on a place of some strength, passed the Marne on the 22d of March, over a bridge of rafts constructed at Frigincour, and continued his move- ment towards the eastei'u frontier, increasing the distance at every step betwixt him and his capital, and at the same time betwixt him and iiis enemies. In the meantime, events had taken place in the vicinity of Lyons, tending greatly to limit any ad- vantages which Napoleon might have expected to reap on the south-eastern part of the frontier towards Switzerland, and also to give spirits to the numerous enemies of his government in Provence, where the Royalists always possessed a consider- able party. The reinforcements despatched by the Austrians under General Bianchi, and their reserves, brought forward by the Prince of Hesse-Homberg, had restored their superiority over Augereau's army. He was defeated at Macon on the 11th of March, in a battle which he had given for the purpose of maintaining his line on the Saone. A second time, he was defeated on the 18th at St. George, and obliged to retire in great disorder, with scarce even the means of defending the Isere, up which river he retreated. Lyons, thus uncovered, opened its gates to Bianchi ; and, after all that they had heard concerning the losses of the allies, the citizens saw with astonishment and alarm an untouched body of their troops, amounting to 60,000 men, defile through their streets. This defeat of Auge« reau was probably unknown to Napoleon, when he determined to march to the frontiers, and thought he might reckon on co-operation with the Lyonnese army. Though, therefore, the Emperor's move- ment to St. Dizier was out of the rules of ordinary war, and though it enabled the allies to conceive and execute the daring scheme which put an end to the campaign, yet it was by no means hopeless in its outset ; or, we would rather say, was one of the few alternatives which the crisis of his affairs left to Buonaparte, and which, judging from the previous vacillation and cautious timidity displayed in the councils of the allies, he had no reason to apprehend would have given rise to the conse- quences that actually followed. The allies, who had in their latest councils wound up their resolution to the decisive experi- ment of marching on Paris, were at first at a loss to account for Napoleon's disappearance, or to guess whither he had gone. This occasioned some hesi- tation and loss of time. At length, by the inter- cejjtion of a French courier, they found despatches addressed by Buonaparte to his government at Paris, from which they were enabled to conjecture the real purpose and direction of his march. A letter,' in the Emperor's own hand, to Maria Louisa, confirmed the certainty of the informa- tion.^ The allies resolved to adhere, under this Je serai ce soir a St. Dizier. Adieu, mon amie, embrasscz mon tils." 2 " General Muffling told me that tlie wu.d SI. Dizier, of so much importance, was so badly written, that they were se- veral hours in making it out. Jilucher forwarded the letter to Maria Louisa, with a letter in German, saying, that as she was the daughter of a n'.5/)«'te?uke of Kau'iisa ; and immediately proceeded to join the govcrnmeut at Blois."— Baron Fain, p. 232. * •' During the battle, the Boulevards dcs Italiens, and the flying fast over the heads of himself and his staff, he sent Peyre to General Marmont, who acted as commander-in-chief, with permission to the mare- dial to demand a cessation of arms. At the same time, Joseph himself fled with his whole attendants ; thus abandoning the troops, whom his exhortations had engaged, in the bloody and hopeless resistance of which he had solemnly promised to partake the dangers.' Marmont, with Moncey, and the other generals who conducted the defence, now saw all hopes of making it good at an end. The whole line was caiTied, excepting the single post of Montmar- tre, which was turned, and on the point of being stormed on both flanks, as well as in front ; the Prince Royal of Wirtcmberg had occupied Charen- ton, with its bridge over the Marne, and pushing forward on the high-road from thence to Paris, his advanced posts were already skirmishing at the barriers called the Trone ; and a party of Cossacks had been with difficulty repulsed from the faubourg St. Antoine, on which they made a llourra. The city of Paris is merely surrounded by an ordinary wall, to prevent smuggling. The barriers are not much stronger than any ordinary turnpike gate, and the stockade with which they had been barri- caded, could have been cleared away by a few blows of the pioneers' axes. Add to this, that the heights commanding the city, Montmartre excepted, were in complete possession of the enemy ; that a bomb or two, thrown probably to intimidate the citizens, had already fallen in the faubourg Montmartre, and the chausse'e d'Antin ; and that it was evident that any attempt to protract the defence of Paris, must be attended with utter ruin to the town and its inhabitants. Marshal Marmont, influenced by these considerations, despatched a flag of truce to General Barclay de Tolli, requesting a suspensi(m of hosti- lities, to arrange the terms on which Paris was to be surrendered. The armistice was granted, on condition that Montmartre, the only defensible part of the line which the French still continued to occupy, should be delivered up to the allies. Depu- ties were appointed on both sides, to adjust the terms of surrender. These were speedily settled. The French regular troops were permitted to re- tire from Paris unmolested, and the metropolis was next day to be delivered up to the allied sovereigns, to whose generosity it was recommended. Thus ended the assault of Paris, after a bloody action, in which the defenders lost upwards of 4000 in killed and wounded ; and the allies, who had to storm well-defended batteries, redoubts, and iii- trenchments, perhaps about twice . the number. They remained masters of the line at all points, and took nearly one hundred pieces of cannon. When night fell, the multiplied and crowded watch- fires that occupied the whole chain of heights on which the victors now bivouacked, indicated to the astonished inhabitants of the French metropolis, how numerous and how powerful were the armies into whose hands the fate of war had avirrendered them.''' Cafli- Tortoni, were thronged with fashionable loungers of both sexes, sitting as usual on the cliairs phiied tlieie, and a|>pearinR almost uninterested s[ie(lator8 of tlic number of wounded l''rench, and j.risoners of the allies which were brought in. About two o'clock, a general cry of suuve qui pad was heard on the Boulevards: this caused a general and confused flight, which spread like the undulations of a wave, even beyond the Pont Ncuf. During the whole of the battle. G84 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1814. CHAPTER LXXVII. State of Parties in Paris — Royalists — Revolution- ists — Buonapartists — Talleyrand — Chateanhri- and — Missio7i to the Allied Sorereiyns — Their Answer — Efforts of the Buonapartists — Feelings of the Loicest Classes — of the Middling Ranks — JVeutrality of the National Guard — Growing eon- f deuce of the Royalists — Proclamations and White Cockades — Crowds assemble at the Boulevards — The Allies are received with shouts of welcome — Their Army retires to Quarters — and the Cossacks bivouac in the Champs Elysees. The battle was fought and won ; but it remained a high and doubtful question in what way the vic- tory was to be improved, so as to produce results of far greater consequence than visually follow from the mere military occupation of an enemy's capital. While the mass of the inhabitants were at rest, exhausted by the fatigues and anxieties of the day, many secret conclaves, on different principles, were held in the city of Paris, upon the night after the assault. Some of these, even yet endeavoured to organise the means of resistance, and some to find out what modern policy has called a Mezzo-termine, some third expedient, between the risk of standing by Napoleon, and that of recalling the banished family. The only middle mode which could have suc- ceeded, would have been a regency under the Em- press ; and Fouche's Memoirs state, that if he had been in Paris at the time, he might have succeeded in establishing a new order of things upon such a basis. The assertion may be safely disputed. To Austria such a plan might have had some recom- mendations ; but to the sovereigns and statesmen of the other allied nations, the proposal would only have appeai-ed a device to obtain immediate peace, and keep the throne, as it were, in commission, that Buonaparte might ascend it at his pleasure.' We have the greatest doubts whether, among the ancient chiefs of the Revolution, most of whom had, as hackneyed tools, lost credit in tlie public eye, both by want of principle and pefore the interference of any foreign infiueuce, the detlironenient of Napoleon, and proclaimed the Regency, of which I had al- ready traced t)ie basis. This conclusion was the only one wliich could have ]ireserved the Revolution and its princi- ples."— jyA;(Ui)w, torn, ii., p. 2i9. 2 Las Cases, torn. 11., p. 1814.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 685 in this deep intrigue without active coadjutors. Tho Abbe do Pi-adt, whose hvely works have so often given some interest to our pages, was deeply involved in the transactions of that busy period, and advocated the cause of the Bourbons against that of his former mastei*. Bournonville and other senators were engaged in the same cabals. The Royalists, on their own part, were in the highest state of activity, and prepared to use their utmost exertions to obtain the mastery of the pub- he spirit. At this most critical moment all was done, by Monsieur de Chateaubriand, which elo- quence could effect, to appeal to the affections, perhaps even the prejudices of the people, in his celebrated pamphlet, entitled, " Of Buonaparte and the Bourbons." This vigorous and affecting comparison between tlie days when France was iu peace and honour under her own monarchs, con- trasted with those in which Eui-ope appeared in arms under her walls, had been written above a month, and the manuscript was concealed by Madame de Chateaubriand in her bosom. It was now privately printed. So was a proclamation by Monsieur, made in the name of his brother, the late King of Fi-ance. Finally, in a private assem- bly of the principal Royalists, amongst whom were the illustrious names of Rohan, Rochefoucault, Montmorency, and Noailles, it was resolved to send a deputation to the allied sovereigns, to learn, if possible, their intention. Monsieur Douhet, the gentleman intrusted with this communication, exe- cuted his mission at the expense of considerable personal danger, and returned into Paris with the answer, that the allies had determined to avoid all ai)pearance of dictating to Franco respecting any family or mode of government, and that although they would most joyfully and willingly acknowledge the Bourbons, yet it could only be in consequence of a puljlic declaration in their favour. At the same time Monsieur Douhet was furnished with a proclamation of the allies, signed Schwartzenberg, which, without mentioning the Bourbons, was powerfully calculated to serve their cause. It de- clared the friendly intention of the allies towards France, and represented the power of the govern- ment which now oppressed them, as the only ob- stacle to instant peace. The allied sovereigns, it was stated, sought but to see a salutary govern- ment in France, who would cement the friendly union of all nations. It belonged to the city of Paris to pronounce their opinion, and accelerate the peace of the world.' Furnished with this important document, which plainly indicated the private wishes of the allies, the Royalists resolved to make an effort on the morning of March 31st. It was at first designed they should assemble five hundred gentlemen in arms ; but this plan was prudently laid aside, and they determined to relinquish all appearance of force, and address the citizens only by means of persuasion. In the meantime, tho friends of the Imperial go- vernment were not idle. The conduct of the lower classes, during the battle on the heights, had as- sumed an alarming character. For a time they liad listened with a sort of stupified tci-ror to the distant thunders of the fight, beheld the wounded ' London Gazette, April 5. — " Early in tlic morning of the Slst March, hefore the barriers were open, the soldiers of tho allied army climbed up the palli^adcs of the barrier llochc- and fugitives crowd iu at the barriers, and gazed in useless wonder on the hurried march of troops moving out iu haste to reinforce the lines. At length, the numerous crowds which assembled iu the Boulevards, and particularly in the streets near the Palais Royal, assumed a more active ap- pearance. There began to emerge from the suburbs and lanes those degraded members of tho com- munity, whose slavish labour is only relieved by coarse debauchei'y, invisible for the most jiart to the more decent classes of society, but whom periods of public calamity or agitation bring into view, to add to the general confusion and terror. They gather in times of public danger, as birds of ill omen and noxious reptiles are said to do at the rising of a tropical hurricane ; and their fellow- citizens look with eciual disgust and dread upon faces and figures, as sti'ange to them as if they had issued from some distant and savage land. Paris, like every great metropolis, has her share, and more than her share, of this unwholesome popu- lation. It was the frantic convocations of this class which had at once instigated and carried into effect the principal horrors of the Revolution, and they seemed now resolved to signalize its conclusion by the destruction of the capital. !Most of these ban- ditti were under the influence of Buonaparte's police, and wei-e stimulated by the various arts which his emissaries employed. At one time horse- men galloped through the crowd, exhorting them to take arms, and assuring them that Buonaparte had already attacked tho rear of the allies. Again they were told that the King of Prussia was made prisoner, with a column of 10,000 men. At other times, similar emissaries, announcing that the allies had entered the suburbs, and were sparing neither sex nor age, exhorting the citizens, by placards pasted on the walls, to shut their shops, and pre- pare to defend their houses. This invitation to make the last earthly sacri- fices in behalf of a military despot, to which Zara- gossa had sulmiitted in defence of her national in- dependence, was ill received by the inhabitants. A free state has millions of necks, but a despotic govei'nment is in the situation desired by the Im- pei-ial tyrant — it has but one. When it was obvi- ous that the Emperor Napoleon had lost his ascen- dency, no shop-keeper in Paris was fool enough to risk, in his cause, his shop, his family, and his life, or to consent to measures for preserving the cajn- tal, which were to commence by abandoning to the allied troops, and the scum of their own population, ail that was, to him individually, worth fighting for. The placards we have mentioned were pulled down, therefore, as fast as they were pasted up ; and there was an evident disposition, on the part of the better class of citizens and the national guards, to discourage all counsels which tended to stimulate resistance to the desperate extremity therein recommended. Nevertheless, the state of the capital continued very alarming, the lower classes exhibiting alter- nately the synqstoms of panic terror, of fury, and of despair. They demanded arms, of which a few were distributed to them ; and there is no doubt, that had Napoleon arrived among them in the struggle, there would have been a dreadful battle, chouard to look into Paris. They threw this proclamation over the wall, and throusU the irou gates." — JJciiwraliU Events, p. 124. G86 SCOTrS MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1814. ill which Paris, in all probability, would have shared the fate of Moscow. But when the cannonade ceased, when the flight of Joseph, and the capitu- lation of the city became publicly known, this con- flict of jari'ing passions died away into silence, and the imperturbable and impassive composure of the national guard maintained the absolute tranc^uillity of the metropolis. On the morning of the 31st, the Royalists were seen in groups in the Place Louis Quinze, the Garden of the Tuileries, the Boulevards, and other public places. They distributed the proclamations of the allies, and raised the long-forgotten cry of Vire le Hoi! At first, none save those engaged in the perilous experiment, durst echo back a sig- nal so dangerous ; but by degrees the crowds in- creased, the leaders got on horseback, and distri- buted white oockades, lilies, and other emblems of loyalty, displaying banners, at the same time, made out of their own handkerchiefs. The ladies of their party came to their assistance. The Princess of Leon, Vicomtesse of Chateaubriand, Comtesse of Choiseuil, and other women of rank, joined the procession, distributing on all hands the emblems of their party, and tearing their dress to make white cockades, when the regular stock was exhausted. The better class of the bourgeois began to catch the flame, and remembered their old royalist opinions, and by whom they were defeated on the celebrated day of the Sections, when Buona- parte laid the foundation of his fame in the discom- fiture of the national guard. Whole pickets began to adopt the white, instead of the three-coloured cockade ; yet the voices were far from unanimous, and, on many points, parties of different principles met and skirmished together in the streets. But the tendency to discord was diverted, and the at- tention of the Pai'isians, of all classes and opinions, suddenly fixed upon the imposing and terrible spectacle of the army of the allies, which now began to enter the city. The sovereigns had previously received, at the village of Pantin, the magistrates of Paris, and Alexa'iider had expressed himself in language still more explicit than that of their proclamation. He made war, ho said, on Napoleon alone ; one who had been his friend, but relinquished that charac- ter to become his enemy, and inflict on his empire great evils. He was not, however, come to retaliate those injui'ies, but to make a secure peace with any government which France might select for herself. " I am at peace," said the Emperor, " with France, and at war with Napoleon alone." These gracious expressions were received with the moi-e gratitude by the citizens of Paris, that they had been taught to consider the Russian prince as a barbarous and vindictive enemy. The mea- sure of restoring the Bourbons seemed now to be regarded by almost every one, not particularly con- nected with the dynasty of Napoleon, like a haven on the leeward, unexpectedly open to a tempest- tossed and endangered vessel. There was no loss of honour in adopting it, since the French received back their own royal family — there was no com- pulsion, since they received them upon their own free choice. They escaped from a great and im- minent danger, as if it had been by a bridge of gold. An immense crowd filled the Boulevards (a large wide open promenade, which, under a variety of distinctive names, forms a circuit round the city,) in order to witness the entrance of the allied sove- reigns and their army, whom, in the succession of four-and-twenty hours, this mutable people were disposed to regard as friends rather than enemies — a disposition which increased until it amounted to enthusiasm for the persons of those princes, against whom a bloody battle had been fought yesterday under the walls of Paris, in evidence of which mor- tal strife, there still remained blackening in the sim the unburied thousands who had fallen on both sides. There was in this a trait of national charac- ter. A Frenchman submits with a good grace, and apparent or real complaisance, to that which he cannot help ; and it is not the least advantage of his philosophy, that it entitles him afterwards to plead, that his submission flowed entirely from good-will, and not from constraint. Many of those who, on the preceding day, were forced to fly from the heights which defend Paris, thought themselves at liberty next morning to maintain, that the allies had entered the capital only by their consent and permission, because they had joined in the plaudits which accompanied their arrival. To vindicate, therefore, their city from the disgrace of being en- tered by force, as well as giving way to the real enthusiasm which was suddenly inspired by the exchange of the worst evils which a conquered people have to dread for the promised blessings of an honourable peace and internal concord, the Parisians received the Emperor Alexander and the King of Prussia with such general and unre- mitting plaudits, as might have accompanied their triumphal entrance into their own capitals. Even at their first entrance within the barriers, we learn from Sir Charles Stewart's official despatch,* the crowd was already so enormous, as well as the ac- clamations so great, that it was difficult to move forward ; but before the monarchs had reached the porte St. Martin to turn on the Boulevards, there was a moral impossibility of proceeding ; all Paris seemed to be assembled and concentrated in one spot — one spring evidently directed all their movements. They thronged around the monarchs, with the most vmanimous shouts of " Vire VHm- percur Alexandre! — Vire le Hoi de Prusse!" mingled with the loyal exclamations, " Vite le Hoi! — Vire Louis XV 111.! — Vireiit les Bour- bons!" To such unexpected unanimity might be applied the words of Scripture, quoted by Claren- don on a similar occasion — " God had prepared the people, for the thing was done suddenly." The in-ocession lasted several hours, during which 50,000 chosen troops of the Silesian and grand army filed along the Boulevards in broad and deep columns, exhibiting a whole forest of bayonets, mingled with long trains of artillery, and preceded by numerous regiments of cavalry of every descrip- tion. Nothing surprised those who witnessed this magnificent spectacle, more than the high state of good order and regular equipment in which the men and horses appeared. They seemed rather to resemble troops drawn from peaceful quarters to some grand or solenm festival, than regiments en- gaged during a loiig winter campaign in constant marches and countermarches, as well as in a succes- sion of the fiercest and most sanguinary conflicts, and who had fought a general action but the day 1 London Gazette Extraordinary, April 9. 1814.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 687 before,' After making the circuit of half of Paris by the interior Boulevards, the nionarchs halted in the Champs Elysees, and the troops passed in re- view before them as they were dismissed to their quarters in the city. The Cossacks of the guard established their bivouac in the Champs Elysees themselves, which may be termed the Hyde Park of Paris, and which was thus converted into a Scythian encampment. CHAPTER LXXVIII. Fears of the Parisians — Proceedincjs of Napoleon — Operations of the French Cavalry in rear of the Allies — Capture of Weissemberg — The Em- peror Francis is nearly surprised — Napoleon reaches Troyes on the nhjht of the '29th March — Opinion of Macdonald as to the piossibility of re- lieving Paris — Napoleon leaves Troyes, on the 30ih, and meets Betliard, a few miles from Paris, in full retreat — Conversation betwixt them — lie determines to proceed to Paris, but is at length dissuaded — and despatches Caulaincourt to re- ceive terms from the Allied Sovereigns — He him- self returns to Fontainbleaii. When the enthusiasm attending the entrance of the allies, which had converted a day of degrada- tion into one of joy and festivity, began to subside, the perilous question occurred to those who found themselves suddenly embarked in a new revolu- tion. Where were Napoleon and his army, and what means did his active and enterprising genius possess of still re-establishing his affairs, and tak- ing vengeance on his revolted capital ? That ter- rible and evil spirit, who had so long haunted their very dreams, and who had been well termed the nightmare of Europe, was not yet conjured down, though for the present he exercised his ministry elsewhere. All trembled for the consequence of his suddenly returning in full force, combined either with the troops of Augereau, or with the garrisons withdrawn from the frontier fortresses. But their fears were without foundation ; for, though he was not personally distant, his powers of inflicting vengeance were now limited. We pro- ceed to trace his progress after his movement east- ward, from the neighbourhood of Viti'y to St. Di- zier, which had permitted the union of the two al- lied armies. Here he was joined by Caulaincourt, who had to inform him of the dissolution of the Congress at Chatillon, with the addition, that he had not re- ceived his instructions from Rheims, until the di- plomatists had departed. Those subsequently de- spatched by Count Frochot, he had not received at all. Meanwhile, Napoleon's cavalry commenced the proposed operations in the rear of the allies, and made prisoners some persons of consequence, who were travelling, as they supposed, in perfect secu- rity, between Troyes and Dijon. Among these was Baron Weissemberg, who had long been the Aus- trian envoy at the court of London. The Empe- 1 " This magnificent pageant far surpassed any idea I had formed of military pomj). The cavalry were fifteen abreast, the artillery five, and the infantry thirty. All tlie men were remarkably clean, healthy, and well clothed. The bands of miuicw-ire very fine. The people, astonished at the prodi- ror Francis was nearly surprised in person by the French light troops. He was obliged to fly in a drosky, a Russian carriage, attended only by two domestics, from Bar-sur-Aube to Chatillon, and from thence he retreated to Dijon! ^ Napoleon showed every civility to his prisoner, Weissemberg, and despatched him to the Emperor of Austria, to solicit once more his favourable interference. The person of the present King of France ^ (then Mon- sieur) would have been a yet more important cap- ture, but the forays of the light cavalry did not penetrate so far as to endanger him. On the 24th March, Napoleon halted at Doule- vent, to concentrate his forces, and gain intelli- gence. He remained there also on the 2otb, and employed his time in consulting his maps, and dic- tating new instructions for Caulaincourt, by which he empowered him to make every cession. But the hour of safety was past. Upon the morning of the 26th, Napoleon was roused by the intelligence, that the allies had attacked the rear of his army under Macdonald, near St. Dizier. He instantly hastened to the support of the marechal, conclud- ing that his own scheme had been successful, and that his retreat to the eastward had drawn after him the grand army of the allies. The allies showed a great number of cavalry with flying guns, but no infantry. Napoleon ordered an at- tack on them, in which the Fi'ench were success- ful, the allies falling back after slight opposition. He learned from the prisoners, that he had been engaged, not with Schwartzenberg, but with Blu- cher's troops. This was strange intelligence. He had left Blucher threatening Meaux, and now he found his army on the verge of Lorraine. On the 27th, by pushing a reconnoitring party as far west as Vitry, Napoleon learned the real state of the case ; that both the allied armies had marched upon Paris ; and that the cavalry with which he had skirmished were 10,000 men, under Winzengerode, left behind by the allies as a cur- tain to screen their motions, and engage his atten- tion. Every word in this news had a sting in it. To hasten after the allies, to surprise them, if pos- sible, ere the cannon on Montmartre were yet silenced, was the most urgent thought that ever actuated the mind even of Napoleon, so accustomed to high and desperate risks. But the direct route on Paris had been totally exhausted of provision, by the march and countermarch of such large armies. It was necessary to go round by Troyes, and, for that purpose, to retrograde as far as Dou- levent. Here he received a small billet in cipher, from the postmaster-general, La Valette, the first official communication he had got from the capital during ten days. " The partisans of the stranger," these were the contents, " are making head, se- conded by secret intrigues. The presence of Na- poleon is indispensable, if he desires to prevent his capital from being delivered to the enemy. There is not a moment to be lost." * The march was pre- cipitated accordingly. At the bridge of Doulanchich assembled there, had viewed the act of the Senate, adhei-ed to by the other public bodies, as decisively closing the reign of Buonaparte, or as indicating the commencement of a civil war. Most of them were of opinion, that the interest of an individual, whose talents had been as dangerous to France as the virtues of Caesar had been to Rome, ought not to be weighed against the welfai-e of the capital and the whole nation. Victor, Duke of Belluno, had upon these principles given in his personal adhesion to the Provisional Government, and his example was fol- lowed by many others. But the most important proselyte to the roj'al cause was the Marechal Marmont, Duke of Ra- gusa, who, lying at Essonne with ten or twelve thousand men, formed the advance of the French anny. Conceiving himself to have th.e liberty of other Frenchmen to attend at this crisis to the weal of France, rather than to the interest of Na- poleon alone, and with tlie purpose of saving France from the joint evils of a civil and domestic war, he made use of the position in which he was placed, to give a weight to his opinion, which that of no other individual could have possessed at the moment. Mare'chal Marmont, after negotiation with the Provisional Government on the one hand, and Prince Schwartzenberg on the other, had entered into a convention on his own account, and that of his corps d'arme'e, by which he agreed to march the division which he commanded within the lines of cantonment held by the allies, and thus renounced all idea of further prosecuting the war. On the other hand, the marechal stipulated for the freedom and honourable usage of Napoleon's per- son, should he fall into the hands of the allies. He obtained also a guarantee, that his corps d'arme'e should be permitted to retreat into Normandy. This convention was signed at Chevillv, upon 3d April.' This step has been considered as a defection on the pai-t of Marmont ;^ but why is the choice of a side, betwixt the Provisional Govormneiit and the Emperor, more a desertion in that general than in any other of the marJchals or authorities who presently after took the very same step ! And il the Duke of Ragusa by that means put further bloodshed out of question, ought it not to be mat- ter of rejoicing (to borrow an cxpi-ession of Tal- leyrand's on a similar occasion) that the marechal's watch went a few minutes faster than those of his colleagues ? When Macdonald and Ney communicated to IMarmont that they were bearers of Napoleon's abdication, and that he was joined with them in commission, that mare'chal asked why he had not been summoned to attend with the others at Fontainhleau, and mentioned the convention which he had entered into, as acting for himself.' The Duke of Tarentum expostulated with him on the disadvantage which must arise from any disunion on the part of the principal officers of the army. Respecting the council at Fontainhleau, he stated it had been convened under circumstances of such sudden emergency, that there was no time to sum- mon any other than those mare'chals who were close at hand, lest Napoleon had in the meanwhile moved forward the army. The commissioners entreated Marmont to suspend the execution of the separate convention, and to come with them, to assist at the conferences to be held at Paris. He consented, and mounted into Mare'chal Ney's carriage, leav- ing General Souham, who, with all the other generals of his division, two excepted, were privy to the convention, in command of his corps d'armee, which he gave orders should remain stationary. Wlien the mare'chals arrived in Paris, they found the popular tide had set strongly in favour of the Bourljons ; their emblems were everywhere adopt- ed ; and the streets resounded with Vive le Hoi ! The populace seemed as enthusiastic in their fa- vour as they had been indifferent a few days be- fore. All boded an unfavom-able termination for their mission, so far as respected the proposed regency. The names and characters of the commissioners instantly obtained their introduction to the Empe- ror Alexander, who i-eceived them with his natural courtesy. " On the general subject of their mis- sion," he said, "he could not ti'eat but in concert with his allies." But he enlarged on the subject of Napoleon personally. " He was my friend," he said, " I loved and honoured him. His ambition forced me into a dreadful war, in which my capital was burnt, and the greatest evils inflicted on my do- minions. But he is unfortunate, and these wrongs are forgotten. Have you nothing to propose on his personal account ? I will be his willing advo- cate." The mare'chals replied, that Napoleon li.ad made no conditions for himself whatever. The Em- peror would hardly believe this until they showed liim their instructions, which entirely related to public affairs. The Emperor then asked if they would hear a proposal from him. They replied with suitable respect and gratitude. He then men- tioned the plan, which was afterwards adopted, that ' 1 " Marmont was not gnilly of treadiery in deftndint; P.^ris ; but history ■will say, tliat liad it not bci-n for tliu defection of tlie sixth corps, after tlie allies had entered Paris, thcv would have been fi'uced to evacuate that f;reat capital; lor they would never have given battle on the left bank of the i-'.cine, with Paris in their rear, which they had only oecujiied for two daya; they would never have thus violated every rule .ind principle of tlie art of war."— Napoleon, Mvnihnlon, torn, ii., p. '2K>. 2 Lord Burfihersh,Observation!i, p. 29fi; Savary, torn, iv., p.7(i. 3 There are some slight discrepancies between the account of Marmont's proceedings in the text, and that t^ivcn bv Lord linrKhersh in his " Memoir on the Operations," pp. Wii, 21)!) — Ku. (I8t'.) C96 SCOIT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1814. Bumaparte should retain the imperial title over a small territorv, with an ample revenue, guards, and other emblems of dignity. " The place," conti- nued the Emperor of Russia, "may be Elba, or some other island." With this annunciation the commissioners of Buonaparte were dismissed for the evening. Mare'chal Marmont had done all in his power to stop the military movement which he had under- taken to execute, thinking it better, doubtless, to move hand in hand with his brethren, than to act singly in a matter of such responsibility ; but acci- dent precipitated what he desired to delay. Na- poleon had sunmioned to his presence Count Sou- ham, who commanded the division at Essonne in Marmont's absence. No reason was given for this command, nor could any thing be extracted from the messenger, which indicated the purpose of the order. Souham was therefore induced to suspect that Napoleon had gained intelligence of the Con- vention of Chevilly. Under this apprehension, he called the other generals who were in the secret to a midnight council, in which it was determined to execute the convention instantly, by passing over with the troops within the lines of the allies, with- out awaiting any farther orders from Mare'chal Marmont. The division was put in movement upon the 5th of April, about five o'clock, and marched for some time with much steadiness, the movement being, as they supposed, designed for a flank attack on the position of the allies, but when they per- ceived that their progress was watched, without being interrupted, by a coluniii of Bavarian troops,' they began to suspect the real purpose. When this became known, a kind of mutiny took place, and some Polish lancers broke off from the main body, and rode back to Fontainbleau ; but the in- stinct of discipline prevailed, and the officers were able to bring the soldiery into their new quarters at Versailles. They were not, however, reconciled to the measiH'e in which they had been made par- takers, and in a few days afterwards broke out into an actual mutiny, wliich was not appeased without considerable difficulty."-' Meanwhile, the commissioners of Buonaparte were admitted to a conference with the allied so- vereigns and ministers in full council, but which, it may be conjectured, was indulged to them more as a form, that the allies might treat with due respect the representatives of the French army, than with any purpose on the part of the sovereigns of alter- ing tlie plan to which they had pledged themselves by a proclamation, upon the faith of which thou- sands had already acted. However, the question, whether to adopt the projected regency, or the res- toration of the Bourbons, as a basis of agreement, was announced as a subject of consideration to the meeting. The marechals pleaded the cause of the Regency. The Generals Bournonville and Des- solles, were heard in reply to the commissioners from Fontainbleau, when, ere the debate had ter- minated, news arrived of the march of Marmont's division to Versailles. The commissioners were astounded with this unexpected intelligence ; and '- Lrrd Burplicrsh's Memorandum says these were AViir- tcmtjerg and Austrian troops, ciiuunanclcd by the Prince Rojal of Wurtemberg.— Ed. (Uf42.) 2 Lord Burghersh, Observations, &c., p. 301. 3 iJaron i'.iin, p. 375. the Emperor took the opportunity to determine, that the allies would not treat with Buonaparte save on the footing of unconditional abdication. With this answer, mitigated with the offer of an independent principality for their ancient comman- der, the marechals returned to Fontainbleau, while the Senate busied themselves to arrange the plan of a free constitution, under which the Bourbons were to be ealled to the throne. Napoleon, in the retirement of Fontainbleau, mused on the future with little hope of advantage from the mission of the mare'chals. He judged that the sovereigns, if they listened to the proposal ol a regency, would exact the most formidable gua- rantees against his own interference with the go- vernment ; and that under his wife, Maria Louisa, who had no talent for public business, France would probably be managed by an Austrian com- mittee. He again thought of trying the chance of war, and might probably have settled on the pur- pose most congenial to his nature, had not Colonel Gourgaud brought him the news, that the division of Marmont had passed into the enemy's canton- ments on the morning of the .5th April. " The un- grateful man ! " he said, " But he is more to be pitied than I am."^ He ought to have been con- tented with this reflection, for which, even if unjust to the marechal, every one must have had sym- pathy and excuse. But the next day he published a sort of appeal to the armj- on the solemnity of a I military engagement, as more sacred than the duty of a patriot to his country ; which he might more gracefully have abstained from, since all knew al- ready to what height he carried the sentiments of arbitrary power. When the marechals returned, he listened to the news of the failure of their negotiation, as a ter- mination which he had expected. But to their surprise, recollecting his disinterested behaviour when they parted, he almost instantly demanded wh.at provision had been made for him personally, and how he was to be disposed of? They informed him that it was proposed he should reside as an independent sovereign, " in Elba, or somewhere else." Napoleon paused for a moment. " Some- wliere else !" he exclaimed. " That must be Cor- sica. No, no. — I will have nothing to do with Cor- sica."* — Elba? Who knows any thing of Elba ! Seek out some officer who is acquainted with Elba. Look out what books or charts can inform us about Elba." In a moment he was as deeply interested in the position and capabilities of this little islet, as if he had never been Emperor of France, nay, almost of the world. But Buonaparte's nature was egotis- tical. He well knew how little it would become an Emperor resigning his crown, to be stipulating for his future course of life ; and had reason to con- clude, that by playing his part with magnanimity he might best e.xcite a corresponding liberality in those with whom he treated. But when the die was cast, when his fate seemed fixed, he examined with minuteness what he must afterwards consider as his sole fortune. To turn his thoughts from France to Elba, was like the elephant, which can * " From the w.iy in which thi.s is related, it would be thouijht tijat Napoleon despised his native country; out 1 nnist suggest a more natural interpretation, and one more conformable to the character of Napoleon, namely, that after his abdication he had no desire to remain in the French ter- rituiies."— Louis Buonapabtk. 1814.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 697 transport artillery, applying his trunk to gather pins. But Napoleon could do both easily, because he regarded these two objects not as they differed troni each other, but as they belonged, or did not belong, to himself. After a night's consideration, the fallen Chief took his resolution, and despatched Caulaincourt and Macdonald once more to Paris, to treat with the allies upon the footing of an unconditional ab- dication of the empire. The document was couched m these words : — " The allied powers having proclaimed that the Emperor was the sole obstacle to the re-establish- ment of peace in Europe, the Emperor, faithful to his oath, declares that he renounces for himself and his heirs the thrones of France and Italy, and that there is no personal sacrifice, not even that of life, which he is not ready to make to the interests of France." Notwithstanding his having adopted this course. Napoleon, until the final adjustment of the treaty, continued to nourish thoughts of breaking it oft". He formed plans for cari-ying on the war beyond the Loii'e — for marching to join Augereau — for penetrating into Italy, and uniting with Prince Eugene. At one time he was very near again sum- moning his troops to arms, in consequence of a report too hastily transmitted by a general much attached to him (General Alix, we believe,) stating that the Emperor of Austria was disjjleased at the extremities to which they urged his son-in-law, and was resolved to support him. On this report, which proved afterwards totally unfounded, Na])0- leon required the marcchals to give him back his letter of abdication. But the deed having been formally executed, and duly registered and de- livered, tlie mare'chals held themselves bound to retain it in their own hands, and to act upon it as the only means of saving France at this dreadful crisis. Buonapai'te reviewed his Old Guard in the court- yard of the castle ; for their numbers were so di- minished that there was space for them in that nar- row circuit. Their zealous acclamations gratified his ears as much as ever ; but when he looked on their diminished ranks, his heart failed ; ho retired into the palace, and summoned Oudinot before him. "May I depend on the adhesion of the troops?" lie said — Oudinot replied in the negative, and re- minded Napoleon that he had abdicated. — " Ay, but under conditions," said Napoleon. — " Soldiers do not understand conditions," said the mare'chal : " they look upon your power as terminated." — " Then on that side all is over," said Napoleon ; " let us wait the news from Paris." Macdonald, Caulaincourt, and Ney, soon after- wards arrived at Fontainbleau, with the treaty which they had concluded on the basis already an- nounced by the Emperor of Russia, who had taken the principal share in drawing it up. Under his sanction the commissioners had obtained such terms as never before were granted to a dethroned mo- narch, and which have little chance to be conceded to such a one in future, while the portentous con- sequences are preserved by history. By these conditions, Buonai)artc was to remain Emperor, but his sway was to be limited to the island of Elba, in the Mediterranean, in extent twenty leagues, and containing about twelve thousand inhabitants. lie was to be recognised as one of the crowned heads of Europe — was to be allowed body-guards, and a navy on a scale suitable to the limits of his dominions ; and, to maintain this state, a revenue of six millions of francs, over and above the reve- nues of the isle of Elba, were settled on him. Two millions and a half were also assigned in pensions to his brothers, Josephine, and the other members of his family — a revenue more splendid than ever King of England had at his personal disposal. It was well argued, that if Buonaparte deserved such advantageous terms of retirement, it was injustice to dethrone him. In other points the terms of this treaty seemed as irreconcilable with sound policy as they are with all former precedents. The name, dignity, military authority, and absolute power of an Emperor, conferred on the potentate of such Liliputian domains, were ludicrous, if it was sup- posed that Napoleon would remain quiet in his re- treat, and hazardous if he should seek the means of again agitating Europe. It was no compliment to Buonaparte's taste to invest him with tlie poor shadow of his foi'mer for- tune, since for him the most honourable retirement would have been one which united privacy with safety and competence, not that which maintained a vain parade around him, as if in mockery of what he had formerly been. But time fatally showed, what many augured from the beginning, that so soon as his spirit should soar beyond the narrow circle into which it had been conjured, the imperial title and authority, the assistance of devoted body- guards and experienced counsellors, formed a stake with which, however small, the venturous gamester might again enter upon the h.azardous game of play- ing for the kingdoms he had lost. The situation of Elba, too, as the seat of his new sovereignty, so near to Italy, and so little removed from France, seemed calculated on purpose to favour his resur- rection at some future period as a political cha- racter. The other stipulations of this extraordinary treaty divided a portion of revenue secured to Napoleon among the members of his family. The most rational was that which settled upon Maria Louisa and her son the duchies of Parma, Placentia, and Guastalla, in full sovereignty. Except this, all the other stipulations were to be made good at the expense of France, whose Provisional Govern- ment were never consulted upon the terms granted.* It was not till the bad effects of this singular treaty had been experienced, that men inquired why and on what jn-inciple it was first conceded. A great personage has been mentioned as its ori- ginal author. Possessed of many good and highly honourable qualities, and a steady and most import- ant member of the great European confederacy, it is doing the memory of the Emperor Alexander no injury to suppose, that he remembei-ed his edu- cation under his French tutor La Harpe, and was not altogether free from its efl'ects. With these there always mingles that sort of siiowy sensibility which delights in making theatrical scenes out of acts of beneficence, and enjoying in full draughts the popular applause which they are calculated to excite. The contagious air of Paris — the shouts — the flattery — the success to a jjoint hitherto un- hoped for — the wish to drown unkindness of every ' For tlif Treaty of Fculaiiibltau, see Pari. Debates, Tol xxviii., p. lOI. C98 vSCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1814. Bort, and to spi'eatl a, feast from whicli no one should risr discontented — the desire to sum up all in one word, to show magnanimitv in the hour of success, Beems to have laid Alexander's heart more open than the rules of wisdom or of prudence ought to Iiavc permitted. It is generous to give, and more generous to pardon ; but to bestow favours and for- giveness at the same moment, to secure the future fortune of a rival who lies prostrate at his feet, to hear thanks and compliments on every hand, and from the mouths even of the vanquished, is the most fascinating triumph of a victorious sovereign. It is oidy the consequences which teach him how thriftless and unprofitable a prodigality of benefi- cence often proves, and that in the attempt so to conduct great national measures tliat they shall please and satisfy every one, he must necessarily encroach on the rules both of justice and wisdom, and may occasion, by a thoughtless indulgence of romantic sensibility, new trains of misfortune to the whole civilized world. The other active parties in the treaty were the Kiiig of Prussia, who had no motive to scan with peculiar scrutiny a treaty planned by his ally the Emperor Alexander, and the Emperor of Austi'ia, who could not in delicacy object to stipulations in favour of his son-indaw. The mare'chals, on the other hand, gladly re- ceived what probably they never would have sti- pulated. They were aware that the army would be conciliated with every mark of respect, however incongruous, which could be paid to their late Emperor, and pei-haps knew Buonaparte so well as to believe that he might be gratified by preseiwing the external marks of imperial honour, though upon so limited a scale. There was one power whose representative foresaw the evils which such a treaty might occasion, and remonstrated against them. But the evil was done, and the particulars of the treaty adjusted, before Lord Castlereagh came to Paris. Finding that the Emperor of Russia had acted for the best, iu the name of the other allies, the English minister refrained from risking the peace which had been made in such urgent circum- stances, by insisting upon his objections. He re- fused, however, on the part of liis government, to become a party to the treaty farther than by acced- ing to it so far as the territorial arrangements were concerned ; but ho particularly declined to acknowledge, on the part of England, the title of Emperor, which the treaty conferred on Napoleon.' Yet when we have expressed with freedom nil the objections to which the treaty of Fontainbleau seems liable, it must be owned, that the allied sovereigns showed policy in obtaining an accom- modation on almost any terms, rather than renew- ing the war, by driving Napoleon to despair, and inducing the mare'chals, from a sense of honour, again to unite themselves with liis cause. When the treaty was read over to Napoleon, he made a last appeal to his mare'chals, inviting them to follow him to the Loire or to the Alps, where tliey would avoid what he felt an ignominious com- position. But he was answered by a general silence. The generals whom he addressed, knew but too well that any effoi-ts which he could make, must be rather in the character of a roving chieftain. ' See Dispatch from Lord Castlereagh to Earl Bathurst, dated Paris. April i;t, H114, I'arl. Papers, 1814. ^ Tlie man had to plead his desire to remain with his wife liiil family ratiierthan return to a severe personal tiiraldum. sup])orting his condottieri by the plunder >. 1814.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON IJUONAPAKTE. 099 nonce. He asked jiermission to go to I'aris about some business, saying he ■would return next day. " He will not return,'' taid Najxileon, calmly, to tlie Duke of Bassano. — " Wliat !" said the minis- tor, '' can these be the adieus of Berthier ?" — " I tell you, yes — he will return no more."' The ab- dicated sovereign liad, however, the consolation of seeing that the attachment of several faithful ser- vants was only tried and jiurified by adversity, as gold is by fire.^ The family connexions, and relatives of Naj;o- leou, as well as his familiar friends, were separated from him in the general wreck. It will not be for- gotten, that on the day before the battle of Paris, several members of Napoleon's administration set out with the Empress Maria Louisa, to escape from the a]iproaching action. They halted at Blois, where they were joined by Joseph, and otlicr mem- bers of the Buonaparte family. For some time this reunion maintained the character and language of a coimcil of regency, dispersed proclamations, and endeavoured to act as a government. The news of the taking of Paris, and the subsequent events, disposed Joseph and Jerome Buonaparte to remove themselves to the provinces beyond the Loire. But Maria Louisa refused to accompany them, and while the point was yet contested, Count Schouwalow, one of the Austrian ministers,^ ari'i- ved to take her under his protection. The ephe- meral regency then broke up, and fled in different directions ; the brothers of Buonaparte taking the direction of Switzerland, while Cardinal Fesch, and the mother of Napoleon retreated to Rome. ]\Laria Louisa made more than one effort to join lier husband, but they were discouraged on the part i)f Napoleon himself, who, while he continued to ruminate on renewing the war, could not desire to have the Empress along with him in such an ad- venture.* Shortly afterv.ards, the Emperor of Austria visited his daughter and her son, then at Rambouillet, and gave her to miderstand that she was, for some time at least, to remain separate from her husband, and that iier son and she were to return to Vienna along with him. She returned, therefore, to her father's protection. It must be also here mentioned, as an extraor- dinary addition to this tale of calamity, that Jose- phine, the former wife of Buonaparte, did not long survive his downfall. It seemed as if the Obi-wo- man of Martinico had spoke truth ; for, at the time when Napoleon parted from the sharer of his early fortunes, his grandeur was on the wane, and her fleatli took place but a few weeks subsequent to his being dethroned and exiled. The Emperor of Rus- sia had visited this lady, and showed her some at- tention, with which Napoleon, for reasons we can- not conjecture, was extremely displeased. She was amply provided for by the treaty of Fontainbleau, but did not survive to reap any benefit frc^m the provision, as she shortly after sickened and died at her beautiful villa of Malmaison. She was 1 Bamn Fain, p. 4liO. - T'nu faithful few were, the Duke of Bnss.nnn. tlip fiiiko of Vicenza; Gfiicrals Bcrtrand, Flahaut, boHiard, Fouler; Colonels Bassy, Aiiatole de Mortestmiou, Gourgaud. Count de Turenne: Barons Fain. Mesgrigny, Dc la Place, and I.elorRne il'Irlevi'ltj ; the Chevalier .louanne. General Kosakowski, and Cilonel Y'eiisonitcli. The two last were Poles. ■^ C'.uiif ^cli'iuwalow was a Unssian, not an Austrian mi- nister. Piiiicc Kslerhnzy, however, was there.— /';w/l /^ortl tSmyltersh — F.D. (I,'(f .) buried on the 3d of June, at the village of RueL A vast number of the lower class attended the obsequies; for .she had well deserved the title of patroness of the poor.* While we endeavour to sum the mass of misfor- tunes with which Buonaparte w;is overwhelmed at this crisis, it seems as if Fortune had been deter- mined to show that she did not intend to reverse tlie lot of humanity, even in the case of one who had been so long her favourite, but that she re- tained the i)ower of depressing the obscure soldier, whom she had raised to be almost king of Europe, in a degree as humiliating as his exaltation had been splendid. All that tln-ee years before seemed inalienable from his person, was now reversed. The victor was defeated, the monarch was dethroned, the ransomer of prisoners was in captivity, the general was deserted by his soldiers, the master abandoned by his domestics, the brother parted from his brethren, the husband severed from the wife, and the father torn from his only child. To console him for the fairest and largest empire that ambition ever lorded it over, he had, with the mock name of emperor, a petty isle to which he was to retire, accompanied by the pity of such friends as dared express their feelings, the unrepressed exe- crations of many of his former subjects, who refu- sed to regard his present humiliation as an amends for what he had made them .suffer during his power, and the ill-concealed triumph of the enemies into whose hands he had been delivered. A Roman would have .=een, in these accumulated disasters, a hint to direct his sword's point against his breast ; a man of better faith would have turned his eye back on his own conduct, and having read, in his misuse of prosperity-, the original source of those calamities, would have remained patient and contrite under the consequences of his ambition. Napoleon belonged to the Roman school of philo- sophy ; and it is confidently reported, especially by Baron Fain, his secretary, though it has not been universally believed, that he designed, at this ex- tremity, to escape from life by an act of suicide. The Emperor, according to this account, had carried witli him, ever since the retreat from JIos- cow, a packet containing a preparation of opium, made up in the same manner with that used by Condorcet for self-destruction. His valet- de-cham- bre, in the night betwixt the 12th and 13th of Api'il, heard him ariroa.s."—Aruintscript di 1(114, p. .^95. " Colonel .Sir Niel C:iinpbcll told me, that in the course of conversation with him, on tlie l/th. Napoleon remarked — thounh many considered he ciu{;h . to commit suicide, yet he thouylit it was more n:a(;iianin'Ous to live." — Maiwrable lUcnls, p. 235. of the Bourbons." Yet while Napoleon used ting manful and becoming language to his followers, on the subject of the change of government, it is clear that there lurked in his bosom a persuasion that the Bourbons were surrounded with too many difficul- ties to be able to surmount them, and that Destiny had still in reserve for him a distinguished part in the annals of Europe. In a private interview with Macdonald, whose part in the abdication we have mentioned, he ex- pressed himself warmly satisfied with his conduct, regretting that he had not more early known his value, and proposed he should accept a parting gift. " It is only," he said, anticipating the mare'- chal's objections, " the present of a soldier to his comrade." And indeed it was chosen with great delicacy, being a beautiful Turkish sabre, which Napoleon had himself received from Ibrahim Bey while in Egypt.''' Napoleon having now resigned himself entirely to his fate, whether for good or evil, prepared, on the 20th April, to depart for his place of retreat But first he had the painful task of bidding farewell to the body in the universe most attached to him, and to which he was probably most attached — his celebrated Imperial Guard. Such of them as could be collected were drawn out before him in review. Some natural tears dropped from his eyes, and his features had the marks of strong emotion, while reviewing for the last time, as he must then have thought likely, the companions of so many victories. He advanced to them on horse- back, dismounted, and took his solemn leave. " All Europe," he said, " had armed against him ; France herself had deserted him, and chosen another dynasty. He might," he said, " have maintained with his soldiers a civil war of years, but it would have rendered France unhappy. Be faithful," he continued (and the words were remarkable,) " to the new sovereign whom France has chosen. Do not lament my fate ; I will always be happy while I know you are so. I coitld have died — nothing was easier — but I will always follow the road of honour. I will record with my pen the deeds we have done together.^ I cannot embrace you all, but I em- brace your general," — (he pressed the general to his bosom.) — " Bring hither the eagle," — (he em- braced the standard, and concluded,) — " Beloved eagle, may the kisses I bestow on you long resound in the hearts of the brave ! — Adieu, my children — Adieu, my brave companions — Surround me once more — Adieu." Drowned in grief, the veteran soldiers heard the farewell of their dethroned leader ; sighs and murmurs broke from their ranks, but the emotion burst out in no threats or remon- strances. They appeared resigned to the loss of their general, and to yield, like him, to necessity. CHAPTER LXXXI. Commissioners appointed to escort Napioleon — He leaves Fontainblcau on the 20iA April — Ilis in- 2 The following words were enpravcn on the blade : "Sabre queportait rEmpcieurle jourdela bataille du Mont Thabor.* — Boi'RRIKNNK. 3 " He told M. deCaraman, that he had never had time to study; but tliat lie now sliould, and meant to write his i.wn memoirs." — .Uemurahlc Kveids, p. 232. OJi^Wf^yy^z^^ea^/ Kk C BLACK, EDINBUR&H 1814.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. roi terriew iritA ^ujereau at Valence — Expressions of popular dislike tawards Napoleon in the South of France — Fears for his personal safety — His oicn afitation and precautions — He arrircs at Frejus, and embarks on hoard the Undaunted, with the British and Austrian Commissioners — Arrives at Elba on Ath May. Upon liis unpleasant journey, Napoleon was at- tended by Bertrand and Drouet, honourably faith- ful to the adverse fortunes of the master who had been their benefactor when in prosperity. Four delegates from tlie allied powers accompanied him to his new dominions. Their names were — Gene- ral SchouwalofF, on the part of Russia ; the Aus- trian General, Kohler ; Colonel Sir Niel Camp- bell, as representing Great Britain ; and the General Baron Truchsess Waldbourg, as tlie commissioner of Prussia. Napoleon received the three firet with much personal civility, but seemed to resent the presence of the representative of Prussia, a country which had been at one time the subject of his scorn, and always of his hatred. It galled him that she should assume an immediate share in deciding upon his fate. He received the English commissioner with par- ticular expressions of esteem, saying he desired to pass to Elba in an English vessel, and was pleased to have the escort of an English officer. " Your nation," he said, " has an elevated character, for which I have the highest esteem. I desired to raise the French peojjle to such a pitch of sentiment, but ." He stopt, and seemed affected. He spoke with much civility to the Austrian General Kohler, but expressed himself somewhat bitterly on the sub- ject of Russia. He even hinted to the Austrian, that should he not be satisfied with his reception in Elba, he might possibly choose to retire to Great Britain ; ' and asked General Kohler, whether he thought he would not receive protection from them. " Yes, sire," replied the Austrian, " the more rea- dily, that your JIajesty has never made war in that country." Napoleon proceeded to give a farewell audience to the Duke of Bassano, and seemed nettled when an aide-de-camp, on the part of General Bertrand, announced that the hour fixed for departing was aiTived. " Good," he said. " This is something new. Since when is it that my motions have been regulated by the watch of the grand raare'chal ? I will not depart till it is my pleasure — perhaps I will not depart at all."'-' This, however, was only a momentary sally of impatience. Napoleon left Fontainbleau the SOth April, 1814, at eleven o'clock in the morning. His retinue oc- cupied fourteen carriages, and required relays of thirty pairs of post horses. On the journey, at least during its connnencement, he affected a sort of pub- licity, sending for the public authorities of towns, and investigating into the state of the place, as he >vas wont to do on former occasions. The cries of Vive I'Eiiipereurwere frequently heard, and seemed to give him fresh spirits. On the other hand, the mayors, and sub-prefects, whom he interrogated 1 General Sir Edward Pacct and Lord Louvain, both in- formed me that Lord Castlereagh told them, that Napoleon had written to him for jiermission to retire to Enfiland, '_| it being the onlv country possesBing great and liberal ideas." — Meiiiiirahle Ki-ents, p. i3-'. 2 Memorable Events, p. 326; Bourrieniie, torn, x., p. 217- concerning the decay of many of the towns, dls- ])leased him, by ascribing the symptoms of dilapi- dation to the war, or the conscription ; and in seve- ral places the people wore the white cockade, and insulted his passage with shouts of Vire le Roi. In a small barrack, near Valence, Napoleon, upon 24th April, met Augereau, his old companion in the campaigns of Italy, and in some degi-ee his tutor in the art of war. The mare'chal had resented some of the reflections which occurred in the bul- letins, censuring his operations for the protection of Lyons. When, therefore, he issued a proclama- tion to his army, on the recent change, he an- nounced Napoleon as one who had brought on his own ruin, and yet dared not die. An angry inter- view took place, and the following words are said to have been exchanged between them : — " I have thy proclamation," said Napoleon. " Thou hast betrayed me." — " Sire," replied the marcchal, " it is you who have betrayed France and the army, by sacrificing both to a frantic spirit of ambition." — " Thou hast chosen thyself a new master," said Napoleon. — " I have no accoimt to render to you on that score," replied the general. — "-T'liou hast no courage," replied Buonaparte. — " 'Tis thou hast none," replied the general, and turned his back, without any mark of respect, on his late master.' At Montelimart, the exiled Emperor heard the last expressions of regard and sympathy. He was now approaching Provence, a region of which he had never possessed the affections, and was gi'eeted with execrations and cries of — " Perish the Ty- rant ! " — " Down with the butcher of our children ! " Matters looked worse as they advanced. On Mon- day, 25th April, when Sir Niel Campbell, having set out before Napoleon, arrived at Avignon, the officer upon guard anxiously inquired if the escort attending the Emperor was of strength sufficient to resist a popular disturbance, which was already on foot at the news of his arrival. The English com- missioner entreated him to protect the passage of Napoleon by every means possible. It was agreed that the fresh horses should be posted at a different quarter of the town from that where it was natural to have expected the change. Yet the mob dis- covered and surrounded them, and it was with dif- ficulty that Napoleon was saved from popular fury. Similar dangers attended him elsewhere ; and, in order to avoid assassination, the Ex-Emperor of France was obliged to disguise himself as a posti- lion, or a domestic, anxiously altering from time to time the mode of his dress ; ordering the servants to smoke in his presence ; and inviting the com- missioners, who travelled with him, to whistle or sing, that the incensed people might not be aware who was in the carriage. At Orgon, the mob brought before him his own effigy dabbled with blood, and stopped his carriage till they displayed it before his eyes ; and, in short, from Avignon to La Calade, he was grossly insulted in every tow n and village, and, but for the anxious interference of the commissioners, he would probably have been torn to pieces. The imkindness of the people seemed to make much impression on him. He 3 Itineraire de Buonaparte, p. 235.— Aupcrcau was an old republican, and had been ready to oppose Buonaparte on tjie day he dissolved tlic Legislative Body. He submitted to him during his reign, but was a severe ccnsurer of his exCGMire love of conquest. — See?i;i^', p.(j2U. — S. 702 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS TKOSE AYORKS. [IS "4. ( veil shed tears. He sliowed also, more fear of lissassination than seemed coiisistt-nt \vith his ap- proved courage ; but it must be recollected, tliat the danger was of a new and peculiarly horrible description, and calculated to appal many to whom the terrors of a field of battle were familiar. The bravest soldier might shudder at a death like that of the De Witts. At La Calade lie was equally nervous, and exhibited great fear of poison. When he reached Aix, precautions were taken by detach- ments of gendarmes, as well as by parties of the allied troops, to ensure his personal safety.' At a chateau called Bouillidou, he had an interview with his sister Pauline. The curiosity of the lady of the house, and two or three females, made them also find their way to his presence. They saw a gentleman in an Austrian uniform. " Whom do you wish to see, ladies? — "The Emperor Napo- leon." — " I am Napoleon." — " You jest, sir," re- plied the ladies. — " Wh.at ! I suppose you expected to see me look more mischievous I O yes — confess that, since fortune is adverse to me, I must look like a rascal, a miscreant, a brigand. But do you know how all this has happened ? Merely because I wished to place France above England." At length he arrived at Frcjus, the very port that received him, when, coming from Egypt, he was on the verge of commencing that astonishing career, now about to terminate, to all earthly ap- pearance, at the very point from which he had started. He shut himself up in a solitary apart- ment, which he traversed with impatient and hasty steps, sometimes pausing to watch from the window the arrival of the vessels, one of which was to trans- port him from France, as it then seemed, for ever. The French frigate, the Dryade, and a brig called the Inconstant, had come from Toulon to Frcjus, and Lvy ready to perform this duty. But, reluctant perhaps to sail under the Bourbon flag. Napoleon preferred embarking on board his Britannic Ma- jesty's ship the Undaunted, commanded by Captain Usher.2 This vessel being placed at the direction of the British commissioner. Sir Niel Campbell, he readily acquiesced in Napoleon's wish to have his passage in her to Elba. It was eleven at Might on the 28th ere he finally embarked, under a salute of twenty-one guns. " Adieu, Cajsar, and his fortune," said the Russian envoy. The Austrian and British commissioners accompanied him on his voyage.^ During the passage, Buonaparte seemed to re- cover his spirits, and conversed with great frank- ness and ease with Captain Usher and Sir Niel Campbell. The subject chiefly led to high-coloured statements of the scliemes which he had been com- pelled to leave unexecuted, with severe strictui-es on his enemies, and much contempt for their means of opposition. The following particulars are amu- sing, and, so far as we know, have never appeared : ' This, indeed, had been previously arr.inged, as troops in considerable numbers were j)iistcd for his protection at Gren- oble, Gap, and Sisteron, being the road by which he was ex- pected to have travelled ; but, perhaps with a view to try an experiment on his popularity, he took the route we have de- tailed.-S. 2 When they came alongside of the Undaunted, Najmlcon desired the captain to ascend, and then followed ; the ofhcers .vere on deck to rcceire him ; they mutually bowed, and the Hmperor instanthr went forward alone among the men, most of whom spoke French, having been on this station for some years. They all kept their hats on ; but he so fascinated them by his manner, that in a few minutes they, of their own accord, took them oft'. Captain Usher was very glad of this, He was inquisitive about the discipline of the vessel, which ho commended highly, but assured Captiiin Usher, that had his power lasted for five years longer, he would have had three hundred sail of the line. Captain Usher naturally asked how they were to be manned. Napoleon replied, that he had resolved on a naval conscription in all the seaports and sea-coast frontier of France, which would man his fleet, which was to be exercised in the Zuyder Zee, until fit for going to the open sea. The British officer scarce suppressed a smile as he replied, that the marine conscripts would make a sorry figure in a gale of w'ind. To the Austrian envoy. Napoleon's constant subject was the enlarged power of Russia, which, if she could by any means unite Poland into a healthful and integral part of her army, would, ho stated, overwhelm Europe. On a subseqitent occasion, the Emperor favoured his auditors with a new and curious history of the renewal of the war with England. According to this edition, the isle of Malta v,as a mere pretext. Shortly after the peace of Amiens, he said, Mr. Addington, then the English Prime Minister, pro- posed to him a renewal of Mr. Pitt's commercial treaty with France ; but that he, Napoleon, desir- ous to encourage the interior industry of Erance, had refused to enter into such a treaty, excepting upon terms of reciprocity ; namely, that if France received so many millions of English import, Eng- land was to be obliged to take in return the same quantity of French productions. These tern)s were declined by Mr. Addington, on which Napoleon declared there should be no treaty at all, unless his principles were adopted. " Then," replied Mr. Addington, as quoted by Buonaparte, " there must be hostilities ; for, unless the people of England have the advantages of commerce on the terms they are accustomed to, they will force me to de- clare war." — And the war took place accordingly, of which, he again averred, England's determina- tion to recover the advantages of the treaty of conmierce between Vergennes and Pitt, w^as the real cause. " JVotc," he continued, kindling as he spoke, " England has no power which can oppose her system. She can pursue it without limits. There will be a treaty on very unequal terms, which will not afford duo encouragement to the manufactures of France. The Bourbons are poor devils" — ■ — he checked himself — " they are grand seigneurs, content to return to their estates and draw their rents ; but if the people of France see that, and become discontented, the Bourbons will be turned off in six months." He seemed again to recollect himself, like one who thinks ho has spoken too much, and was perceptibly more reserved for the rest of the day. as he was apprehensive the sailors might have thrown him overboard. — Memorable Kvcid.i, \>. £54. 3 The Prussian commissioner wrote an account of their journey, called "Itincraire do Buonaparte, JHsqu"a son eni- barquement a Frejus, Paris, 1015." The facts are amply con- firmed by the accounts of his fellow-travellers. Napoleon always reckoned the pamplilet of General Truchsess Wald- bourg, together with the account of De Pradt's Embassy to Poland, as the works calculated to do him most injury. Per- haps he was sensible that during this journey he had behaved beneath tlie char.icter of a hero, or perha))S he disliked the publication of details which inferred his extreme unpopula- rity in the south of France.— S. 1814.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 703 This curious ebullition was concocted according to Napoleon's peculiar manner of blending what Qiight be true in his nari-ative, with what was in- tended to forward his own purpose, and mingling it with so much falsehood and delusion, that it resembled what the Euglisli poet says of the Ca- tholic Plot, " Some truth there was, but mix'd and dash'd with lies." It is probable that, after the peace of Amiens, Lord Sidmouth might have wished to renew the com- mercial treaty ; but it is absolutely false that Na- poleon's declining to do so had any effect upon the renewal of hostilities. His prophecy that his own downfall would be followed by the English urging upon Fi-ance a disadvantageous commercial treaty, has proved equally false ; and it is siugular enough that he who, on board the Undaunted, declared that entering into such a measure would be the destruc- tion of the Bourbons, should, while at St. Helena, ridicule and censure Lord Castlereagh for not having secured to Britain that commercial supre- macy, the granting of which he had represented as the probable cause of such a result.' Thus did his colouring, if not his facts, change according to the mood of the moment. While on board the Undaunted, Napoleon spoke with great freedom of the facility with which he had outwitted and defeated the allies during the last campaign. " The Silesian army," he said, " had given him most trouble. Tlie old devil, Blucher, was no sooner defeated than he was will- ing to fight again." But he considered his victory over Scliwartzenberg as certain, save for the defec- tion of ALirmont. Much more ho said, with great apparent frankness, and seemed desirous to make himself in every respect agreeable to his compa- nions on board. Even the seamen, who at first regarded him with wonder, mixed with suspicion, did not escape the charm of his affability, by which they were soon won over, all excepting the boat- swain Hinton, a tar of the old school, who could never hear the Emperor's praises without mut- tering the vulgar, but expressive phrase — " llum- With the same good-humour, Napoleon admitted any slight jest which might be passed, even at his own expense. When off Coi-sica, he proposed that Captain Usher should fire a gun to bring-to a fish- ing-boat, from which he hoped to hear some news. Captain Usher excused himself, sajing, such an act of hostility towards a neutral would denationalize her, in direct contradiction of Napoleon's doctrine concerning the rights of nations. The Emperor laughed heartily. At another time he amused himself by supposing what admirable caricatures his voyage would give rise to in London. He seemed wonderfully familiar with that species of satire, though so peculiarly English. Upon the 4th of May, when they arrived within sight of Porto Ferrajo, the principal town of Elba, which has a very fine harbour, they found the island in some confusion. The inhabitants had been recently in a state of insurrection against the French, which had been quieted by the governor and the troops giving in their adhesion to the ' Las Cases, torn, iii., p. 92. 2 The hoiicbt boatswain, however, cmiUl understand and value what was solid in Napoltoirs merits. As he had to Bourbon government. This state of things natur- ally increased Napoleon's apprehensions, which had never entirely subsided since the dangers he under- went in Provence. Even on board the Undaunteil he had requested that a sergeant of marines might sleep each night on the outside of his cabin-door, a trusty domestic also mounting guard within. He now showed some unwillingness, when they made the island, to the ship running right under the bat- teries ; and when he first landed in the morning, it was at an early hour, and in disguise, having pre- viously obtained from Captain Usher, a sergeant's party of marines to attend him. Having returned on board to breakfast, after his incognito visit to his island, the Emperor of Elba, as he may now be styled, went on shore in form, about two o'clock, with the commissioners, receiv- ing, at leaving the Undaunted, a royal salute. On the beach, he was received by the governor, pre- fect, and other official persons, with such means of honour as they possessed, who conducted him to the H6tel-de-Ville in procession, preceded by a wretched band of fiddlers. The people welcomed him with many shouts. The name of Buonaparte had been unpopular among t'nem as Emperor of France, but they anticipated considerable advan- tages from his residing among them as their own particular sovereign. CHAPTER LXXXII J^lha — Napoleoii's mode of Life and occupation there — Effects of his residence at Elba upon the adjoininij Kingdom of Italy — lie is tisited by kis Mother and the Princess Pauline — and by a Polish lady — Sir Niel Campbell the only Com- missioner left at Elba — Napoleoji^s Conversations on the State of Europe — His pecuniary Difficul- ties — and fears of Assassination — Symptoms of some approaching crisis — A jxirt of the Old Guard disbanded — Napoleon escapes from Elba — Fruitless 2}ursuit by Sir Niel Campbell. Elba, to the limits of which the mighty empire of Napoleon was now contracted, is an island op- posite to the coast of Tuscany, about sixty miles in circumference. The air is healthy, except- ing in the neighbourhood of the salt marshes. The country is mountainous, and, having all the florid vegetation of Italy, is, in general, of a roman- tic character. It prodiices little grain, but exports a considerable quantity of wines ; and its iron ore has been famous since the days of Virgil, who de- scribes Elba as, " Insula inexhaustis chalybum gcnerosa mctallis." There are also other mineral productions. The island boasts two good harbours, and is liberally productive of vines, olives, fruits and maize. I'er- luips, if an empire could be supposed to exist within such a brief space, Elba ])ossesses so much both ol beauty and variety, as might constitute the scene of a s'uunner night's dream of sovereignty. Buo- naparte seemed to lend himself to the illusion, as, accompanied by Sir Niel Campbell, he rode in his return thanks in name of the ship's company, for SCO louts with whicli the Emperor )ireseiited tlieni, he wished '• l.ii lionour good health, and better luck the next time."— S 704 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [18U usual exploring mood, around the shores of his iittle state. He did not fail to visit the iron mines, a.nd being informed the annual produce was 500,000 francs, " These, then," he said, " are mine." But being reminded that he had conferred that revenue on the Legion of Honour, he exclaimed, " Where was my head when I gave such a grant ! But I have made many foolish decrees of that sort." One or two of the poorer class of inhabitants, knelt, and even prostrated themselves when they met him. He seemed disgusted, and imputed this humiliating degree of abasement to the wretched- ness of their education, under the auspices of the monks. On these excursions he showed the same apprehension of assassination which had marked his journey to Frejus. Two couriers, well armed, rode before him, and examined every suspicious spot. But as he climbed a mountain above Ferrajo, and saw the ocean approach its feet in almost every direction, the expression broke from him, accom- panied with a good-humoured smile, " It must be confessed my isle is very little." He professed, however, to be perfectly resigned to his fate ; often spoke of himself as a man politi- cally dead, and claimed credit for what he said upon public affairs, as having no remaining interest in them. He professed his intentions were to devote himself exclusively to science and literature. At other times, he said he would live in his little island, like a justice of peace in a country town in England. The character of Napoleon, however, was little known to himself, if he seriously thought that his restless and powerful mind could be satisfied with the investigation of abstract truths, or amused by the leisure of literary research. He compared his abdication to that of Charles V., forgetting that the Austrian Emperor's retreat was voluntary, that he had a turn towards mechanical pursuits, and that even with these means of solace, Charles became discontented with his retirement. The character of Buonaparte was, on the contrary, singularly op- posed to a state of seclusion. His propensities con- tinued to be exactly of the same description at Elba, which had so long terrified and disquieted Europe. To change the external face of what was around him ; to imagine extensive alterations, with- out accurately considering the means by which they were to be accomplished ; to work within his petty province such alterations as its limits permitted ; to resume, in short, upon a small scale, those changes which he had attempted upon that which was most magnificent ; to apply to Elba the system of policy which he had exercised so long in Eu- rope, was the only mode in which he seems to have found amusement and exercise for the im- patient energies of a temper, accustomed from his early youth to work upon others, but apt to become lethargic, sullen, and discontented, when it was compelled, for want of other exercise, to recoil upon itself. During the first two or three weeks of his resi- dence in the island of Elba, Napoleon had already plauTied improvements, or alterations and innova- tions at least, which, had they been to be carried ' " One of Napoleon's first cares was to obtain a supply of water for the town of Porto Ferrajo. Captain Usher'accom- panicd liim in a h(iat round the bay ; they sailed every creek, tad tasted the different rills. Seeing the English sailors wa- into execution with the means which he possessed, would have perhaps takeu his lifetime to execute. It was no wonder, indeed, accustomed as he had been to speak the word, and to be obeyed, and to consider the improvements which he meditated aa those which became the head of a great empire, that he should not have been able to recollect that his present operations respected a petty islet, where magnificence was to be limited, not only by utility but by the want of funds. In the course of two or three days' travelling with the same rapidity which characterised his movements in his frequent progresses through France, and showing the same impatience of rest or delay. Napoleon had visited every spot in his little island, mines, woods, salt-marshes, harbours, fortifications, and whatever was worthy of an in- stant's consideration, and had meditated improve- ments and innovations respecting every one of them. Till he had done this he was impatient of rest, and having done so, he lacked occupation. One of his first, and perhaps most characteristic proposals, was to aggrandize and extend his Lili- putian dominions by occupation of an uninhabited island, called Rianosa, which had been left desolate on account of the frequent descents of the corsairs. He sent thirty of his guards, with ten of the inde- pendent company belonging to the island, upon thia expedition — (what a contrast to those which he had formerly directed !) — sketched out a plan of fortifi- cations, and remarked, with complacency," Europe will say that I have already made a conquest." In an incredibly short time Napoleon had also plaimed several roads, had contrived means to con- vey water from the mountains to Porto Ferrajo,' designed two palaces, one for the country, the otlu r in the city, a separate mansion for his sister Pau- line, stables for one hundred and fifty horses, a la zaretto, buildings for accommodation of the tunny fishery, and salt-works on a new construction, at Porto Longone. The Emperor of Elba proposed, also, purchasing various domains, and had the price estimated ; for the inclination of the proprietor was not reckoned essential to the transaction. He ended by establishing four places of residence in the different quarters of the island ; and his amuse- ment consisted in constant change and alteration. He travelled from one to another with the restless- ness of a bird in a cage, which springs from perch to perch, since it is prevented from winging the air, its natm-al element. It seemed as if the mag- nitude of the object was not so much the subject of his consideration, providing it afforded immedi- ate scope for employing his constant and stimu- lated desire of activity. He was like the thorough- bred gamester, who, deprived of the means of de- positing large stakes, will rather play at small game than leave the table. Napoleon placed his court also upon an ambi- tious scale, having more reference to what he had so long been, than to what he actually now had been reduced to, while, at the same time, the fur- niture and internal accommodations of the imperial palace were meaner by far than those of an English gentleman of ordinary rank. The proclamation ol tering, he said, ' Let us go to them ; I am sure they will choose the best. Napoleon made a sailor dip his hat into the water, and liold it for him to drink. ' It is excellent : I knew tlie\ would find It out.' " — Memorable Events, p. -JSy. Ii3l4.1 LIFB OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 705 the French governor on resigning his autliority to Napoleon, was well and becomingly expressed ; but the spiritual mandate of the Vicar-general Ar- righi, a relation of Buonaparte's, which was design- ed to congratulate the people of Elba on becoming the subjects of the Great Napoleon, was extremely hidicrous. " Elevated to the sublime honour of receiving the anointed of the Lord," he described the exhaustless wealth which was to flow in upon •lie people, from the strangers who came to look upon the hero. The exhoi'tation sounded as if the isle had become the residence of some nondescript animal, which was to be shown for money. The interior of Napoleon's household, though reduced to tliirty-five persons, still held the titles, and affected the rank, proper to an imperial court, of which it will be presently seen the petty sove- reign made a political use. He displayed a national Hag, having a red bend dexter in a white field, the bend bearing three bees. To dignify his capital, having discovered that the ancient name of Porto Ferrajo, was Comopoli (i. e. the city of Como,) he commanded it to be called Cosmopoli, or the city of all nations. His body-guard, of about 700 infantry, and 80 cavalry, seemed to occupy as much of Napoleon's attention as the grand army did formerly. They were constantly exercised, especially in throwing shot and shells ; and, in a short time, he was ob- served to be anxious about obtaining i-ecruits for tliera. This was no difficult mattei', where all the world had so lately been in amis, and engaged in a profession which many, doubtless, for whom a peaceful life had few charms, laid a.side with re- gret, and longed to resume. As early as the month of July 1814, there was a considerable degree of fermentation in Italy, to which the neighbourhood of Elba, the residence of several members of the Buonaparte family, and the sovereignty of Murat, occasioned a general resort of Buonaparte's friends and admirers. Every day this agitation increased, and various arts were re- sorted to for disseminating a prospect of Napo- leon's future return to power. Sundry parties of recruits came over to Elba from Italy to enlist in his guards, and two persons employed in this ser- vice were arrested at Leghorn, in whose possession were found written lists, containing the names of several hundred persons willing to serve Napoleon. The species of ferment and discontent thus pro- duced in Italy, was much increased l)y the impo- litic conduct of Prince Rospigliosi, the civil gover- nor of Tuscany, who re-established in their full force every form and regulation formerly practisccl under the Dukes of Tuscany, broke up the esta- blishment of the museum, which had been insti- tuted by Buonaparte's sister, and, while he re- turned to all the absurdities of the old government, relaxed none of the imposts which the French had laid on. Napoleon's conduct towards the refugees who fovmd their way to Elba, may be judged from the following sketch. On the lltii of July, Colomboni, commandant of a battahon of the 4th regiment of the line in Italy, was presented to the Emperor as newly arrived.' " Well, Colomboni, yotir business ' Napoleon s mother arrived on the 2d of Aujrust, and oc- L'a)iied a house on the quay at Porto Ferrajo. Pauline landed In October. She lived in the palace with her brother; who in Elba?" — '* Fn-si, to pay my duty to your Ma- jesty ; secondly, to offer myself to carry a musket among your guards." — " That is too low a situation, you must have something better," said Napoleon : and instantly named him to an appointment of 1200 francs yearly, though it appears the Emperor himself was then in great distress for money. About the middle of summer, Nkpoleou was visited by his mother, and his si-ster the Princess Pauline.' At this time, too, he seems to have expected to be rejoined by his wife Maria Louisa, who, it was said, was coming to take possession of her Italian dominions. Their separation, with the incidents which happened before Paris, was the only subject on which he appeared to lose temper. Upon these topics he used strong and violent lan- guage. He said, that interdicting him intercourse with his wife and son, excited universal reprobation at Vienna — that no such instance of inhumanity and injustice could be pointed out in modern times —that the Empress was detained a prisoner, an orderly officer constantly attending upon her — finally, that she had l>een given to understand be- fore she left Orleans, that she was to obtain per- mission to join him at the island of Elba, though it was now denied Iter. It was possible, he proceeded, to see a shade of policy, though none whatever of justice, in this separation. Austria had meant to unite the child of her sovereign with the Emperor of France, but was desirous of breaking off the connexion with the Emperor of Elba, as it might be apprehended that the respect due to the daugh- ter of the House of Hapsburg would, had she re- sided with her husband, have reflected too much lustre on the abdicated sovereign. The Austrian commissioner, General Kohler, on the other hand, insisted that the separation took place by the Empress Maria Louisa's consent, and even at her request ; and hinted, that Napoleon's desire to have her .society was dictated by other feelings than those of domestic affection. But allowing that Napoleon's views in so earnestly de- siring the company of his wife might be political, we can see neither justice nor reason in refusing a request, which would have been granted to a felon condemned to transportation. We have not thought it necessary to disturb the narrative of important events by noticing details which belong rather to romance ; but as we are now treating of Napoleon in his more private cha- racter, a mysterious circumstance may be men- tioned. About the end of August 1814, a lady arrived at the Isle of Elba, from Leghorn, with a boy about live or six years old. She was received by Napoleon with great attention, but at the same time with an air of much secrecy, and was lodged in a small and very retired villa, in the most remotu corner of the island ; from whence, after remaining two days, she re-embarked for Naples. The Elbese naturally concluded that this must have been the Empress Maria Louisa and her son. But the indi- vidual was known by those near Napoleon's person to be a Polish lady from Warsaw, and the boy was the offspring of an intrigue betwixt her and Napo- leon several years before.* The cause of her speedy departure might be delicacy towards Maria had a room built for her in the garden, in which »he gave pub- lic balls every Sunday evening. - •• Our jialt at W'arsaw, in January 18(i7, was delijihtfiU. 2 2 706 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1814. 1-Ouisa, ana the fear of affording the Court of Vienna a pretext for continuing the separation, of which Napoleon complained. In fact, the Aus- trians, in defence of their own conduct, imputed irregularities to that of Buonaparte ; but the truth of these charges would be no edifying subject of investigation. About the middle of May, Baron Kohler took farewell of Napoleon, to return to Vienna. He was an Austrian genei-al of rank and reputation ; a particular friend and old schoolfellow of Prince Sell war tzenberg. The scene of Napoleon's parting with this gentleman was quite pathetic on the Em- peror's side. He wept as he embraced General Kohler, and entreated him to procure, if possible, his re-union with his wife and child — calling him the preserver of his life — regretted his poverty, which prevented his bestowing on him some valu- able token of remembrance — finally, folding the Austrian general in his arms, he held him there for some time, repeating expressions of the warm- est attachment. This sensibility existed all upon one side ; for an English gentleman who witnessed the scene, having asked Kohler afterwards what he was thinking of while locked in the Emperor's embraces — " of Judas Iscariot," answered the Aus- trian. After the departure of Baron Kohler, Colonel Sir Niel Campbell was the only one of the four commis- sioners who continued to remain at Elba by orders of the British Cabinet. It was difficult to say what his office really was, or what were his instructions. He had neither power, title, nor means, to interfere with Napoleon's motions. The Emperor had been recognised by a treaty — wise or foolish, it was too late to ask — as an independent sovereign. It was therefore only as an envoy that Sir Niel Campbell could be permitted to reside at his court ; and as an envoy also, not of the usual character, for sett- ling aifairs concerning the court from which he was despatched, but in a capacity not generally avowed — the office, namely, of observing the con- duct of that at which he was sent to reside. In fact, Sir Niel Campbell had no direct or ostensible situation whatever, and of this the French minister of Elba soon took advantage. Drouet, the gover- nor of Porto Ferrajo, made such particulai; inquiries into the character assumed by the British envoy, and the length of his stay, as obliged the latter to say that his orders were to remain in Elba till the breaking up of the Congress, which was now settling the affairs of Europe ; but if his orders should direct him to continue there after that period, he would apply to have his situation placed on some recog- nised public footing, which he did not doubt would be respectable. Napoleon did not oppose or murmur at the con- tinued, though equivocal residence of Sir Niel Campbell at Elba ; he affected, on the contrary, to be pleased with it. For a considerable time, he even seemed to seek the society of the British envoy, held frequent intercourse with him, and conversed with apparent confidence upon public affairs. The notes of such conversations are now before us ; and though it is, on the one hand, evi- The Emperor and all the French officers paid their tribute of admiration to the charms of the fair Poles. There was one whose powerful fascinations made a deep impression on Na- poleon s heart. He conceived an ardent affection for her, which she coTdially returned. Jt is needless to name her, dent that Napoleon's expressions were arranged, generally speaking, on a premeditated plan, yet, on the other, it is equally certain, that his ardent temperament, when once engaged in discourse, led him to discover more of his own private thoughts than he would, on cool reflection, have suffered to escape him. On the 16th September 1814, for example. Sir Niel Campbell had an audience of three hours, during which, Napoleon, with his habitual impa- tience of a sedentai'y posture, walked from one end of the room to the other, and talked incessantly. He was happy, he said, that Sir Niel remained in Elba, pour rompre la chimere, (to destroy, namely, the idea, that he, Buonaparte, had fiu-ther intention of disturbing the peace of Europe.) " I think," he continued, "of nothing beyond the verge of my little isles. I could have supported the war for twenty years, if I had chosen. I am now a deceased per- son, occupied with nothing but my family, my retreat, my house, my cows, and my poultry." He then spoke in the highest terms of the English cha- racter, protesting it had always had his sincere admiration, notwithstanding the abuse directed against it in his name. He requested the British envoy to lose no time in procuring him an English grammar. It is a pity Mr. Hinton, the boatswain, was not present, to have accompanied this eulogy with his favourite ejaculation. In the rest of the conversation, the Elbese Emperor was probably more serious. He inquired with eagerness after the real state of France. Sir Niel Campbell informed him, that all the informa- tion he had been able to collect, ascribed great wisdom and moderation to the sovereign and government ; but allowed that those who had lost good appointments, the prisoners of war who had returned fi'om abroad, and great part of the army who remained embodied, were still attached to Napoleon. In answer, Buonaparte seemed to ad- mit the stability of the throne, supported as it was by the mare'chals aud great officers ; but he derided the idea of affording France the benefit of a free constitution. He said, the attempt to imitate that of Great Britain was a farce, a caricature. It was impossible, he observed, to imitate the two Houses of Parliament, for that respectable families like those composing the aristocracy of England, did not now exist in France. He talked with bitter- ness of the cession of Belgium, and of Fi-ance being deprived of Antwerp. He himself spoke, he ob- served, as a spectator, without hopes or interest, for he had none ; but thus to have mortified the French, showed an ignorance of the national cha- racter. Their chief feeling was for pride and glory, and the allies need not look forward to a state of satisfaction and tranquillity under such circumstances as France was now placed in. " The French," he said, " were conquered only by a great superiority of number, therefore were not humi- liated ; and the population had not suffered to the extent alleged, for he had always spared their lives, and exposed those of Italians, Germans, and other foreigners." He remarked that the gratitude of Louis XVIII. to Great Britain was offensive to ■when I observe that her attachment remained unshaken amidst every danger, an4 that, at the period of Napoleon'i reverses, she continued his faithful friend."— Savary, took iii., p. IC. 1814.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 707 France, and that he was called iii derision the King of England's Viceroy. In the latter months of 1814, Sir Niel Campbell began to become sensible that Napoleon desired to exclude him from his presence as much as he pos- sibly could, without positive rudeness. He rather suddenly intrenched himself within all the forms of an imperial court; and without affording the Bri- tish envoy any absolute cause of complaint, or even any title to require explanation, he contrived, in a great measure, to debar him from opportunities of conversation. His only opportunity of obtaining access to Napoleon, was on his return from short absences to Leghorn and Florence, when his attend- ance on the levee was matter of etiquette. On such occasions, the tenor of Napoleon's pro- jdiecics was minatory of the peace of Europe. He spoke perpetually of the humiliation inflicted upon France, by taking from her Belgium and his favour- I ite object Antwerp. On the 30th of October, while enlarging on these topics, he described the irritable feelings of the nation, saying, every man in France considered the Rhine to be their natural boundary, and nothing could alter this opinion. There was no want, he said, of a population in France, martial beyond any other nation, by natural disposition, by the consequences of the Revolution, and by the idea of glory. Louis XIV., according to his ac- count, notwithstanding all the misfortunes he had brought upon the nation, was still beloved on account of the eclat of his victories, and the mag- nificence of his com-t. The battle of Rosbach had brought about the Revolution. Louis XVII I. totally mistook the cliaracter of the French in supposmg, that either by argument or by reason- ing, or indulging them with a free constitution, he could induce them to sink into a state of peaceful industry. He insisted that the Duke of Welling- ton's presence at Paris was an insult on the French nation ; that very strong discord prevailed in the country, and that the king had but few friends, either in the army or among the people. Perhaps the King might try to get rid of a part of the army by sending them to St. Domingo, but that, he observed, would be soon seen through ; he himself liad made a melancholy trial, with the loss of 30,000 men, which had proved the inutility of such expeditions. He then checked himself, and endeavoured to show that he had no personal feeling or expectation from the revolutions he foretold. " I am a deceased man," he said ; " I was born a soldier ; I have mounted a throne ; I have descended from it ; I am prepared for any fate. They may transport me to a distant shore, or they may put me to death here ; I will spread my bosom open to the poniard. When merely General Buonaparte, I had property of my own acquiring — I am now deprived of all." On another occasion he described the ferment in France, which he said he had learned from the correspondence of his guards with their native counti-y, and so far forgot the character of a defunct person, as to say plainly, that the present disaffec- tion would break out with all the fury of the for- mer revolution, and require his own resurrection. " For then" he added, " the sovereigns of Europe will soon find it necessary, for their own repose, to call on ME to tranquillize matters." This species of conversation was perhaps the best which could have been adopted, to conceal his secret purpose from the British commissioner. Sir Niel Campbell, though not without entertaining suspicions, judged it, upon the whole unlikely that he meditated any thing eccentric, unless a tempting opening should present itself on the part of France or Italy. Napoleon held the same species of language to others as well as the British resident. He was affable, and even cordial (in appearance,) to the numerous strangers whom curiosity led to visit him ; spoke of his retirement as Dioclesian might have done in the gardens of Salonica ; seemed to consider his political career as ended, aad to be now chiefly anxious to explain such passages of his life as met the harsh construction of the world. In giving free and easy answers to those who conversed with him, and especially to Englishmen of rank, Buona- parte found a ready means of communicating to the public such explanations concerning his past life, as were best calculated to serve his wishes. In these he palliated, instead of denying, the scheme of poisoning his prisoners in Syria, the massacre at Jaffa, the murder of the Duke d'Enghien, and other enormities. An emperor, a conqueror, re- tired from war, and sequestered from power, must be favourably listened to by those who have the romantic pleasure of hearing him plead his own cause. Milder editions of his measures began to be circulated in Europe, and, in the curiosity to see- and admire the captive sovereign, men forgot the ravages which he had committed wliile at liberty. As the winter approached, a change was discer- nible in Napoleon's manners and habits. The al- terations which he had planned in the island no longer gave him the same interest ; he renounced, from time to time, the severe exercise in which he had at first indulged, used a carriage rather than his horse, and sunk occasionally into fits of deep contemplation, mingled with gloomy anxiety. He became also subjected to uneasiness, to w-hich he had hitherto been a stranger, being that arising from pecuniary inconveniences. He had plunged into expenses with imprudent eagerness, and with- out weighing the amount of his resources against the cost of the proposed alterations. The ready money which he brought from France seems to have been soon exhausted, and to raise supplies, lie commanded the inhabitants of his island to pay up, in the month of June, the contributions of the last year. This produced petitions, personal solicita- tions, and discontent. It was represented to him, that so poor were the inhabitants of the island, in consequence of want of sale for their wine for months past, that they would be driven to the most extreme straits if the requisition should be per- sisted in. In some of the villages, the tax-gather- ers of the Emperor were resisted and insulted. Napoleon, on his side, sent part of his troops to quarter upon the insurgent peasantry, and to be supported by them at free cost, till the contribu- tions should be paid up. Thus, we recognise, in the government of this miniature state, the same wisdom, and the same errors, by which Buonaparte won and lost the em- pire of the world. The plans of improvements and internal ameliorations which ho formed, were pro- bably very good in themselves, but he proceeded t(i the execution of that which he had resolved with too much and too reckless pi*ecipitation ; too much 708 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. flSl4. 3l a determination to work his own pleasure, and too little concern for tlie feelings of others. The compositions proving a weak resoin*ce, as the}' were scarce to be extracted from the miser- able islanders. Napoleon had recourse to others, which must have been peculiarly galling to a man of his haughty spirit. But as his revenue, so far as tangible, did not exceed 300,000 francs, and his expenditure amounted to at least a million, he was compelled to lower the allowances of most of his retinue; to i-educe the wages of the miners to one- fourth ; to raise money by the sale of the provi- sions laid up for the garrisons ; nay, even by selhng a train of brass artillery to the Duke of Tuscany. He disposed also of some property — a large house which had been used as a barrack, and he went the length of meditating the sale of the Town-house at Porto Ferrajo. We have said, that Napoleon's impatience to execute whatever plans occurred to his fertile ima- gination, was the original cause of these pecuniary distresses. But they are not less to be imputed to the unfair and unworthy conduct of the French ministry. The French administration were, of all others, most intimately bound in conscience, hon- our, and policy, to see the treaty of Fontainbleau, as forming the footstool by which Louis XVIII. mounted his restored throne, distinctly observed towards Napoleon. The sixth article of that treaty provides an annuity, or revenue of two millions five hundred thousand francs, to be registered on the Great Book of France, and paid without abate- ment or deduction to Napoleon Buonaparte. This annual provision was stipulated by the marechals, Macdonald and Ney, as the price of Napoleon's re- signation, and the French ministers could not re- fuse a declaration of payment without gross injus- tice" to Buonaparte, and at the same time a severe insult to the allied powers. Nevertheless, so far from this pension being paid with regularity, we have seen no evidence that Napoleon ever received a single remittance to account of it. The British resident observing how much the Ex-Emperor was harassed by pecuniary straits, gave it, not once but repeatedly, as his opinion, " that if these difficul- ties pressed upon him much longer, so as to pre- vent him from continuing the external show of a court, he was perfectly capable of crossing over to Piombino with his troops, or committing any other extravagance." This was Sir Niel Campbell's opinion on 31st October, 1814, and Lord Castle- reagh made strong remonstrances on the subject, although Great Britain was the only power among the allies, who, being no principal party to the treaty of Fontainbleau, might safely have left it to those states who were. The French were not ashamed to defend their conduct on the technical objection, that the pension was not due until the year was elapsed ; a defence which we must con- sider as evasive, since such a pension is of an ali- mentary nature, the termly payments of which ought to be made in advance. The subject was ' Buonaparte had particular reason to dread Brulart. This Chouan chief had been one of the numbers who laid down their arms on Napoleon assuminR the Consulate, and who had been permitted to reside at Paris. A friend of Brulart, still more obnoxious than himself, was desirous of being permitted to return from England, to which he had emigrated. He applied to Napoleon through Brulart, who was directed by the Em- Eeror to encourage his friend to come over. Immediately on is landing in France, he was seized and executed. Brulart mentioned again and again by Sir Nic-1 Cumpbeli, but it does not appear that tlie French administra- tion desisted from a course, which, whether arising from a spirit of mean revenge, or from avarice, or from being themselves embari-a-sscd, was at once dishonourable and impolitic. Other apprehensions agitated Buonaparte's mind. He feared the Algerine pirates, and requested the interference of England in his behalf. He believed, or affected to beUeve,that Brulart, the governor of Corsica, who had been a captain of Chouans, the friend of Georges, Pichcgru, &c., was sent thither by Louis XVIII. th's administration for the pur- pose of having him assassinated, and that fitting agents were despatched from Corsica to Elba for that purpose.' Above all, he pretended to be in- formed of a design to dispense with the treaty of Fontainbleau, and to remove him from his place of refuge, to be imprisoned at St. Helena, or St. Lucie. It is not impossible that these fears were not altogether feigned ; for though there is not an iota of evidence tending to show that there was reason for believing the aUies entertained such au unworthy thought, yet the report was spread very generally through France, Italy, and the Mediter- ranean, and was encouraged, doubtless, by those who desired once more to place Buonaparte in ac- tion.^ He cei-tainly expressed great anxiety on the subject, sometimes declaring he would defend his batteries to the last ; sometimes affecting to believe that he was to be sent to reside in England, a pros- pect which he pretended not to dislike personally, while he held out sufficient reasons to prevent the course from being adopted. " He concluded," he said, " he should have personal liberty, and the means of removing prejudices entertained against his character, which had not yet been fully cleared up ;" but ended with the insinuation, that, by re- siding in England he would have easier communi- cation with France, where there were four of his party to every single Bourbonist. And when he had exhausted these topics, he returned to the complaints of the hardship and cruelty of depriv- ing him of the society of his wufe and child. While Buonaparte, chafed by poverty, and these other subjects of complaint, tormented too by the restlessness of a mind impatient of restraint, gave vent to expressions which excited suspicion, and ought to have recommended precaution, his court began to assume a very singular appearance, quite the opposite of that usually exhibited in the courts of petty sovereigns upon the continent. In the latter there is an air of antiquated gravity, which pervades the whole establishment, and endeavours to supply the want of splendour, and of real power. The heavy apparatus designed for the government of an independent state, is applied to the manage- ment of a fortune not equal to that of many pri- vate gentlemen ; the whole course of business goes slowly and cumbrously on, and so that appearances are maintained in the old style of formal grandeur, the sovereign and his counsellors dream neither of fled to England in grief and rage, at being made the means of decoying his friend to death. In the height of his resentment he wrote to Napoleon, threatening him with death by his hand. The recollection of this menace alarmed Buonaparte, when he found Brulart so near him as Corsica. 2 Even Sir Niel Campbell said to Napoleon, " The new»- papers say you are to be sent to St. Helena." — " Nous verrini cela," was the reply.— HTcmorabU Kventt, p. 268. 1814.] LIFE OB^ NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 709 expeditions, conquest, nor any other political ob- ject. The Court of Porto Ferrajo was the revei-se of all this. Indeed, the whole place was, in one sense, deserving of the name of Cosmopoli, which Napo- leon wished to impose on it. It was like the court of a great barrack, filled with military, gendarmes, police officers of all sorts, refugees of every nation, expectants and dependents upon the court, domes- tics and adventurers, all connected with Buona- parte, and holding or expecting some benefit at his hand. Rumours of every kind were buzzed about through this miscellaneous crowd, as thick as motes in the sunshine. Suspicious characters appeared and disappeared again, without affording any trace of their journey or object. The port was filled with ships from all parts of Italy. This indeed was necessary to supply tlie island with provisions, when ci'owded with sucli an unusual degree of po- pulation ; and, besides, vessels of all nations visited .Porto Ferrajo, from the various motives of curi- osity or speculation, or being compelled by contrai'v winds. The four armed vessels of Napoleon, and seventeen belonging to the service of the miners, were constantly engaged in voyages to every part of Italy, and brought over or returned to the con- tinent, Italians, Sicilians, Frenchmen, and Greeks, who seemed all active, yet gave no reason for their coming or departure. Doniinico Ettori, a monk who had escaped from his convent, and one Theo- logos, a Greek, were considered as agents of some consequence among this group. The situation of Sir Niel Campbell was now very embarrassing. Napoleon, affecting to be more tena- cious than ever of liis dignity, not only excluded the British envoy from his own pres^ence, but even threw obstacles in the way of his visiting his mother and sister. It was, therefore, only from interviews with Napoleon himself that he could hope to get any information, and to obtain these Sir Niel was, as already noticed, obliged to absent himself from the island of Elba occasionally, which gave him an opportunity of desiring an audience, as he went away and returned. At such times as he remained on the island he was diseomitenanced, and all atten- tion withdrawn from him ; but in a way so artful, as to render it impossible for him to make a formal complaint, especially as he had no avowed official character, and was something in the situation of a guest, whose uninvited intrusion has placed him at his landlord's mercy. Symptoms of some approaching catastrophe could not, however, be concealed from the British resi- dent. Napoleon had interviews with his mother, after whicli she appeai-ed deeply distressed. She was heard also to talk of three deputations which he had received from France. It was besides ac- counted a circumstance of strong suspicion, that discharges and furloughs were granted to two or three hundred of Napoleon's Old Guard, by the medium of whom, as was too late discovered, the allegiance of the military in France was corrupted and seduced, and their minds prepared for what was to ensue. We cannot suppose that such a number of persons were positively intrusted with the secret ; but every one of them was jirepared to sound forth the praises of the Emperor in his exile, and all entertained and disseminated the persua- sion, that lie would soon ni)pear to reclaim liis richts. At length Mariotti, the French consul at Leg- horn, and Spannoki, the Tuscan governor of that town, informed Sir Niel Campbell that it was cer- tainly determined at Elba, that Buonaparte, witb his guards, should embark for the continent. Sir Niel was at Leghorn when he received this intelli- gence, and had left the Partridge sloop of war to cruize round Elba. It was naturally concluded that Italy was the object of Napoleon, to join with his brother-in-law Murat, who was at that time, fatally for himself, raising his banner. On the 25th of February [1815,] the Partridge having come to Leghorn, and fetched off Sir Niel Campbell, the appearance, as the vessel approached Porto Ferrajo on her return, of the national guard on the batteries, instead of the crested grenadiers of the Imperial guard, at once apprized the British resident of what had liappened. When he landed, he found the mother and sister of Buonaparte in a well-assumed agony of anxiety about the fate of their Emperor, of whom they affected to know no- thing, except that he had steered towards the coast of Barbary. Tiiey appeai-ed extremely desirous to detain Sir Niel Campbell on shore. Resisting their entreaties, and repelling the more pressing argu- ments of the governor, who seemed somewhat dis- posed to use force to prevent him from re-embark- ing, the British envoy x-egained his vessel, and set sail in pursuit of the adventurer. But it was too late ; the Partridge only obtained a distant sight of the flotilla, after Buonaparte and his forces had landed. The changes which had taken place in France, and had encouraged the present most daring action, form the subject of the next chapter. CHAPTER LXXXIII. Retrospect — Restoration of the Bourbons displeasina to the Soldiery, but satisfactory to the People — Terms favourable to France granted by the Allies — Discontent about the manner of concedim] the Charter — Other grounds of dissatisfaction — A}}- prehensions lest the Church and Crown Lands should be resumed — Resuscitation of the Jacobin faction — Increased Dissatisfaction in the Army — The Claims of the Emigrants mooted in the Cham- ber of Delegates — Marechal Macdonald's Pro- ]yosal — Financial Difficulties — Restriction on the Press — Rejections on this subject. We must now look back to the re-establishment of the Bourbons upon the throne in 1814, an event which took place under circumstances so uncommon as to excite extravagant expectations of national felicity ; expectations, which, like a premature and profuse display of blo.ssom, diminished the chancu of the fruit ripening, and exasperated the disap- pointment of over sanguine hopes. For a certain time all had been gay and rose-coloured. The French possess more than otlier nations the art of enjoying the present, without looking back with regi'ct on the past, or forward to the future with unfavom-able antici])ations. Louis XVI 1 1., re- spectable for his literary acquirements, and the practice of domestic virtues, amiable also from a mixture of bonhommie, and a talent for saying witty things, was received in the capital of his kingdom with acclamations, in which tlic soldiers alone did 710 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1814. not cordially join. They indeed appeared with gloomy, sullen, and discontented looks. The late imperial, now royal guard, seemed, from the dark ferocity of their aspect, to consider themselves ra- ther as the captives who were led in triumph, than the soldiers who partook of it. But the higher and middling classes in general, excepting those who were direct losers by the de- thronement of Napoleon, hailed with sincere satis- faction the prospect of peace, tranquiUity, and free- dom from vexatious exactions. If they had not, as they could hardly be supposed to have, any personal zeal for the representatives of a family so long strangers to France, it was fondly hoped the ab- sence of this might be supplied by the unwonted prospect of ease and security which their accession promised. The allied monarchs, on their part, did every thing to favour the Bourbon family, and re- laxed most of the harsh and unpalatable conditions which they had annexed to their proposed treaty with Buonaparte ; as if to allow the legitimate heir the credit with his people of having at once saved their honour, and obtained for them the most ad- vantageous terms. The French readily caught at these indulgences, and, with the aptitude they possess of accommodat- ing their feelings to the moment, for a time seemed to intimate that they were sensible of the full ad- vantage of the change, and were desirous to make as much of it as they possibly could. There is a stoi-y of a French soldier in former times, who, having insulted his general in a fit of intoxication, was brought before him next morning, and interro- gated, whether he was the person who had com- mitted the offence. The accused replied he was not, for that the impudent rascal had gone away before four in the morning — at which hour the culprit had awaked in a state of sobriety. The French people, like the arch rogue in question, drew distinctions between their present and former 'selves, and seemed very willing to deny their iden- tity. They were no longer, they said, either the Republican French, who had committed so many atrocities in their own country, or the Imperial French, who had made such devastation in other nations ; and God forbid that the sins of either should be visited upon the present regenerate race of royalist Fi-enchmen, loyal to their native princes, and faithful to their allies, who desired only to en- joy peace abroad and tranquillity at home. These professions, which were probably serious for the time, backed by the natural anxiety of the monarch to make, through his interest with the allied powers, the best terms he could for his country, were received as current without strict examination. It seemed that Buonaparte on his retirement to Elba, had carried away with him all the offences of the French people, like the scape- goat, which the Levitical law directed to be driven into the wilderness, loaded with the sins of the children of Israel. There was, in all the proceed- ings of the allied powers, not only moderation, but a studied delicacy, observed towards the feelings of the French, which almost savoured of romantic gonerosiW. They seemed as desirous to disguise tlieir conquest, as the Parisians were to conceal their defeat. The treasures of art, those spoils of foreign countries, which justice loudly demanded should be restored to their true owners, were con- firmed to the French nation, in order to gratify the vanity ,of the metropolis. By a boon jet more fatal, announced to the ])ublic in one of those moments of romantic, and more than questionable generosity, which we have alluded to, the whole French prisoners of war in the mass, and without inquiry concerning their principles, or the part they were likely to take in future internal divisions, were at once restored to the bosom of their country. This was in fact treating the French nation as a heedless nurse does a spoiled child, when she puts into its hands the knife which it cries for. The fatal consequences of this improvident indulgence appeai-ed early in the subsequent year. The Senate of Napoleon, when they called the Bourbons to the throne, had not done so without making stipulations on the part of the nation, and also upon their own. For the first purpose they framed a decree, under which they " called to the throne Louis Stanislaus Xavier, brother of the last King," but upon condition of his accepting a con- stitution of their framing. This assumed right of dictating a constitution, and naming a king for the nation, was accompanied by another provision, de- claring the Senate hereditary, and confirming to themselves, and their heirs for ever, the rank, honours, and emoluments, which in Napoleon's time they only enjoyed for life. The King refused to acknowledge the right of the Senate, either to dictate the terms on which he should ascend a throne, his own by hereditary descent, and to which he had never forfeited his claim ; or to engross, as their own exclusive pro- perty, the endowments provided to their order by Buonaparte. He, therefore, assumed the crown as the lineal and true representative of him by whom it was last worn; and issued his own constitutional charter as a concession which the spirit of the times demanded, and which he had himself no desire to withhold. The objections to this mode of proceeding were, practically speaking, of no consequence. It signified nothing to the people of France, whether the con- stitution was proposed to the King by the national representatives, or by the King to them, so that it contained, in an irrevocable form, a full ratification of the national liberties. But for the King to have acknowdedged himself the creature of the Senate's election would have been at once to recognise every ephemeral tyranny which bad stalled up and fretted its part on the revolutionary stage ; and to have sanctioned all subsequent attempts at innova- tion, since they who make kings and authorities must have the inherent right to dethrone and annul them. It should not be forgotten how the British nation acted on the great occasions of the Restora- tion and Revolution ; recognising, at either crisis, the right of blood to succeed to the crown, whether vacant by the murder of Chaides I., or the aljdica- tion of James II. In principle, too, it may be observed, that in all modern European nations, the king is nominally the source both of law and justice ; and that statutes are promulgated, and sentences executed in his name, without inferring that he has the despotic right either to make the one, or to alter the other. Although, therefore, the constitu- tion of France emanated in the usual form of a royal charter, the King was no more empowered to recall or innovate its provisions, than King John to abrogate those of the English Magna Charta. Mon- sieur, the King's brothcr,had promised in his name, 1814.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 711 upon his solemn entrance to Paris, that Louis would recognise the basis of the constitution prepared by tlie Senate. This pledge was fully redeemed by the charter, and wise men would have been more anxious to secure the benefits which it bestowed, than scrupulously to cavil on the mode in which they had been conferred. In fact, Louis had adopted not only the form most consonant to ancient usage, but that which he thought most likely to satisfy both the royalists and the revolutionary party. He ascended the throne as his natui'al right ; and, having done so, he willingly granted to the people, in an irrevocable form, the substantial principles of a free constitu- tion. But both parties were rather displeased at what they considered as lost, than gratified at what they gained by this arrangement. The royalists regarded the constitution, with its concessions, as a voluntary abandonment of the royal prerogative ; while the revolutionary party exclaimed, that the receiving the charter from the King as an act of his will was in itself a badge of sei'vitude ; and that the same royal prerogative which had gi'anted these privileges, might, if recognised, be supposed to reserve the power of diminishing or resuming them at pleasure. And thus it is, that folly, party- spirit, pride, and passion, can misrepresent the best measures, and so far poison the public mind, that the very granting the object of their desires shall be made the subject of new complaints. The formation of the ministry gave rise to more serious grounds of apprehension and censure. The various offices of administration were, upon the restoration, left in possession of persons selected from those who had been named by the Provisional Government. All the members of the Provisional State Council were called to be royal ministers of the State. Many of these, though possessed of re- puted talents, were men hackneyed in the changes of the Revolution ; and were not, and could not be, intrusted with the King's confidence beyond the bounds of the province which each adminis- tered. Talleyrand, minister for foreign affairs, whose talents and experience might have given him claim to the situation of prime minister, was unpopular from his political versatility ; and it was judged, after a time, most expedient to send him to the Congress at Vienna, that his diplomatic skill might be employed in arranging the exterior relations of Fi-ance with the other powers of Em'ope. Yet the absence of this consummate stateman was of great prejudice to the King's affairs. His having pre- served life, distinction, and frequently power, dur- ing so many revolutionary changes, proved, accord- ing to the phrase of the old Earl of Pembroke, that " he was born of the willow, not of the oak." But it was the opinion of the wisest men in France, that it was not fair, considering the times in which he lived, to speak of his attachment to, or defection from, individuals ; but to consider the general con- duet and maxims which he recommended relative to the intei-ests of France. It lias been tridy .'^aid, that, after the first errors and ebullitions of repub- lican zeal, if he were measured by this standard, he must be judged favourably. The councils which he gave to Napoleon were all calculated, it was eaid, for the good of the nation, and so were the measures which he reconniiended to the King. Much of this is really true ; yet, when we think of the political consistency of the Prince of Boneven. tum, we cannot help recollecting the personal vir- tue of a female follower of the camp, which con- sisted in strict fidelity to the grenadier company. Dupont was promoted to the situation of minis- ter at war, owing, perhaps, to the persecution he had undergone from Buonaparte, in consequence of his siuTender at Baylen to the Spaniards. Soult was afterwards called to this important office ; how recommended, it would be vain to inquire. When Napoleon heard of liis appointment from the English resident, he observed that it would be a wise and good one, if no patriotic party should show itself in France ; but, if such should arise, he intimated plainly that there would be no room for the Bourbons to rest faith upon Soult's adherence to their cause ; and so it proved. To add still farther to the inconveniences of this state of administration, Louis XVIII. had a favourite, although he had no prime minister. Count Blacas d'Aulps, minister of the household, an ancient and confidential attendant on the royal person during his exile, was understood to be the channel through which the King's wishes were communicated to the other ministers ; and liis pro- tection was supposed to afford the surest access to the favours of the crown. V/ithout doing his master the service of a pre- mier, or holding either the power or the responsi- bility of that high situation, De Blacas had the full share of odium usually attached to it. The royal- ists, who pressed on him for grants which were in the departments of other ministers, resented his declining to interfere in their favour, as if, having satisfied his own ambition, he had become indiffe- rent to the interest of those with whom he had been a joint sufferer dm'ing tlie emigration. The opposite party, on the other hand, represented Count Blacas as an absolute minister, an emigrant himself, and the patron of emigrants ; a roj'alist of the highest class, and an enemy, of course, to all the constitutional stipulations in favour of liberty. Thus far it is certain, that the unpopularity of M. de Blacas, with all ranks and parties in the state, had the worst possible influence on the King's affairs ; and as his credit was ascribed to a blind as well as an obstinate attachment on the part of Louis, the monarch Avas of course involved in the unpopularity of the minister of the household. The terms of the peace, as we have already hinted, had been studiously calculated to recom- mend it to the feelings of the French people. France was, indeed, stripped of that extended sway which rendei-ed her dangerous to the independence of otiier European nations, and reduced, generally speaking, to the boundaries which she occupied on the 1st of January 1792. Still the bargain was not harshly driven. Several small additions were left with her on the side of Gei-many and the Nether- lands, and on that of Savoy she had the consi- derable towns of Chamberri, Annccy, Avignon, with the Venaisson and Mont Belliard, included in her territories.^ But these concessions availed little ; and looking upon w hat they had lost, many of the French people, after the recollections had .subsided of their escape from a dreadful war, were naturally, however unieasonably, disposed to nmr- ' Sec Trfaty of Paris. Art. III., Pari. Dubates, vol. xxviii p. 17». ■12 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1814. mur against tlie reduction of their territories, an') to insist that Belgium, at least, should have re- mained witli them. This opinion was encouraged and pressed bv the Buonapartists, who considered the cession of that countrv witJi the more evil eye, because it was understood to have been a point urged by England. Yet if England played a proud, it was also a generous part. She had nothing to stipulate, no- thing of which ti) demand restitution, for slie had Bustaiued no territorial loss during the whole period of hostilities. The war, which had nearly ruined most other nations, had ]nit Britain in possession of all the colonies of Franco, and left the latter country neither a ship nor a port in the Eiast or AVest Indies ; and, to sum the whole, it was not in the power of united Europe to take from England by force any one of the conquests which she had thus made. The question, therefore, only was, what Britain was voluntarily to cede to an enemy who could give her no equivalent, excepting the jiledge to adopt better principles, and to act no longer as the disturber of Europe. The cessions were such in number and amount, as to show that England was far abo\e the mean and selfish pur- pose of seeking a colonial monopoly, or desiring to destroy the possibility of connnercial rivalry. AH was restored to France, excepting only Toljago and the Mauritius. These sacrifices, made in the sjjirit of peave and moderation, were not made in vain. They soeured to Britain the gratitude and respect of other states, and, giving to her councils that character of justice and impartiality which constitutes the best national Btrength, they placed her in a situation of more infiuence and eminence in the civilized world than the uncontrolled possession of all the cotton-fields and sugar-islands of the east and west could ever have raised her to. Still, with respect to France in particular, the peace was not recommended by the eminence to which it had raised England. The rivalry, so long termed natiotial, and which had been so carefully fostered by every state paper or political statement which Buonaparte had permitted to be published, rankled even in generous and honourable minds ; and so prejudiced are the views of passion, that by mistaking each other's national feelings, there were many Frenchmen induced to believe that the superiority attained by Great Britain was to a certain degree an insult and de- gradation to France. Every thing, indeed, which ought to liave soothed .and gratified the French people, was at last, by irri- tated feelings and artful misrepresentation., con- verted into a subject of complaint and grievance. The government of Napoleon had been as com- pletely despotic as it could be rendered in a civi- lized country like France, where public opinion forbade its being carried to barbaric extreme. On the contrary, in the charter, France was endowed with most of the elementary principles of a free and liberal constitution. The King had adopted, in all points of a general and national tendency, tJie principles proposed in the rejected constitutional ict of the Senate. The Chamber of Peei-s and t'luiniber of Deputies were the titles applied to the aristocrat i<'al and popular branches of the constitution, instead of the I Ste AiiniMl IttniMor, vol. Ivi.. |i. 4ill. Senate and Legislative body. Their public duties were divided something like those of the Houses of Peers and Commons in England. The indepen- dence of the judicial order was recognised, and the military were confirmed in their rank and revenues. The Chamber of Peers was to be nominated by the King, with power to his Majesty to create its mem- bers for life, or hereditary, at his pleasure. The income of the suppressed Senate was resumed, and vested in the crown, excepting confiscated property, i which was restored to the lawful owners. The • Catholic religion was declared to be that of the j State, but all other Christian sects were to l>e pro- tected. The King's authority was recognised as head of the army, and the power of making peace and war was vested in him exclusively. The ; liberty of the press was established, but under cer- tain restraints. The conscription was aboli^hed — the responsibility of ministers recognised ; and it may be said, in general, that a constitution was traced out, good so far as it went, and susceptible of receiving the farther improvements which time and experience might recommend. The charter ' was presented to the Legislative Body by the King in person, [June 4,] with a speech, which announced, that the principles which it recognised were such as had been adopted in the will of his unfortunate brother, Louis XVL''' Yet, though this charter contained a free sur- render of great part of the royal rights which the old race of Bourbons had enjoyed, as well as of all the arbitrary power which Napoleon had usurped, we have seen that it was unacceptable to an active and influential party in the state, who disdained to accept security for property and freedom under the ancient forms of a feudal charter, and con- tended that it ought to have emanated directly from the will of the Sovereign People. We have no hesitation in saying, that this was as reasonablp as the conduct of a spoiled child, who refuses what is given to him, because he is not suffered to taki' it ; or the wisdom of an hungry man, who should quarrel with his dinner, because he does not admire the shape of the dish in which it is served up. This is the common-sense view of the subject. If the constitution contained the necessary guaran- tees of political freedom and security of life and property ; if it was to be looked to as the perma- nent settlement and bulwark of the liberties of France, and considered as a final and decided arrangement, liable indeed to be improved by the joint consent of the sovereign, and the legal repre- sentatives of the subject, but not to be destroyed by any or all of these authorities, it was a matter of utter unimportance, whether the system was constructed in the form of a charter granted by the King, or that of conditions dictated to him by the subject. But if there was to be a retrospect to the ephemeral existence of all the French con- stitutions hitherto, excepting that under which Buonaparte had entin-alled the people, then per- haps the question might be entertained, whether the feudal or the revolutionary form was most likely to be innovated ; or, in other words, whether the conditions attached to the plan of government now adopted, was most likely tij be innovated upon by the King, or by tJie body who repres nted the people. ' Sif u-mIi', p. lit). 1S14. LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 713 Assuming tlic fatal docti'ine, that the party in whose name the conditions of the constitution are expressed, is entitled to suspend, alter, or recall them, sound policy dictated, that the apparent power of granting should be ascribed to the party least able and willing to recall or innovate upon the grant which he had made. In this view of the ease, it might be reckoned upon tliat the King, unsup- ported, unless by the Royalists, who were few in number, unpopular from circumstances, and for the present divested, excepting nominally, of the great instrument of achieving despotic power, the undis- puted command, namely, of the army, would be na- turally unwilling to risk the continuance of his authority by any attempt to innovate upon those conditions, which he had by his own charter assured to the people. On the contrary, conditions formed and decreed by the Senate of Buonaparte, might on the popular jiarty's resuming the ascendency, be altei-ed or recalled by the chambers with the same levity and fickleness which the people of France, or at least those acting as their representatives, had so often displayed. To give permanence to the con- stitution, therefoi'e, it was best it should emanate from the party most interested in preserving it, and least able to infringe it ; and that undoubtedly, as France stood at the time, was the sovereign. In Gi'eat Britain, the constitution is accounted more secure, because the King is the source of law, of honour, and of all ministerial and executive power ; whilst he is responsible to the nation tlu'ough his ministers, for the manner in which that power is ex- ercised. An arrangement of a different kind would expose the branches of the legislature to a discord- ant struggle, which ought never to be contemplated as possible. The zealous liberalists of France were induced, however, to mutiny against the name under which their free constitution was assigned them, and to call back Buonaparte, who had abolished tlie very semblance of freedom, rather than to accept at the hands of a peaceful monarch, the degree of liberty which they themselves had acquired. The advan- tages which they gained will appear in the sequel. Thus setting out with varying and contradictory opinions of the nature and origin of the new consti- tution, the parties in the state regarded it rather as a fortress to be attacked and defended, than as a temple in which all men were called to worship. The French of this period might be divided into three distinct and active parties — Royalists ; Liberals of every shade, down to Republicans ; and Buonapartists. And it becomes our duty to say a few words concerning each of these. The Royalists, while they added little real strength to the King by their numbers, attracted much jealous observation from their high birth and equally high pretensions ; embroiled his affairs by their imprudent zeal ; embittered his peace by their just and natural complaints ; and drew sus- picion on his government at every effort which he made to serve and relieve them. They consisted chiefly of the emigrant nobles and clergy. The former class were greatly reduced in num- ber by war and exile ; insomuch, that to the House of Peers, consisting of one hundred and seventy, and apwards, the ancient nobles of France supplied only thirty. The rest were the fortunate mar^- r.hals and "generals, whom tlie wnrs of the Revolu- rioii had raised (n rank and wealth ; rmd tlio states- men, many of whom had attained the same station by less honourable means of elevation. The old noblesse, after their youth had been exhausted, their foi'tunes destroyed, and their spirits broken, while following through foreign countries the ad- verse fortunes of the exiled Bourbons, beheld the restoration, indeed^ of the monarchy, but were themselves recalled to Fi-ance only to see their estates occupied, and their hereditary offices around the person of the monarch filled, by the fortunate children of the Revolution. Like the disappointed English cavaliers, they might well complain that though none had wished more earnestly for the return of the legitimate prince, yet none had shai'ed so little in the benefits attending it. By a natural, and yet a jierverse mode of reasoning, the very in- juries which the nobility had sustained, rendered them the objects of suspicion to the other ranks and parties of the state. They had been the com- panions of the King's exile, were connected with him by the ties of friendship, and had near access to his person by the right of blood. Could it be in nature, it was asked, that Louis could see their sufferings without attempting to relieve them ; and how could he do so in the present state of France, unless at the expense of those who occupied or aspired to civil and military preferment, or of those who had acquired during the Revolution the national domains which those nobles once possess- ed ? Yet the alarm was founded rather on suspi- cion than on facts. Of the preferment of emi- grants in the army, we shall speak hereafter ; but in the civil departments of the state, few of the old noblesse obtained office. To take a single ex- ample, in the course of eleven months there were thirty-seven prefects nominated to the depart- ments, and the list did not comprehend a single one of those emigrants who returned to France with Louis ; and but very few of those whose exile had terminated more early. The nobles felt this ex- clusion from royal favour, and expressed their complaints, which some, yet more imprudently, mingled with threatening hints, that their day of ti'iumph might yet arrive. This language, as well as the air of exclusive dignity and distance which they affected, as if, the distinction of their birth being all that they had left to them, they were de- termined to enforcethe most punctilious deference to that, was carefully remarked and recorded against the King. The noblesse were supposed to receive particular encouragement from the princes of the blood, while, upon the whole, they were rather discouraged than brought forward or distinguished by Louis, who, as many of them spared not to say, was disposed to act upon the ungenerous maxim of courting his enemies, and neglecting those who could not upon principle become any thing save his friends. They did not, perhaps, make sufficient allowance for the great difficulties which the King incurred in governing France at so critical a period. The state of the Clergy is next to be considered. They were, generally speaking, sincerely attached to tiie King ; and had they been in jwssession of their revenues, and of their natural iiiHuenceupon the public mind, their attachment would ha>f been of the utmost consequence. But witliout this influence, and without the wealth, or at least the indojioiidence, on which it partly rests, they wero as useless, politically speaking, as a key wiiicli does 714 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1814. not fit the \e rest of Europe resembled an ocean in the act of settling after a miglity storm, when the par- tial wrecks are visil)le, heaving on tlie subsiding swell, whicli threatens yet farther damage ere it be entirely lulled to rest. The Congress of representatives of the principal states of Europe had met at Vienna, in order to arrange the confused and complicated interests which had arisen out of so prolonged a period of war and alteration. The lapse of twenty-five years of constant war and general change had made so total an alteration, not merely in the social rela- tions and relative powei-s of the states of Europe, but in the habits, sentiments, and principles of the inhabitants, that it appeared altogether impossible to restore the original system as it existed before 1702. The continent resembled the wrecks of the city of London after the great conflagration in 1666, when the boundaries of individual property were so com- pletely obliterated and confounded, that the king found himself obliged, by the urgency of the occa- sion, to make new, and in some degree arbitrary, distributions of the ground, in order to rebuild the streets upon a plan more regular, and better fitted to the improved condition of the age. That which proved ultimately an advantage to London, may perhaps produce similar good consequences to the civilized world, and a better and more permanent order of things may be expected to arise out of that which has been destroyed. In that case, the next generation may reap the advantages of the Btorms with which their fathers had to contend. We are, however, far from approving of some of the unceremonious appropriations of territory which were made upon this occasion, which, did our limits admit of entering into the discussion, carried, we think, the use of superior force to a nnich greater extent than could be justified on the principles upon which the allies acted. Amid the labours of the Congress, their attention was turned on the condition of the kingdom of Na- ples ; and it was urged by Talleyrand, in particu- lar, that allowing the existence of the sovereignty of Murat in that beautiful kingdom, was preser- ving, at the risk of future danger to Europe, an empire, founded on Napoleon's principles, and governed by his brother-in-law. It was answered truly, that it was too late to challenge the founda- tion of Murat's right of sovereignty, after having gladly accepted and availed themselves of his assist- ance, in the war against Buonaparte. Talleyrand, by exhibiting to the Duke of Wellington a train of correspondence' between Buonaparte, his sister Caroline, and Murat, endeavoured to show that the latter was insincere, when seeming to act in concert with the allies. The Duke was of opinion, that the letters did not prove treachery, though they indicated what was to be expected, that Murat took part against his brother-in-law and benefac- tor, with considerable reluctance. The matter was now in agitation before the Congress ; and Murat, conceiving his power in danger, seems to have adopted the rash expedient of changing sides once more, and again to have renewed his intercourse with Napoleon. The contiguity of Elba to Na- jiles rendered this a matter of httle difficulty ; and they had, l^esides, the active assistance of Pauline, who went and came between Italy and her bro- ther's little court. Napoleon, however, at all times resolutely denied that he had any precise share or knowledge of the enterprise which Murat medi- tated. The King of France, in the meanwhile, recalled by proclamation all Frenchmen who were in the Neapolitan service, and directed the title of King Joachim to be omitted in the royal almanack. jSIurat, alarmed at this indication of hostile in- tentions, ean-ied on a secret correspondence with France, in the course of which a letter was inter- cepted, directed to the King of Naples, from Ge- neral Excelsman, professing, in his own name and that of others, devoted attachment, and assuring him that thousands of officers, formed in his school and under his eye, would have been ready at his call, had not matters taken a satisfactory turn. In consequence of this letter, Excelsman was in the first place put on half-pay and sent from Paris, which order he refused to obey. Next he was tried before a court-martial, and triumphantly ac- quitted. He was admitted to kiss the king's hand, and swear to him fidelity a toutes epreures. How he kept his word will presently appear. In the meantime the King had need of faithful adherents, for the nets of conspiracy were closing fast around him. The plot formed against Louis XVIII. compre- hended two enterprises. The first was to be achieved by the landing of Napoleon from Elba, when the universal good-will of the soldiers, the awe inspired by his name and character, and the suspicious and insinuations spread widely against the Bourbons, together with the hope of recover- ing what the nation considered as the lost glory of France, were certain to insure him a general good reception. A second, or subordinate branch of the conspiracy, concerned the insurrection of a body of troops under General L'AUemand, who were quartered in tlie north-east of France, and to whom was committed the charge of intercepting the re- treat of tlie King and royal family from Paris, and, seizing them, to detain them as hostages at the restored Emperor's pleasure. It is impossible to know at what particular period of his residence in Elba, Napoleon gave an express consent to what was proposed, and disposed him- self to assume the part destined for him in the extraordinary drama. We should suppose, how- ever, his resolution was adopted about that time when his" manner changed completely towards the British envoy residing at his little court, and when he assumed the airs of inaccessible and imperial state, to keep at a distance, as an inconvenient ob- server. Sir Niel Campbell, to whom he had before seemed rather partial. His motions after that time have been described, so far as wo have access to know them. It was on Sunday, 26th February, that Napoleon embarked with his guards on board the flotilla, consisting of the Inconstant brig, and six other small vessels, upon one of the most extra- ordinary and adventurous expeditions that was ever attempted.* The force, with which he was once more to change the fortunes of France, amounted ' See ParliaracLtary Debates, vol. xxxi., 1815. 2 " At this time there was a very pretty cunning little French actress at Elba. Napoleon preteuded to be very an- gry with her, sayinp she was a spy of the Bourbons, and or- dered her out of the island in twenty four hours. Captain Adye took her Uis vessel to Leghorn : Sir Niel Campbell went at 726 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WOllKS. [1815. But to about a thousaud men. To keep the under- taking secret, his sister Pauline gave a ball on the night of his departure, and the officers were unex- pectedly summoned, after leaving the entertain- ment, to go on board the little squadron. In his passage Napoleon encountered two great i-isks. The first was from meeting a royal French frigate,! who hailed the Inconstant. The guards wore ordered to put off their caps, and go down below, or lie upon the deck, while the captain of the Incosistant exchanged some civilities''' with tlie commander of the frigate, with whom he chanced to be acquainted ; and being well known in these seas, was permitted to pass on without farther inquiry. The second danger was caused by the pursuit of Sir Niel Campbell, in the Partridge sloop of war, who, following from Elba, where he had learned Napoleon's escape, with the determina- tion to capture or sink the flotilla, could but obtain a distant view of the vessels as they landed their passengers.-' This ^\as on the first of March, when Napoleon, causing his followers once more to assume the three- coloured cockade, disembarked at Cannes, a small seaport in the gulf of Saint Juan, not far from Frejus, which had seen him land, a single indivi- dual, returned from Egypt, to conquer a mighty empire ; had beheld him set sail, a teri'ified exile, to occupy the place of his banishment ; and now again witnessed his return, a daring adventurer, to tlu'ow the dice once more for a throne or a grave. A small party of his guard presented themselves before Antibes, but were made pri- soners by General Corsin, the governor of the place. Undismayed by a circumstance so unfavourable. Napoleon instantly began his march at the head of scarce a thousand men, towards the centre of a kingdom from which he had been expelled with execrations, and where his rival now occupied in peace an hereditary throne. For some time the inhabitants gazed on them with doubtful and as- tonished eyes, as if uncertain whether to assist them as friends, or to oppose them as invaders. A few peasants cried Vire I' Emjjereur ! but the ad- venturers received neither countenance nor oppo- sition from those of the higher ranks. On the evening of 2d March, a day and a half after land- ing, the little band of invaders reached Ceremin, having left behind them their small train of artil- lery, in order to enable them to make forced marches. As Napoleon approached Dauphine, call- ed the cradle of the Revolution, the peasants greeted hira with more general welcome, but still no pro- prietors ajipeared, no clergy, no public function- aries. But they were now near to those by whom the success or ruin of the expedition must be de- cided. Soult, the minister at war, had ordered some large bodies of troops to be moved into the coun- the same time; and durini; this absence, on Sunday the 26th February, a signal gun was fired at four in the afternoon, the drums beat to arms, the officers tumbled what they could of their effects into flour sacks, the men arranged their knap- sacks, the embarkation begaij, and at eight in the evening they were under weigh." — J\['mnrahlc JCccnls, \>. 271. ' The Zephyr. Captain Andrieu. * " He asked how the Emperor did. Napoleon replied through the speaking trumpet, ' 11 se porte a merveille.' " — Memorahle Kvents, p. 271. 3 Lord Castlereagn stated in the House of Commons, 7th April, 1U15, that Napoleon was not considered as a prisoner try betwixt Lyons and Chamberrl, to support, rh he afterwards alleged, tlie high language which Talleyrand had been of late holding at the Con- gress, by showing that France was in readiness for war. If the mare'chal acted with good faith in this measure, he was at least most unfortunate ; for, as he himself admits, even in his attempt at exculpation, the troops were so placed as if they had been purposely thrown in Buonaparte's way, and proved unhappily to consist of corps peculiarly devoted to the Ex-Emperor's person.* On the 7th of MarcH, the seventh regiment of the line, commanded by Colonel Labedoyere, arrived at Grenoble. He was young, nobly born, hands<)me, and distinguished as a military mtvn. His mar- riage having connected him with the noble and loyal family of Damas, he procured preferment and active employment from Louis XVIII. through their interest, and they were induced even to pledge themselves for his fidelity. Yet Labedoyere had been engaged by Cambrone deep in the con- spiracy of Elba, and used the command thus ob- tained for the destruction of the monarch by whom he was trusted. As Napoleon approached Grenoble, he came into contact with the outposts of the garrison, who drew out, but seemed irresolute. Buonaparte halted his own little party, and advanced almost alone, expos- ing his breast, as he exclaimed, " He who will kill his Emperor, let him now work his pleasure." The appeal was irresistible — the soldiers threw down their arms, crowded round the general who had so often led them to victory, and shouted Vive VEin- pereur! In the meanwhile, Labe'do\'ere, at the head of two battalions, was sallying from the gates of Grenoble. As they advanced he displayed an eagle, which, like that of Marius, worshipped by the Roman conspii'ator, had been carefully pre- served to be the type of civil war ; at the same time he distributed among the soldiers the three-co- loured cockades, which he had concealed in the hollow of a drum. They were received with enthu- siasm. It was in this moment that Mare'chal de Camp Des Villiers, the superior officer of Labe- doyere, arrived on the spot, alarmed at what was taking place, and expostulated with the young mili- tary fanatic and the soldiers. He was compelled to retire. General Marchand, the loyal comman- dant of Grenoble, had as little influence on the troops remaining in the place : they made him prisoner, and delivered up the city to Buonaparte. Napoleon was thus at the heSd of nearly tlu'ee thousand soldiers, with a suitable train of artillery, and a corresponding quantity of ammunition. He acted with a moderation which his success could well afford, and dismissed General Marchand un- injured. When the first news of Napoleon's arrival reached Paris, it excited surprise rather than alarm;'* but when he was found to traverse the at Elba, and that if he should leave it the allies had no right to arrest him. — Pari. Uib. vol. xxx., p. 426. ^ " Soult did not betray Louis, nor was he privy to my re- turn and landing in France. For some days, he thought that I was )««(/, and that I must certainly be lost. Notwithstand- ing this, appearances were so much against him, and without intending it, his acts turned out to be so favourable to my pro- jects, that, were I on his jury, and ignorant of what I know, 1 sliould condemn hira tor having betrayed Louis. But he really was not privy to it." — Napoleon, Las Cases, torn, i., p. 'Mii ; U'SImra, vol. i., p. .306. 5 " The Royalists made a mockery of this terror : it w.is 1815.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 727 country without opposition, some strange and com- bined treason began to be generally apprehended. That the Bourbons might not be wanting to their own cause, Monsieur, with the Duke of Orleans, set out for Lyons, and the Duke D'Angoulenie repaired to Nismes. The Legislative Bodies, and most of the better classes, declared for the royal cause. The residents of the various powers has- tened to assure Louis of the support of their sove- reigns. Corps of volunteei-s were raised both among the Royalists and the Constitutional or moderate party. The most animating proclama- tions called the people to ai-ms. Ad address by the celebrated Benjamin Constant, one of the most distinguished of the moderate party, was remark- able for its eloquence. It placed in the most striking liglit the contrast between the lawful government of a constitutional monarch, and the usuri)ation of an Attila, or Genghis, who governed only by the sword of his Mamelukes. It reminded France of the general detestation with which Buonaparte had been expelled from the kingdom, and proclaimed Frenchmen to be the scorn of Europe, should they again stretch their hands voluntarily to the shackles which they had burst and hurled from them. All were summoned to arras, more especially those to whom liberty was dear ; for in the triumph of Buonaparte, it must •find its grave for ever. — " With Louis," said the address, " was peace and happiness ; with Buona- parte, war, miseiy, and desolation." Even a more animating appeal to popular feeling was made by a female on the staircase of the Tuileries, who ex- claimed, " If Louis has not men enough to fight for him, let him call on the widows and childless mothers who have been rendered such by Napo- leon." Notwithstanding all these demonstrations of zeal, the public mind had been much influenced by the causes of discontent which had been so artfully enlarged upon for many months past. The decided Royalists were few, the Constitutionalists luke- warm. It became every moment more likely that not the voice of the people, but the sword of the army, must determine the controversy. Soult, whose conduct had given much cause for suspi- cion,' which was augmented by his proposal to call out the officers who since the restoration had been placed on half-pay, resigned his office, and was succeeded by Clarke, Duke of Feltre, less re- nowned as a soldier, but more trustworthy as a subject. A camp was established at Melun — troops were assembled there — and as much care as possible was used in selecting the troops to whom the royal cause was to be intrusted. In the meantime. Fortune had not entirely aban- doned the Bourbons. That part of the Buonapart- ist conspiracy ■^vhich was to have been executed in the north was discovered and disconcerted. Lefebvre Desnouettes, discreditably known in Eng- land by his breach of parole, with the two Generals Lallemand, were the agents in this plot. On the 10th March, Lefebvre marched forward his regi- BtranRe to liear them say that tliis event was the most fortu- nate thine possible, because we should be relieved from Huo- najiarte ; for the two Chambers would feel the necessity of piving the kins; absolute power— as if absolute power was a tiling to be given." — Mad. de St.aei,, tom. iii., p. 1.38. " Yes- terday the King received the diplomatic corps. His majesty said to the ambassadors, ' write to your respective courts that I am well, and that the foolish enterprise of that man shall as ment to join Buonaparte ; but the officers having discovered his purpose, ho was obliged to make his escape from the arrest with which he was threat- ened. The two Lallemands put the garrison of Lisle, to the number of 6000 men, in motion, by means of forged orders, declaring there was an insurrection in Paris. But Mare'chal Mortier, meeting the troops on the march, detected and de- feated the conspiracy, by which, had it taken effect, the King and Royal Family must have been made prisoners. The Lallemands were taken, and to have executed them on the spot as traitors, might have struck a wholesome terror into such officers as still hesitated ; but the mini.sters of the King did not pos.sess energy enough for such a crisis.^ The pix)gress of Buonaparte, in the meantime, was uninterrupted. It was in vain that, at Lyons, Monsieur and the Duke of Orleans, with the as- sistance of the advice and influence of Mare'chal Macdonald, endeavoured to retain the troops in their duty, and the inhabitants in their allegiance to the King. The latter, chiefly manufacturers, afraid of being undersold by those of England in their own market, shouted openly, " Vire I'Em- pereur! " The troops of the line remained silent and gloomy. "How will your soldiers behave?" said Monsieur to the colonel of the 13th Dra- goons. The colonel referred him to the men them- selves. They answered candidly, that they would fight for Napoleon alone. Monsieur dismounted, and addressed the soldiers individually. To one veteran, covered with scars, and decorated with medals, the prince said, " A brave soldier like you, at least, will cry, " Vive le Roi !" — " You deceive yourself," answered the soldier. " No one here will fight against his father — I will cry. Vice Na- poleon ! " The efforts of Macdonald were equally vain. He endeavoured to move two battalions to oppose the entry of Buonaparte's advanced guard. So soon as the troops came in presence of each other, they broke their ranks, and mingled toge- ther in the general cry of Vire I'JEmpereur!" Macdonald would have been made prisoner, but the forces whom he had just commanded would not permit this consummation of revolt. Mon- sieur was obliged to escape from Lyons, almost alone. The guard of honour formed by the citi- zens, to attend the person of the second of the Bourbon family, offered their services to Napo- leon ; but he refused them with contempt, while he sent a cross of honour to a single dragoon, who had the loyalty and devotion to attend Monsieur in his retreat. Buonaparte, now master of the ancient capital of the Gauls, and at the head of 7000 men, was acknowledged by Majon, Chalons, Dijon, and al- most all Burgundy. Marseilles, on the contrary, and all Provence, declared against the invader, and the former city set a price upon his head. Napoleon found it necessary to halt at Lyons for the refreshment of his forces ; and, being joined by some of the civilians of his party, he needed time also to organise his government and adminis- little disturb the tranquillity of Europe, as it has disturbed mine.'" — Monllcur, March 8. ' " I am persuaded that the suspicion of his acting a trench ■ erous part is groundless." — Mad. DS^STAKL, tom. iii., p. «7. * " General Lallemand would have been infallibly shot, had not Napoleon reached Paris with Buch extraordinary rapi- dity."— Savary, tom. iv., i>. i.V). 728 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WOEKS. [1815. trafion. Hitlierto, the addresses which he had jmbhslied had been of a miUtary chai-acter, abound- ing with the Oriental imagery which Buonaparte regarded as essential to eloquence, promising that victory should move at the charging step, and that the eagle should fly with the natioiial colours from steeple to steeple, till she perched on the towers of Notre Dame. The present decrees were of a dif- ferent character, and related to the internal ar- rangement of his projected administration, _ Cambaceres was named his jninister of justice ; Fouche', that of police (a boon to the revolution- ists ;) Davoust was made minister of war. Decrees upon decrees issued forth, with a rapidity which showed how Buonaparte had employed those studi- ous hours at Elba, which he was supposed to have dedicated to the composition of his Memoirs. They ran in the name of Napoleon, by the grace of God, Emperor of the French, and were dated on the 13th of INIarch, although not promulgated until the 21st of that month. The first of these decrees abrogated all changes in the courts of justice and tribunals which had taken place during the absence of Napoleon. The second displaced all officers be- longing to the class of emigrants, and introduced into the army by the King. The third suppressed the order of St. Louis, the white flag and cockade, and other royal emblems, and restored the three- coloured banner and the imperial symbols of Buo- naparte's authority. The same decree abolished the Swiss Guard, and the household troops of the King. The fourth sequestered the effects of the Bourbons. A similar ordinance sequestered the restored property of emigrant families, and was so artfully worded as to represent great changes of property having taken place in this manner. The fifth decree of Lyons suppressed the ancient nobi- lity and feudal titles, and formally confirmed pro- pi'ietors of national domains in their possessions. The sixth, declared sentence of banishment against all emigrants not erased from the list previous to tlie accession of the Bourbons, to which was added confiscation of their property. The seventh re- stored the Legion of Honour, in every respect as it had existed under the Emperor, uniting to its funds the confiscated revenues of the order of St. Louis. The eighth and last decree was the most important of all. Under pretence that emigrants who ha> wore it. He travelled several hours in advance of his army, often without any guard, or, at most, at- tended only by a few Polish lancers. The country through which he journeyed was favourable to his pretensions. It had been sevei-ely treated by the allies during the military manceuvres of the last campaign, and the dislike of the suffering inhabit- ants extended itself to the family who had mount- ed the tin-one by the influence of these strangers. When, therefore, they saw the late Emperor among them alone, without guards, inquiring, with his usual appearance of active interest, into the extent of their losses, and making liberal promises to re- pair them, it is no wonder that the}' should rather remember the battles he had fought in their be- half against the foreigners, than think on the probability that his presence among them might be the precursor of a second invasion. The revolutionai'y fever preceded Buonaparte like an epidemic disorder. The 14th regiment of lancers, quartered at Auxerre, trampled under foot the white cockade at tlio first signal ; the sixth regiment of lancers declared also for Napoleon, and without waiting for orders, drove a few soldiers of the household troops from Montereau, and secured that important post, which commands the passage of the Seine, The dismay of the royal government at the revolt of Lyons, was much increased by false tidings which had been previously circulated, giving an account of a pretended victory obtained by the Royalist party in front of that town. The conspi- racy was laid so deep, and extended so widely 1815.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 729 tlirough every branch of the government, that tliose foncerned contrived to send this false report to Paris in a demi-official form, by means of the tele- graph. It had the expected effect, first, in sus- pending the preparations of the loyal party, and afterwards in deepening the anxiety wliich over- whelmed them, when Monsieur, returning almost unattended, brought the news of his bad success. At this moment of all but desperation, Fouche offered his assistance to the almost defenceless King. It is probable, that the more he reflected on the character of his old master. Napoleon, the deeper became his conviction, that they knew each other too well ever to resume an attitude of mutual confidence. Nothing deterred, therefore, by the communications which he had opened with the Im- perialists, he now demanded a secret audience of the King. It was refused, but his communications were received through the medium of two confi- dential persons deputed by Louis. Fouche"s lan- guage to them was that of a bold empiric, to whom patients have recourse in a moment of despair, and who confidently undertake the most utterly hope- less cases. Like such, he exacted absolute reliance ou his skill — the most scrupulous attention to his injunctions — the most ample reward for his pro- mised services ; and as such, too, he spoke with the utmost confidence in the certainty of his re- medy, whilst observing a vague yet studious mys- tery about the ingredients of which it was composed, and the mode in which it would operate. He re- quired of Louis XVIII. that he should suiTender all the executive authority to the Duke of Orleans, and all the ministerial offices to himself and those whom he should appoint ; which two conditions beiug granted, he undertook to put a period to Buonaparte's expedition. The Memoirs of this bold intriguer affirm, that he meant to assemble all that remained of the revolutionary party, and oppose the doctrines of Liberty and Equality to those of the glory of France, iu the sense under- stood by Buonaparte. 1 What were the means that such politicians, so united, liad to oppose to the army of France, Fouche' has not informed us ;2 but it is probable, that, to stop the advance of 10,000 armed men, against whom the revolutionists could now scarce even array the mob of the sub- urbs, the ex-minister of police must have meditated the short sharp remedy of Napoleon's assassina- tion, for accomplishing which, he, if any man, could have found trusty agents. The King having refused proposals, which went to preserve his sceptre by taking it out of his hands, and by further unexplained means, the mo- rality of which was liable to just suspicion, Fouche' saw himself obliged to carry his intrigues to the service of his old master. He became, in conse- quence, so much an object of suspicion to the Royalists, tnat an order was issued for his arrest.^ To the police agents, his own old dependents, who came to execute the order, he objected against the informality of their warrant, and stepping info his closet, as if to draw a jirotest, he descended by a secret stair into his garden, of which he scaled the wall. His next neighbour, into whose garden he escaped, was the Duchess de St. Leu ; so that the fugitive arrived, as if by a trick of the stage, in tlie very midst of a circle of chosen Buonapartists, w ho received him with triumph, And considered the mode of his coming among them as a full warrant for bis fidelity.'' Louis XVIII. in his distress, had recourse to the assistance of another man of the Revolution, who, without possessing the abilities of Fouche, was perhaps, had lie been disposed to do so, better qualified than he to have served the King's cause. Marechal Ney was called forth to take the com- mand of an army destined to attack Nwpoleon in the flank and rear as he marched towards Paris, while the forces at Mehm opposed him in front. He had an audience of the King on the 9th of March, when he accepted his a])pointment with expressions of the most devoted faith to the King, and declared his resolution to bring Buona]>arte to Paris like a wild beast in an iron cage. The ma- re'chal went to Besanr.on, where, on the 11th of March, he learned that Buonaparte was in posses- sion of Lyons. But he continued to make prepa- rations for resistance, and collected all the troops he could from the adjoining garrisons. To those who objected to the bad disposition of the soldiers, and remarked that he would have difficulty in in- ducing them to fight, Ney answered detemiinedly, " They shaH fight ; I w ill take a musket from a grenadier and begin the action myself; — I will run my sword to the hilt in the first who hesitates to follow my example." To the minister at war he wrote, that all were dazzled by the activity and rapid progress of the invader ; that Napoleon was favoured by the common people and the soldiers ; but that the ofticers and civil authorities were loyal, and he still hoped " to see a fortunate close of this mad enterprise." In these dispositions, Ney advanced to Lons-le- Saulnier. Here, on the night betwixt the 13tli and 14th March, he received a letter from Napoleon, summoning him to join his standard, as " bravest of the brave," a name which could not but awake a thousand remembrances. He had already sounded both his officers and soldiers, and discovered their unalterable determination to join Buonaparte. He therefore had it only in hie choice to retain his command by passing over to the Emperor, or else to return to the King without executing any thing which might seem even an effort at realizing his boast, and also without the army over which he had asserted his possession of such influence. Mare'chal Ney was a man of mean birth, who, by the most desperate valour, had risen to the high- est ranks in the army. His early education had not endowed him with a delicate sense of honour or a high feeling of principle, and he had not learned ' Fouch^, torn, ii., p. 249. 2 " When the king's ministers desired to know what were the means which I proposed to employ, in order to prevent Kajioleon from reacliinR Paris, I refused to communicate them, being determined to disclose them to no person but tlie King himself; but I protested that 1 was sure of success." — ForcHE.p. 250. 8 In the Memoirs of Fouche, it is avowed, that this order of arrest was upon no political ground, but arose from the envy of Savary, who, foreseeing tliat Fouchci would be restored to the situation of minister of police, which he himself desired, on account of the large sum* which were placed at the dispo- sal of that functionary, hoped, in this manner, to put his lival out of his road. — S. < " Hortensc received me with open arms ; and as in a won- I derful Arabian tale, I suddenly found myself in the midst of the ^Weof the Buonajiartists, m the headquarters of the par- ty, where I found mirtli, and where my presence caused an intoxication of joy. "-Foiche, p. i'53. 730 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. []8]r>. cither as he advanced in life. He appears to liave been a weak man, with more vanity than pride, and who, therefore, was likely to feel the loss of power more than the loss of character. He accordingly resolved upon adhering to Napoleon. Sensible of tlie incongruity of changing his side so suddenly, he affected to be a deliberate knave, rather than he would content himself with being viewed in his real character, of a volatile, light-principled, and inconsiderate fool. He pretended that the expe- dition of Napoleon had been long an-auged between himself and the other mare'chals. But we are willing rather to suppose that this was matter of mere invention, than to think that the protesta- tions poured out at the Tuileries, only five days be- fore, were, on the part of this unfortunate man, the effusions of premeditated treachery. The mare'chal now published an order of the day, declaring that the cause of the Bourbons was lost for ever. It was received by the soldiers with I'apture, and Buonaparte's standard and colours were instantly displayed. Many of the officers, however, remonstrated, and left their commands. One, before he went away, broke his sword in two, and threw the pieces at Ney's feet, saying, " It is easier for a man of honour to break iron than to infringe his word." Ney was received by Napoleon with open arms.* His defection did incalculable damage to the King's cause, tending to show that the spirit of treason which possessed the common soldiers, had ascended to and affected the officers of the highest rank in the army. The king, in the meanwhile, notwithstanding these unpi'omising circumstances, used every exer- tion to induce his subjects to continue in their alle- giance. He attended in person the sitting of the Chamber of Deputies, and was received with such enthusiastic marks of applause, that one would have thought the most active exertions must nave fol- lowed. Louis next reviewed the national guards, about 25,000 men, who made a similar display of loyalty. He also inspected the troops of the line, 'iOOO in number, but his reception was equivocal. Thej placed their caps on their bayonets in token of respect, but they raised no shout. Some of those about Louis's person continued to believe that these men were still attached to the King, or that at any rate, they ought to be sent to the camp at ]\lelun, which was the last remaining point upon which the royal party could hope to make a stand. As a last resource, Louis convoked a general council at the Tuileries on the 18th March. The generals present declared there could be no effectual opposition offered to Buonaparte. The royalist nobles contradicted them, and, after some expres- sions of violence had been uttered, much misbe- coming the royal presence, Louis was obliged to break up the meeting, and prepare himself to aban- don a capital, which the prevalence of his enemies, and the disunion of his friends, left him no longer any chance of defending. Meantime, the two armies approached each other at Melim ; that of the King was commanded by ' " It is impossible not to condemn Ney's conduct. It be- loved him to imitate Macdonald and to \yithdraw. It ought, lowcver, to be added, tliat Generals Lecourbe and Bourmont lere with him when he consented to be led astray Hut, alter coiumitling this error, he fell into a still greater one. He the faithful Macdonald. On the 20th, his troops were drawn up in three lines to receive the inva- ders, who were said to be advancing from Fon- tainbleau. There was a long pause of suspense, of a nature which seldom fails to render men more accessible to sti'ong and sudden emotion. The glades of the forest, and the acclivity which ascends to it, were full in view of the royal army, but pre- sented the appearance of a deep solitude. All was silence, except when the regimental bands of music, at the command of the officers, who remained ge- nerally faithful, played the airs of Vire Henri Quatre — 0, liichard—^La Belle GabrleUe, and other tunes connected with the cause and family of the Bourbons. The sounds excited no correspond- ing sentiiuents among the soldiers. At length, about noon, the galloping of horse was heard. An' open carriage appeared, surrounded by a few hus- sars, and drawn by four horses. It came on at full speed ; and Napoleon, jumping from the vehicle, was in the midst of the ranks which had been form- ed to oppose him. His escort threw themselves from their horses, mingled with their ancient com- rades, and the effect of their exhortations was in- stantaneous on men, whose minds were already half made up to the -[jurpose which they now accom- plished. There was a general shout of Vive Napo- leon ! — The last army of the Boiu'bons passed from their side, and no farther obsti'uction existed betwixt Napoleon and the capital, which he was once more — but for a brief space — to inhabit as a sovereign. Louis XVIII. had anticipated too surely the de- fection which took place, to av.-ait the consequence of its actual ari-ival. The King departed from Paris, escorted by his household, at one in the morning of the 20th March. Even at that untimely hour, tlie palace was surrounded by the national guards, and many citizens, who wept and entreated him to remain, offering to spend the last drop of their blood for him. But Louis wisely declined accepting of sacrifices, which could now have avail- ed nothing. Escorted by his household troops, ha took the \\ay to Lisle. Mare'chal Macdonald, re- turning from the fatal position of Melun, assumed the command of this small body, which was indeed augmented by many volunteers, but such as consi- dered their zealous wishes, rather than their power of rendering assistance. The King's condition was, however, pitied and i-espected, and he passed through Abbeville, and other garrison towns, where the soldiers received him with sullen respect ; and though indicating that they intended to join his rival, would neither violate his person nor insult his misfortunes. At Lisle he had hoped to make a stand, but Mare'chal Mortier, insisting upon the dissatisfied and tumultuary state of the garrison, urged him to proceed, for the safety of his life ; and, compelled to a second exile, he departed to Ostend, and from thence to Ghent, where he esta- blished his exiled court. Mare'chal Macdonald took leave of his Majesty on the frontiers, consci- ous that by emigrating he must lose every prospect of serving in future either France or her monarch. The household troops, about t«o hundi'ed excepted, wrote to Napoleon to acquaint him -with what lie had done, announcing to him at the same time, that he was about to proceed to Auxerre, M-here he exjiected the honour of seciDg liim." — Savarv, torn, iv., p. 252. IJ •] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 731 were also disbanded on the frontiers. They had been harassed in their marcli thitiier bv some light horse, and in their attempt to regain their homes in a state of dispersion, some were slain, and almost all were plundered and insulted. In the meanwhile, the Revolution took full effect at Paris. Lavalette, one of Buonaparte's most decided adherents, hastened from a place of concealment to assume the management of the post-office in the name of Napoleon, an office which he had enjoyed during his former reign. He was thus enabled to intercept the royal proclamations, and to announce to every department officially the ^v^to^ation of the Emperor. Excelsman, the oath of fealty to the king, a toutes epreuves, scarce dry upon his li])s, took down the white flag, which floated on the Tuileries, and replaced the three- coloured banner. It was late in the evening ere Napoleon arrived in the same open carriage, which he had used since his landing. There was a singular contrast betwixt his entry and the departure of the King. The latter was accompanied by the sobs, tears, and kind wishes of those citizens who desired peace and tranquillity, by the wailing of the defenceless, and the anxious fears of the wise and prudent. The former entered amid the shouts of armed columns, who, existing by war and desolation, welcomed with military acclamations the chief who was to restore them to their element. The inha- bitants of the suburbs cheered in expectation of employment and gratuities, or by instigation of their ringleaders, who were chiefly under the management of the police, and well prepared for the event. But among the immense crowds of the citizens of Paris, who turned out to see this extraordinary spectacle, few or none joined in the gratulation. The soldiers of the guard resented their silence, commanded the spectators to shout, etruck with the flat of their swords, and pointed their pistols at the multitude, but could not, even by these military means, extort the expected cry of Liberty and Napoleon, though making it plain by their demeanour, that the last, if not the first, was returned to the Parisians. In the court of the Carousel, and before the Tuileries, all the adherents of the old Imperial government, and those who, having deserted Napoleon, were eager to expiate their fault, by now being first to acknowledge him, were assembled to give voice to their welcome, which atoned in some degree for the silence of the streets. They crowded around him so closely, that he was compelled to exclaim — " My friends, you stifle me !" and his adjutants were obliged to support him in their arms up the grand staircase, and thence into the royal apartments, where he received the all-hail of the principal devisers and abettors of this singular undertaking. Never, in his bloodiest and most triumphant field of battle, had the terrible ascendency of Na- poleon's genius appeared half so predominant as duiing his march, or rather his journey, from Cannes to Paris. He who left the same coast dis- guised like a slave, and weeping like a woman, for fear of assassination, re-appeared in grandeur like that of the returning wave, which, the farther it has retreated, is rolled back on the shore with the n;ore terrific and overwhelming violence. His looks seemed to possess the pretended power of northern magicians, and blunted swords and spears. The Bravest of the Brave, who came determined to oppose him as he would a wild beast, recognised his superiority when confronted with him, and sunk again into his satellite. Yet the lustre with which Napoleon shone was not that of a planet duly moving in its regular sphere, but that of a comet, inspiring forebodings of pestilence and death, and " with fear of change, Perplexing nations." The result of his expedition was thus summed by one of the most eloquent and best-informed British statesmen.' " Was it," said the accomplished orator, " in the power of language to describe the evil ? Wars which had raged for twenty-five years throughout Eu- rope ; which had spread blood and desolation from Cadiz to Moscow, and from Naples to Copenhagen ; which had wasted the means of human enjoyment, and destroyed the instruments of social improve- ment ; which threatened to diffuse among the Eu- ropean nations the dissolute and ferocious habits of a predatory soldiery — at length by one of those vicissitudes which bid defiance to the foresight of man, had been brought to a close, upon the whole happy beyond all reasonable expectation, with no violent shock to national independence, with some tolerable compromise between the opinions of the age and the reverence due to ancient institutions, with no too signal or mortifying triumph over the legitimate interests or avowable feelings of any nu- merous body of men, and, above all, without those retaliations against nations or parties which beget new convulsions, often as horrible as those which they close, and perpetuate revenge and hatred and blood from age to age. Europe seemed to breathe after her sufferings. In the midst of this fair pro- spect, and of these consolatory hopes. Napoleon Buonaparte escaped from Elba ; three small ves- sels reached the coast of Provence ; their hopes are instantly dispelled ; the work of our toil and fortitude is undone; the blood of Europe is spilt in vain — " Ibi omnis effusus labor ! " CHAPTER LXXXV. Various attempts to organise a defence for the Bout' bans fail — Buonaparte, again reinstated on the throne of France, is desirous of continuing the peace vith the Allies — but no answer is returned to his letters — Treaty of Vienna — Grierancea alleged by Buonaparte in justif cation of the step he had taken — Debates in the BriHsh Uouse oj Commons, on the renewal of War — 3Iurat occu- pies Home with 50,000 men — his Proclamation summoning all Italians to arms — He advances against the Austrians — is repidsed at Occhio-Bello — defeated at Tolentino— flies to i\'aples, and thence, in disgui. de 3Iai to ratify it — Buo- naparte's Address to the Chambers of Peers and Depiuties — The spirit of Jacobinism predominant i)i the latter. While Murat was struggling and sinking under his evil fate, Buonaparte was actively preparing for the approaching contest. His first attempt, as we have already seen, was to conciliate the allied powers. To satisfy Great Britain, he passed an act abolishing the slave trade, and made some regu- lations concerning national education, in which he spoke highly of the systems of Bell and Lancaster. ' 0'M?ara, vol. ii., p. 95. 2 It is well known tnat Joachim Murat, escaping with diffi- culty from France, fled to Corsica, and mif^ht have obtained permission to reside upon parole in the Austrian territories, safe and unmolested. He nourished a wild idea, however, of recovering his crown, which induced him to reject these terms iif safety, and invade the Neapolitan territories at the head ut'd'ootit tiTO hundred men. That his whole expedition nii^ht be an accurate parody on that of Buonaparte to Cannes, he published swagRcring proclamations, mingled with a proper quantum of falsehood. A storm dispersed his flotilla. He himself, October Itth, landed at a little fishing town near MoDte Leone. He was attacked by the country people, fought These measures were fa\oarably construed by some of our legislators ; and that they were so, is a complete proof that Buonaparte understood the temper of our nation. To suppose that, during his ten months of retirement, his mind was actively employed upon the miseries of the negroes, or the deplorable state of ignorance to which his own measures, and the want of early instruction, had reduced the youth of Fi'ance, would argue but little acquaintance with his habits of ambition. To be- lieve, on the contrary, that he would, at his first, arrival in France, make any apparent sacrifices \Vhich might attract the good-will of his powerful and dangerous neighbours, is more consonant with his schemes, his interest, and his character. The path which he chose to gain the esteem of Britain, was by no means injudicious. The abolition of negro slavery, and the instruction of the poor, have (to the honour of our legislature) been frequent and an,\ious subjects of deliberation in the House of Commons ; and to mankind, whether individually or collectively, no species of flattery is more pleas- ing than that of assent and imitation. It is not a little to the credit of our country, that the most avowed enemy of Britain strove to cultivate our good opinion, not by any offers of national advan- tage but by appearing to concur in general mea- sures of benevolence, and attention to the benefit of society. Yet, upon the whole, the character of Napoleon was too generally understood, and the purpose of his apparent approximation to British sentiments, too obviously affected, for serving tx. make any general or serious impression in his favour. With Austria, Napoleon acted difi"erently. He was aware that no impression could be made on the Emperor Francis, or his minister Metternich, and that it had become impossible, with their con- sent, that he should fulfil his promise of presenting his wife and son to the people on the Champ de Mai. Stratagem remained the only resource ; and some Frenchmen at Vienna, with those in Maria Loui.sa's train, formed a scheme of carrying off the Empress of France and her child. The plot was discovered and prevented, and the most public steps were immediately taken, to show that Austria considered all ties with Buonaparte as dissolved for ever. Maria Louisa, by her father's commands, laid aside the arms and liveries of her husband, hitherto displayed by her attendants and carriages, and as- sumed those of the house of Austria. This deci-sive event put an end to every hope so long eherished by Napoleon, that he might find some means of regaining the friendship of his father-in-law. Nor did the other powers in Europe show them- selves more accessible to his advances. He was, therefore, reduced to his own partisans in the French nation, and those won over from other parties, whom he mijiht be able to add to them. as he was wont, but was defeated and made prisoner, tried by martial law, and condemned. The Sicilian royal family have shown themselves no forgiving race, otherwise mercy might have been e.vtended to one, who, though now a private person, had been so lately a king, that he might be pardoned for forgetting that he had no longer the power of making Ecace and war without personal responsibility. Murat met is fate as became Le Beau Sabrcir. He fastened his wife's picture on his breast, refused to have his eyes bandaged, or to use a seat, received six balls throupfi his heart, and met the death which he had braved witli impunity in the thick of many conflicts, and sought in vain in so many others -S. 1815.J LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 7?>7 The army had suflRciently sliown themselves to be his own, upon grounds which are easily appre- ciated. The host of public official persons, to whom the name under which they exercised their offices ^•as indifferent, provided the salary continued to be attached to them, formed a large and influential body. And although we, who have never, by such mutations of our political system, been put to the trial of either abandoning our means of living, or submitting to a change of government, nia\', on hearing quoted names of respectability and celebrity who adopted the latter alternative, exclaim against French versatility, a glance at Britain during the frequent changes of the 17th century, may induce us to exchange the exclamation of poor France ! for that of poor human nature ! The professors of Cromwell's days, who piously termed themselves followers of Pi-ovidence, because they complied with every change that came uppermost ; and the sect of time-servers, including the honest patriot, who complained at the Restoration that he had complied with seven forms of government during the year, but lost his office by being too late of adhering to the last — would have made in their day a list equally long, and asentertaining, as the celebrated Djctiow- naire de Girouettes. In matters dependent upon a sudden breeze of sentiment, the mercurial French- man is more apt to tack about than the phlegmatic and slowly-moved native of Britain ; but when the steady trade-wind of interest prevails for a long season, men in all nations and countries show the same irresistible disposition to trim their sails by it ; and in politics as in morals, it will be well to pray asrainst being led into temptation. B"' les those attached to him by mere interest, or from gratitude and respect for his talents, Napo- leon had now among his adherents, or rather allies, not ns a matter of choice, but of necessity, the Jaco- biii i.uty, who had been obliged, though unwillingly, to adopt him as the head of a government, which they hoped to regenerate. To these were to be added a much larger and more respectable body, who, far from encouraging his attempt, had testified themselves anxious to oppose it to the last, but who, conceiving the cause of the Bourbons entirely lost, were willing to adhere to Buonaparte, on condi- tion of obtaining a free constitution for France. Many of these acted, of course, on mixed motives; but if we were asked to form a definition of them, we should be induced to give the same, which, lay- ing aside party spirit, we should ascribe to a riglit English Whig, whom we conceive to be a man of sense and moderation, a lover of laws and libert_y, whose chief regard to particular princes and fami- lies is founded on what he apprehends to be the public good ; and who differs from a sensible Tory so little, that there is no great cliance of their dis- puting upon any important constitutional question, if it is fairly stated to both. Sucli, we believe, is the difference betwixt i-ational Constitutionalists and Royalists in France; and, undoubtedly, while all the feelings of tlie latter induced them to eye with abhorrence the domination of a usurper, there must have been many of the former, who, fearing danger to the independence of France from the in- tervention of foreign powers, conceived, that by advocating the cause of Napoleon, they were in some degree making a virtue of necessity, and playing an indifferent game with as much skill as ihe cards they held would permit. Many patriotic vol.. II. and sensible men, who had retained a regard tor liberty during all the governments and all tha anarchies wliich had subsisted for twenty years, en- deavoured now to frame a system of government; grounded upon something like freedom, uj)on the difficulties of Buonaparte. Pressed as he was from abroad, and unsupported at home, save by the sol- diery, he would, the/ conceived, be thrown by necessity under the f rotection of the nation, and obliged to recruit his adherents by complying with public opinion, and adopting a free government. Under this persuasion a great number of such cha- racters, more or l<;ss shaded by attachment to a modei-ate and limited monarchy, were prepared to acknowledge Buonaparte's re-estal)lished authority, in so far as he should be found to deserve it, by concessions on his part. The conduct and arguments of another portion of the friends of the constitution, rather resembled that which might have been adopted in England by moderate and intelligent Tories. Such men were not prepared to resign the cause of their lawful monarch, because fortune had for a time declared against him. They wei'e of opinion, that to make a constitution permanent, the monarch must have his rights ascertained and vindicated, as well as those of the people ; and that if a usurper were to be acknowledged upon any terms, however plau- sible, so soon as he had cut his way to success by his sword, the nation would be exposed to perpetual revolutions. Louis, these men might argue, had committed no crime whatever ; he was only placed in circumstances which made some persons suppose he might possibly be tempted to meditate changes on the constitution, 'and on the charter which con- firmed it. There was meanness in deserting a good and peaceable king at the command of a revolted army, and a discarded usurper. They regretted that their prince must be replaced by foreign bayonets ; yet it was perhaps better that a mode- rate and peaceful government should be restored even thus, thau that the French nation should con- tinue to suffer under the despotic tyranny of their own soldiery. Those reasoners ridiculed the idea of a free constitution, which was to be generated betwixt Buonaparte, who, in his former reign, never allowed freedom of thought, word, or action to exist unrepressed, and the old Revolutionists, who, dur- ing their period of power, could be satisfied with no degree of liberty until they destroyed every compact which holds civil society together, and made the country resemble one great bedlam, set on fire by the patients, who i-emained dancing in the midst of the flames. Such we conceive to have been the principles on which wise and moderate men on either side acted during this distracted period. It is easy to sup- pose, that their opinions must have been varied by many more and less minute shades, arising from temperament, predilections, prejudices, passions, and feelings of self-interest, and that they were on either side liable to be puslied into exaggeration, or, according to the word whicli was formed to ex- press that exaggeration — into Ultraism. Meantime, Napoleon did all that was possible to conciliate tlie people's aflection, and to show himself sincerely desirous of giving France the free consti- tution wliicii he had promised. He used the advice of Carnot, Sieyes, and Fouche, and certa Jily profit- ed by several of their lessons, lie made it, not- 3u 738 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. []815. withstanding, a condition, that Carnot and Sieves should accept each a title and a seat in his House of Peers, to show that they were completely recon- ciled to the Imperial government ; and both the ancient republicans condescended to exchange the bonnet rouge, for a coronet, which, considering their former opinions, sate somewhat awkwardly upon theii- brows. But although the union of the Imperialists and popular party had been cemented by mutual hatred of the Bourbons, and was still kept together by apprehension of the King's adherents within, and his allies on the exterior, seeds of discord were soon visible between the Emperor and the popular leaders. While the former was eager once more to wield with full energy the sceptre he had reco- vered, tlie latter were continually reminding him, that he had only assumed it in a limited and re- stricted capacity, as the head of a free government, exercising, indeed, its executive power, but under the restraint of a popular constitution. Napoleon, in the frequent disputes which arose on these im- portant points, was obliged to concede to the de- magogues the principles which they insisted upon. But then, for the safety of the state, involved in foreign and domestic dangei-s, he contended it was necessary to invest the chief magistrate with a vi- gour beyond the law, a dictatorial authority, tem- porary in its duration, but nearly absolute in its extent, as had been the manner in the free states of antiquity, when the republic was in imminent danger. Carnot and Fouche, on the other hand, considered, that although it seemed natm-al, and might be easy, to confer such power at the present moment, the resumption of it by the nation, when it was once vested in the hands of Buonaparte, would be a hopeless experiment. The Emperor, therefore, and his ministers, proceeded to their mutual tasks with no mutual confidence ; but, on the contrary, with jealousy, thinly veiled by an affectation of deference on the side of Buonaparte, and respect on that of his counsellors. The very first sacrifice which the Emperor gave to freedom proved an inconvenient one to his go- vernment. This was nothing less than the freedom of the press. It is true, that the influence of his minister of police managed by indirect means to get possession of most of the journals ; so that of sixty writers, employed generally, if not constantly, in periodical composition, five only were now found friendly to the royal cause. The other pens, which a few days before described Napoleon as a species of Ogre, who liad devoured the youth of France, now wrote him down a hero and a liberator. Still, when the liberty of the press was once established, it was soon found impossible to prevent it from as- serting its right of utterance ; and there were found authors to advocate the cause of the Bourbons, from principle, from caprice, from the love of con- tradiction. Napoleon, who always showed himself sensitively alive to the public censure, established inspectors of the booksellers. The minister of police, a friend of liberty, but, as Compte, the editor of Le Censeur, neatly observed, only of liberty after the fashion of M. Fouche, used every art in his power to prevent the contagion of freedom from spreading too widely. This M. Compte was a loud, and probably a sincere iidvocate of freedom, and had been a promoter of Buonaparte's retui-n, as likely to advance the good cause. Seeing the prevailing influence of the mili- tary, he published some severe remarks on the undue weight the army assumed in public affairs, which, he hesitated not to say, was bringing France to the condition of Rome, when the empire was disposed of by the Praetorian guards. This stung to the quick — the journal was seized by the police, and the minister endeavoui'ed to palliate the fact in the Moniteur, by saying, that, though seized, it had been instantly restored. But Compte was not a man to be so silenced ; he published a contradic- tion of the official statement, and declared that his journal had not been restored. He was summoned the next day before the prefect, alternately threat- ened and wheedled, upbraided at one moment with ungrateful resistance to the cause of the Emperor, and requested at the next to think of something in which government might serve him. Steeled against every proffer and entreaty, Compte only required to be permitted to profit by the restored liberty of the press ; nor could the worthy magis- trate make him rightly understand that when the Emperor gave all men Uberty to publish what pleased themselves, it was under the tacit condition that it should also please the prefect and minister of police. Compte had the spirit to publish the whole affair. In the meanwhile, proclamations of Louis, for- bidding the payment of taxes, and announcing the arrival of 1,200,000 men under the walls of Paris, covered these walls every night in spite of the police. A newspaper, called the Lily, was also secretly, but generally circulated, which advocated the royal cause. In the better classes of society, where Buonaparte was feared and hated, lampoons, satires, pasquinades, glided from hand to hand, turning his person, ministers, and government, into the most bitter ridicule. Others attacked him with eloquent invective, and demanded what he had in common with the word Liberty, which he now pre- tended to connect with his reign. He was, they said, the sworn enemy of liberty, the assassin of the Republic, the destroyer of French freedom, which had been so dearly bought ; the show of liberty which he held, was a trick of legei-demain, executed under protection of his bayonets. Such was his notion of liberty when it destroyed the national representation at St. Cloud — Such was the freedom he gave when he established an Ori- ental despotism in the enlightened kingdom of France. Such, when abolishing all free communi- cation of sentiments among citizens, and proscrib- ing every liberal and philosophical idea under the nickname of Ideology. " Can it be forgotten," they continued, "that Heaven and Hell are not more irreconcilable ideas, than Buonaparte and Liberty I — The very word Freedom," they said, " was proscribed under his iron reign, and only fii-st gladdened the ears of Frenchmen after tweb e years of humiliation and despair, on the happy re- storation of Louis XVIII. — Ah, miserable impos- tor !" they exclaimed, " when would he have spoke of liberty,"had not the return of Louis familiarized us with "freedom and peace." The spirit of disaf- fection spread among certain classes of the lower ranks. The mai'ket-women (dames Jes halles,) so formidable during the time of the Fronde, and in the early years of the Revolution, for their opposi- tion to the court, were now royalists, and, of course, clamorous on the side of the party they espoubcd. 1815.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 739 Tliey invented, or some loyal rhymer composed for them, a song,^ the burden of which demanded back tlie King, as their father of Ghent. They ridiculed, Scolded, and mobbed the commissaries of police, who endeavoured to stop these musical expres- sions of disaffection ; surrounded the chief of their number, danced aroxind him, and chanted the ob- noxious burden, until Fouche being ashamed to belie the new doctrines of liberty of thought, speech, and publication, his agents were instructed to leave these Amazons undisturbed on account of tlieir political sentiments. While Buonaparte was unable to form an inter- est in the saloons, and found that even the dames (ies ladles were becoming discontented, he had upon his side the militia of the suburbs ; those columns of pikemen so famous in the Revolution, whose fu- rious and rude character added to the terrors, if not to the dignity, of his reign. Let us not be ac- cused of a wish to depreciate honest industry, or hold up to contempt the miseries of poverty. It is not the poverty, but the ignorance and the vice of tJie rabble of great cities, which render them al- ways disagi'eeable, and sometimes terrible. They are entitled to protection from the laws, and kindness from the government ; but he who would use them as political engines, invokes the assistance of a bla- tant beast with a thousand heads, well furnished with fangs to tear and throats to roar, but devoid of tongues to speak reason, ears to hear it, eyes to see it, or judgment to comprehend it. For a little time after Buonaparte's return, crowds of artisans of the lowest order assembled under the windows of the Tuileries, and demanded to see the Emperor, whom, on liis appearance, they greeted with shouts, as le Grand Entrepreneur, or general employer of the class of artisans, in lan- guage where the coarse phraseology of their rank was adorned with such flowers of rhetoric as the times of terror had coined. Latterly, the numbers of this assembly were maintained by a distribution of a few sous to the shouters. However disgusted with these degi-ading exhi- bitions, Buonaparte felt he could not dispense with this species of force, and was compelled to institute a day of procession, and a solemn festival, in fa- vour of this description of persons, who, from the mode in which they were enrolled, were termed Federates. On 14th May, the motley and ill-arranged ranks which assembled on this memorable occasion, ex- hibited, in the eyes of the disgusted and frightened spectators, all that is degraded by habitual vice, and hardened by stupidity and profligacy. The portentous procession moved on along the Boule- vards to the court of the Tuileries, with shouts, in w^hich the pi-aises of the Emperor were mingled with imprecations, and w'ith the Revolutionary Bongs (long silenced in Paris,) — the >Iarseilloise Hymn, the Carmagnole, and the Day of Departure. The appearance of the men, the refuse of manu- factories, of work-houses, of jails ; their rags, their 1 Dfinni'z nous ndlre paire de fjants, equivalent in pronun- ciation to iiuire Vere lie. (!hn>t.—S. - The following is an abridsnunt of its declarations:— The legislative y/ower resides in the Kmperor and two Chambers. Tlie Chamber of Peers is hereditary, and the Emperor names them. Their number is unlimited.' The Second Chamber is elected by the people, and is to consist of fii'!) members— none ■re to be under twenty-five years. The President is appointed bv the members, but approved of by the Emperor. Members filth, their drunkenness ; their ecstacies of blasphe^ mous rage, and no less blasphemous joy, stamped them with the character of the willing perpetrators of the worst horrors of the Revolution. Buona- parte himself was judged, by close observers, to shrink with abhorrence from the assembly he him- self had convoked. His guards were under arms, and the field artillery loaded, and turned on the Place de Carrousel, filled with the motley crowd, who, from the contrasted colour of the corn porters and charcoal-men, distinguished in the group, were facetiously called his Grey and Black Mousque- taires. He hasted to dismiss his hideous minions, with a sufficient distribution of praises and of li- quor. The national guards conceived themselves insulted on this occasion, because compelled to give their attendance along with the Federates. The troops of the line felt for the degraded character of the Emperor. The haughty character of the French soldiers had kept them from fraternizing with the rabble, even in the cause of Napoleon. They had been observed, on the march from Cannes, to cease their cries of Vive VEmpereur, when, upon entei'iug any considerable town, the shout was taken up by the mob of the place, and to suspend their acclamations, rather than mingle them with tho.se of the pequins, whom they de-spised. They now muttered to each other, on seeing the court which Buonaparte seemed compelled to bestow on these degraded artisans, that the conqueror of Marengo and Wagram had sunk into the mere captain of a rabble. In short, the disgracefid character of the alliance thus formed between Buonaparte and the lees of the people, was of a nature incapable of being glossed over even in the flattering pages of the Moniteur, which, amidst a flourishing descrip- tion of this memorable procession, was compelled to admit, that, in some places, the name of the Em- peror was incongruously mingled with expressions and songs, which recalled an era unfortunately too famous. Fretted by external dangers, and internal dis- turbances, and by the degrading necessity of ap- pearing every night before a mob, who familiarly hailed him as Pere le Viulette, and, above all, galled by the suggestions of his philosophical coun- sellors, who, among other iiuiovations, wished him to lay aside the style of Emperor for that of Presi- dent, or Grand General of the Republic, Napoleon, to rid himself at once of occupations ofiensive to his haughty disposition, withdrew from the Tuile- ries to the more retu-ed palace of the Elysee Bour- bon, and seemed on a sudden to become once more the Emperor he had been before his abdication. Here he took into his own hands, with the assist- ance of Benjamin Constant, and other statesmen, the construction of a new constitution. Their sys- tem included all those checks and regulations which are understood to form the essence of a free govern- ment, and greatly resembled that granted by the Royal Charter.'^ Nevertheless, it was extremely ill received by all parties, but especially by those to be paid at the rate settled by the Constituent Assembly. It is to be renewed every five years. The Emperor may pro- rogue, adjourn, or dissolve the House of Representatives. Sittings to be imblic. The Eleetoral Colleges are maintained. Land-tax and dircet taxes to be voted only for a year; indi- rect may be for several years. No levy of men for the army, nor any cxchanRe of territory, but by a law. Taxes to be pro- posed bv the Ch.imber of Hepresentatives. Ministers to be responsible. Judges to Vk irremovable. Juries to bo csta- 740 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1815. wlio expected from Napoleon a constitution more free tliaii that wliicli they had dissolved by driving Louis XVIII. from the throne. There were other grave exceptions stated against the scheme of go- vernment. First, The same objection was stated against this Imperial grant which had been urged with so much vehemence against the royal charter, namely, that it was not a compact between tlie people and the sovereign, in which the former called the latter to the throne under certain conditions, but a recogni- tion by the sovereign of the liberties of the people. The meeting of the Champ de Mai had indeed been summoned, (as intimated in the decrees from Lyons,) chiefly with the jmrpose of forming and adopting the new constitution ; but, according to the present system, they were only to have the choice of adopting or rejecting that which Napo- leon had prepared for them. The disappointment was great among those philosophers who desired "better bread than is made of wheat;" and could not enjoy liberty itself, unless it emanated directly from the will of the people, and was sancticmed by popular discussion. But Napoleon was determined that the convention of the 10th May should have no other concern in the constitution, save to accept it when offered. He would not intrust such an assembly with the revision of the laws by which he was to govern. Secondly, This new constitution, though present- ing an entirely new basis of government, was pub- lished under the singular title of an " Additional ' Act to the Constitutions of the Emperor," and thereby constituted a sort of appendix to a huge mass of unrepealed organic laws, many of them in- consistent with the Additional Act in tenor and in spirit. Those who had enjoyed the direct confidence of the Emperor while the treaty was framing, en- deavoured to persuade themselves that Napoleon meant fairly by France, yet confessed they had found it difficult to enlighten his ideas on the sub- ject of a limited monarchy. They felt, that though the Emperor might be induced to contrp»ct his authority, yet what remained in his own hand would be wielded as arbitrarily as ever ; and like- wise that he would never regard his ministers otherwise than as the immediate executors of his pleasure, and responsible to himself alone. He would still continue to transport his whole chan- cery at his stirrup, and transmit sealed orders to be executed by a minister whom he had not con- sulted on their import.'^ The Royalists triumphed on the publication of this Additional Act : " Was it for this," they said, " you broke your oaths, and banished your monarch, to get the same, or nearly' similar laws, imposed on 50U by .1 Russian ukase or a Turkish firman, which you heretofore enjoyed by cliarter, in the same manner as your ancestors, called freemen by excel- blishcd. Right of petition is established— freedom of worshi]) —inviolability of property. The last article says, that " the Frencli peo]ile declare tliat they do not mean to delegate the power of restoring the Bourbons, or any prince of that family, even in case of the exclusion of the Imperial dynasty."— S. ' " The word (Hlilifionnl disenchanted the friends of liberty. They recognised in it the ill-disguised continuation of the chief institutions created in favour of absolute power. From that moment Naj)oleon to their view became an incurable despot, and I, for my part, regarded him in the light of a mad- man delivered, bound hand and foot, to the mercy of Europe." .-FoucBE, torn, ii., p. 276. lence, held tlieir rights from their limited sove« reigns ; and for this have you exchanged a peace- ful prince, whose very weakness was your security, for an ambitious warrior, whose strength is your weakness ? For this have you a second time gone to war with all Europe — for the Additional Act and the Champ de Mai?" The more determined Republicans, besides their particular objections to an Upper House, which the Emjieror could fill with his own minions, so as effectually to control the representatives of the people, found the proposed constitution utterly de- void of the salt which should savour it. There was no acknowledgment of abstract principles ; no dissertation concerning the rights of government and the governed ; no metaphysical discussions on the origin of laws ; and they were as much morti- fied and disappointed as the zealot who hears a discourse on ])ractical morality, when he expected a sermon on the doctiinal points of theolog}'. The unfortunate Additional Act became the subject of attack and raillery on all sides ; and was esteemed to possess in so slight a degree the principles of durability, that a bookseller being asked for a copy by a customer, replied, He did not deal in periodi- cal jnihlications.^ Under these auspices the Champ de Mai was opened, and that it might be in all respects incon- gruous, it was held on the 1st of June.* Deputies were supposed to attend from all dejiartments, not, as it had been latterly arranged, to canvass the new constitution, but to swear to observe it ; and not to receive the Empress Maria Louisa and her son as the pledge of twenty years' peace, but to behold the fatal eagles, the signal of instant and bloody war, distributed by the Emperor to the soldiers. Napoleon and his brothers, whom he had once more collected around him, figured, in quaint and fantastic robes, in the Champ de Mai ; he as Em- peror, and they as princes of the blood — another subject of discontent to the Republicans. The re- port of the votes was made, the elect(5rs swore to the Additional Act, the drums rolled, the trumpets flourished, the cannon thundered. But the accla- mations were few and forced. The Emperor seemed to view the scene as an empty pageant, until he was summoned to the delivery of the eagles to the various new- raised regiments ; and then, amid the emblems of ])ast, and, as might be hoped, the augu- ries of future victories, he was himself again. But, on the whole, the Champ de Mai, was, in the lan- guage of Paris, un piece tomhie, a condenmed farce, which was soon to be succeeded by a bloody tragedy. The meeting of the Chambers was the next sub- ject of interest. The Chamber of Peers did not present, like the corresponding assembly in Britain, members of long descent, ample fortunes, indepen- dence of principle, and education corresponding to their rank of hereditary legislators. It consisted 2 Letters from Paris, written during the last reign of Napo- leon, vol. i., p. 1!)7. [By John Cam Hobhouse, Esq. ; now Sir J. C. Hobhouse.] 3 It was subjected, notwithstanding, with the usual success, to the electoral bodies, whose good-nature never refused a constitution which was recommended by the existing govern- ment. The number of those who pave their votes were more than a million ; being scarce a tenth })art, however, of those who had qualifications. 4 Moniteur, June 2; Savary, torn, iv., j). 34; Fouchi, toin. ii., p. 277. '•] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 11 in the princes of Napoleon's blood roval, to whom was added Lucien, long estranged from' liis brotker's councils, but who now, instigated b_v fraternal affec- tion,, or tired of literary leisure, having presented his epic poem to a thankless and regardless public, endeavoured to save his brother in his present dif- ficulties, as by his coui-age and presence of mind he had assisted him during tlie revolution of Bi'u- niaire. There were about one hundred other dig- nitaries, more than one half of whom were military men, including two or three old Jacobins, such as Sieves and Carnot, who had taken titles, decora- tions, and rank, inconsistently with the tenor of their whole life. The rest had been the creatures of Buonaparte's former reign, with some men of letters devoted to his cause, and i-ecently ennobled. This body, which could have no other will than that of the Emperor, was regarded b*y the Republi- cans and Constitutionalists with jealousy, and by the citizens with contempt. Buonaparte himself ex- pressed his opinion of it with something" ap])i'oach- ing the latter sentiment. He had scarce formed his tools, before he seems to have l)een convinced of their inefficvicy, and of the little influence which they could exercise on the public mind.' It was very different with the second Chamber, in which were posted the ancient men of the Re- volution, and their newer associates, who looked forward with hope that Buonaparte might yet as- sume the character of a patriot sovereign, and by his military talents save France for her sake, not for his own. The latter class comprehended many men, not only of talent, but of virtue and public spirit ; with too large a proportion, certainly, of those who vainly desired a system of Republican liberty, which so many years of bloody and fruit- less experiment should have led even the most ex- travagant to abandon, as inconsistent with the situ- ation of the country, and the genius of the French nation. The disputes of the Chamber of Representatives with the executive government commenced on June 4th, the fii'st day of their sitting ; and, like 'those of their predecessors, upon points of idle etiquette. They chose Lanjuinais for their presi- dent ; a preferment which, alighting on one who had been the defender of Louis XVI., the active and determined rcsister of the power of Robes- pierre, and especially, the statesman who drew up the list of crimes in consequence of which Napo- leon's forfeiture had been declared in 1814, could not be acceptable to the Emperor. Napoleon being apj)lied to for confirmation of the election, referred the committee for his answer to the cham- berlain, who, he stated, would deliver it the next day by the page in waiting. The Chamljer took fire, and Napoleon was compelled to return an im- mediate though relustant approval of their choice. The next remarkable indication of tlie temper of the Chamber, was the extempore efi'usion of a de- puty named Sibuet, against the use of the epithets of duke, count, and other titles of honour, in the Chamber of Representatives. Being observed to read his invective from notes, which was contrary to the form of the Chamber, Sibuet was silenced for the moment as out of order ; but the next day, or soon afterwards, having got his speech by heart, ' The ))UTistors of Paris selected LaMdoyurc, Drouot, ^fcv, and L'Alleiniind, as the Ijuatre pairs fitlis {fifrfiiles,) while Vandaiime and others were termed the Pairs siffl^s.—S. the Chamber was under the necessity of listenmg to him, and his motion was got rid of with difiiculty." On the same day, a list of the persons appointed to the peerage was demanded from Carnot, in his capacity of minister, which he declined to render till the session had commenced. This also occa- sioned much uproar and violence, which the ]>rcs\- dent could scarce silence by the incessant peal of his bell. The oath to be taken by the deputies was next severely serutiuized, and the Imperialists carried with difficulty a resolution, that it should be taken to the Emperor and the constitution, without mention of the nation. The second meeting, on June 7th, was as tuuml- tuous as the first. A motion was made by Felix Lepelletier, that the Chamber sh.ould decree to Napoleon the title of Saviour of his Country. This was resisted on the satisfactory ground, that the country was not yet saved ; and the Chamber passed to the order of the day by acclamation.' Notwithstanding these open intimations of the reviving spirit of Jacobinism, or at least of opiio- sition to the Imperial sway. Napoleon's situation obliged him for the time "to address the unruly spirits which he had called together, with the con- fidence which it was said necromancers found it needful to use towards the dangerous fiends whom they had evoked. His address to both Chambers was sensible, manly, and becoming his situation. He surrendered, in their presence, all his preten- sions to absolute power, and jjrofessed himself a friend to liberty; demanded the assistance of the Chambers in matters of finance, intimated a desire of some regulations to check the license of the press, and required from the representatives an example of confidence, energy, and patriotism, to encounter the dangers to which the country was exposed. The Peers replied in corresponding terms. Not so the second Chamber ; for, notwith- standing the utmost eft'orts of the Imperialists, their reply bore a strong tincture of the sentiments of the opposite party. The Chamber promised, indeed, their unanimous support in repelling the foreign enemy ; but they announced their intention to take under their consideration the constitution, as recognised by the Additional Act, and to point out its defects and imperfections, with the neces- sary remedies. They also added a moderating hint, directed against the fervour of Najiolcon's ambi- tion. " The nation," they said, " nourishes no ))lan3 of aggrandisement. Not even the will of a victo- rious prince will lead them beyond the boundaries of self-defence." In his i-ejoinder. Napoleon did not suffer these obnoxious hints to escape his no- tice. He endeavoured to school this refractory assembly into veneration for the constitution, which he declared to be " the pole-star in the tempest ;" and judiciously observed, " there was little cause to provide against the intoxications of triumph, when they were about to contend for existence. He stated the crisis to be immiiR'ut, and cautioned the Chamber to avoid the conduct of the Roman people in the latter ages of the em])ire, who could not resist the temptation of engaging furiously in abstract discussions, even while the battering-rams of the common enemy were shaking the gates of the capitol." * Sec Moiiittur, June 6. 3 Moiiittur, June 9. 742 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1815. Thus parted Buonaparte and his Chambers of Legislatui'e ; he to try liis fortune in the field of battle, they to their task of altering and modifying the laws, and inspiring a more popular spirit and air into the enactments he had made, in hopes that the dictatorship of the Jacobins might be once again substituted for the dictatorship of the Em- peror. All men saw that the Imperialists and Re- publicans only waited till the field was won, that they might contend for the booty ; and so little was the nation disposed to sympathize with the ac- tive, turbulent, and bustling demagogues by whom the contest was to be maintained against the Em- peror, that almost all predicted with great uncon- cern their probable expulsion, either by the sword of Buonaparte or the Bourbons. CHAPTER LXXXVII. Preparations for War — Positions of the Allied Forces, amounting in whole to One Million of Men — Buonaparte's Force not more than 200,000 — Conscription not ventured upon — National Guard — their reluctance to serve — Many Pro- vinces hostile to Napoleon — Fouche's Heport makes known the Disaffection — Insurrection in La Vendee — quelled — Military Resources — Plan of Campaign — Paris Placed in a Complete State of Defence — Frontier Passes and Towns fortified — Generals who accept Command under Napoleon — He Announces his Purpose to mea- sure himself with ]Vellingto7i. We are now to consider the preparations made for the invasion of France along the whole eastern frontier— the means of resistance which the talents of the Emperor presented to his numerous enemies — and the internal situation of the country itself. While the events now commemorated were pass- ing in France, the allies made the most gigantic preparations for the renewal of war. The Chan- cellor of the Exchequer of England had achieved a loan of thirty-six millions, upon terms surpri- singly moderate, and the command of this treasure had put the whole troops of the coalition into the most active advance. The seat of the Congress had been removed from V^ienna to Frankfort, to be near the theatre of war. riie Emperors of Russia and Austria, with the King of Prussia, had once more placed themselves at the head of their respective armies. The whole uastern frontier was menaced by immense forces. One hundred and fifty thousand Austrians, disen- gaged from Murat, might enter France through Switzerland, the Cantons having acceded to the coalition. An army equal in strength menaced the higher Rhine. Schwartzenberg commanded the Austrians in chief, having under him Bellegarde, and Frimont, Bianchi, and Vincent. Two hundred thousand Russians were pressing towards the fron- tiers of Alsace. The Archduke Constantine was nominated generalissimo, but Barclay de Tolly, Sacken, Langeron, &c. were the efficient command- ers. One hundred and fifty thousand Prussians, under Blucher, occupied Flanders, and were united ■with about eighty thousand troops, British, or in British pay, under the Duke of WelUngton. There •were also to be reckoned the contingents of the different princes of Germany, so tliat the allied forces wei'e computed grossly to amount to upwards of one million of men. The reader must not, how- ever, suppose that such an immense force was, or could be, brought forward at once. They were necessarily disposed on various lines for the con- venience of subsistence, and were to be brought up successively in support of each other. To meet this immense array. Napoleon, with his usual talent and celerity, had brought forward means of surprising extent. The regular army, diminished by the Bourbons, had been, by calling out the retired officers and disbanded soldiers, in- creased from something rather under 100,000 men, to double that number of experienced troops, of the first quality. But this was dust in the balance ; and the mode of conscription was so intimately connected with Napoleon's wars of conquest and (iisaster, that he dared not propose, nor would the Chamber of Representatives have agreed, to have recourse to the old and odious resource of con- scription, which, however, Buonaparte trusted he might still find eff"ectual in the month of June, to the number of 300,000. In the meantime, it was proposed to render moveable, for active service, two hundred battalions of the national guard, choosing those most fit for duty, which would make a force of 112,000 men. It was also proposed to levy as many Federates, that is, volunteers of the lower orders, as could be brought together in the different departments. The levy of the national guards was ordered by an Imperial decree of 5th April, 1815, and commissioners, chiefly of the Ja- cobin faction, were sent down into the different departments, Buonaparte being well pleased at once to employ them in their own sphere, and to get rid of their presence at Paris. Their efforts were, how- ever, unable to excite the spirit of the country ; for they had either survived their o\\n energies, or the nation had been too long accustomed to their mode of oratory, to feel any responsive impulse. Liberty and fraternity was no longer a rallying sound, and the summons to arms, by decrees as peremptory as those relating to the conscription, though bearing another name, spread a general spirit of disgust through many departments in the north of France. There and in Brittany the disaffection of the inha- bitants appeared in a sullen, dogged stubbornness, rather than in the form of active resistance to Na- poleon's decrees. The national guards refused to parade, and, if compelled to do so, took every op- portunity to desert and return home ; so that it often happened that a battalion, which had mus- tered six hundred men, dwindled down to a fifth before they had marched two leagues. In the departments of La Garde, of the Marne, and the Nether Loire, the white flag was displayed, and the tree of liberty, which had been replanted in many places after the political regeneration of Buonaparte, was cut down. The public mind in many provinces displayed itself as highly unfavour- able to Napoleon. A report drawn up by Fouche, stated in high- coloured language the general disaff'ection. Napo- leon always considered this communication as pub- lished with a view of prejudicing his affairs ; and as that versatile statesman was already in secret correspondence with the allies, it was probably in- tended as much to encourage the Royalists, as to dismay the adherents of Napoleon. This arch- intriguer, whom, to use an expression of Junius, 1815.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 743 treachery itself could not trust, was at one moment nearly caught in his own toils ; and although he carried the matter with infinite address, Napoleon would have made him a prisoner, or caused him to be shot, but for the intimation of Carnot, that, if he did so, his own reign would not last an hour longer.' Thus Buonaparte was already, in a great mea- sure, reduced to the office of Generalissimo of the State; and there were not wanting many, who dared to entreat him to heal the wounds of the country by a second abdication in favour of his son — a measure which the popular party conceived might avert the impending danger of invasion. In the meantime, about the middle of May, a short insurrection broke out in La Vende'e, under De Autechamp, Suzannet, Sapineau, and especi- ally the brave La Rocliejacquelein. The war was neither long nor bloody, for an overpowering force was directed against the insurgents, under Gene- rals Lamarque and Travot. The people were ill prepared for resistance, and the government men- uaced them with the greatest severities, the instruc- tions of Carnot to the military having a strong tinc- ture of his ancient education in the school of terror. Yet the Chamber of Deputies did not in all respects sanction the severities of the government. When a member, called Leguevel, made a motion for punishing with pains and penalties the Royalists of the west, the assembly heard him with patience and approbation, propose that the goods and estates of the revolters (whom he qualified as brigands, priests, and RoyaUsts) should be confiscated ; but when he added, that not only the insurgents them- selves, but their relations in the direct line, whe- ther ascendants or descendants, should be declared outlaws, a general exclamation of horror drove the orator from the tribune. After a battle near La Roche Serviere, which cost the brave La Rochejacquelein his life, the re- maining chiefs signed a capitulation, by which they disbanded their followers, and laid down their arms, at the very time when holding out a few days would have made them acquainted with the battle of Waterloo. Released from actual civil ' The "particulars of this intrigue show with what audacity, and at what risk, Fouchfi waded, swam, or dived, amon{» the troubled waters which were his element. An agent of Prince Metternich had heen despatched to Paris, to open a commu- nication with Fouch^ on the part of the Austrian government. Falling under suspicion, from some banking transaction, this person was denounced to Buonaparte as a suspicious person, and arrested by his interior police, which, as there cannot be too much precaution in a well-managed state, watched, and were spies upon, the general police under Fouch^. The agent was brought before Buonaparte, who threatened to cause him be shot to death on the very spot, unless he told him the whole truth. The man then confessed that Metternich sent him to Fouchd, to request the latter to send a secure agent to Bale, to meet with a confidential person on the part of the Austrian minister, whom Fouch(;'s envoy was to recognise by a peculiar sign, which the informer also made known. " Have you fulfilled vour commission so far as concerns Fouchi- ?" said the Emperor. — " I have," answered the Austrian agent. — " And has he despatched any one to Bale ? " — " That I can- not tell." The agent was detained in a secret prison. Baron Fleury de Chamboullon, an auditor, was instantly despatched to Bale, to represent the agent whom FouchC- should have sent thither, and fathom the depth and character of the intrigue betwi.xt the French and Austrian ministers. Fouch6 soon dis- covered that the agent sent to him by Metternich was missing, conjectured his fate, and instantly went to seek an audience oftfieEmiK-ror. Havingmentioneilothcrmatters, he seemed to recollect himself, and begged i)ardon, with affected unconcern, for nut having previously mentioned an affair of some conse- qui nee, which, nevertheless, he had fcjrgntten amid the hurry of business. " An agent had come to liim from the Austrian government," he said, " requesting him to send a confidential war, NajKileon now had leisure to prepare for the external conflict. The means resorted to by the French govern- ment which we have already alluded to, had en- abled Carnot to represent the national means in a most respectable point of view. By his report to the two Chambers, he stated, that on 1st April 1814, the army had consisted of 450,000 men, who had been reduced by the Bourbons to 175,000. Since the return of Napoleon, the number had been increased to 375,000 combatants of every kind ; and before the 1st of August, was expected to amount to half a million. The Imperial Guards, who were termed the country's brightest ornament in time of peace, and its best bulwark in time of war, were recruited to the number of 40,000 men. Stupendous efforts had repaired, the report stated, the losses of the artillery during the three disas- trous years of 1812, 1813, 1814. Stores, ammuni- tion, arms of every kind, were said to be provided in abundance. The remounting of the cavalry had been accomplished in such a manner as to e.xcite the sui'prise of every one. Finally, there was, as a body in reserve, the whole mass of sedentary na- tional guards, so called, because they were not among the chosen bands which had been declared moveable. But the bulk of these were either unfit for service, or unwilling to serve, and could only be relied on for securing the public tranquillity. Corps of Federates had been formed in all the dis- tricts where materials could be found of which to compose them. From these forces Napoleon selected a grand army to act under his personal orders. They were chosen with great care, and the preparation of their materiel was of the most extensive and complete description. The numbers in gross might amount to 1 50,000 ; as great a number of troops, perhaps, as can conveniently move upon one plan of opera- tions, or be subjected to one generalissimo. A large deduction is to be made to attain the exact amount of his effective force. Thus prepared for action, no doubt was made that Buonaparte would open the campaign, by as- suming offensive operations. To wait till the ene- person to Bale, to a correspondent of Metternich, and he now came to ask whether it would be his Majesty's pleasure that he should avail himself of the opening, in order to learn the secret purposes of the enemy ? " Napoleon was not deceived by this trick. There were several mirrors in the room, by which he could perceive and enjoy his perfidious ininister's ill-concealed embarrassment. " ^lonsieur Fouche," he said, " it may be dangerous to treat me as a fool : I have your agent in safe custodv. and penetrate your whole intrigue. Have you sent to Bale?'—" No, Sire."— " The happier for you : had you done so, you should have died." Flcur)- was unable to ex- tract any thing of consequence from Werner, the confidant of Metternich, who met him at Bale. The Austrian seemed to expect communications from Fouch<5, without being prepared to make them. Fleury touched on the plan of assassinating Buonaparte, which Werner rejected with horror, as a thing not to be thought of by Metternich or the allies. They ap- pointed a second meeting, but in the interim Fouchd made the Austrian aware of the discovery, and Baron Fleury, on his second journey to Bale, found no Mr. Werner to meet him. —See Fleury de Chamboullon, tom. ii., p. 6. Buonaparte gives almost the same account of this intrigue in his St. Helena Conversations as Fouch6 in his Memoirs. But Napoleon does not mention Carnot's interposition to pre- vent Fouch6 from being put to death without process of law " You may shoot Fouclii; to-day," said the old J.-icobin, " but to-morrow you will cease to reign. The neople of the Revo- lution permit vou to retain the throne only on condition you respect their liberties. They account Fouchii one of their strongest guarantees. If he is guilty, he must be legally l>rn- cieded against." Buonaparte, therefore, gaining no proof against Fouch^ by the mission of Fleury, was fain to shut hi> eves on what he saw but loo wtll. — S. 744 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1815. my bad assembled tbeir full force on bis frontier, would liave suited neitlier tbe man nor tlie moment. It was most agi-eeable to bis system, bis disposi- tion, and his interest, to rush upon some separate army of tbe allies, surprise them, according to bis own phrase, in delict, and, by its dispersion or an- nihilation, give courage to France, animate her to fresh exertions in his cause, intimidate the confe- derated powers, and gain time for sowing in their league the seeds of disunion. Even the Royalists, whose interest was so immediately connected with tbe defeat of Buonaparte, were dismayed by wit- nessing bis gigantic preparations, and sadly antici- pated victories as the first result, though they trusted that, as in 1814, he would be at length worn out by force of numbers and reiterated exer- tions. But though all guessed at the mode of tactics which Napoleon would employ, there was a differ- ence of opinion respecting the point on which bis first exertions would be made ; and in general it was augured, that, ti'usting to tbe strength of Lisle, Valenciennes, and other fortified places on the fron- tiers of Flanders, his first real attack, whatever diversion might be made elsewhere, would take place upon Manbeim, with the view of breaking asimder tbe Austrian and Russian armies as they were forming, or rather of attacking them sepa- rately, to prevent their communication in line. If be should succeed in thus overwhelming the ad- vance of the Austrians and Russians, by directing his main force to this one point, before they were fully prepared, it was supposed he might break up the plan of the allies for this campaign. But Buonaparte w.as desirous to aim a decisive blow at the most enterprising and venturous of the invading armies. He knew Blucher, and bad beard of Wellington ; he tlierefore resolved to move against those generals, while he opposed walls and fortified places to the more slow and cautious ad- vance of the Austrian general, Schwartzenberg, and trusted that distance might render ineftectua! the progress of the Russians. According to this general system, Paris, under the dii-ection of General Haxo, was, on the northern side, placed in a complete state of defence, by a double line of fortifications, so that, if tbe first were forced, the defenders might retu-e within the se- cond, instead of being compelled, as in the pro- ceding year, to quit the heights and fall back upon the city. Montmartre was very strongly fortified. The soutbei-n part of the city on the opposite side of the Seine was only covered with a few field- works ; time, and the open character of the ground, permitting no more. But the Seine itself was re- lied upon as a barrier, having proved such in 1814. On the frontiers, similar precautions were ob- served. Intrenchments were constructed in the five principal passes of tbe Vosgesian mountains, and all the natural passes and strongholds of Lor- raine wei-e put in tbe best possible state of defence. Tbe posts on tlic inner fine were strengthened with the greatest care. The fine military position under the walls of Lyons was improved with great ex- pense and labour. A tCte-de-pont was erected at Brotteau ; a drawbridge and barricade protected the suburb la Guillotiere ; redoubts were erected between the Saonne and Rhine, ami upon the heights of Pierre Encise and tbe Quarter of Saint John. Guise, Vitri, Soiosous, Chauteau-Tliierry, Langres, and all the towns capable of any defence, were rendered as strong as posts, palisades, re- doubts, and field-works could make them. Tbe Russian armies, though pressing fast forward, were not as yet arrived upon the line of operations ; and Napoleon doubtless trusted that these impediments, in front of the Austrian line, would arrest any hasty advance on their part, since the well-known tactics of that school declare against leaving in their rear fortresses or towns possessed by tbe enemy, however insignificant or slightly garrisoned, or however completely they might be masked. About now to commence his operations. Napo- leon svunmoned round him bis best and most expe- rienced generals. Soult, late minister of war for Louis XVIIL, was named major-general. He obeyed, be says, not in any respect as an enemy of the King, but as a citizen and soldier, whose duty it was to obey whomsoever was at tbe bead of the government, as that of the Vicar of Bray subjected him in ghostly submission to each bead of the Church pro tempore. Ney was ordered to repair to the army at Lisle, " if be wished," so the command was expressed, " to witness tbe first battle." Mac- donald was strongly solicited to accept a command, but declined it with disdain. Davoust, the minister- at-wai', undertook to remove his scruples, and spoke to him of what his honour required. " It ia not from you," replied the marecbal, " that I am to learn sentiments of honour," and persisted in bis refusal. D'Erlon, Reille, Vandamme, Gerard, and Mouton de Lobau, acted as lieutenant-generals. Tbe cavalry was placed under the command of Grouchy (whom Napoleon bad created a mare- cbal.) Pajol, Excelmans, Milhaud, and Kellerman, were his seconds in command. Flahault, Dejean, Labedoyere, and other officers of distinction, acted as the Emperor's aides-de-camp. The artillery were three hundred pieces ; the cavalry approaclied to twenty-five thousand men ; the guard to the same number ; and there is little doubt that the whole army amounted in effective force to nearly 1 30,000 soldiers, in tbe most complete state as to arms and equipment, who now marched to a war which they themselves had occasioned, under an Emperor of their own making, and bore both in their hearts and on tbeir tongues tbe sentiments of death or victory. For the protection of the rest of the frontier, during Napoleon's campaign in Flandei's, Suchet was intrusted with the command on the frontiers of Switzerland, with directions to attack Montmellian as soon as possible after the 14th of June, which day Buonaparte had fixed for the commencement of hostilities. Massena was ordered to repair to Metz, to assume the government of that important fortress, and the command of the 3d and 4th divi- sions. AH preparations being thus made, Napoleon at length announced what bad long occupied his secret thoughts. " I go," be said, as be threw ' himself into his carriage to join bis army, " I go to measure myself with Wellington." But although Napoleon's expressions were those of confidence and defiance, his internal feelings were of a different complexion. " I no longer felt," as he afterwards expressed himself in his exile, " that complete confidence in final success, wliiclt accompanied me on former undertakings. Wlie- tlier it was that I was getting beyond the period of life when men are usually favoured by fortune^ 0» 1815.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 745 whctlier the impulse of my career seemed impeded in my own eyes, and to my own imagination, it is certain tliat I felt a depression of spirit. Fortune, which used to follow ray steps to load me with her bounties, was now a severe deity, from whom I might snatch a few favours, but for which she ex- acted severe i-etribution. I had no sooner gained an advantage than it was followed liy a reverse." • With such feelings, not certainly unwarranted by the circumstances under which the campaign was undertaken, nor disproved by the event, Napoleon undertook his shortest and last campaign. CHAPTER LXXXVIir. Army of Wellington covers Brussels — that of Biucher on the Sanibre and Meuse — Napoleon reviews his Grand Army on l-lth June — Advances upon Charleroi — His plan to separate the Armies of the two opposing Generals fails — Interview of Wellington and Biucher at Brie — British Armi/ concentrated at Qnatre-bi-as — Napoleon^s plan of attack — Battle of Ligny, and defeat of Biucher on I6th June — Action at Quatre-bras on the same day — The British retain possession of the field — Biucher eludes the French pursuit — JVa- poleon joins Ney — Retreat of the British upon Waterloo. The triple line of strong fortresses possessed by the French on the borders of Belgium served Na- Eoleon as a curtain, behind which he could prepare is levies and unite his forces at pleasure, without any possibility of the allies or their generals being able to observe his motions, or prepare for the at- tack which such motions indicated. On the other hand, the frontier of Belgium was open to his ob- servation, and he knew perfectly the general dis- posal of the allied force. If the French had beeii prepared to make their meditated attack upon Flanders in the month of May, they would have found no formidable force to oppose them, as at that time the armies of the Prussian general Kleist, and the hereditary Prince of Orange, did not, in all, exceed 50,000 men. But the return of Napoleon, which again awakened the war, was an event as totally unexpected in France as in Flanders, and, therefore, that nation was as much unprepared to make an attack as the allies to repel one. Thus it happened, that while Napoleon was exerting himself to collect a suflicicnt army by the means we have mentioned, the Duke of Wel- lington, who arrived at Brussels from Vienna in the beginning of April, had leisure to garrison and supply the strong places of Ostend, Antwerp, and Nieuport, which the French had not dismantled, and to fortify Yprcs, Tournay, Mons, and Ath. He had also leisure to receive his reinforcements from England, and to collect the German, Dutch, and Belgian contingents. Thus collected and reinforced, the Duke of Wel- lington's army might contain about 1^0,000 English troops. They were not, however, those veteran soldiers who had served under him during the Peninsular war ; the flower of wliich had been despatched upon tiie American expedition. Most were second battalions, or regiments which had • Las Cases torn, ii., p. i^6. been lately filled up with new recruits. The fo- reigners were 15,000 Hanoverians, with the cele- brated German Legion, 8000 strong, which had so often distinguished itself in Spain ; 5000 Bruns- wickers, under their gallant duke ; and about 17,000 Belgians, Dutch, and Nassau troops, com- manded by the Prince of Orange. Great and just reliance was placed upon the Germans ; but some apprehensions were enter- tained for the steadiness of the Belgian troops. Discontents had prevailed among them, which, at one period, had broken out in open mutinj-, and was not subdued without bloodshed. Most of them had served in the French ranks, and it was feared some of them might preserve predilections and correspondences dangerous to the general cause. Buonaparte was under the same belief. He brought in his train several Belgian officers, believing there would be a movement in his favour so soon as he entered the Netherlands. But the Flemings are a people of sound sense and feeling. Whatever jea- lousies might have been instilled into them for their religion and privileges under the reign of a Protestant and a Dutch sovereign, these were swallowed up in their apprehensions for the re- turning tyranny of Napoleon. Some of these troops behaved with distinguished valour ; and most of them supported the ancient military cha- racter of the Walloons. The Dutch corps were in general enthusiastically attached to the Prince of Orange, and the cause of independence. The Prussian army had been recruited to its highest war-establishment, within an incredibly short space of time after Buonaparte's retvirn had been made public, and was reinforced in a manner surprising to those who do not reflect, how much the resources of a state depend on the zeal of the inhabitants. Their enthusiastic hatred to France, founded partly on the recollection of former injuries, partly on that of recent success, was animated at once by feelings of triumph and of revenge, and they marched to this new war, as to a national crusade against an inveterate enemy, whom, when at their feet, they had treated with injudicious clemency. Biucher was, however, deprived of a valuable part of his army by the discontent of the Saxon troops. A mutiny had broken out among them, when the Congress announced their inten- tion of transferring part of the Saxon dominions to Prussia ; much bloodshed had ensued, and it was judged most prudent that the troops of Sa.\ony should remain in garrison in the German for- tresses. Prince Biucher arrived at Liege, with the Prus- sian army, which was concentrated on the Sambrc and Meuse rivers, occupying Charleroi, Nanuir, Givet, and Liege. The Duke of Wellington covered Brussels, where he had fixed his hoad- quartei's, connuunicating by his left with the right of the Prussians. There was a general idea that Napoleon's threatened advance would take place on Namur, as he was likely to find least opposition at that dismantled city. The Duke of Wellington's first corps, under the Prince of Orange, with two divisions of British, two of Hanoverians, and two of Belgians, occupied Enghicn, Brain le Comte, and Nivelles, and served as a rcterve to the Prussian division under Ziethe!i, which was at Charleroi. The second divisiim, commanded by Lord Hill, iialuded two Biitish, 746 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE AVORKS. [1815. two Hanoverian, and one Belgian divisions. It was cantoned at Halle, Oudenarde, and Grammont. The reserve, under Picton, who, at Lord Welling- ton's special request, had accepted of the situation of second in command, consisted of the remaining two British divisions, with three of the Hanove- rians, and was stationed at Brussels and Ghent. The cavalry occupied Grammont and Nieve. The Anglo-Belgie army was so disposed, there- fore, as might enable the divisions to combine with each other, and with the Prussians, upon the ear- liest authentic intelligence of the enemy's being put in motion. At the same time, the various corps were necessarily, to a certain degree, detached, both for the purpose of being more easily main- tained (especially the cavalry,) and also because, from the impossibility of foreseeing in what direc- tion the French Emperor might make his attack, it was necessary to maintain such an extensive line of defence as to be prepared for his arrival upon any given point. This is the necessary inconve- nience attached to a defensive position, where, if the resisting general should concentrate his whole forces upon any one point of the line to be defended, the enemy would, of course, choose to make their assault on some of the other points, which such concentration must necessarily leave comparatively open. In the meantime, Napoleon in person advanced to Vervins on 12th June, with his Guai-d, who had marched from Paris. The other divisions of his selected grand army had been assembled on the frontier, and the whole, consisting of five divisions of infantry, and four of cavalry, were combined at Beaumont on the 14th of the same month, with a degree of secrecy and expedition which showed the usual genius of their commander. Napoleon reviewed the troops in person, reminded them that the day was the anniversary of the great victories of Marengo and Friedland, and called on them to remember that the enemies whom they had then defeated, were the same which were now arrayed against them. " Are they and we," he asked, " no longer the same men?"' Tlie address produced the strongest effect on the minds of the -French soldiery, always sensitively alive to military and national glory. Upon the 15th June, the French army was in motion in every direction. Their advanced-guard of light troops swept the western bank of the Sambre clear of all the allied corps of observation. They then advanced upon Charleroi, which was well defended by the Prussians under General Ziethen, who was at length compelled to retire on the large village of Gosselies. Here his retreat was cut off by the second division of the French army, and Ziethen was compelled to take the route of Fleurus, by which he united himself with the Prussian force, which lay about the villages of Ligny and St. Amand. The Prussian general had, however, obeyed his orders, by making such pro- tracted resistance as gave time for the alarm being taken. In the attack and retreat, he lost four or five guns, and a considerable number in killed and wounded. ' " The madmen ! a moment of prosperity has blinded them. The oppression and humiliation of the iFrench people are beyond their jiower : if they enter France, they will there find tlieir tomb. Soldiers ! we have forced marches to make, battles to fight, hazards to run; but, with firmness, victory will bo ours: the rights, honour, and happmess of our country By this movement the plan of Napoleon was made manifest. It was at once most scientific and adventurous. His numbers were unequal to sus- tain a conflict with the armies of Blucher and Wellington united, but by forcing his way so as to separate the one enemy from the other, he would gain the advantage of acting against either indivi- dually with the gross of his forces, while he could spare enough of detached troops to keep the other in check. To accomplish this masterly manoeuvre, it was necessary to push onwards upon a part of the British advance, which occupied the position of Q,uatre-bras, and the yet more advanced post of Frasnes, where some of the Nassau troops were stationed. But the extreme rapidity of Napoleon's forced marches had in some measure prevented the execution of his plan, by dispersing his forces so much, that at a time when every hour was of consequence, he was compelled to remain at Char- leroi until his wearied and over-marched army had collected. In the meantime, Ney was detached against Frasnes and Q,uatre-bras, but the troops of Namur kept their post on the evenhig of the 15th. It is pos.sible the French marechal might have suc- ceeded had he attacked at Frasnes with his whole force ; but hearing a cannonade in the direction of Fleurus (which was that of Ziethen's action,) he detached a division to support the French in that quarter. For this exercise of his own judgment, instead of yielding precise obedience to his orders, Ney was reprimanded ; a circumstance cm-iously contrasted with the case of Grouchy, upon whom Napoleon laid the whole blame of the defeat at Waterloo, because he did follow his orders pre- cisely, and press the Prussians at Wavre, instead of being diverted from that object by the cannonade on his left. The manoeuvre meditated by Napoleon thus failed, though it had nearly been successful. He continued, however, to entertain the same purpose of dividing, if possible, the British army from the Prussians. The British general received intelligence of the advance of the French, at Brussels, at six o'clock on the evening of the 15th,''' but it was not of suffi- cient certainty to enable him to put his army in motion, on an occasion when a false movement might have been irretrievable ruin. About eleven of the same night, the certain accounts reached Brussels that the advance of the French was upon the line of the Sambre. Reinforcements were hastily moved on Quatre-bras, and the Uuke of Wellington arrived there in person at an early hour on the 16th, and instantly rode from that position to Brie, where he had a meeting with Blucher. It appeared at this time that the whole French force was about to be directed against the Prussians. Blucher was prepared to receive them. Three of his divisions, to the number of 80,000 men, had been got into position on a chain of gentle heights, running from Brie to Sombref ; in front of theu' line lay the villages of the Greater and Lesser St. Amand, as also that of Ligny, aU of which were will be reconquered. To every Frenchman who has any heart, the moment is arrived— to conquer or to die ! "—Mom- tciir, June 17- 2 The reader will find this statement corrected, on goui* points, in a note of chap. Ixxxix., post. t 1810.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON J5U0NAPARTE. 7-17 strongly occupievl. From the extremity of his right, Bluchcr could comiimiiicate with the British at Quatre-bras, upon which the Duke of Welling- ton was, as fast as distance would permit, concea- ti'ating his army. The fourth Prussian division, being that of Bulow, stationed between Liege and Hainault, was at too great a distance to be brought up, though every effort was made for the purpose. Blucher undertook, however, notwithstanding the absence of Bulow, to receive a battle in this posi- tion, trusting to the support of the English army, Mho, by a flunk movement to the left, were to march to his assistance. Napoleon had, in the meantime, settled his own plan of battle. He determined to leave Ney with a division of 45,000 men, with instructions to drive the English from Quatre-bras, ere their army was concentrated and reinf ;rced, and thus prevent their co-operating with Blucher, while he himself, with the main body of his army, attacked the Prussian position at Ligny. Ney being thus on the French ieft wing at Frasnes and Quatre-bras, and Buona- parte on the right at Ligny, a division imder D'Er- lon, amounting to 10,000 men, served as a centre of the aiTiiy, and was placed near Marchieimes, from which it might march laterally either to support Ney or Napoleon, whichever might require assist- ance. As two battles thus took place on the 16th June, it is necessary to take distinct notice of both. That of Ligny was the principal action. The French Empei'or was unable to concentrate his forces, so as to commence the attack upon the Prussians, until three o'clock in the aftei-noon, at which hour it began with uncommon fury all along the Prussian line. After a continued attack of two hours, the French had only obtained possession of a part of the village of St. Amand. The position of the Prussians, however, was thus far defective, that the main part of their army being drawn up on the heights, and the remainder occupying vil- lages which lay at their foot, the reinforcements despatched to the latter were necessarily exposed during their descent to the fire from the French artillery, placed on the meadows below. Notwith standing this disadvantage, by which the Prussians suffered much. Napoleon thought the issue of the contest so doubtful, that he sent for D'Erlon's division, which, as we have mentioned, was sta- tioned near Marchiennes, half-way betwixt Quatre- bras and Ligny. In the meanwhile, observing that Blucher drew his reserves together on St. Amand, he changed his point of attack, and di- rected all his force against Ligny, of which, after a desperate resistance, he at length obtained pos- session. The French Guards, sujjportcd by their iieavy cavalry, ascended the heights, and attacked the Prussian position in the rear of Ligny. The reserves of the Prussian infantry having been de- spatched to St. Amand, Blucher had no means of repelling this attack, save by his cavalry. He placed himself at their hcaart of the French, to have been 7tW. 748 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1815. having time to form the square ; the other suc- ceeded in getting into oi-der, and beating off the lancers. Ney then attempted a general cliarge of heavy cavalry ; but they were received with such a galling fire "from the British infantry, joined to a battery of two gnus, that it could not be sustained ; the whole causeway was strewed with men and horses, and the fugitives, who esca])ed to the rear, announced the loss of an action which was far from being decided, considering that the British had few infantry and artillery, though reinforcements of both were coming fast forward. The French, as already noticed, had, about three o'clock, obtained possession of the Bois de Bossu and driven out the Belgians. They were in return themselves expelled by the British guards, who successfully resisted every attempt made by the French to penetrate into the wood during the day. As the English reinforcements an-ived in suc- cession, Mare'chal Ney became desirous of an addition of numbers, and sent to procure the as- sistance of D'Erlon's division, posted, as has been said, near Mai-chicnnes. But these troops had been previously ordered to succour Buonaparte's own army. As the affair of Ligny was, however, over before they arrived, the division was again sent back towards Frasnes to assist Ney ; Ijut his battle was also by tliis time ovei', and thus D'Erlon's troops marched from one flank to the other, with- out firing a musket in the course of the day. The battle of Quatre-bras terminated with the light. The Bi'itish retained possession of the field, which they had maintained with so much obstinacy, be- cause the Duke of Wellington conceived that Blucher would be able to make his ground good at Ligny, and was consequently desirous that the armies should retain the line of communication which they had occupied in the morning. But the Prussians, evacuating all the villages which they held in the neighbourhood of Ligny, had concentrated their forces to retreat upon the river Dyle, in the vicinity of Wavre. By this retrograde movement, they were placed about six leagues to the rear of their former position, and had united themselves to Bulow's division, which had not been engaged in the affair at Ligny. Blucher had effected this retreat, not only without pursuit by the French, but without their knowing for some time in what direction he had gone. This doubt respecting Blucher's movements, oc- casioned an uncertainty and delay in those of the French, which were afterwards attended with the very worst consequences. Napoleon, or General Gourgaud in his name, does not hesitate to assert, that the cause of this delay rested with Mare'chal Grouchy, on whom was devolved the duty of fol- lowing up the Prussian retreat. " If Mare'chal Grouchy," says the accusation, " had been at Wavre on the 17th, and in communication with my (Na- poleon's) right, Blucher would not have dared to send any detachment of his army against me on the 18th ; or if he had, I would have destroyed them."' But the mare'chal appears to make a victorious defence. Grouchy says, that he sought out the Emperor on the night of the 16th, so soon as the Prussian retreat commenced, but tliat he could not Bee him till he returned to Fleurus ; nor did he ob- ' Oonrsaud, Cainpai'^n de ISlo, ou Rdatiui. des Ojm tions. &C. tain any answer to his request of obtaining some infantry to assist his cavalry in following Blucher and his retreating army, excepting an intimation that he would receive orders next day. He states, that he we?nt again to headquarters in the morning of the 1 7th, aware of the full importance of follow- ing the Prussians closely up, but that he could not see Buonaparte till half-past seven, and then was obliged to follow him to the field of battle of the preceding day, previous to receiving his commands. Napoleon talked \\ ith various persons on different subjects, without giving Grouchy any orders until near noon, when he suddenly resolved to send the mare'chal with an army of 32,000 men, not upon Wavre, for he did not know that the Prussians had taken that direction, but to follow Blucher where- ever he might have gone. Lastly, Grouchy affirms that the troops of Ge'rard and Vandamme, who were placed under his command, were not ready to move until three o'clock. Thus, according to the marechal's very distinct narrative, the first orders for the pursuit were not given till about noon on the 17th, and the troops were not in a capacity to obey them until three hours after they were re- ceived. For this delay Grouchy blames Excelmans and Ge'rard, who commanded under him. His corps, at any rate, was not in motion until three o'clock upon the 17th.2 Neither could his march, when begun, be directed with certainty on Wavre. The first traces of the Prussians which he could receive, seemed to inti- mate, on the contrary, that they were retiring to- wards Namur, which induced Grouchy to push the pursuit in the latter direction, and occasioned the loss of some hours. From all these concurring reasons, the mare'chal shows distinctly, that he could not have attained Wavre on the evening of the 17th June, because he had no orders to go there till noon, nor troops ready to march till three o'clock ; nor had either Napoleon or his general any foreknowledge of the motions of Blucher, which might induce them to believe Wavre was the true point of his retreat. It was not till he found the English resolved to make a stand at Waterloo, and the Pi'ussians determined to communicate with them, that Napoleon became aware of the plan ar- ranged betwixt Wellington and Blucher, to con- centrate the Prussian and English armies at Water- loo. This was the enigma on which his fate de- pended, and he failed to solve it. But it was more agreeable, and much more convenient, for Napo- leon to blame Grouchy, than to acknowledge that he himself had been surprised by the circumstances in which he imexpectedly fomid himself on the 10th. Meantime, having detached Grouchy to pursue the Prussians, Napoleon himself moved laterally towards Frasnes, and there united himself with the body commanded by Marc'ihal Ney. His purpose was to attack the Duke of Wellington, whom he ex- pected still to find in the position of Quatre-bras. But about seven in the morning, the duke, hav- ing received intelligence of the Prince Marechal Blucher's retreat to Wavre, commenced a retreat on his part towards Waterloo, in oi'der to recover his communication with the Prussians, and resume the execution of the plan of co-operation, which 2 Grouchy ObscrTatioT's sur la Relation de Goursaud. 1815.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 749 had been in some degree diseoncorted by the sud- den irruption of the Freuch, and tlie loss of tlie battle of Ligny by tlie Prussians. The retreat was conducted with the greatest regularity, though it was as usual unpleasant to the feelings of the sol- dier. The news of the battle of Ligny spread through tlie ranks, and even the most sanguine did not venture to hope that the Pnissians would be soon able to renew the engagement. The weather was dreadful, as the rain fell in torrents ; but this so far favoured the Britisli, by rendering the ploughed fields impracticable for horse, so that their march was covered from the attacks of the French cavalry on the flanks, and the operations of those by whom they were pursued were confined to the causeway. At Genappe, however, a small town, where a naiTow bridge over the river Dyle can only be ap- proached by a confined street, tliere was an attack on the British rear, which the English light cavalry were unable to repel ; but the heavy cavalry being brought up, repulsed the French, who gave the rear of the army no farther disturbance for the day. At five in the evening, the Duke of Wellington arrived on the memorable field of Waterloo, which he had long before fixed as the position iu wliich he had, in certain events, determined to make a stand for covering Brussels. The scene of this celebrated action must be fami- liar to most readers, either from description or recollection. The English army occupied a chain of heights, extending from a ravine and village, termed Merke Braine, on the right, to a hamlet called Ter la Haye, on the left. Corresponding to this chain of heights tliere runs one somewhat parallel to them, on which the French were posted. A small valley winds between them of various breadth at different points, but not generally ex- ceeding half a mile. The declivity on either side into the valley has a varied, but on the whole a gentle slope, diversified by a number of undulating irregularities of ground. ' The field is crossed by two high-roads, or causeways, both leading to Bmssels — one from Charleroi through Quatre- bras and Genappe, by wliich the British army had just retreated, and another from Nivelles. These roads traverse the valley, and meet behind the village of Mont St. Jean,"which was in the rear of the British army. The farm-house of Mont St. Jean, which must be carefully distinguished from the hamlet, was much closer to the rear of the ]}ritish than the latter. On the Charleroi cause- way m front of the line, there is another farm- house, called La Haye Sainte, situated nearly at the foot of the declivity leading into the valley. On tl;e opposite chain of eminences, a village called La Belle Alliance gives name to the range of heights. It exactly fronts Mont St. Jean, and these two^ points formed the respective centres of the French and English positions. An old-fashioned Flemish villa, called Goumont, or Hougomont, stood in the midst of the valley, sm-ronnded with gardens, offices, and a wood, about two acres in extent, of tall beech-trees. Behind the heights of ISIont St. Jean, the ground again sinks into a hollow, wliich served to afford some sort of shelter to the second line of the Britisl the rear of this second valley, is the great and ex- tensive forest of Soignics, through which runs the causeway to Brussels. On that road, two miles in the roar of the British army, is placed the small town of Waterloo. In CHAPTER LXXXIX. Strength of the two armies — Plans of their Generah — The Battle of Waterloo commenced on the forenoon of the \?>th June — F rench attack directed against the British centre — shifted to their right — charges of the Cuirassiers — and their reception — Advance of the Prussians — N'ey's charge at the head of the Guards — His rejmlse — and Napo- leo7i's orders for retreat — The victorious Generals meet at La Belle Alliance — BehaTiour of Napo- leon during the engagement— Bliicher''s pursuit of the Freuch — Loss of the British — of the French — Napoleon^ s subsequent attempts to underrcdue the military skill of the Duke of WelVuuiton an- swered-— His unjust censures of Grouch 1/ — The notion that the British trei-e on the point of losing the battle when the Prussians came up, shown to be erroneous. There might be a difference of opinion in a mere military question, whether tlie English general ought to have hazarded a battle for the defence of Brussels, or whether, falling back on the strong city of Antwerp, it might have been safer to wait the arrival of the reinforcements which were in expectation. But in a moral and political point of view, the protecting Brussels was of the last im- portance. Napoleon has declared, that, bad he gained the battle of Waterloo, he had the means of revolutionizing Belgium ;^ and although he was doubtless too sanguine in this declaration, yet unquestionably the French had many partisans iu a country which they had so long possessed. The gaining of the battle of Ligny had no marked re- sults, still less had the indecisive action at Quatre- bras ; but had those been followed by the retreat of the English army to Antwerp, and the capture of Brussels, the capital city of the Netherlands, they would then have attained the rank of great and decisive victoi'ies. Napoleon, indeed, pretended to look to still more triumphant results from such a victory, and to expect nothing less than the dissolution of the European Alliance as the reward of a decided defeat of the English in Belgium. So long as it was not mentioned by what means this was to be accomplished, those who had no less confidence in Napoleon's intrigues than his military talents, must have supposed that he had already in preparation ; among the foreign powers some deep scheme, I tending to sap the foundation of their alliance, and ready to be carried into action when he should attain a certain point of success. But when it is I explained that these extensive expectations rested on Napoleon's belief that a single defeat of the Duke of Wellington would occasion a total change of government in England ; that the statesmen of the Opposition would enter into office as a thing of course, and instantly conclude a peace with him ;'■' > Montholon, torn, ii., p. 283. « •' Mv intentions were, to attack and to destroy the tnglisH. This, I knew, would produce an immediate change of minis- try. Tlie indignation a(;ain8t thtni would have excited su'^h 750 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [ISl') and that the coalition, thus deprived of subsidies, must therefore instantly withdraw the armies which were touching the French frontier on its whole northern and eastern line — Napoleon's extrava- gant speculations can only serve to show how very little he must have known of the English nation, ■with which he had been fighting so long. The war with France had been prosecuted more than twenty years, and though many of these were years »f bad success and defeat, the nation had perse- vered in a resistance which terminated at last in complete triumph. The national opinion of the great general who led the British troops, was too strong-ly rooted to give way upon a single misfor- tune ; and the event of the campaign of 1814, in which Napoleon, repeatedly victorious, was at length totally defeated and dethroned, would have encouraged a more fickle people than the English to continue the war notwithstanding a single defeat, if such an event had unhappily occurred. The Duke had the almost impregnable fortress and sea- port of Antwerp in his rear, and might have waited there the reinforcements from America. Blucher had often shown how little he was disheartened by defeat ; at worst, he would have fallen back on a Russian army of 200,000 men, who were advan- cing on the Rhine. The hopes, therefore, that the battle of Waterloo, if gained by the French, would have finished the war, must be abandoned as vision- ary, wliether we regard the firm and manly chai'ac- ter of the great personage at the head of the British monarchy, the state of parties in the House of Commons, where many distinguished members of the Opposition had joined the Ministry on the question of the war, or the general feeling of the country, who saw with resentment the new irrup- ti(m of Napoleon. It cannot, however, be denied, that any success gained by Napoleon in this first campaign, would have greatly added to his influ- ence both in France and other countries, and might have endangered the possession of Flandei's. The Duke of Wellington resolved, therefore, to pi'otect Brussels, if possible, even by the risk of a general action. By the march from Quatre-bras to Waterloo, the Duke had restored his communication with Blucher, which had been dislocated by the retreat of the I'russians to Wavre. When established there, Blucher was once more upon the same line with the British, the distance between the Prussian right flank, and the British left, being about five leagues, or five leagues and a half. The ground which lay between the two extreme points, called the heights of St. Lambert, was exceedingly rugged and wooded ; and the cross-roads which traversed it, forming the sole means of communication be- tween the English and Prussians, were dreadfully broken up by the late tempestuous weather. The duke despatched intelligence of his position in front of Waterloo to Prince Blucher, acquaint- ing him at the same time with his resolution to a popular commotion, that tliey would have been turned out ; and peace would have been the result." — Nai'oi.bon, yoke, &c., vol. i., p. 176. ' " All his arrangements havins been cflFected early in the evening of the 17th, tlie Duke of Wellington rode across the country to Blucher, to inform him personallv that he had thus far effected the plan agreed on at Bry, and express his hope to be supported on the morrow by two Prussian divisions. Tlie veteran replied, that he would leave a single corps to huld Grouchy at bay as well as they could, and march liimsclf give Napoleon the battle which he seemed to de- sire, providing the prince would afford him the support of two divisions of the Prussian army. The answer was worthy of the indefatigable and indomitable old man, who was never so much dis- concerted by defeat as to prevent his being willing and ready for combat on the succeeding day. He sent for reply, that he would move to the Duke of Welhngton's support, not with two divisions only, but with his whole army ; and that he asked no drae to prepare for the movement, longer than was r.ecessary to supply food and serve out cartridges to his soldiers. It was three o'clock on the afternoon of the 1 Tth, ' when the British came on the field, and took up rheir bivouac for the night in the order of battle in which they were to fight the next day. It was much later before Napoleon reached the heights of Belle Alliance in person, and his army did not come up in full force till the morning of the 18tli. Great part of the French liad passed the night in the little village of Genappc, and Napoleon's own quai'ters had been at the farm-house called Caillou, about a mile in the rear of La Belle Alliance. In the morning, when Napoleon had formed his line of battle, his brother Jerome, to whom he ascribed the possession of very considerable mili- tary talents, commanded on the left — Counts Reille and D'Erlon the centre — and Count Lobau on the right. Mai'e'chals Soult and Ney acted as lieu- tenant-generals to the Emperor. The French force on the field consisted probably of about 75,000 men. The English army did not exceed that number, at the highest computation. Each army was commanded by the chief, under whom they had off'ered to defy the world. So far the forces were equal. But the French had the very great advantage of being trained and experienced sol- diers of the same nation, whereas the English, in the Duke of Wellington's army, did not exceed 35,000 ; and although the German Legion were veteran troops, the other soldiers under his com- mand were those of the German contingents, lately levied, unaccustomed to act together, and in some instances suspected to be lukewarm to the cause in which they were engaged ; so that it would have been imprudent to trust more to their assistance and co-operation than could possibly be avoided. In Buonaparte's mode of calculating, allowing one Frenchman to stand as equal to one Englishman, and one Englishman or Frenchman against two of any other nation, the inequality of force on the Duke of Wellington's side was very considerable. The British army thus composed, was divided into two lines. The right of the first line consisted of the second and fourth English divisions, the third and sixth Hanoverians, and the first corps of Bel- gians, under Lord Hill. The centre was composed of the corps of the Prince of Orange, with the Brunswickers and troops of Nassau, having the guards, under General Cooke, on the right, and with the rest of his army upon Waterloo; and Wellington immediately returned to his post. The fact of the duke and Blucher having met between the battles of Ligny and Water- loo, is well known to many of the superior ofticers then in the Netherlands; but the writer of this compendium has never happened to see it mentioned in print. The horse that car- ried the Duke of Wellington through this long night's journey, so important to the decisive battle of the Kith, remained till lately — if it does not still remain— a free pensioner in the best paddock of Strathfieldsayc. "—//(«<. nj' Nap. Jiiwnaparte, Family Library, vol. ii., p. 313. 1815.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 751 the division of General Alten on tlie left. The left wing consisted of the divisions of Picton, Lam- bert, and Kempt. The second line was in most instances formed of the troops deemed least worthy of confidence, or which had suffered too severely in the action of the 16th to be again exposed until ex- tremity. It was placed behind the declivity of the heights to the rear, in order to be sheltered from the cannonade, but sustained much loss from shells during the action. The cavalry were stationed in the rear, distributed all along the line, but chiefly posted on the left of the centre, to the east of the Charleroi causeway. The farm-house of La Haye Sainte, in the front of the centre, was garrisoned, but there was not time to prepare it effectually for defence. The villa, gardens, and farm-yard of Hougomont formed a strong advanced post towards the centre of the right. The whole British position formed a sort of cui've, the centre of which was nearest to the enemy, and the extremities, particu- larly on their right, drawn considei'ably backward. The plans of these two great generals were ex- tremely simple. The object of the Duke of Wel- lington was to maintain his line of defence, until the Prussians coming up, should give him a decided Buperiority of force. They were expected about eleven or twelve o'clock ; but the extreme badness of the roads, owing to the violence of the storm, detained them several hours later. Napoleon's scheme was equally plain and decid- ed. He trusted, by his usual rapidity of attack, to break and destroy the British army before the Prussians should arrive in the field ; after which, he calculated to have an opportunity of destroying the Prussians, by attacking them on their march through the broken ground interposed betwixt them and the British. In these expectations he was the more confident, that he believed Grouchy's force, detached on the 17th in pursuit of Blucher, was sufficient to retard, if not altogether to check, the march of the Prussians. His grounds for enter- taining this latter opinion, were, as we shall after- wards show, too hastily adopted. Commencing the action according to his usual system. Napoleon kept his guard in reserve, in order to take opportunity of charging with them, when repeated attacks of column alter column, and Sfjuadron after squadron, should induce his wearied enemy to show some symptoms of irresolution. But Napoleon's movements were not very rapid. His army had suffered by the storm even more than the English, who were in bivouac at three in the afternoon of the 1 7th June ; while the French were still under march, and could not get into line on the heights of La Belle Alliance until ten or eleven o'clock of the 18th. The English army had thus some leisure to take food, and to prepare their arms before the action ; and Napoleon lost several hours ere he could commence the attack. Time was, in- deed, inestimably precious for both parties, and hours, nay, minutes, wei-e of importance. But of this Napoleon wa.s less aware than was the Duke of Wellington. The tempest which had raged with tropical violence all night, abated in the morning ; but the weather continued gusty and stormy during the whole day. Betwixt eleven and twelve, before noon, on the memorable 18th June, this dreadful ttud decisive action commenced, with a cannonade Oil the part of the French, instantly followed by an attack, commanded by Jerome, on the advanced post of Hougomont. The troops of Nassau, which occupied the wood around the fliateau, were driven out by the French, but the utmost efforts of the as- sailants were unable to force the house, garden, and farm offices, which a party of the guards sustained with the most dauntless resolution. The French redoubled their efforts, and precipitated themselves in numbers on the exterior hedge, which screens the garden-wall, not perhaps aware of the internal defence afforded by the latter. They fell in great numbers on this point by the fire of the defeudere, to which they were exposed in every direction. The number of their troojts, however, enabled them, by possession of the wood, to mask Hougomont for a time, and to push on with their cavalry and artil- lery against the British right, which formed in scfuares to receive them. The fire was incessant, but without apparent advantage on either side. The attaoiv was at length repelled so far, that the Bri- tish again opened their communication with Hou- gomont, and that important gan-ison was reinforced by Colonel Hepburn and a body of the guards. Meantime, the fire of artillery having become general along the line, the force of the French at- tack was ti-ansferred to the British centre. It was made with the most desperate fury, and received with tlie most stubborn resolution. The assault was here made upon the farm-house of Saint Jean by four columns of infantry, and a large mass of cuirassiers, who took the advance. The cuirassiers came with the utmost intrepidity along the Gen- appe causeway, where they were encountered and charged by the English heavy cavalry ; and a com- bat was maintained at the sword's point, till the French were driven back on their own position, where they were protected by their artillery. The four columns of French infantry, engaged in the same attack, forced their way forward beyond the farm of La Haye Sainte, and dispersing a Belgian regiment, were in the act of establishing themselves in the centre of the British position, when they were attacked by the brigade of General Pack, brought up from the second line by General Picton, while, at the same time, a brigade of British heavy cavalry wheeled round their own infantry, and attacked the French charging columns in flank, at the moment when they were checked by the fire of the mus- ketry. The results were decisive. The French columns were broken with great slaughter, and two eagles, with more than 2000 men, were made prisoners. The latter were sent instantly oft' for Brussels. The British cavalry, however, followed their success too far. They got involved amongst the French infantry and some hostile cavalry whicli were detached to support them, and were obliged to retire with considerable loss. In this part of the action, the gallant General Picton, so distinguished for enterprise and bravery, met his death, as did General Ponsonby, who commanded the cavalry. About this period the French made themselves mastei-s of the farm of La Haye Sainte, cutting to pieces about two hundred Hanoverian sharpshoot- ers, by whom it was most gallantly defended. The French retained this post for some time, till they were at last diiven out of it by shells. Shortly after this event, the scene of conflict again shifted to the right, where a general attack of French cavalry was made on the squares, chief- SCOTT 8 MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [181, ly towai-'ls the centre of tlie Britisli viglit, or be- tween that and the causeway. They came up with the most dauntless lesohition, in despite of the continued fire of thirty pieces of artillery, placed in front of the line, and compelled the artillerymen, by whom they were served, to retreat within the squares. The enemy had no means, however, to secure the guns, or even to spike them, and at every favourable moment the British artillerymen sallied from tlieir place of refuge, again manned their pieces, and fired on the assailants — a manoeuvre which seems peculiar to the British service. > The cuirassiers, however, continued their dreadful on- set, and rode up to the squares in the full confidence, A[>parently, of sweeping them before the impetuo- sity of their charge. Their onset and reception was like a furious ocean pouring itself against a chain of insulated rocks. The British squares stood uimioved, and never gave fire until the cavalry were within ten yards, when men rolled one way, horses galloped another, and the cuirassiers were in every instance driven back. The French authors have pretended that squares were broken, and colours taken ; but this assertion, upon the united testimony of every British officer present, is a positive untruth. This was not, how- ever, the fault of the cuirassiers, who displayed an almost frantic valour. They rallied again and again, and returned to the onset, till the British could recognise even the faces of individuals among their enemies. Some rode close up to the bayonets, fired their pistols, and cut with their swords with reck- less and useless valour. Some stood at gaze, and were destroyed by the musketry and artillery. Some squadrons, passing through the intervals of the first line, charged the squares of Belgians posted there, with as little success. At length the cuirassiers suffered so severely on every hand, that they were compelled to abandon the attempt, which tiiey had made with such intrepid and desperate courage. In this unheard-of struggle, the greater part of the French heavy cavalry were absolutely destroyed. Buonaparte hints at it in his bulletin as an attempt made witliout orders, and continued only by the desperate courage of the soldiers and their ofiicers.'"^ It is certain that, in the destruction of this noble body of cuirassiers, he lost the corps which might have been most effectual in covering his retreat. After the broken remains of this fine cavalry were drawn off, the French confined themselves for a time to a heavy cannonade, from which the British sheltered themselves in part by lying down on the ground, while the enemy prepared for an attack on another quarter, and to be conducted in a different manner. It was now about six o'clock, and during this long succession of the most furious attacks, the French had gained no success save occupying for a time the wood around Hougomout, from which they had been expelled, and the farm house of La Haje Sainte, which had been also recovered. The British, on the other hand, had suffered very severe- 1 Baron Mufflinp;, spealcing of this peculiarity, says — " The EiiRlish artillery have a rule not to remove thoir f;uiis, when attacked by cavalry in a defensive position. The field pieces are worked till the last moment, and the men then throw themselves into the nearest square, bearing oif the imple- ments they use for serving the guns. If the attack is repulsed, the >irtillcrymen hurry back to their pieces, to fire on the re- treating enemy. This is an extremely laudable practice, if the infnntry lie properly arranged to correspond with it." — S. ly, but had not lost one inch of ground, save the two posts, now regained. Ten thousand men were, however, killed and wounded \ some of the foreign regiments had given way, though others had shown the most desperate valour. And the ranks were thinned both by the actual fugitives, and by the absence of individuals, who left the bloody field for the purpose of carrying off' the wounded, and some of whom might naturally be in no hurry to return to so fatal a scene. But the French, besides losing about 15,000 men, together with a column of prisoners more than 2000 in number, began now to be disturbed by the operations of the Prussians on their right flank ; and the secret of the Duke of Wellington was dis- closing itself by its consequences. Blucher, faith- ful to his engagement, had, early in the morning, put in motion Bulow's division, which had not been engaged at Ligny, to communicate with the Eng- lish army, and operate a diversion on the right flank and rear of the French. But although there were only about twelve or fourteen miles between Wavre and the field of Waterloo, yet the march was, by unavoidable circumstances, much delayed. The rugged face of the country, together with the state of the roads, so often referred to, offered the most serious obstacles to the progress of the Prus- sians, especially as they moved with an unusually large train of artillery. A fire, also, which broke out in Wavre, on the morning of the 18th, pre- vented Bulow's corps from marching through that town, and obliged them to pursue a circuitous and inconvenient route. After traversing, with great dilficulty, the cross-roads by Chapelle Lambert, Bulow, with the 4 th Prussian corps, who had been expected by the Duke of Wellington about eleven o'clock, announced hisarrival by a distant fire, about half-past four. The first Prussian corps, following the same route with Bulow, was yet later in coming up. The second division made a lateral movement in the same direction as the fourth and first, but by the hamlet of Ohain, nearer to the English flank. The Emperor instantly opposed to Bulow, who appeared long before the others, the 6th French corps, which he had kept in reserve for that service ; and, as only the advanced guard was come up, they succeeded in keejiing the Prussians in check for the moment. The first and second Prussian corps appeared on the field still later than the fourth. The third corps had put themselves in motion to follow in the same direction, when they were fu- riously attacked by the French under Mare'chal Grouchy, who, as already stated, was detached to engage the attention of Blucher, whose whole force he believed he had before him. Instead of being surprised, as an ordinary gene- ral might have been, with this attack upon his rear, Blucher contented himself with sending back orders to Thielman, who commanded the third corps, to defend himself as well as he could upon the line of the Dyle. In the meantime, without weakening the army under his own command, by detaching " " By a movement of impatience, which has often been so fatal to us, the cavalry of reserve liaviug perceived a retro- grade movement made by the English to shelter themselves from our batteries, crowned the heights of Mount St. Jean, and charged the infantry. This movement, which, made in time, and supported by the reserves, must have decided the day, made in an isolated manner, and before atlairs on the right were terminated, became fatal." — liiilliiiii, jMimileur, June 21. I. SI 5.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 753 any part of it to support Thielman, the veteran rather hastened than susjiended his march towards the field of battle, where he was aware that the war was likely to be decided in a manner so complete, as would leave victory or defeat on every other point a matter of subordinate considei-ation. At half-past six, or thereabouts, the second grand division of the Prussian army began to enter into communication with the British left, by the village of Ohain, while Bulow pressed forward from Cha- pelle Lambert on the French right and rear, by a hollow, or valley, called Frischemont. It became now evident that the Prussians were to enter seri- ously into the battle, and with great force. Na- poleon had still the means of opposing them, and of achieving a retreat, at the certainty, however, of being attacked upon the ensuing day by the com- bined armies of Britain and Prussia. His cele- brated Guard had not yet taken any part in the conflict, and would now have been capable of afford- ing him protection after a battle which, hitherto, lie had fought at disadvantage, but without be- ing defeated. But the circumstances by which he was surrounded must have pressed on his mind at once. He had no succours to look for ; a reunion with Grouchy was the only resource which could strengthen his forces ; the Russians were advancing upon the Rhine with forced marches ; the Repub- licans at Paris wei'e agitating schemes against his authority. It seemed as if all must be decided on that day, and on that field. Sui'rounded by these ill-omened cii'cumstances, a desperate effort for victory, ere the Prussians could act eflectually, might perhaps yet drive the English from their position ; and he determined to venture on this daring experiment. About seven o'clock, Napoleon's Guard were formed in two columns, under his own eye, near the bottom of the declivity of La Belle Alliance. They were put under command of the dauntless Ney. Buonaparte told the soldiers, and, indeed, imposed the same fiction on their commander, that the Prus- sians whom they saw on the right were retreating before Grouchy. Perhaps he might himself believe that this was true. The Guard answered, for the last time, with shouts of Vive VEnqjereiir, and moved resolutely forward, having, for their support, four battalions of the Old Guard in reserve, who stood prepared to protect the advance of their com- rades. A gradual change had taken place in the English line of battle, in consequence of the re- peated repulse of the French. Advancing by slow degrees, the right, which at the b<^ginning of the conflict, presented a segment of a convex circle, now resembled one that \\as concave, the extreme right, which had been thrown back, being now rather brought forward, so that their fire both of artillery and infantry fell upon the flank of the French, who had also to sustain that which was poured on their front from the heights. The British were arranged in a line of four men deep, to meet 1 " I had my hoTfe killed and fell under it. The brave men who will return from this terrible battle, will, 1 hope, do me the justice to say, that they saw me on foot with sword in hand during the whole of the evening ; and tliat I only quitted the scene of carnage among the last, and at the moment when retreat cnuld no longer be prevented." — Ncy's Leilcr to the VukeqfOlrantn. 2 " Cries o{ all ix Innf. Ifir Ounnl is driven hack, were heard on every side. The soldiers pretend even that on many points ill disposed persons cried out sniirc f/'d jieiit. However this Diay be, a comp.'ete panic at once spread itself throughout VOL. II. the advancing columns of the French Guard, anck poured upon them a .storm of musketry which never ceased an instant. The soldiers fired independently, as it is called ; each man loading and discharging his piece as fast as he could. At length the British moved forward, as if to close round the heads of the columns, and at the same time continued to pour their shot upon the enemy's flanks. The French gallantly attempted to deploy, for the purpose of returning the discharge. But in their effort to do so, under so dreadful a fire, they stopt, staggered, became disordered, were blended into one mass, and at length gave way, retiring, or rather flying, in Uie utmost confusion. This was the last effort of the enem}', and Napoleon gave orders for the retreat ; to protect which, he had now no troops left, save the last four battalions of the Old Guard, which had been stationed in the rear of the attacking columns. These thi-ew themselves into squares, and stood finn. But at this moment the Duke of Wellington commanded the whole British line to advance, so that whatever the bravery and skill of these gallant veterans, they also were thrown into disorder, and swept away in the general rout, in spite of the efforts of Ney, who, having had his horse killed, fought sword in hand, and on foot, in the front of the battle, till the very last.' That mare'chal, whose military virtues at least cannot be challenged, bore personal evidence against two cir- cumstances, industriously circulated by the friends of Napoleon. One of these fictions occurs in his own bulletin, which chai'ges the loss of the battle to a panic fear, brought about by the treachery of some unknown persons, who raised the cry of "Saure qui peut." ^ Another figment, greedily credited at Paris, bore, that the four battalions of Old Guard, the last who maintained the semblance of order, answered a summons to surrender, by the magnanimous re- ply, " The Guard can die, but cannot yield." And one edition of the story adds, that thereupon the bat- talions made a half wheel inwards, and discharged their muskets into each other's bosoms, to save themselves froiu dying by the hands of the English. Neither the original reply, nor the pretended self- sacrifice of the Guard, have the slightest founda- tion. Cambrone, in whose mouth the speech was placed, gave up his sword, and remained prisoner ; and the military conduct of the French Guard is better eulogised by the undisputed truth, that they fought to extremity, with the most unyielding con- stancy, than by imputing to them an act of regi- mental suicide upon the lost field of battle.' Every attribute of brave men they have a just right to claim. It is no compliment to ascribe to them that of madmen. Whether the words were used by Cambrone or no, the Guard well deserved to have them inscribed on their monument. Whilst this decisive movement took place, Bulow, who had concentrated his troops, and was at length qualified to act in force, carried the village of Plan- chenois in the French rear, and was now firing so the whole field. The Old Guard was infected, and was itself hurried along. In an instant, 'the whole army was nothing but a mass of confusion ; all the soldiers of all arms were mi.xcd pdmil, and it was utterly impossible to rallv a single corps." — Uullftiii, JIuiiiti-ur, June 21. "A retrograde move- ment was declared, and the army formed nothing but a con- fused ma,' par I.e Ge- neral Grouchy, 1819." -1815.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. nature, in such circumstances, to believe that they, Mliose fortune and safety depended on the victory, personally brave as they are admitted to be, should tiave loitered in the rear, when their fate was in the balance ? He who was unjust to his own followers, can scarce be expected to be candid towards an enemy. The Duke of Wellington has, upon all occasions, been willing to render the military diaracter of Napoleon that justice which a generous mind is scrupulously accurate in dispensing to an adver- sary, and has readily admitted that the conduct of Buonaparte and his army on this memorable occa- sion, was fully adequate to the support of their high reputation. It may be said that the victor can afford to bestow praise on the vanquished, but that it requires a superior degree of candour in the vanquished to do justice to the conqueror. Napo- leon, at any rate, does not seem to have attained, in this particular, to the pitch of a great or exalted mind, since both he and the various persons whom he employed as the means of circulating his state- ments, concur in a very futile attempt to excuse the defeat at Waterloo, by a set of apologies founded in a great degree upon misrepresentation. The reader will find these scientifically discussed in a. valuable article in the Appendix.* But it may be necessary, at the risk of some repetition, to take some notice of them here in a popular form. The allegations, which are designed to prove the inca- pacity of the British general, and to show that the battle of Waterloo was only lost by a combination of extraordinary fatalities, may be considered in their order. The first, and most frequently repeated, is the charge, that the Duke of Wellington, on the 15th, was surprised in his cantonments, and could not collect his ai'my fast enough at Quatre-bras. In this his Grace would have been doubtless highly censurable, if Napoleon had, by express informa- tion, or any distinct movement indicative of his pui'pose, shown upon which point he meant to advance. But the cbivah'ous practice of fixing a ' See an account of the action of Waterloo, equally intelli- eible and scientific, drawn up by Captain Prinale of the artil- lery, which will amply supply the deficiencies of our narrative — Appb.vdix, No. XIII. 2 This was Fouche, who seems to have been engaged in se- 2ret correspondence with all and sundry of the belligerent powers, while he was minister of police under Napoleon. In nis Memoirs [vol. ii., p. 2/9,] he is made to boast that he con- trived to keep his word to the Duke of Wellington, by sending tlie plan of Buonaparte's campaign by a female, a Flemish postmistress, whom he laid wait for on the frontier, and caused to be arrested. Thus he " kept the word of promise to the ear, And broke it to the sense." This story, we have some reason to believe, is true. One of the marvels of our times is how Fouch^, after haring been the mainspring of such a complication of plots and counterplots, revolutionary and counter-revolutionary intrigues, contrived hfter all to die in liis bed! — S.— On the second restoration, LouisXVIlI. saw himself reduced to the sad necessity of ad- mitting FouchC" to his counsels. But the clamours raised against his profligacy and treachery convincing him that it would be dangerous to continue in France, he resigned in Sep- tember, and was sent ambassador to Dresden. In January, lOlfi, he was denounced as a regicide by both Chambers, and condemned to death, in case he reentered the French terri- tory. He died at Trieste, December 2(), 1020, in his sixty- seventh year, leaving behind him an immense fortune. 3 Some people have been silly'enough to consider the Duko of Wellington's being surprised as a thing indisputable, be- cause the news of the French advance flrst reached him in a ^all-^ooln. It must be supposed that these good men's idea •f war is, that a general shoul^ sit sentinel with histrunclieon field of combat has been long out of date ; and Napoleon, beyond all generals, possessed the art oi masking his own movements, and misleading his enemy concerning the actual point on which he meditated an attack. The Duke and Prince Blu- cher were, therefore, obliged to provide for the concentration of their forces upon different points, according as Buonaparte's selection should be mani- fested ; and in order to be ready to assemble their forces upon any one position, they must, by spread- ing their cantonments, in some degree delay the movement upon all. The Duke could not stir from Brussels, or concentrate his forces, until he had certain information of those of the enemy ; and it is said that a French statesman, who had promised to send him a copy of the plan of Buonaparte's campaign, contrived, by a trick of policy, to evade keeping his word.''' We do not mean to deny the talent and activity displayed by Buonaparte, who, if he could have brought forward his whole army upon the evening of the loth of June, might pro- bably have succeeded in preventing the meditated junction of Blucher and Wellington. But the celebrated prayer for annihilation of time and space would be as little reasonable in the mouth of a general as of a lover, and, fettered by the limita- tions against which that modest petition is directed, Buonaparte failed in bringing forward in due time a sufficient body of forces to carry all before him at Quatre-bras ; while, on the other hand, the Duke of Wellington, from the same obstacles of time and space, could not assemble a force suffi- cient to drive Ney before him, and enable him to advance to the support of Blucher during the action of Ligny.^ The choice of the field of Waterloo is also charged against the Duke of Wellington as an act of weak judgment; because, although possessed of all the requisites for maintaining battle or pursuing vic- tory, and, above all, of the facilities for communi- cating with the Prussian army, it had not, accord- ing to the imperial critic, the means of affordmg security in case of a retreat, since there was only in his hand, like a statue in the midst of a city market-place, until the tidings come which call him to the field. " Free is his heart who for his country fights ; He on the eve of battle may resign Himself to social pleasure — sweetest then, When danger to the soldier's soul endears The human joy that never m.ay return." Home's Douglas.— S. "The fiction of the Duke of Wellington having been sur- prised on this great occasion, has maintained its place in almost all narratives of the war for fifteen years. The duke's magnanimous silence under such treatment, for so long a period, will be appreciated by posterity. The facts of the case are now given from the most un(iuestionable authority. At half-past one o'clock, p.m., of Thursday the 15th, a Prussian officer of high rank arrived at Wellington's headquarters in Brussels, with the intelligence of Napoleon's, decisive opera- tions. By two o'clock, orders were despatched to all the can- tonments of the duke's army, for the •divisions to break up and concentrate on the left of Quatre-bras, his grace's design being that his whole force should be assembled there by eleven o'clock on the next night, Friday the IGth. It was at first in- tended to put off a ball announced for the evening of Thurs- day, at the Duchesit of Richmond's hotel in Brussels; but on reflection it seemed highly important that the population ot that city should be kept, as far as possible, in ignorance as to the courseof events, and the Duke of Wellington desired that the ball should jjroceed accordingly ; nay, the general officers received bis commands to appear in the ball room, each tak- ing care to quit the apartment as quietly as possible at ten o'clock, and proceed to join bis res]>ectivc division en route. 'This arrangement was carried into strict execution. The duko himself retired at twelve o'clock, and left Brussels at six o'clock next morning foryuatre-bras." — Hisl. of Xap.Buonu- parte, Family Library, vol. ii., |i. Mt. i 75G SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1815. one communication to the rear — that by tlie cause- way of Brussels, the rest of the position being screened by the forest of Soignies, in front of whicli the Britifeli army was formed, and tln-ough wliich, it is assumed, retreat was impossible. Tailing the principle of this criticism as accurate, it may be answered, that a general would never halt or fight at all, if he were to refuse combat on every other save a field of battle which possessed all the various excellences which may be predicated of one in theory. The commander must consider whether the ground suits his present exigencies, without looking at other circumstances which may be less pressing at the time. Generals have been known to choose by preference the ground from whicli there could be no retiring ; like invaders who burn their ships, as a pledge that they will follow their enterprise to the last. And although provision for a safe retreat is certainly in most eases a desirable circumstance, yet it has been dis- pensed with by g(X)d generals, and by none more frequently than by Napoleon himself. Was not the battle of Essling fought without any possible mode of retreat save the frail bridges over the Danube I Was not that of Wagram debated under similar circumstances ? And, to complete the whole, did not Napoleon, while censuring the Duke of Wellington for fighting in front of a forest, himself enter upon conflict with a defile in his rear, formed by the narrow streets and nar- rower bridge of Genappe, by which alone, if de- feated, he could cross the Dyle 1 — It might, there- fore, be presumed, that if the Duke of Wellington chose a position from which retreat was difficult, he must have considered the necessity of retreat as unlikely, and reckoned with confidence on being able to make good his stand until the Prussians should come up to join him. Even this does not exhaust the question ; for the English general-officers unite in considering the forest of Soignies as a very advantageous feature in the field ; and, far from apprehending the least in- convenience from its existence, the Duke of Wel- lington regai'ded it as affording a position, which, if his first and second line had been unhappily forced, he might have nevertheless made good against the whole French army. The hamlet of Mont Saint Jean, in front, affords an excellent key to the position of an army compelled to occupy the forest. The wood itself is every where passable for men and horses, the trees being tall, and with- out either low boughs or underwood ; and, singular as the discrepancy between the opinions of distin- guished soldiers may seem, we have never met an English officer who did not look on the forest of Soignies as affording an admirable position for making a final stand. In support of their opinion they refer to the defence of the Biis de Bossu, near Q.uatre-bras, against the reiterated attacks of Mare'- chal Ney. This impeachment of the Duke of Wel- lingtdu may therefore be set aside, as inconsistent wiih the principles of British warfare. All that can be added is, that there are cases in which na- tional habits and manners may render a position advantageous to soldiers of one country, which is perilous or destructive to those of another. The next subject of invidious criticism, is of a nature so singular, that, did it not originate with a great man, in peculiar circumstances of adversity, it might be almost termed ludicrous. Napoleon expresses himself as dissatisfied, because he was defeated in the common and vulgar proceeding of downi'ight fighting, and by no special manoeuvres or peculiar display of military art on the part of the victor. But if it can afford any consolation to those who cherish his fame, it is easy to show that Napoleon fell a victim to a scheme of tactics early conceived, and persevered in under circumstances wliich, in the case of ordinary men, would have occasioned its being abandoned ; resumed after events which seemed so adverse, that nothing save dauntless courage and unlimited confidence could have enabled the chiefs to proceed in their purpose ; and carried into execution, without Napoleon's be- ing able to ]ienetrate the purpose of the allied generals, until it was impossible to prevent the an- nihilation of his army ; — that he fell, in short, by a grand plan of strategic, worthy of being compared to tliat of any of his own admirable campaigns. To prove what we have said, it is only necessary to remark, that the natural bases and points of re- treat of the Prussian and English armies were dif- ferent ; the former being directed on Maestricht, the other on Antwerp, where each expected their reinforcements. Regardless of this, and with full confidence in each other, the Prince Mart'chal Blucher, and the Duke of Wellington, agreed to act in conjunction against the French army. The union of their forces, for which both were prepared, was destined to have taken place at Ligny, where the duke designed to have supported the Prussians, and where Blucher hazarded an action in expecta- tion of his ally's assistance. The active movements of Napoleon, and the impossibility of the English force being sufficiently concentrated at Quatre-bras to afford the means of overpowering Ney and the force in their front, prevented their making a la- teral march to relieve Blucher at that critical period. Otherwise, the parts of the bloody di-ama, as afterwards acted, would have been reversed, and the British army would have moved to support the Prussians at Ligny, as the Prussians came to the aid of the British at Waterloo. Napoleon had the merit of disconcerting this plan for the time ; but he did not, and could not, discover that tlie allied generals retained, after the loss of the battle of Ligny, the same purpose which they had adopted on the commencement of the campaign. He imagined, as did all around him, that Blucher must retreat on Namur, or in such a direction as would effectually accomplish a separation betwixt him and the English, as it was natural to think a defeated army should approach towards its own resources, instead of attempting further offensive operations. At all events. Napoleon was in this respect so much mistaken, as to believe that if Blucher did retire on the same line with the Eng- lish, the means which the Prussian retained for co-operating with his allies were so limited, and (perhaps he might think) the spirit of the general so subdued, that Mareehal Grouchy, with 3'2,000 men, would be sufficient to keep the whole Prus- sian force in check. The mare'chal was accoi-d- ingly, as we have seen, despatched much too late, without any other instructions than to follow and engage the attention of the Prussians. Misled by the demonstration of Blucher, he at first took the road to Namur, and thus, without any fault on his part, lost time, which was inconceivably precious. Buonaparte's subsequent accounts oi' this action 181 5.J LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. blame Alar^clial Grouchy for not discovering IJlucher's real dii-ection, which he had no means of ascertaining, and for not obeying orders which Were never given to him, and whicli could not be given, because Napoleon was as ignorant as the niarJchal, that Bluclier liad formed the determina- tion, at all events, to unite himself with Wellington. This purpose of acting in co-operation, formed and persevered in, was to the French Emperor the rid- dle of the Sphinx, and he was destroyed because he could not discover it. Indeed, he ridiculed even the idea of such an event. One of his officers, ac- cording to Baron MufiBing, having hinted at the mere possibility of a junction between the Prussian army and that of Wellington, he smiled contempt- uously at the thought. " Th.e Prussian army," he said, " is defeated — It cannot rallv for three days —I have 75,000 men, the English only 50,000. The town of Brussels awaits me with open arms. The English Opposition waits but for my success to raise their heads. Then adieu subsidies, and farewell coahtion 1 " In like manner, Napoleon frankly acknowledged, while on board the North- umberland, that he had no idea that the Duke of Wellington meant to fight, and therefore omitted to reconnoitre the gi'ound with sufficient accuracy. It is well known, that when he observed them still in their position on the morning of the 18th, he exclaimed, " I have them, then, these English ! " It was half past eleven, just about the time that the battle of Waterloo conmienced, that Grouchy, as already hinted, overtook the rear of the Prus- sians. A strong force, appearing to be the whole of the Prussian army, lay before the French mare'- chal, who, from the character of the ground, had no means of ascertaining their numbers, or of dis- covering the fact, that three divisions of Blucher's army were already on the march to their right, througii the passes of Saint Lambert ; and that it was only Thielman's division which remained upon the Dyle. Still less could he know, what could only be known to the duke and Blucher, that the English were determined to give battle in the posi- tion at Waterloo. He heard, indeed, a heavy can- nonade in that direction, but that might have pro- ceeded from an attack on the British rear-guard, the duke being, in the general opinion of the French army, in full retreat upon Antwerp. At any rate, the marechal's orders were to attack the enemy which he found before him. He could not but re- member, that Ney had been reprimanded fur de- taching a part of his force on the 16th, in conse quence of a distant cannonade ; and he was natu- rally desirous to avoid censure for the self-same cause. Even if Napoleon was seriously engaged with the English, it seemed the business of Grouchy to occupy the large force which he observed at Wavre, and disposed along the Dyle, to prevent their attempting any thing against Napoleon, if, contrary to probability, the Emperor should be en- gaged in a general battle. Lastly, as Grouchy was to form his resolution under the idea of having the whole Prussian force before him, which was esti- mated at 80,000 men, it would have been impossible for him to detach from an army of 32,000 any con- siderable body, to the assistance of Napoleon ; and in attacking with such inadequate numbers, he showed his devotion, at the risk of being totally de- stroyed. lie engaged, however in battle without any hesi- tation, and attacked the line of the Prussians a1on Hobhouse's Letters from Paris, written during the Last Rcii-n of Napoleon.— S. been done before, and for that reason ought never to be attempted again. His fifth flight from his army occasioned the entire abandonment of himself and his cause by all who might have forgiven him his misfortune, but required that he should be the first to arise from the blow." ' It was a curious indication of public spirit in Paris, that, upon the news of this apjialling misfor- tune, the national funds rose, immediately after tho first shock of the tidings was past ; so soon, that is, as men had time to consider the probable conse- quence of the success of the allies. It seemed as if public credit revived upon any intelligence, however disastrous otherwise, which promised to abridge the reign of Buonaparte. The anticipations of Napoleon did not deceive him. It was plain, that, whatever deference the Jacobins had for him in his hour of strength, they had no compassion for his period of weakness. Thsy felt the opportunity favourable to get rid of him, and did not disguise their purpose to do so. The two Chambers hastily assembled. La Fay- ette addressed that of the Representatives in the character of an old friend of freedom, spoke of the sinister reports that were spread abroad, and in- vited the members to rally under the three-coloured banner of liberty, equality, and public order, by adopting five resolutions. The first declared, that the independence of the nation was menaced ; the second declared the sitting of the Chambers per- manent, and denounced the pains of treason against whomever should attempt to dissolve them ; the third announced that the troops had deserved \\ ell of their country ; the fourth called out the national guard ; the fifth invited the ministers to repair to the Assembly.''^ These propositions intimated the apprehensions of the Chamber of Representatives, that they might be a second time dissolved by an armed force, and, at the same time, announced their purpose to place themselves at the head of aff'airs, without farther respect to the Emperor. They were adopted, all but the fourth concerning the national guard, which was considered as premature. Regnault de St. Jean d'Angely attempted to read a bulletin, giving an imperfect and inconsistent account of what had passed on the frontiers ; but the representatives be- came clamorous, and demanded the attendance of the ministers. At length, after a delay of tliree or four hours, Camot, Caulaincnurt, Davoust, and Fouche, entered the hall with Lucien Buonaparte. The Chamber formed itself into a secret com- mittee, before which the ministers laid the full extent of the disaster, and announced that the Emperor had named Caulaincourt, Fouche, and Carnot, as commissioners to treat of peace with the allies. The ministers were blmitly reminded by the Republican members, and particularly by Henry Lacoste, that they had no basis for any negotiations which could be proposed in the Em- peror's name, since the allied powers had declared war against Napoleon, which was now in plain terms pronounced, by more than one member, the sole obstacle betwixt the nation and peace. Universal applause followed from all parts of the hall, and left Lucien no longer in doubt, that the represen- tatives intended to separate their cause from that 2 Moniteur, Jane 22 ; Muntgaillard, torn, viti., p. 220 7G0 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WOKKS. [1815. of his brother. He omitted no art of conciliation or entreaty, and — more eloquent probably in prose than in poetry — appealed to their love of glory, their generosity, their fidelity, and the oaths which they had so lately sworn. " We hare been faith- ful," replied Fayette ; " we have followed your brother to the sands of Egypt — to the snows of Russia. The bones of Frenchmen, scattered in every region, attest our fidelity."' All seemed to unite in one sentiment, that the abdication of Buonaparte was a measure absolutely necessary. Davoust, the minister at war, arose, and disclaimed, with protestations, any intention of acting against the freedom or independence of the Chamber. This was, in fact, to espouse their cause. A com- mittee of five members was appointed to concert measures with Ministers. Even the latter official persons, though named by the Emperor, were not supposed to be warmly attached to him. Carnot and Fouche were the natural leaders of the popu- lar party, and Caulaincourt was supposed to be on indiflferent terms with Napoleon, whose Ministers, therefore, seemed to adopt the interest of the Cliamber in preference to his. Lucien saw that his brother's authority was ended, unless it could be maintained by violence. The Chamber of Peers might have been more friendly to the Imperial cause, but their constitution gave them as little confidence in themselves as weight with the public. They adopted the three first resolutions of the Lower Chamber, and named a committee of public safety. The line of conduct which the Representatives meant to pursue was now obvious ; they had spoken out, and named the sacrifice which thej' exacted from Buonaparte, being nothing less than abdica- tion. It remained to be known whether the Em- peror would adopt measures of resistance, or sub- mit to this encroachment. If there could be a point of right, where both were so far wrong, it certainly lay with Napoleon. These very Repre- sentatives were, by voluntary consent, as far as oaths and engagements can bind men, his subjects, convoked in his name, and having no political existence excepting as a pai"t of his new constitu- tional government. However great his faults to the people of France, he had committed none towards these accomplices of his usurpation, nor were they legislators otherwise than as he was their Emperor. Their right to discard and trample upon him in his adversity, consisted only in their having the power to do so ; and the readiness which they showed to exercise that power, spoke as little for their faith as for their generosity. At the same time, our commiseration for fallen greatness is lost in our sense of that justice, which makes the associates and tools of a usurper the readiest imple- ments of his ruin. When Buonaparte returned to Paris, his first interview was with Carnot, of whom he demanded, in his usual tone of authority, an instant supply of treasure, and a levy of 300,000 men. The minis- ter replied, that he could liave neither the one nor the other. Napoleon then summoned Maret, Duke of Bassano, and other confidential persons of his court. But when his civil counselloi's talked of defence, the word wrung from him the bitter ejacu- ■ Montgaillard, torn, viii., p. 222. "V lation, " All, my old guard, could they but defend themselves like you !" A sad confession, that tne military truncheon, his best emblem of command, was broken in his gripe. Lucien urged his brother to maintain his authorit}', and dissolve the Cham- bers by force; but Napoleon, aware that the na- tional guard might take the part of the represen- tatives, declined an action so full of hazard. Da- voust, was, however, sounded concerning his wil- lingness to act against the Chambers, but he posi- tively refused to do so. Some idea was held out by Fouche to Napoleon, of his being admitted to the powers of a dictator ; but this could be only thrown out as a proposal for the purpose of amu- sing him. In the meantime, arrived the news of the result of the meeting of the Representatives in secret committee. The gaimtlet was now thrown down, and it was necessary that Napoleon should resist or yield; declare himself absolute, and dissolve the Chambers by violence ; or abdicate the authority he had so lately resumed. Lucien finding him still undeter- mined, hesitated not to say, that the smoke of the battle of Mont Saint Jean had turned his brain.* In fact his conduct at this crisis was not that of a great man. He dared neither venture on the des- perate measures which might, for a short time, have preserved his power, nor could he bring him- self to the dignified step of an apparently voluntary resignation. He clung to what could no longer avail him, like the distracted criminal, who, wanting re- solution to meet his fate by a voluntary effort, must be pushed from the scaffold by the hand of the executioner. Buonaparte held, upon the night of the 21st, a sort of general council, comprehending the ministers of every description ; the president and four mem- bers of the Chamber of Peers, the president, and four vice-])residents, of the Representatives, with other official persons and counsellors of state. The Emperor laid before this assembly the state of the nation and required their advice. Regnault (who was the Imperial orator in ordinary) seconded the statement with a proposal, that measures be taken to recruit with heroes the heroic army, and bring succours to what, by a happily selected phrase, he termed the " astonished eagle." He opined, there- fore, that the Chambers should make an appeal to French valour, while the Emperor was treating of peace " in the most steady and dignified manner." Fayette stated, that resistance would but aggravate the calamities of France. The allies stood pledged to demand a particular sacrifice when they first engaged in the war ; they were not likely to re- cede from it after this decisive victory. One mea- sure alone he saw betwixt the country and a bloody and ruinous conflict, and he refen-ed to the great and generous spirit of the Emperor to discover its nature. Maret, Duke of Bassano, long Buona- parte's most confidential friend, and fatallj so, be- cause (more a corn-tier than a statesman^ he at- tended rather to soothe his humour than to guide his councils, took fire at this suggestion. He called for severe measures against the Royalists and the disaffected ; a revolutionary police, and revolution- ary punishments. " Had such," he said, " been earlier resorted to, a person" (meaning probably * Fleury de Chamboullon, torn, ii, p. 296 ; Miss William*' Narrative. 1815.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. •Gl Fouch(?) " who now hears me, would not be now smiling at the misfortunes of his country, and Wel- lington would not be marching upon Paris." This speech was received with a burst of disapproba- tion, which even the pi-esence of the Emperor, in whose cause Maret was thus vehement, proved un- able to restrain ; hisses and clamour drowned the voice of the speaker. Carnot, who had juster views of the military strength, or rather weakness of France at the moment, was desirous, democrat as he was, to retain the advantage of Napoleon's ta- lents. He is said to have wept wlien the abdica- tion was insisted upon. Lanjuinais and Constant supported the sentiments of Fayette. But the Em- peror appeared gloomy, dissatisfied, and uncertain, and the council broke up without coming to any determination. ^ For another anxious night the decision of Buo- naparte was suspended. Had the nation, or even the ministers, been unanimous in a resolution to defend themselves, unquestionably France might have been exposed to the final chance of war, with some prospect of a struggle on Napoleon's part ; though, when it is considered within how sliort a time the allies introduced, within the limits of France, an armed force amounting to 800,000 eflfective men, it does not appear how his resistance could have eventually proved successful. It would be injustice to deny Napoleon a natural feeling of the evils which must have been endured by the nation in such a protracted contest, and we readily suppose him unwilling to have effected a brief con- tinuation of his reign, by becoming the cause of so much misery to the fine country which he had so long ruled. Like most men in difficulties, he received much more advice than offers of assistance. The best counsel was, perhaps, that of an American gentleman, who advised him instantly to retreat to the North American States, whei'e he could not indeed enjoy the royal privileges and ceremonial, to which he was more attached than philosophy warrants, but where that general respect would have been paid to him, which his splendid talents, and wonderful career of adventure, were so well calculated to enforce. But now, as at Moscow, he lingered too long in forming a decided opinion ; for, though the importunity of friends and oppo- nents wrung from him the resignation which was demanded at all hands, yet it was clogged by con- ditions which could only be made in the hope of retaining a predominant interest in the govern- ment by which his own was to be succeeded. On the morning of the 22d June, only four days after the defeat at Waterloo, the Chamber of Re- presentatives assembled at nine in the morning, and expressed the utmost impatience to receive the Act of Abdication. A motion was made by Duchesne, that it should be peremptorily demanded from the Emperor, when this degree of violence was ren- dered unnecessary by his compliance.* It was presented by Fouch^, whose intrigues were thus far crowned with success, and was couched in the following terms : — • " Frenchmen ! — In commencing war for maintainiog the 1 MontgaiUard, torn, viii., p. 223; Fo. •£>i. 2 Hobliouse's Letters from Paris, vol. ii. ; Flcury dc Clium- bouUon, tom. ii., p. 2UU. 704 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. ri8i5. citizen. But the internal discord had gone too far. The po])ular party which then prevailed, saw more danger in the success of Napoleon, than in the su- periority of the allies. The latter they hoped to con- ciliate hy treaty. They doubted, with good reason,the power of resisting them by force ; and if such re- sistance was, or could be niaijitained by Napoleon, they feared his supremacy, in a military command, at least as much as the predominance of the alhes. His services were therefore declined by them. Like skilful anglers, the Provisional Government had been gradually drawing their nets around Na- poleon, and it was now time, as they thought, to di-ag him upon the shallows. They proceeded to place him under a sort of arrest, by directing Ge- neral Beker, an officer with whom Napoleon had been on indifferent terms, to watch over, and, if necessai'y, to restrain his movements in such a manner, that it should be impossible for him to make his escape, and to use measures to induce him to leave Malmaison for Rochefort, where the means were provided for his departure out of France. Orders were at the same time given for two frigates to transport him to the United States of America ; and the surveillance of General Beker and the police was to continue until the late Emperor was on board the vessels. This order was qualified by directions that all possible care should be taken to ensure the safety of Napoleon's person. A cor- responding order was transmitted by Davoust, who, giving way to one of those equivocal bursts of feeling, by which men compi'omise a conflict be- tween their sentiments and their duty or their in- terest, refused to sign it himself, but ordered his secretary to do so, which, as he observed, would be quite the same.^ Napoleon submitted to his destiny with resigna- tion and dignity. He received General Beker with ease, and even cheerfulness ; and the latter, with feelings which did him honour, felt the task com- mitted to him the more painful, that he had expe- rienced the personal enmity of the individual who was now intrusted to his custody.^ About forty persons, of different ranks and degrees, honourably- dedicated their services to the adversity of the Emperor, whom they had served in prosperity. Yet, amid all these preparations for departure, a longing hope remained, that his exile might be dispensed with. He heard the distant cannonade as the war-horse hears the trumpet. Again he offered his services to march against Blucher as a simple volunteer, undertaking that, when he had repulsed the invaders, he would then proceed on his journey of expatriation.-' He had such hopes of his request being granted as to have his horses brought out and in readiness to enable him to join the army. But the Provisional Government anew declined an offer, the acceptance of which would indeed have ruined all hopes of treating with the allies. Fouche, on hearing Napoleon's proposal, is said to have ex- claimed, " Is he laughing at us !" Indeed, his joining the troops would have soon made him master of the destiny of the Provisional Govern- ment, whatever might have been the final result. On the 29th of June, Napoleon departed from ' " The secretary found himself equally incapable of put- ting his name to such a communication. Was it sent or not ? — this is a point which I cannot decide." — Las Cases, torn, i., part i., pp. 17—20. 2 " Fouch^ knew that General Beker had a private pique Malmaison ; on the 3d of July he arrived at Roche- fort. General Beker accompanied him, nor does his journey seem to have been marked by any cir- cumstances worthy of remark. Wherever he came, the troops received him with acclamation ; the ci- tizens respected the misfortunes of one who had been wellnigh master of tlie world, and were silent where they could not applaud. Thus, the reign of the Emperor Napoleon was completely ended. But, before adverting to his future fate, we must complete, in a few words, the consequences of his abdication, and offer some remarks on the circumstances by which it was ex- torted and enforced. The Provisional Government had sent commis- sioners to the Duke of Wellington, to request passports for Napoleon to the States of America. The duke had no instructions from his govern- ment to grant them. The Prussian and English generals alike declined all overtures made for the establishment, or acknowledgment, either of the present Provisional Administration, or any plan which they endeavoured to suggest, short of the restoration of the Bourbons to the seat of govern- ment. The Provisional Commissioners endea- voured, with as little success, to awaken the spirit of national defence. They had lost the road to the soldiers' hearts. The thoughts of patriotism had in the army become indissolubly united with the person and the qualities of Napoleon. It was in vain that deputies, with scarfs, and proclama- tions of public right, and invocation of the ancient watchwords of the Revolution, endeavoured to awaken the spirit of 1794. The soldiers and fede- rates answered sullenly, " Why should we fight any more i we have no longer an Emperor." Meanwhile, the Royalist party assumed courage, and showed themselves in arms in several of the departments, directed the public opinion in many others, and gained great accessions from the Con- stitutionalists. Indeed, if any of the latter stil) continued to dread the restoration of the Bourbons, it was partly from the fear of reaction and retalia- tion on the side of the successful Royalists, and partly because it was apprehended that the late events might have made on the mind of Louis an impression imfavourable to constitutional limita- tions, a disgust to those by whom they were recom- mended and supported, and a propensity to resume the arbitrary measures by which his ancestors had govei'ned their kingdom. Those who nourished those apprehensions could not but allow, that they were founded on the fickleness and ingratitude of the people, who had shown themselves unworthy of, and easily induced to conspire against, the mild and easy rule of a limited monarchy. But they involved, nevertheless, tremendous conse- quences, if the King should be disposed to act upon rigorous and vindictive principles ; and it was such an apprehension on the part of some, joined to the fears of others for personal consequences, the sullen shame of a third party, and the hatred of the army to the princes whom they had betrayed, which procured for the Provisional Government a show of obedience. against the Emperor ; and therefore did not doubt of finding in the former a man disposed to vengeance ; but he was grossly deceived in his expectations, for Belter constantly showed a degree of respect and attachment to the Emperor highly ho- nourable to his character."— r,AS Cases, torn, i., p. 17- 3 Las Cases* torn, i., p. 20. 1815.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 7Go It was thus that the Chambers continued their resistance to receiving their legitimate monarch, though unable to excite any enthusiasm save that expressed in the momentary explosions discharged within their own place of meeting, which gratified no ears, and heated no bi'ains but their own. In the meanwhile, the armies of Soult and Groucliy were driven under the walls of Paris, where they were speedily followed by the Englisli and the Prussians. The natural gallantry of the French then dictated a resistance, which was honourable to their arms, tliough totally unsuccessful. The allies, instead of renewing the doubtful attack on Mont- niartre, crossed the Seine, and attacked Paris on the undefended side. There was not, as in 1814, a hostile army to endanger the communications on their rear. The French, however, showed great bravery, both by an attempt to defend Versailles, and in a coup-de-main of General Excehnans, by which he attempted to recover that town. But at length, in consequence of the result of a council of war held in Paris, on the night betwixt the ■2d and 3d of July, an armistice was concluded, by v.hich the capital was surrendered to the allies, and the French army was drawn off behind the Loire. The allies suspended their operaticjns until the French troops should be brought to submit to their destined movement in retreat, against which they struggled with vain enthusiasm. Permitting their violence to subside, tliey delayed tlicir own occupa- tion of Paris until the 7th of July, when it had been completely evacuated. The British and Prussians then took military possession, in a manner strictly regular, but arguing a different state of feelings on both parts, from those exhibited in tlie joyous pro- cession of the allies along the Boulevards in 1814. The Provisional Government continued their sit- tings, though Fouch^, the chief among them, had been long intriguing (and ever since the battle of Waterloo, with apparent sincerity) for the second restoration of the Bourbon family, on such terms as should secure the liberties of France. They re- ceived, on the 6th of July, the final resolution of the allied sovereigns, that they considered all au- thority emanating from the usurped power of Na- poleon Buonaparte as null, and of no effect ; and that Louis XVIII., who was presently at Saint Denis, would on the next day, or day after at farthest, enter his capital, and resume his regal aulliority. On the 7th of July, the Provisional Commission dissolved itself. The Chamber of Peers, when they heard the act of surrender, dispersed in silence ; but that of the Representatives continued to sit, vote, and debate, for several hours. The presi- dent then prorogued the meeting till eight the next morning, in defiance of the cries of several members, who called on him to maintain the literal permanence of the sitting. The next morning, the members who attended found the hall sentinelled by the national guard, who refused them admit- tance, and heard the exclamations and complaints of the deputies with gi-eat disregard. Nay, the disappointed and hidignant legislators were sub- jected to the ridicule of the idle spectators, who accompanied the arival and retreat of each indivi- dual with laughter and acclamation, loud in propor- tion to the apparent excess of his mortification. On the 8th of July, Louis re-entered his capital, uttended by a very large body of the national guards and royal volunteers, as well as by his household troops. In tlie rear of these soldiers came a nume. rous etat-niajor, among whom wore distinguished the Mar^chals Victor, Marmont, Maedonald, Oudi- not, Gouvion St. Cyr, Moncey, and Lefebvre. An immense concourse of citizens received, with accla- mations, the legitimate monarch ; and the females were observed to be particularly eager in their ex- pressions of joy. Thus was Louis again installed in the palace of his ancestors, over which the white banner once more floated. Here, therefore, ended that short space, filled with so much that is wonder- ful, that period of an Hundred Days, in which the events of a century seemed to be contained. Before we proceed with the narrative, which must in future be the history of an individual, it may not be im- proper to cast a look back upon the events compri- sed within that extraordinary period, and ofier a few remarks on their political nature and tendency. It is unnecessary to remind the reader, that Na- poleon's restoration to the throne was the combined work of two factions. One comprehended the army, who desired the recovery of their own ho- nour, sullied by recent defeats, and the recalling of the Emperor to their head, that he might save them from being disbanded, and lead them to new vic- tories. The other party was that which not only desired that the kingdom should possess a large share of practical freedom, but felt interested that the doctrines of the Revolution should be recog- nised, and particularly that which was held to en- title the people, or those who might contrive to assume the right of representing them, to alter the constitution of the goverimient at pleasure, and to be, as was said of the great Earl of Warwick, the setters up and pullers down of kings. This party, availing themselves of some real errors of the reign- ing family, imagining more, and exciting a cloud of dark suspicions, had instigated a general feeling of dissatisfaction against the Bourbons. But t^iough they probably might have had recourse to violence, nothing appears less probable than their success in totally overturning royalty, had they been unsup- ported by the soldiers. The army, which rose so readily at Buonaparte's summons, had no comnm- nity of feeling with the Jacobins, as they were called ; and but for his arrival upon the scene, would have acted, there can be little doubt, at the command of the marechals, who were almost all attached to the royal family. It was, therefore, the attachment of the army to their ancient com- mander which gave success to the joint enterprise, which the Jacobinical party alone would have at- tempted in vain. The Republican, or Jacobin party, closed with tlicir powerful ally ; their leaders accepted titles at his hands ; undertook offices, and became members of a Chamber of Peers and of Representatives, summoned by his authority. They acknowledged him as their Emperor ; received as his boon a new constitution ; and swore in the face of all France the oath of fealty to it, and to him as their sove- reign. On such terms the Emperor and his Le- gislative Body parted on the 7lh of June. Suspi- cion there existed between them certainly, but, in all outward appearance, he dejiarted a contented prince from a c(uitented people. Eleven days brought the battle of Waterloo, with all its couse- quences. Policy of a sound and rational sort should have induced tlie Chambers to stand by the Km- 766 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE AVORKS. [1815 puror whom they had made, to arm him with the power which the occasion required, and avail them- selves of his extraordinary military talent, to try some chance of arresting the invaders in their pro- ),'ress. Even shame might have prevented them from lending their shoulders to overthrow the tot- tering throne before which they had so lately kneeled. They determined otherwise. The instant lie became unfortunate. Napoleon ceased to be their Emperor, the source of their power and authority. They could see nothing in him but the hurt deer, who' is to be butted from the herd; the Jonas in the vessel, who is to be flung overboard. When Napoleon, therefore, talked to them of men and arras, they answered him, with " equality and the rights of man ;" every cliance of redeeming the consequences of Waterloo was lost, and the Em- peror of their choice, if not ostensibly, was in effect at least arrested, and sent to the sea-coast, like a felon for deportation. Their conduct, however, went clearly to show, that Napoleon was not the free choice of the French people, and especially tliat he was not the choice of those who termed themselves exclusively the friends of freedom. Having thus shown how easily they could get rid of the monarch who had called them into political existence, the Chambers applied to the allies, in- viting them to give their concurrence to the elec- tion of another sovereign, and assist them to build another throne on the quicksand which had just swallowed that of Napoleon. In one respect they were not unreasonably tenacious. They cared little who the sovereign should be, whether Orleans or Orange, the Englishman Wellington or the Cossack Platoff, providing only he should derive no right from any one but themselves ; and that they should be at liberty to recall that right when it might please them to do so. And there can be little doubt, that any new sovereign and constitu- tion ^hich could have been made by the assistance of such men, would have again occasioned the com- mencement of the wild dance of revolution, till like so many mad Dervises, dizzy with the whirl, the French nation would once more have sunk to rest under the iron sway of despotism. The allied sovereigns viewed these proposals with an evil eye, both in respect to their nature, and to those by whom they were proposed. Of the authorities, the most prudent was the Duke of Otranto, and he had been Fouchi? of Nantes. Car- not's name was to be found at all the bloody re- scripts of Robespierre, in which the conscience of the old decemvir and young count had never found any thing to boggle at. There were many others, distinguished in the Revolutionary days. Tlie language which they held was already assum- ing the cant of democracy, and though there was among them a large proportion of good and able men, it was not to be forgotten how many of such existed in the first Assembly, for no purpose but to seal the moderation and rationality of their poli- tical opinions with their blood. It was a matter of imperious necessity to avoid whatever might give occasion to renew those scenes of shameful recollec- tions, and the sovereigns saw a guarantee against their return, in insisting that Louis XVIII. should remount the throne as its legitimate owner. The right of legitimacy, or the right of succes- Bion, a regvdation adopted into the common law of most monarchical constitutions, is borrowed from the analogy of private life, where the eldest sou becomes naturally the head and protector of the family upon the decease of the father. While states, indeed, are small — before laws are settled — and when nnich depends on the personal ability and talents of the monarch — the power, which, for aught we know, may exist among the abstract rights of man, of choosing each chief magistrate after the death of his predecessor, or perhaps more fre- quently, may be exercised without much incon- venience. But as states become extended, and their constitutions circumscribed and bounded by laws, which leaves less scope and less necessity for the exercise of the sovereign's magisterial functions, men become glad to exchange the licentious privi- lege of a Tartarian couronltai, or a Polish diet, for the principle of legitimacy ; because the chance of a hereditary successor's pi'oving adequate to the duties of his situation, is at least equal to that of a popular election lighting upon a worthy candidate ; and because, in the former case, the nation is spared the convulsions occasioned by previous competition and solicitation, and succeeding heart-burnings, fac- tions, civil war, and ruin, uniformly found at last to attend elective monarchies. The doctrine of legitimacy is peculiarly valuable in a limited monarchy, because it affords a degree of stability otherwise unattainable. The principle of hereditary monarchy, joined to that which de- clares that the King can do no wrong, provides foi the permanence of the executive government, and represses that ambition which would animate so many bosoms, were there a prospect of the supreme sway becoming vacant, or subject to election from time to time. The King's ministers, on the other hand, being responsible for his actions, remain a check, for their own sakes, upon the exercise of his power ; and thus provision is made for the cor- rection of all ordinary evils of administration, since, to use an expressive, though vulgar simile, it is better to rectify any occasional deviation from the regular course by changing the driver, than by overtui'uing the carriage. Such is the principle of legitimacy which was invoked by Louis XVIII., and recognised by the allied sovereigns. But it must not be confounded with the slavish doctrine, that the right thus vested is, by divine origin, indefeasible. The heir-at-law in private life may dissipate by his folly, or forfeit by his crimes, the patrimony which the law con- veys to him ; and the legitimate monarch may most unquestionably, by departing from the principles of the constitution under which he is called to reign, forfeit for liimself, and for his heirs if the legisla- ture shall judge it proper, that crown, which the principle of legitimacy bestowed on Mm as his birth-right. The penalty of forfeiture is an ex- treme case, provided, not in virtue of the constitu- tion, which recognises no possible delinquency in the sovereign, but because the constitution has been attacked and infringed upon by the monarch, and therefore can no longer be permitted to afford him shelter. The crimes by which this high punish- ment is justly incurred, must therefore be of au extraordinary nature, and beyond the reach of those correctives for which the constitution pro- vides, by the punishment of ministers and counsel- lors. Tile constitutional buckler of impeccability covers the monarch (personally) for all blame- worthy use of his power, providing it is exercised 1815.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. T,7 within the limits of the constitution ; it is when he stirs beyond it, and not sooner, tliat it affords no defence for the bosom of a tyrant. A King of Bri- tain, for example, may wage a rash war, or make a disgraceful peace, in the lawful, though injudicious and blameworthy exorcise of the power vested in him by the constitution. His advisei's, not he him- self, shall be called in such a case, to their respon- sibility. But if, like James II., the sovereign infringes upon, or endeavours to destroy, the con- stitution itself, it is then that resistance becomes lawful and honourable ; and the King is justly held to have forfeited the right which descended to him from his forefathers, by his attempt to encroach on the rights of the subjects. The principles of hereditary monarchy, of the inviolability of the person of the King, and of the responsibility of ministers, were recognised by the constitutional charter of France. Louis XVIII. was therefore, during the year previous to Buona- parte's return, the lawful sovereign of France, and it remains to be shown by what act of treason to the constitution he had forfeited his right of legiti- macy. If the reader will turn back to chapter 83, p. 709, (and we are not conscious of having spared the conduct of the Bourbons,) he will probably be of opinion with us, that the errors of the restored King's government were not only fewer than might have been expected in circumstances so new and difficult, but were of such a nature as an honest, well-meaning, and upright Opposition would soon have checked ; he will find that not one of them could be personally attributed to Louis XVIII., and that, far from having incurred the forfeiture of his legitimate rights, he had, during these few months, laid a strong claim to the love, veneration, and gratitude of his subjects. He had fallen a sa- crifice, in some degree, to the humours and rashness of persons connected with his family and household — still more to causeless jealousies and unproved doubts, the water-colours which insurrection never lacks to paint her cause with ; to the fickleness of the French people, who became tired of his simple, orderly, and peaceful government ; but, above all, to the dissatisfaction of a licentious and licensed soldiery, and of clubs of moody banditti, panting for a time of pell-mell havoc and confusion. The forcible expulsion of Louis XVI II., arising from such motives, could not break the solemn compact entered into by France with all Europe, when she received her legitimate monarch from the hand of her clement conquerors, and with him, and for his sake, obtained such conditions of peace as she was in no condition to demand, and would never other- wise have been granted. The King's misfortune, as it arose from no fault of his own, could infer no forfeiture of his vested right. Europe, the virtual guarantee of the treaty of Paris, had also a title, leading back the lawful King in her armed and victorious hand, to require of France his reinstate- ment in his rights ; and the termination which she thus offered to the war was as just and equitable as the conduct of the sovereigns during this brief campaign had been honourable and successful. To these arguments, an unprejudiced eye could scarcely see any answer ; yet the popular party endeavoured to found a pleading against the second ' Pari. Debates, vol. xxx., p. 373. « " It is not to be understood as binding his Britannic Ma- restoration of Louis, upon the declaration of the allies. This manifesto had announced, they eaia, that the purpose of the war was directed against Buonaparte jiersonally, and that it was the inten- tion of the allied sovereigns, when he should be dethroned, to leave the French the free exercise of choice respecting their own internal government.* The Prince Regent's declaration, in particular, was referred to, as announcing that the treaty of Vienna, which resolved on the dethronement of Napoleon, should not bind the British government to insist upon the restoration of the Bourbon family as an indispensable condition of peace.^ Those who urged this objection did not, or would not consider the nature of the treaty which this explanatory clauso referred to. That treaty of Vienna had for its express object the restoration of Louis XVIII., and the Prince Regent adhered to it with the same purpose of making every exertion for bringing about that event. The restrictive clause was only introduced, because his Royal Highness did nor intend to bind himself to make that restoration alone the cause of continuing the war to extremity. Many things might have happened to render an absolute engagement of this natiu-e highly inexpe- dient ; but, since none of these did happen, and since the re-establishment of the throne of the Bourbons was, in consequence of the victory of Waterloo, a measure which could be easily accom- plished, it necessarily followed, that it u-as to be accomplished according to the tenor of the treaty of Vienna. But, even had the sovereigns positively announ- ced in their manifestoes, that the will of the French people should be consulted exclusively, what right had the Legislative Body, assembled by Buona- parte, to assume the character of the French people ? They had neither weight nor influence with any party in the state, except by the momentarj' pos- session of an authority, which was hardly acknow- ledged on any side. The fact, that Napoleon's power had ceased to exist, did not legitimate them. On the contrary, flowing from his commission, it must be held as having fallen with his authority. They were either the Chambers summoned by Na- poleon, and bound to him as far as oaths and pro- fessions could bind them, or they were a body with- out any pretension whatever to a political character. La Fayette, indeed, contended that the present representatives of France stood in the same situa- tion as the convention parliaments of England, and the army encamped in Hounslow-heath, at the time of the English Revolution. To have rendered this parallel apt, it required all the peculiar circum- stances of justice which attended the great event of 1688. The French should have been able to vin- dicate the reason of their proceedings by the ag- gressions of their exiled monarch, and by the will of the nation generally, nay, almost unanimously, expressed in consequence thereof. This, we need not say, they were wholly unable to do. But the English history did afford one example of an as- sembly, exactly resembling their own, in absence of right, and exuberance of pretension ; and that precedent existed when the Rump Parliament conti'ived to shuffle the cards out of the hands of Richard Cromwell,as the Provisional C'ommissionera josty to prosecute the'war with a view of imposing upon France aiiv particular government." — yarl. Debates, vol. xxx., p. 7 (5 J SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1815. at Paris were endeavouring by legerdemain to con- vey the authority from Napoleon II. This Rump Parliament also sat for a little time as a govern- ment, and endeavoured to settle the constitution upon their own plan, in despite of the whole people of England, who were longing for the restoration of their lawful monarch, as speedily was shown to be the ease, when Monk, with an armed force, ap- peared to protect them in the declaration of their real sentiments. This was the most exact parallel afforded by English history to the situation of the Piovisional Commissioners of France; and both they and the Rump Parliament being equally intru- sive occupants of the supreme authority, were alike justly deprived of it by the return of the legitimate monarch. While the allied powers wei-e thus desirous that the King of France should obtain possession of a throne which he had never forfeited, they, and England in particular, saw at once the justice and the policy of securing to France every accession of well-regulated freedom, which she had obtained by and through the Revolution, as well as such addi- tional improvements upon her constitution as expe- rience had shown to be desirable. These were pointed out and stipulated for by the celebrated Fouche, who, on this occasion, did much service to his country. Yet he struggled hard, that while the King acknowledged, which he was ready to do, the several benefits, both in point of public feeling and public advantage, which France had derived from the Revolution, the sovereign should make some steps to acknowledge the Revolution itself.* He contended for the three-coloured banners being adopted, as a matter of the last importance ; — in tliat, somewhat resembling the archfiend in the legends of necromancy, who, when the unhappy persons with whom he deals decline to make over their souls and bodies according to his first request, is humble enough to ask and accept the most petty sacrifices — the paring of the nails, or a single lock of hair, providing it is ofi'ered in symbol of homage and devotion. But Louis XVIII. was not thus to be drawn into an incidental and equivocal homolo- gation, as. civilians term it, of all the wild work of a period so horrible, which must have been by im- plication a species of ratification even of tlie death of his innocent and murdered brother. To pre- serve and cherish the good which had flowed from the Revolution, was a very different thing from a ratification of the Revolution itself. A tempest may cast rich treasures upon the beach, a tornado may clear the air ; but while these benefits are suit- ably prized and enjoyed, it is surely not requisite that, like ignorant Indians, we should worship the wild surge, and erect altars to the howling of the wind. The King of France having steadily refused all proposals which went to assign to the government an authority founded on the Revolution, the con- stitution of France is to be recognised as that of a hereditary monarchy, limited by the Royal Charter, and by the principles of freedom. It thus affords to the other existing monarchies of Europe a guarantee against sudden and dangerous commo- tion ; while in favour of the subject, it extends all the necessary checks against arbitrary sway, and all the suitable provisions for ameliorating and ex- ' Memoirs, toin. ii., p. 'I'M. tending the advantages of liberal institutions, as op- portunity shall offer, and the expanding light of information shall recommend. The allies, thougli their treaty with France was not made in the same humour of romantic gene- rosity which dictated that of 1814, insisted upon no articles which could be considered as dishonourable to that nation. The disjoining from her empire; three or four border fortresses was stipulated, In order to render a rapid and successful invasion of Germany or the Netherlands more difficult in future. Large sums of money were also exacted in recompense of the heavy expenses of the allies ; but they were not beyond what the wealth of France could readily discharge. A part of her fortresses were also detained by the allies as a species of pledge for the peaceable behaviour of the kingdom ; but these were to be restored after a season, and the armies of Europe, which for a time remained within the French territories, were at the same time to be withdrawn. Finally, that splendid Museum, which the right of conquest had collected by the stripping of so many states, was transferred by the same right of conquest, not to those of the allies who had great armies in the field, but to the poor and small states, who had resigned their property to the French under the influence of terror, and received it back from the confederates with wonder and gratitude. These circumstances were indeed galling to France for the moment ; but they were the neces- sary consequence of the position in which, perhaps rather passively than actively, she had been placed by tlie Revolution of the Hundred Days. All the prophecies which had been circulated to animate the people against the allies, of their seeking selfish and vindictive objects, or endeavouring to destroy the high national rank which that fair kingdom ought to hold in Europe, were proved to be utterly fallacious. The conquered provinces, as they are called, the acquisitions of Louis XIV., were not rent from the French empire — their colonies were left as at the peace of Paris. The English did not impose on them an unfavourable treaty of com- merce, which Napoleon affirmed was their design, and the omission to insist on which he afterwards considered as a culpable neglect of British interests by the English ministers. France was left, as she ought to be, altogether independent, and splendidly powerful. Neither were the predictions concerning the stability of the new royal government less false than had been the vaticinations respecting the purposes of the allies. Numbers prophesied the downfall of the Bourbon dynasty. It was with difficulty that the political augurs would allow thai it might last as long as the life of Louis XVIII. He now sleeps with his fathers ; and his successor, generally beloved for his courteous manners, and respected for his integrity and honour, reigns over a free and flourishing people. Time, that grand pacificator, is daily abating the rancour of party, and removing from the scene those of all sides, who, unaccustomed to the general and impartial exercise of the laws, were ready to improve every advantage, and debate every political question, sword in hand, or, as they themselves express it, par toie du fait. The guarantee for the perma- nence of their freedom, is the only subject on which reasonable Frenchmen of the present day are 1815.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 700 inxious. We trust there is no occasion for their solicitude. Fatal indeed would be the advice which should induce the French Government to give the slightest subject for just complaints. The ultra Rovalist, the Jacobin cnraarart/ and Las Cases open a Negotiation icith Captain Maiiland — Captain Mait/and's Account of what passed at their Interviews — Las Cases' Account — The Statements compared — Napoleon's Letter to the Prince Pegent — He surrenders himself on board the Belleroplion, on \5th July — Ilis arrival off Plymouth — All approach to the Ship prohibited — Final determination of the English Government that Buonaparte shall be sent to St. Helena — His Protest. Our history returns to its principal object. Buonaparte arrived at Rflchefort upon the 3d July ; so short had been the space between the bloody cast of the die at Waterloo, and his finding himself an exile. Yet even this bi-ief space of fifteen days had made his retreat difficult, if not impi-acticable. Means, indeed, were provided for his transportation. The two French frigates, the Saale and the Medusa, together with the Balla- diere, a corvette, and the Epei-vier, a large brig, waited Buonaparte's presence, and orders to sail for America from their station under the isle d'Aix. But, as Napoleon himself said shortly afterwards, wherever there was water to swim a ship, there lie was sure to find the British flag. The news of the defeat at Waterloo had heen the signal to the Admiralty to cover the western coast of France with cruisers, in order to prevent the possibility of Napoleon's escaping by sea from any of the ports in that direction. Admiral Lord Keith, an officer of great experience and activity, then commander-in-chief of the Channel fleet, had made a most judicious disposition of the fleet under his command, by stationing an inner line of cruisei's, of various descriptions, off the principal ports be- tween Brest and Bayonne, with an exterior line, necessarily more widely extended, betwixt Ushant and Cape Finisterre. The commanders of these vessels had the strictest orders to suffer no vessel to pass unexamined. No less than thirty ships of different descriptions maintained this blockade. According to this arrangement, the British line- of-battle ship, the Belleroplion, cruised off Roche- fort, with the occasional assistance of the Slaney, the Phoebe, and other small vessels, sometimes present, and sometimes detached, as the service might require. Captain Maitland, who commanded the Belleroplion, is a man of high character in liis profession, of birth, of firmness of mind, and of the most indisputable honoui-. It is necessary to men- tion these circumstances, because the national character of England herself is deeply concerned and identified with- that of Captain Maitland, in the naiTative which follows. The several orders under which this officer acted, expressed the utmost anxiety about intercepting 3 u 70 SCUTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1835. Buonaparte's flight, and' canvassed tlie different probabilities concerning its direction. His atten- tion was at a later date particularly directed to the frigates in Aix roads, and tlie report concerning their destination. Admiral Hotham writes to Cap- tain Maitland, 8th July, 1815, the following order:— •' The Lords Commissioners of the Admiralty having every reason to believe that Napoleon Buonaparte meditates Ins escape, with his family, from France to America, you are hereby required and directed, in pursuance of orders from their Lordships, signified to me by Admiral the Kignt Hon- ourable Viscount Keith, to keep the most vigilant look-out, for the purpose of intercepting him ; and to make the strict- cut search of any vessel you may fail in with ; and if you should be so fortunate as to intercept him, you are to transfer him and his family to the ship you command, and, there keepin" him in careful custody, return to the nearest port in England (going into Torbay in preference to Plymouth,) with all possible expedition ; and. on your arrival, you are not to permit anv communication whatever with the shore, except as hereinafter directed; and you will be held responsible for keeping the wliole transaction a profound secret, until you receive their Lordships' further orders. " In case vou should arrive at a port where there is a flag officer, you are to send to acquaint hira with the circumstances, strictly'chargiug the officer sent on shore with your letter not to divulge its contents ; and if there should be no flag-officer at the port where you arrive, you are to send one letter ex- press to the Secretary of the Admiralty, and another to Ad- miral Lord Keith, with strict injunctions of secrecy to each officer who may be the bearer of them." We give these orders at full length, to show that they left Captain Maitland no authority to make conditions or stipulations of surrender, or to treat Napoleon otherwise than as an ordinary prisoner of war. Captain Maitland proceeded to exercise all the vigilance which an occasion so interesting demand- ed ; and it was soon evident, that the presence of the Bellerophon was an absolute bar to Napoleon's escape by means of the frigates, unless it should be attempted by open force. In this latter case, the British officer had formed his plan of bearing down upon and disabling the one vessel, and throw- ing on board of her a hundred men selected for the purpose, while the Bellerophon set sail with all speed in pursuit of her consort, and thus made sure of both. He had also two small vessels, the Slaney and the Phoebe, which he could attach to the pui\suit of the frigate, so as at least to keep her in view. This plan inight have failed by accident, but it was so judiciously laid as to have every chance of being successful ; and it seems that Na- poleon received no encouragement from the com- manders of the frigates to try the event of a forcible escape. The scheme of a secret flight was next meditated. A. chasse-mare'e, a peculiar species of vessel, used only in the coasting trade, was to be fitted up and manned with young probationers of the navy, equi- valent to our midshipmen. This, it was thought, might elude the vigilance of such British cruisers as were in shore ; but then it must have been a suspicious object at sea, and the possibility of its being able to make the voyage to America, was considered as precarious. A Danish corvette was next purchased, and as, in leaving the harbour, it -jv-a-s certain she would be brought to and examined by the English, a place of concealment was con- trived, being a ca.sk supplied with air-tubes, to be stowed in the hold of the vessel, in which it was intended Napoleon should lie concealed. But the • Savary, torn, iv., p. 149; Las Cases, torn, i., pp. 24—27. 2 " At Rochcfort, the Emperor lived at the prefecture: uumiwrs were constantly grouped round the house ; and ac- extrenie rigour with which the search was likely to be prosecuted, and the corpulence of Buonaparte, which would not permit him to remain long in a close or constrained position, made this as well as other hopeless contrivances be laid aside.' There were undoubtedly at this time many pro- posals made to tlie Ex-Emperor by the arniy, who, compelled to retreat behind the Loire, were still animated by a thirst of revenge, and a sense of in- jured honour. Tliere is no doubt that they would have received Napoleon with acclamation ; but if he could not, or would not, pursue a course so desperate in 1814, when he had still a considei-able army, and a respectable extent of territory remain- ing, it must have seemed much more ineligible in 1815, when his numbers were so much more dis- proportioned than they had formerly been, and when his best geuei-als had embraced the cause of the Bourbons, or fled out of France. Napoleon's condition, had he embraced this alternative, would have been that of the chief of a roving tribe of waiTiors, struggling for existence, with equal mi- I sery to themselves and the countries through which they wandered, until at length broken down and I destroyed by superior force. I Rejecting this expedient, and all others having been found equally objectionable, the only alterna- tive which remained was to surrender his person, I either to the allied powers as a body, or to any ' one of them in particular. The former course would have been difficult, unless Napoleon had adopted the idea of resorting to it earlier, which, i in the view of his escape by sea, he had omitted to ' do. Neither had he time to negotiate with any of tlie allied sovereigns, or of travelling back to Paris for the purpose, with any chance of personal safety, for the Royalists were now every where holding the ascendency, and more than one of his generals had been attacked and killed by them. I He was cooped up, therefore, in Rochefort,^ although the white flag was already about to be I hoisted there, and the commandant respectfully I hinted the necessity of his departure. It must j have been anticipated by Napoleon, that he might I be soon deprived of the cover of the batteries of the isle of Aix. The fact is (though we believe ! not generally known,) that on the 13th July, Lord Castlereagh wrote to Admiral Sir Henry Hothani, j commanding off Cape Finisterre, suggesting to him the propriety of attacking, with a part of his force, the two frigates in the roads of the isle d'Aix, having first informed the commandant that j they did so in the capacity of allies of the King of I France, and placing it upon his responsibility if he I fired on them from the batteries. Napoleon could not, indeed, know for certain that such a plan was actually in existence, and about to be attempted, but yet must have been aware of its probability, when the Royalist party were becoming every where superior, and their emblems were assumed in the neighbouring town of Rochellc. It is, there- fore, in vain to state Buonaparte's subsequent con- duct, as a voluntary confidence reposed by him in the honour of England. He was precisely in the condition of the commandant of a besieged town, who has tlie choice of surrendering, or encountering clamations continued to be frequently repeated. He leads the same sort of life as if at the Tuileries : we do not approach his person more frequently ;.he scarcely receives any persons but Bertrand and Savary."— Las Cases, torn, i., p. 24 ISl').] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 1 the risks ot a storin. Neither was it open for him to contend, that he selected the British, out of all the other allied powers, with whom to treat upon this occasion. Like the commandant in the case above supposed, he was under the necessity of sur- rendering to those who were the immediate be- siegers, and therefore he was compelled to apply for terms of safety to him who alone possessed the direct power of granting it, that is, to Captain Fre- derick Maitland, of the Bellerophon. Napoleon opened a communication with this offi- cer on the loth July, by two of his attendants, General Savary and Count Las Cases, under pre- tence of inquiring about a safe-conduct — a passport which Napoleon pretended to expect from Eng- land, and which, he said, had been promised to him, without stating by whom. Under this round assertion, for which, there was not the slightest ground, Messrs. Savary and Las Cases desired to know, whether Captain Maitland would permit the frigates to sail with him uninterrupted, or at least give him leave to proceed in a neutral vessel. Captain Maitland, without hesitation, declared that he would not permit any armed vessel to put to sea from the port of Rochefort. " It was equally out of his power," he stated, " to allow the Empe- ror to proceed in a neutral vessel, without the sanction of Admiral Hotham, his commanding offi- cer." He offered to write to that officer, however, and the French gentlemen having assented, he wrote, in their presence, to the admiral, announcing the communication he had received, and request- ing orders for his guidance. This was all but a prelude to the real subject of negotiation. The Duke of Rovigo (Savary) and Count Las Cases re- mained two or three hours on board, and said all they could to impress Captain Maitland with the idea, that Napoleon's retirement was a matter of choice, not of compulsion, and that it was the inter- est of Britain to consent to his going to America ; a measure, they said, which was solely dictated to him by humanity, and a desire to save human blood. Captain Maitland asked the natm-al ques- tion, which we give in his own words : — ■' ' Supprising the British f;overnment should be induced to giant a pass7)ort for Buonaiiarto's going to America, what pledge could he give that he would not return, and ]iut Eng- land, as well as all Europe, to the same expense of blood and treasure that has just been incurred ? ' "General Savary made the following reply:— 'When the Emyieror first abdicated the throne of France, his removal was brought about by a faction, at the head of which was Tal- leyrand, and the sense of the nation was not consulted : but in the present instance he has voluntarily resigned the power. The influence he once had over the French people is past ; a Tery considerable change has taken place in their sentiments towards him, since he went to Elba ; and he could never re- gain the power he had over their minds ; therefore, he would prefer retiring into obscurity, where he might end his days in peace and tranquillitv ; and were he solicited to ascend the throne again, he would decline it.' " ' If that is the case,' said Captain Maitland, ' why not ask an asylum in England ? ' Savary answered, ' There are many reasons for his not wishing to reside in England ; the chmate is too damp and cold ; it is too near France ; he would be, .is it were, in the centre of every change and revolution that might take place there, and would he sul)jcct to suspicion ; he has been accustomed to consider the English as his most inveterate enemies, and they have been induced to look upon him as a monster, without one of the virtues of a human be- ing.' " Captain Knight of the Falmouth was present during the whole of this conversation, from which ' " Our situation was quite suflfieient to remove any scruples I might otherwise have entertained, and rendered this little aeception pardonable."— Las Casks, torn i., p. *. Captain ^laitlajid, like an able diplomatist, drew a conclusion resjiecting the affiiirs of Napoleon, ex- actly opposite from that which they endeavoured to impress upon him, and concluded that he nmst be in extremity. On the 14th July, Count Las Cases again came on board the Bellerophon, now attended ))y General Count Lalleniand. The pretext of the visit was, to learn whether Captain Maitland had received any answer from the admiral. Captain ^laitland observed, the visit on that account was unnecessary, as he would have forwarded the answer so soon as received ; and added, he did not approve of fre- quent communication by flags of truce ; thus repel- ling rather than inviting them. The conference was resumed after breakfast. Captain Maitland having, in the meantime, sent for Captain Sartorius of the Slaney, to be witness of what passed. In this most important conference, we hold it unjust to Captain Maitland to use any other words than his own, copied from his Journal, the original of which we have ourselves had the advantage of seeing : — " When breakfast was over, we retired to the after-cabin. Count Las Cases then said, 'The Emperor is so anxious to si)are the further etfusion of human blood, that he will pro- ceed to America in any way the British Government chooses to sanction, either in a French ship of war, a vessel armed en fiitc, a racrchant vessel, or even in a British ship of war.' To this I answered, ' 1 ht )».>/ own responsibility, and cannot be sure that it would meet lei'th tho approbation cf the British Government.' " There was a great deal of conversation on this subject, in the course of which Lucien Buonaparte's name was men- tioned, and the manner in which he had lived in England al- luded to ; but I invariably assured Las Cases most explicitly, that I had no authority to make conditions of any sort, as to Napoleon's reception in England. In fact, I could not have done otherwise, since, with the exception of the order [in- serted at page 770,] I had no instructions for my guidance, and was, of course, in total ignorance of the intention of his Ma- jesty's ministers as to his future disposal. One of the last ob- servations Las Cases made, before quitting the ship, was, ' Under all circumstances, I have little doubt that you will see the Emperor on board the Bellerophon ; ' and, in fact, Buona- parte must have determined on that step before Las Cases came on board, as his l■^tte^ to his Royal Highness the Prince Regent is dated the 13tn of July, the day before this conver- sation." The Count Las Cases gives nearly a similar detail of circumstances, with a colouring which is exaggerated, and an arrangement of dates which is certainly inaccurate. It must be also noticed that Count Las Cases dissembled his acquaintance with the English language ; and therefore, if any mistake had occurred betwixt him and Captain Maitland, who spoke French with ditiiculty, he had himself so far to blame for it.' Of the visit on board the Bellerophon .on the 10th, after giving the same statement as Captain Maitland, concerning the ap- plication for the passports, the count states, " It was suggested to us to go to England, and we were assured we had no room to fear any bad treat- ment."^ On the 14th, being the date of his second visit, he states that there was a repetition of the invita- tion to England, and the terms on which it was recommended. " Captain Maitland," he says, " told him, that if the Emperor chose immediately to em- 2 " II nous fut sugfi<5r<5 dc nous rendre en Anglctcrre, ct aflirmi- f|u'on ne iiouvait y craindre auciin mauvais tr.iile- n\uat."— Journal Ue Las Cases, torn, i., part, i., p, 28..- S. 772 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [18L5. bark, he had authority to receive him on board, and conduct him to England." This is so expressed as to lead the reader to believe that Captain Mait- land spoke to the Count of some new directions or orders which he had received, or pretended to have received, concerning Buonaparte. Such an infe- rence would be entirely erroneous ; no new or extended authority was received by Captain Mait- land, nor was he capable of insinuating the exist- ence of such. His solo instructions were contained in the orders of Admiral Hotham, quoted at p. 770, directing him, should he be so fortunate as to inter- cept Buonaparte, to transfer liim to the ship he commanded, to make sail for a British port, and, when arrived there, to communicate instantly with the port-admiral, or with the Admiraltj'. Count Las Cases makes Captain Maitland pro- ceed to assure him and Savary, that, " in his own private opinion. Napoleon would find in England all tlie respect and good treatment to which he could make any pretension ; that there, the princes and ministers did not exercise the absolute autho- rity used on the continent, and that the English people had a liberality of opinion, and generosity of sentiment, superior to that entertained by sove- reigns." Count Las Cases states himself to have replied to the panegyric on England, by an oration in praise of Buonaparte, in which he described him as retiring from a contest whicli he had yet the means of supporting, in order that his name and rights might not serve as a pretext to prolong civil war. The Count, according to his own narra- tive, concluded by saying, that, " under all the cir- cumstances, he thought the Emperor might come on board the Bellerophon, and go to England with Captain Maitland, for the purpose of receiving passports for America." Captain Maitland desired it should be understood, that lie by no means war- ranted that such would be granted. " At the bottom of my heart," says Las Cases, " I never supposed the passports would be granted to us ; but as the Emperor had resolved to remain in future a personal stranger to political events, we saw, without alarm, the probability that we might be prevented from leaving England ; but to that point all our fears and suppositions were limited. Such, too, was doubtless the belief of Maitland. I do him, as well as the other officers, the justice to believe, that he was sincere, and of good faith, in the painting they drew us of the sentiments of the English nation," ' The envoys returned to Napoleon, who held, according to Las Cases, a sort of council, in which they considered all the chances. The plan of tlie Danish vessel, and that of the chasse-maree, were given up as too perilous ; the British cruiser was pronounced too strong to be attacked ; there re- mained only the alternative of Napoleon's joining the troops, and renewing the war, or accepting Captain Maitland's offer by going on board the Bellerophon. The former was rejected ; the latter plan adopted, and " then," says M. Las Cases, " Napoleon wrote to the Prince Merjent."'^ The let- ter follows, but it is remarkable that the date is omitted. This is probably the reason why Count Las Cases did not discover that his memory was ' Las Cases, torn, i., p. 29. * " Alors^awAion eorivit au Prince Regent." -Jotir/ial. toni. i., p. 33.— Sj. beti-aying him, since that date must have reminded him that the letter was written before, not after, the conference of the 14th July. From this narrative two things are plain ; 1. That no terms of capitulation were made with Captain Maitland. II. That it is the object of Count Las Cases to insinuate the belief, that it was in consequence of the arguments used by Captain Maitland, supported by the British officers present, that Las Cases was induced to recommend, and Napoleon to adopt, the step of surrendering him- self on board the Bellerophon. But this whole inference is disproved by two small ciphers ; the date, namely, of IMh of July on the letter addressed to the Prince Regent, which, therefore, could not, in the nature of things, have been written in con- sequence of a conference betwixt Las Cases and Captain Maitland, and a consultation betwixt Na- poleon and his followers ; which conference and consultation did not take place till the lAth of July. The resolution was taken, and the letter written, the day before all those glowing descriptions of the English people put into the mouth of Captain Maitland ; and the faith of Napoleon was grounded upon the impersonal suggestion to go to England,^ made to Las Cases and Savary on their first visit to the Bellerophon. The visit of the 14th, doubt- less, confirmed the resolution which had been adopted the preceding day. No delay now intervened. On the same 14 th Oi July, General Baron Gourgaud was sent off with the letter, so often mentioned, addressed to the Prince Regent, which was in these well-known terms : " Rochefort, Jail/ 13, 1«15. " Rov.\L Highness, " A victim to the factions which distract my conntry, and to the enmity of the greatest powers of Europe, I have termi- nated my political career, and I come, like Themistocles, to throw myself upon the hospitality of the British people. I put myself under the protection of their laws ; which 1 claim from your Royal Highness, as the most powerful, the most constant, and the most generous of my enemies. " Napoleon." Captain Maitland informed Count Las Cases, that he would despatch General Gourgaud to Eng- land, by the Slauey, and himself prepare to receive Napoleon and his suite. General Gourgaud pro- posed to write to Count Bertrand instantly, when, in presence and hearing of his brother officers, Captain Sartorius and Gambler, Captain Maitland gave another instance of his anxiety not to be mis- understood on this important occasion. " When General Gourgaud was about to write the letter, to prevent any future misunderstanding, I said, ' M. Las Cases, you will recollect that I am not authorised to stipulate as to the reception of Buonaparte in England, but that he must consider himself entirely at the disposal of his Royal Highness the Prince Regent.' He answered, ' I am perfectly aware of that, and have already acquainted the Emperor with what you said on the subject.'" Captain Maitland .subjoins the following natural and just remark : — " It might, perhajis, have been betterif this declaration bad been given in an ofticial written form ; and could I have fore- seen the discussions which afterwards took place, and which will appear in the sequel, I undoubtedly should have done so ; but as I repeatedly made it in the presence of witnesses, it did not occur to me as being necessary ; and how could a stronger proof be adduced, that no stipulations were agreed to resjiccting the reception of Buonaparte in England, than the fact of their not being reduced to writing? which certaitiiy 3 See p. 771, vhere La« Cn«es says, " // teas suggested to ut to go to England."— S. 1815.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. '3 would have been the case had any favouTal)le terms been fle- manded on the part of M. Las Cases, and agreed to by me." To conclude the evidence on this subject, we add Captain Maitland's letter, addi'essed to the Secretary of the Admiralty on 14th July : " For the information of tlie Lords Commissioners of the Admiralty, I have to acquaint you that the Count Las Cases and General Lallemand this day came on board his Majesty's shi]) under my command, witli a proposal from Count Bertrahd for me to receive on board Nai)oleon Buonaparte, for thepur- pose of throwing himself on the generosity of the I'rince Re- cent. Conceiving myself autltorised by their lordships' se- cret order, I have acceded to the proposal, and he is to em- bark on board tliis ship to-morrow morning. That no misun- derstandinir might arise, I have exjilicitly and clearly ex- plained to Count Las Cases, that I have no authority what- ever far granting terms of any sort, but that -all I can do is to carry him and his suite to England, to be received in such manner as his Royal Higliness may deem expedient." Is it in human nature to suppose, that a British officer, with two others of the same rank as wit- nesses of the whole negotiation, would have ex- pressed himself otherwise than as truth warranted, in a case which was sure to be so strictly inquired into ? On the 15th July, 1815, Napoleon finally left France, to the history of which he had added so much of victory, and so much of defeat ; the conn- try which his rise had saved from civil discord and foreign invasion, and which his fall consigned to both ; in a word, that fiiir land to which he had been so long as a Deity, and was in future to be of less import than the meanest peasant on the soil. He was accompanied by four of his generals — Ber- trand, Savary, Lallemand, and Montholon, and by Count Las Cases, repeatedly mentioned as coun- sellor of state. Of these, Bertrand and Montho- lon had their ladies on board, witli three children belonging to Count Bertrand, and one of Count Montholou's. The son of Las Cases accompanied the Emperor as a page. There were nine officers of inferior rank, and thirty-nine domestics. The principal persons wei'e received on board the Bel- lerophon, the others in the corvette. Buonaparte came out of Aix roads on board of the Epervier. Wind and tide being against the brig. Captain Maitland sent the barge of the Belle- rophon to transport liim to that ship. Most of the officers and crew of the Epervier had tears in their eyes, and they continued to cheer the Emperor while their voices could be heard. He was re- ceived on board the Bellcrophon respectfully, but without any salute or distinguished honours. ' As Captain Maitland advanced to meet him on the quarterdeck. Napoleon pulled off his hat, and, ad- dressing him in a firm tone of voice, said, " I come to place myself under the protection of your prince ' " Buonaparte's dress was an olivo-coloured great coat over a green uniform, with scarlet cape and cutis, green lapels turned back and edged with scarlet, skirts honked back with liugle horns embroidered in gold, plain sugar-loaf buttons and pold epaulettes ; being the uniform ot cliiisseiir a clicval of the imperial guard. He wore the star, or grand cross of the le- piou of honour, and the small cross of that order ; the iron crowD ; and the union, appended to the button-hole of his left lapel. He had a small cocked hat, with a tri-coloured cock- ade, plain gold-hilteu sword, military boots, and white waist- coat and breeches. The following day he appeared in shoes, with gold buckles, and silk stnckings-thc dress he always wore afterwards while with me." — Maitland, p. (IG. 2 •' Kear-Admiral Hotham came to visit tlie Kmperor, and remained to dinner. From the questions asked by Napoknii Iclative to his shiji, he expressed ,i wish to know whether liis Majesty would condescend to go nn Ijoard the following day ; uiion which tlie Kmjieror said he would breakfast witli the admiral, nixjompanied by all liis .•itlendants. On the Iflth, I attended him on board the Siij>erb: all tlic honours, cxcejit tho?c of tiring cajinnn, were liberally done ; we went rtmud me sliip, and examined the most trifling objects ;' every thing and laws." His manner was uncommonly pleas- ing, and he displayed much address in seizing upon opportunities of saying things flattering to the hearers whom he wished to conciliate.'"' As when formerly on board Captain Uslier's vessel, Buon.iparte showed great curiosity concern- ing the discipline of the ship, and expressed con- siderable surprise that the British vessels should so easily defeat the French ship.s, which were heavier, larger, and better manned than they. Captain ]\Laitland accounted for this by the greater experience of the men and officers. The Ex-Em- peror examined the marines also, and, pleased with their appearance, said to Bertrand, " How much might be done with an hundred thousand such men !" In the management of the vessel, he par- ticulai'ly admired the silence and goodtorder of the crew while going through their manoeuvres, in comparison to a French vessel, " where every one," he said, " talks and gives orders at once." When about to quit the Bellerophon, he adverted to the same subject, .saying, there had been less noise on board that vessel, with six hundred men, in the whole passage from Rochefort, than the crew of the Epervier, with only one hundred, had con- trived to make between the isle d'Aix and Basque I'oads. He spoke, too, of the British army in an equal style of praise, and was joined by his officei-s in doing so. One of the French officers observing that the English cavalry were superb. Captain Maitland observed, that in England, they had a higher opinion of the infantry. " You are right," said the French gentleman ; " there is none such in the world ; there is no making an impression on them ; you might as well attempt to charge through a wall ; and their fire is tremendous." Bertrand reported to Captain Maitland that Napoleon had communicated to him his opinion of the Duke of Wellington in the following words : — " The Duke of Wellington, in the management of an army, is fully equal to myseli^ with the advantage of pos- sessing more prudence." This we conceive to be the genuine unbias.sed opinion of one great soldier concerning another. It is a pity that Napoleon could on other occasions express himself in a strain of depreciation, which could only lower him who used it, towards a rival in the art of war. During the whole passage, notwithstanding his situation, and the painful uncertainty under which he laboured, Napoleon seemed always tranquil, and in good temper ;^ at times, he even approached to cheerfulness. He spoke with tenderness of his seemed to be in admirable order. Admiral Hotham evinced, throughout, all the refinement and grace of a- man of rank and education. On our leaving the licllerophon in the morn- ing to visit the Superb, Napoleon stopped short in front of the guard drawn u\> on the quarterdeck to salute him.. He made them perform several movements, giving them the word n{ command himself ; having desired them to charge bayonets, and perceiving this motion was not performed altogether- in the French manner, he advanced into the midst of the sol- diers, put the weapons aside with his hands, and seized..a musket from one of the rear rank, with which he went through the exercise himself, according to our method." — Las Casks, torn, i., p. .35. 3 Some of the London newspapers havinf represented Na- poleon " as taking ])nssessi(in of the chief ;-abin iri a most brutal w,ay, saving ' 'J'luil on rii'npour tiioi.'"- Captain Mait- land makes this declaration-" 1 licrc, once for all, beg to state most distinctly, that from the time of his coming on board myship, to the period of his quitting her, his CJiiduct was invariably that of a gentleman ; and in no instance do I recollect him to have made use of a rude ex)»ession, or to have been guilty of any kind of ill-breeding."— A'rt)')a/uv, p. '>■:, 774 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [I8i wife and family,, comiilained of being separated from them, and had tears in his eyes when he sliowed their portraits to Captain Maitland. His heahh seemed perfectly good; but he was occa- sionally subject to somnolency, proceeding, per- haps, from the exhaustion of a constitution which had gone through such severe service. On 23d Julv, they passed Ushant. Napoleon remained long on deck, and cast many a melan- choly look to the coast of France, but made no ob- servations. At daybreak on 24th, the Bellerophon was off Dartmouth ; and Buonaparte was struck, first with the boldness of the coast, and then, as he entered Torbay,' with the well-known beauty of the scenery. " It reminded him," he said, " of Porto Ferrajo, in Elba ;" an association which must at the moment have awakened strange re- membrances in the mind of the deposed Emperor. The Bellerophon had hardly anchored, when or- ders came from the admiral. Lord Keith, which were soon after seconded by others from the Ad- miralty, enjoining that no one, of whatever rank or station, shoidd be permitted to come on board the Bellerophon, e.Kcepting the officers and men belonging to the ship. On the 26th, the vessel re- ceived orders to move round to Plymouth Sound. In the meantime, the newspapers which were brought on board tended to impress anxiety and consternation among the unhappy fugitives. The report was generally circulated by these periodical publications, that Buonaparte would not be per- mitted to land, but would be presently sent off to St. Helena, as the safest place for detaining him as a prisoner of war. Napoleon himself became alarmed, and anxiously desirous of seeing Lord Keith, who had expressed himself sensible of some kindness which his nephew. Captain Elphinstone of the 7th Hussars, had received from the Empe- ror, when wounded and made prisoner at Water- loo. Such an interview accordingly took place betwixt the noble admiral and the late Emperor, upon the 28th July, but v.ithout any results of im- portance, as Lord Keith was not then possessed of the decision of the British Government. That frenzy of popular curiosity, which, predo- minating in all free states, seems to be carried to the utmost excess by the English nation, caused such numbers of boats to surround the Bellerophon, that, notwithstanding the peremptory orders of the Admiralty, and in spite of the efforts of the man- of-war's boats, which maintained constant guard round the vessel, it was almost impossible to keep them at the prescribed distance of a cable's length from the ship. They incurred the risk of being run down — of being, as they might apprehend, shot (for muskets were discharged for the purpose of intimidation,) of all the dangers of a naval com- bat, rather than lose the opportunity of seeing the Emperor whom they had heard so much of. When he appeared he was greeted with huzzas, which he returned with bows, but coukl not help expressing his wonder at the eagerness of popular curiosity, which he was not accustomed to see in such a pitch of excitation. On the evening of the 30lh of July, Major- General Sir Henry Bunbury, one of the Under Secretaries of State, arrived, bringing with him ' " July 24, we anchored at Torbay about eight in the morn- ing: Napoleon had risen at six. and went on the pooji, whence be (urvfycd the coa^tand anchorage. I remained by his side the final intentions of the British Government, for the disposal of Buonaparte and his suite. Upon the 31st, Loid Keith and Sir Henry waited upon the Ex-Emperor, on board of the Bellerophon, to communicate to him the unpleasing tidings. They were accompanied by jMr. Meike, the secretary of Lord Keith, whose presence was deemed neces- sary as a witness to what passed. Napoleon re- ceived the admiral and under secretary of state with becoming dignity and calmness. The letter of Lord Melville (First Lord of the Admiralty) was read to the Ex-Emperor, announcing his future destination. It stated, that " it would be inconsistent with the duty of the British ministers to their sovereign and his allies, to leave General Buonaparte the means or opportunity of again disturbing the peace of Europe — announced that the island of St. Helena was selected for his future residence, and selected as such, because its local situation would permit his enjoying more freedom than could be com.patible with adequate security elsewhere — that, with the exception of Generals Savary and Lallemand, the General might select three officers, together with his surgeon, to attend him to St. Helena — that twelve domestics would also be allowed." The same document stated, that " the persons who might attend upon him would be liable to a certain degree of restraint, and could not be permitted to leave the island without the sanction of the British Government." Lastly, it was announced that " Rear-Admiral Sir George Cockburn, appointed to the chief command of the Cape of Good Hope, would be presently ready to sail, for the purpose of conveying General Buona- parte to St, Helena, and therefore it was desirable that he should without delay make choice of the persons who were to^form his suite." ^ The letter was read in French to Buonaparte by Sir Henry Bunbury. He listened without im- patience, interruption, or emotion of any kind. When he was requested to state if he had any reply, he began, with great calmness of manner and mildness of countenance, to declare that he solemnly protested against the orders which had been read — that the British Muiistry had no right to dispose of him in the way proposed — that he appealed to the Bi'itish people and the laws — and asked what was the tribmial which he ought to appeal to. " I am come," he continued, volun- tarily to throw myself on the hospitality of your nation — I am not a prisoner of war, and if I was, have a right to be treated according to the law of nations. But I am come to this country a passen- ger on board one of your vessels, after a previous negotiation with the commander. If he had told me I was to be a prisoner, I would not have come. I asked him if he was willing to receive me on board, and convey me to England. Admiral Maitland said he was, having received, or telling me he had received, special orders of government concerning me. It was a snare, then, that had been spread for me ; I came on board a British vessel as I would have entered one of their towns — a vessel, a village, it is the same thing. As for the island of St. Helena, it would be my sentence of death. I demand to be received as an English citizciu How many years entitle me to be domiciliated?" to give the e::planations he reqi'rcd."--LA8 Cases, tom. I., p. 41. 2 Xas Cases, tom i., d. f*}. 1815.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 775 Sir Henry Bunbury answered, tliat he believed four were necessary. " Well, then," continued Napoleon, " let the Prince Regent during that time place me under any superintendence he thinks propel' — let me be placed in a country-house in the centre of the island, thirty leagues from every sea- port — place a commissioned officer about me, to examine my correspondence and superintend my actions ; or if the Prince Regent should require my word of honour, perhaps I might give it. I might then enjoy a certain degree of personal liberty, and I should have the freedom of litera- ture. In St. Helena I could not live three months ; to my habits and constitution it would be death. I am used to ride twenty miles a-day- — what am 1 to do on that little rock at the end of the world ] No ! Botany Bay is better than St. Helena — I prefer death to St. Helena — And what good is my death to do you ? I am no longer a sovereign. What danger could result from ray living as a private person in the heart of England, and re- stricted in any way which the Government should think proper?" He referred repeatedly to the manner of his coming on board the Bellerophon, insisting upon his being perfectly free in his choice, and that he had preferred confiding to the hospitality and gene- rosity of the Bi'itish nation. " Otherwise," he said, " why should I not have gone to my father-in-law, or to the Empei'or Alex- ander, who is my personal friend ? We have be- come enemies, because he wanted to annex Poland to his dominions, and my popularity among the Poles was in his way. But otherwise he was my friend, and he would not have treated me in tliis way. If your Government act thus, it will dis- grace you in the eyes of Europe. Even your own people will blame it. Besides, you do not know the feeling that my death will ci-eate both in France and Italy. There is, at present, a high opinion of England in these countries. If you kill me, it will be lost, and the lives of many English will be Bacrificed. What was there to force me to the step I took? The tri-coloured flag was still flying at Bourdeaux, Nantes, and Rochefort.' The army has not even yet submitted. Or, if I had chosen to remain in France, what was there to prevent me frorii remaining concealed for years amongst a people so much attached to me ? " He then returned to his negotiation with Cap- tain Maitland, and dwelt on the lionours and atten- tions shown to him personally by that officer and Admiral Hotham. " And, after all, it was only a snare forme!"''' He again enlarged on the dis- grace to England which was impending. " I hold out to the Prince Regent," he said, " the brightest page in his history, in placing myself at his discre- tion. I have made war upon you for twenty years, and I give you the highest proof of confidence by voluntarily giving myself into the liands of my 1 The white flaR was flyinj; at Kochelle and the isle of Ole- ron. It was hoisteri on the lith, and hauled down afterwards ; again hoisted on tlie 1.3th July, to the final exclusion of the three-coloured enM^n. — S. 2 Admiral Hothaiii and Captain Maitland had no particular orders huw this uncommon person was to be treated, and ■were naturally desirous of showinc; respect under misfortunes to one who ha'd been so RTcat. Their civilities went no farther than manning the yards when he entered the Superb on A breakfast visit, and when he returned to the liellerophon on the same occasion. Captain M.ii'land also permitted Napo- leon to lead the wav into the dining cabin, and seat himself most inveterate and constant enemies. Remem- ber," he continued, " what I have been, and how I stood among the sovereigns of Europe. Tli is courted my protection — that gave me his daughter — all sought for my friendship. I was Emperor acknow- ledged by all the powers in Europe, except Great Bri- tain, and she had acknowledged me as Chief Consul. Your Government has no right to term mc Gene- ral Buonaparte," he added, pointing with his finger to the offensive epithet in Lord Melville's letter. " I am Prince, or Consul, and ought to be treated as such, if treated with at all. When I was at Elba, I was at least as much a sovereign in that island as Louis on the throne of France. We had both our respective flags, our ships, our troops — Mine, to be sure," he said with a smile, " were ra- ther on a small scale — I had six hundred soldiers, and he hud two hundred thousand. At length, I made war upcjn him, defeated him, and dethroned him. But there was nothing in this to deprive me of my rank as one of the sovereigns of Europe." During this interesting scene. Napoleon spoke with little interruption from Lord Keith and Sir Henry Bunbury, who declined replying to his re- monstrances, stating themselves to be unauthorised to enter into discussions, as their only duty was to convey the intentions of Government to Napoleon, and transmit his answer, if he charged them with any. He repeated again and again his determina- tion not to go to St. Helena, and his desire to be suffered to remain in Great Britain. Sir Henry Bunbury then said, he was certain that St. Helena had been selected as the place of his residence, because its local situation allowed freer scope for exercise and indulgence than could have been permitted in any part of Great Britain. " No, no," repeated Buonaparte, with animation, " I will not go there — You would not go there, sir, were it your own case — nor, my Lord, would you." Lord Keith bowed and answered — " He had been already at St. Helena four times." Napoleon went on reiterating his protestations against being im- prisoned, or sent to St. Helena. " I viU not go thither," he repeated ; " I am not a Hercules," (with a smile,) " but you shall not conduct me to St. Helena. I prefer death in this place. You found me free, send me back again ; re])lace me in the condition in which I was, or permit me to go to America." He dwelt much on his resolution to die rather than to go to St. Helena ; he had no great reason, he said, to wish for life. He urged the admiral to take no farther steps to remove him into the Northum- berland, before Government should have been in- formed of what he had said, and have signified their final decision. He conjured Sir Henry Bunbury to use no delay in communicating his answer to Government, and referred himself to Sir Henry to put it into form. After some cursory questions and pauses, he again returned to the pressing sub- in the centre of the table: an honour which it would hare been both ungracious and uncalled for to have disputed. Even these civilities could not have been a portion oi the snare of which Napoleon comjilains, or have had the least effect in inducing him to take his resolution of surrendering to the English, as tlie argument in the te.\t infers; for that resolution had been taken, and the surrender made, before the attentions Napoleon founds upon could have been offered and received. This tends to confirm the opinion of Nelson, that the I'reiich, when treated with ceremonial politeness, are apt to form pretensions upon the concessions made to their in ordinary cnnrtesy. — S. 776 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1815. ject, and urged the same arguments as before. " He had expected," he said, " to have had hberty to land, and settle himself in the country, some commissioner being named to attend him, who would be of great use for a year or two to teach him ^^•hat he had to do. You could choose," he said, " some respectable man, for the English ser- vice must have officers distinguished for pi-obity and honour ; and do not put about me an intriguing person, who would only play the spy, and make cabals." He declared again his determination not to go to St. Helena ; and this interesting interview was concluded. After the admiral and Sir Henry Bunbury had loft the cabin, Napoleon recalled Lord Keith, whom, in respect of his former attention to his lordship's relative. Captain Elphinstone, he might consider as more favourable to his person. Napoleon, opened the conversation, by asking Lord Keith's advice how to conduct himself. Lord Keith replied, that he was an officer, and had dis- charged his duty, and left with him the heads of his instructions. If he considered it necessary to renew the discussion, Sii' Henry Bunbury must be called in. Buonaparte said that was unnecessary. " Can you," said he, " after what is passed, detain me until I hear from London?" Lord Keith re- plied, that must depend on the instructions brought by the other "admiral, with which he was unac- , in half an hour they would have been the best friends in Knghuid.' "— Maitland, p. 211. 1 SI O.J LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 777 personal safety, which he could not be assured of in any despotic country, where, as he himself must have known pretty well, an obnoxious prisoner, or detenu, may lose his life jmr neglhjence, without any bustle or alarm being excited upon the occasion. Upon the 16th August, while on his passage to St. Helena, he frankly acknowledged, that though he had been deceived in the reception he had expected from the English, still, harshly and unfairly as he thought himself treated, he found comfort from knowing that he was imder the protection of British laws, which he could not have enjoyed had he gone to another country, where his fate would have de- pended upon the caprice of an individual. This we believe to be the real secret of his rendition to England, in preference to his fi\ther-in-law of Aus- ti'ia, or his friend in Russia. He might, in the first-named country, be kept in custody, more or less severe ; but he would be at least secure from perishing of some political disease. Even while at St. Helena, he allowed, in an interval of good- tempered candour, that comparing one place of exile to another, St. Helena was entitled to the, preference. In higher latitudes, he observed, they would have suffered from cold, and in any other tropical island they would have been burned to death. At St. Helena the country was wild and savage, the climate monotonous, and unfavourable to health, but the temperature was mild and pleasing.' The allegation on which Napoleon had insisted so much, namely, that Captain Maitland had pledg- ed himself for his good reception in England, and received him on board his vessel, not as a prisoner, but as a guest, became now an important subject of investigation. All the while Napoleon had been on board the Bellerophon, he had expressed the greatest respect for Captain jNIaitland, and a sense of his civilities totally inconsistent with the idea that he conceived himself betrayed by him. He had even sounded that officer, by the means of Madame Bertrand, to know whether he would ac- cept a present of his portrait set with diamonds, which Captain Maitland requested might not be offered, as he was determined to decline it. On the 6th of August, Count Las Cases, for the first time, hinted to Captain Maitland, that he had understood him to have given an assurance; that Napoleon should be well received in England. Captain Maitland replied, it was impossible the count could mistake him so far, since he had ex- pressly stated he could make no promises ; but that he thought his orders would bear him out in re- ceiving Napoleon on board, and conveying him to England. He reminded the count, that he had questioned him (Captain Maitland) repeatedly, as to his private opinion, to which he could only answer, that he had no reason to think Napoleon would be ill i-eceived. Las Cases had nothing to offer in reply. Upon the same 6th August, Napo- leon himself spoke upon the subject, and it will be observed liow very different his language was to Captain ^laitland, from that which he held in his absence. " They say," he remarked, " that I c-.ade no conditions. Certainly I made no conditiuns. How could an individual enter into terms with a • Las Cases, torn, i., part ii., p. 229. 2 Lag Cases, torn, i., p. fi!i. — The reader may judge for liiiii- Kif, by tnrouiy tu p. 7/0, where the instructions arc printed. nation? I wanted nothing of them but hospitality, or, as the ancients would express it, air and water. As for you, captain, I have no cause of com]ilaint; your conduct has been that of a man of honour." The investigation of this matter did not end here, for the ungrounded assertion that Captain Maitland had granted some conditions, expressed or implied, was no sooner repelled than it was again revived. On the 7th, Count Las Cases having a pai'ting interview with Lord Keith, for the purpose of de- livering to him a protest on the part of Buonaparte, " I was in the act of telling him," said the count, " that Captain Maitland had said he was authorised to carry us to London, without letting us suspect that we were to be regarded as prisoners of ^^'ar ; and that the captain could not deny that we came freely and in good faith ; that the letter from the Emperor to the Prince of Wales, of the existence of wliich I had given Captain Maitland information, must necessarily have created tacit conditions, since he had made no observation on it." Here the admiral's impatience, nay, anger, broke forth. He said to him sharply, that in that case Captain Maitland was a fool, since his instructions contained not a word to such a purpose ; and this he should surely know, since it was he. Lord Keith, who issued them. Count Las Cases still persevei'ed, stating that his lordship spoke with a hastj' severity, for which he might be himself responsible ; since the other officers, as well as Rcar-Admiral Hotham^ had expressed themselves to the same effect, which could not have been the case had the letter of in- structions been so clearly expressed, and so positive, as his lordship seemed to think.^ Lord Keith, upon this statement of Count Las Cases called upon Captain Maitland for the most ample account he could give of the communications which he had had with the count, previous to Napoleon's coming on board the Bellerophon. Captain Maitland of course obeyed, and stated at full length the manner in which the French frigates lay blockaded, the great improbability of their effect- ing an escape, and the considerable risk they would have run in attempting it ; the application to him, first by Savary and Las Cases, afterwards by Las Cases and Gourgaud ; his objecting to the frequent flags of truce ; his refusal to allow Buonaparte to pass to sea, either in French ships of war, or in a neutral vessel ; his consenting to carry to England the late Emperor and his suite, to be at the disposal of the Prince Regent, with his cautions to them, again and again renewed, in the presence of Cap- tain Sartorius and Captain Gamble.)-, that he could grant no stipulations or conditions whatever. These officers gave full evidence to the same effect, by their written attestations. If, therefore, the insinu- ation of Count Las Cases, for it amounts to no more, is to be placed against the express and explicit averment of Captain Maitland, the latter must pre- ponderate, were it but l)y aid of the direct testimony of two other Britisli officers. Finally, Captain ilait- land mentioned Napoleon's acknowledgment, and that of his suite, that though their expectations had been disappointed, they imputed no blame to him, which he could not have escaped, had he used any acting unilcr which no man but a fnol, as the admiral truly said, could have cntorcd into such a treaty, as Count La? Case* pretends Captain Maitland to have en^jaued in. — S 778 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1815. unwarranted and fallacious proposals to entice them on board his vessel. As the last piece of evidence, ho mentioned his taking farewell of Montholon, who again reverted to Napoleon's wish to make him a present, and expressed the Emperor's sense of his civilities, and his liigh and honourable de- portment through the whole transaction. Captain Maitland, to use his own words, then said, " ' I feel much hurt that Count Las Cases should have stated to Lord Keith, that I had pro- mised Buonaparte should be well received in Eng- land, or indeed made promises of any sort. I have endeavoured to conduct myself with integrity and honour throughout the whole of this transaction, and therefoi'e cannot allow such an assertion to go uncontradicted.' — ' Oh I' said Count Montholon, ' Las Cases negotiated this business ; it has turned out ver}' differently from what he and all of us expected. He attributes the Emperor's situation to himself, and is therefore desirous of giving it the best countenance he can ; but I assure you the Emperor is convinced your conduct has been most honourable;' then taking my hand, he pressed it, and added, ' and that is my opinion also.' " Lord Keith was of course perfectly convinced that the charge against Captain Maitland was not only totally unsupported by testimony, but that it was disproved by' the evidence of impartial wit- nesses, as well as by the conduct and public expres- sion of sentiments of those who had the best right to complain of that officer's conduct, had it been really deserving of censure. The reason why Count Las Cases should persist in grounding hopes and wishes of his own framing, upon supposed expres- sions of encouragement from Captain Maitland, has been probably rightly treated by Count Montholon. Napoleon's conduct, in loading Captain Maitland with the charge of " laying snai-es for him," while his own conscience so far acquitted that brave officer, that he pressed upon him thanks, and yet more substantial evidence of his favourable opinion, can, we are afraid, only be imputed to a predomin- ant sense of his own interest, to which he was not unwilling to have sacrificed the professional cha- racter and honourable name of an officer, to whom, on other occasions, he acknowledged himself ob- liged. As Captain Maitland's modest and manly Narrative ' Ls now published, the figment, that Na- poleon came on board the Bellerophon in any other character than as a prisoner of war, must be con- sidered as silenced for ever. Having prosecuted this interesting subject to a conclusion, we return to the train of circumstances attending Napoleon's departure from England, so far as they seem to contain historical interest. The inconvenient resort of immense numbers, sometimes not less than a thousand boats, scarce to be kept off by absolute force by those who rowed guard within the prescribed distance of 300 yards from the Bellerophon, was rendered a greater an- noyance, when Napoleon's repeated expressions, that he would never go to St. Helena, occasioned some suspicions that he meant to attempt his escape. Two frigates were therefore appointed to lie as ■ "Narrative of the surrender of Buonnparte, and of his residence on Board H.M.S. Bellerophon. By Captain F. L. Maitland, C. B. ]8i6." ^ " 'My friend.' said the Emperor tome, 'I have sometimes an idea of quitting you, and tliis would not he very difHcult ; It ia only necc3.sary to create a little mental c.vuitement, and guards on the Bellerop^hon, and sentinels were doubled and trebled, both by night and day. An odd incident, of a kind which could only have happened in England (for though as many bizarre whims may arise in the minds of foreigners, they are much more seldom ripened into action,) added to the cares of those who were to watch this im- portant prisoner. Some newspaper, which was not possessed of a legal adviser to keep it right in point of form, had suggested (in tenderness, we suppose, to public curiosity,) that the person of Napoleon Buonaparte should be removed to shore by agency of a writ of Habeas Corpus. This magical rescript of the Old Bailey, as Smollett terms it, loses its influence over an alien and prisoner of war, and therefore such an absurd proposal was not acted upon. But an individual prosecuted for a libel upon a naval officer, conceived the idea of citing Napoleon as an evidence in a court of justice, to prove, as he pretended, the state of the French navy, which was necessary to his defence. The writ was to have been served on Lord Keith ; but he disappointed the litigant, by keeping his boat off the ship while he was on board, and afterwards by the speed of his twelve-oared barge, which the attorney's panting rowers toiled after in vain. Al- though this was a mere absurdity, and only worthy of the laughter with which the anecdote of the attorney's pursuit and the admiral's' flight was generally received, yet it might have given i-ise to inconvenience, by suggesting to Napoleon, that he was, by some process or other, entitled to redress by the common law of England, and might have encouraged him in resisting attempts to remove him from the Bellerophon. On the 4th of August, to end such inconvenient occurrences, the Belle- rophon was appointed to put to sea and remain cruising off the Start, where she was to be joined by the squadron destined for St. Helena, when Napoleon was with his immediate attendants to be removed on board the Northumberland. His spirit for some time seemed wound up to some desperate resolve, and though he gave no hint of suicide before Captain Maitland, otherwise than by expressing a dogged resolution not to go to St. Helena, yet to Las Cases he spoke in imdis- guised terms of a Roman death.''' We own we are not afraid of such resolutions being executed by sane persons when they take the precaution of consulting an intelligent friend. It is quite astonish- ing how slight a backing will support the natural love of life, in minds the most courageous, and circumstances the most desperate, We are not, therefore, surprised to find that the philosophic arguments of Las Cases determined Napoleon to survive and write his history. Had he consulted his military attendants, he would have received other counsels, and assistance to execute them if necessary. Lallemand, Montholon, and Gourgaud, assured Captain Maitland, that the Emperor would sooner lull himself than go to St. Helena, and that even were he to consent, they three were deter mined themselves to put him to death, rather than he should so far degrade himself. Captain Mait I shall soon have escaped. All will be over, and you can then quietly rejoin your families.' I remonstrated warm ly.igainst such notions. Poets and philosophers had said, that it was a spectacle worthy of the Divinity to see men struggling with fortune; reversesandcoiistaucy had their glory. "~LAsC'iiBK«. torn, i., p. 56. ^y^4^y ^y0£/i^i<^;m^>?i^r •^^-/^/i^/^^M^'^^f^^i^c.? ISlo.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPAllTF. 779 land, in rei)ly, gave some hints indicative of the gallows, in ca>e such a scheme were prosecuted. Savarv and Lallemand, were, it must be owned, under circumstances peculiarly painful. They had been among the list of persons excluded from the amnesty by the royal government of France, and now they were prohibited by the British Ministry from accompanying Napoleon to St. Helena. They entertained, not unnaturally, the greatest anxiety about their fate, apprehensive, though entirely with- out reason, that they might be delivered up to the French Government. They resolved upon personal resistance to prevent their being separated from their Emperor, but fortunately were so considerate amid their wrath, as to take the opinion of the late distinguished lawyer and statesman, Sir Samuel Romill)-.' As the most effectual mode of serving these unfortunate gentlemen. Sir Samuel, by per- sonal application to the Lord Chancellor, learned that there were no thoughts of delivei-ing up his clients to the French government, and thus became able to put their hearts at ease upon that score. On the subject of the resistance, as to the legality of which they questioned him. Sir Samuel Romilly acquainted them, that life taken in an affray of the kind, would be construed into murder by the law of England. No greater danger, indeed, was to be expected from an assault, legalized upon the opi- nion of an eminent lawyer, than from a suicide ad- justed with the advice of a counsellor of state ; ■ and we suppose neither Napoleon nor his followers were more serious in the violent projects which they announced, than they might think necessary to shake the purpose of the Englisli Ministry. In this they were totally unsuccessful ; and their in- temperate threats only occasioned their being de- prived of arms, excepting Napoleon, who was left in possession of his sword. Napoleon and his fol- lowers were gi'eatly hurt at this marked expres- sion of want of confidence, which must also have been painful to the English officers who executed the order, though it was explained to the Frencli gentlemen, that the measure was only one of pre- caution, and that their weapons were to be care- fully preserved and restored to them. During his last day on board the Bellerophon, Napoleon was employed in composing a Protest, which, as it con- tains nothing more than his address to Lord Keith and Sir Henry Bunlmry, we have thrown into the Appendix.'^ He also wrote a second letter to the Prince Regent. On the 4th of August, the Bellerophon set sail, and next morning fell in with the Northumberland, and the squadron destined for St. Helena, as also with the Tonnant, on board of which Lord Keith's flag was hoisted. It was now that Napoleon gave Captain Mait- ' Savarr, torn, iv., p. 189. " See Appkndix, No. XIV.—" It occurred to me, that, in inch a decisive moment, the Emperor was bound to show a form.ll opposition to this violence. I venturi'd, therefore, to read to him a paper which 1 had prepared, with the general Benseof wliich he seemed pleased. After suppressins a few phrases, and correcting others, it was signed, and sent to Lord Keith."— Las Casks, torn, i., ji. .'j9. 3 " TakinR off his hat, he said, ' Caiitain Maitland, I take this last opportunity of once more returning you my thanks for the manner in which you have treated me while on board the B(llero))lion, and also to request you will convey them to the officers and ship's company you command :' then turning to the ofliccrs, who were standing by me, he added, ' Gentle- men, I have requested vourcajitain to express my gratitude to you for your attention to rae, and to those who have fol- land the first intimation of his purpose to submit to his exile, by requesting that Mr. O'Meara, surgeon of the Bellerophon, might ue permitted to attend him to St. Helena, instead of his own surgeon, whose health could not stand the voyage. This made it clear that no resistance was designed ; and indeed, so soon as Napoleon observed that his threats had produced no effect, he submitted with his usual equanimity. He also gave orders to de- liver up his arms. His baggage was likewise sub- jected to a form of search, but without unpacking or disturbing any article. The trea.sure of Buona- parte, amounting only to 4000 gold Napoleon.s, was taken into custody, to abridge him of that powerful means of effecting his escape. Full re- ceipts, of course, were given, rendering the British Government accountable for the same ; and March- and, the favourite valet-de-chambre of tlie Em- peror, was permitted to take whatever money he thought'might be immediately necessary. About eleven o'clock on the morning of the 7th August, Lord Keith came in his barge to transfer Napoleon from the Bellerophon to the Northum- berland. About one o'clock, when Buonaparte had announced that he was in full readiness, a captain's guard was turned out ; Lord Keith's barge was prepared ; and as Napoleon crossed the quarter- deck, the soldiers presented arms under three ruf- fles of the drum, being the salute paid to a general officer. His step was firm and steady ; his farewell to Captain Maitland polite and friendly.-'' That officer had no doubt something to forgive to Napo- leon, who had endeavoured to fix on him the stigma of having laid a snare for him ; yet the candid and manly avowal of the feelings which remained on his mind at parting with him, ought not to be sup- pressed. They add credit, wei'e that required, to his plain, honest, and unvarnished narrative. " It may appear surprising, that a possibility could exist of a British officer being prejudiced in favour of one who had caused so many calamities to his country ; but to such an extent did he pos- sess the power of pleasing, that there are few people who could have sat at the same table with him for nearly a month, as I did, without feeling a sensation of pity, allied perhaps to regret, that a man possessed of so many fascinating qualities, and who had held so high a station in life, should be reduced to the situation in which I saw him."'* Napoleon was received on board of the Northum- berland with the same honours paid at leaving the Bellerophon. Sir George Cockburn, tlie British admiral, to whose charge the late Emperor was now committed, was in every respect a person highly qualified to discharge the ta.sk with delicacy towards Napoleon, yet with fidelity to the instruc- tions he had received. Of good birth, accustomed lowed my fortunes.' He then went forward to the gangway; and before he went down the ship's side, bowed two or three times to the ship's comjiany. After the boat had shoved off, and got the distance of about thirty yards from the ship, he stood up, pulled his hat nft, and bowed, first to the officers, and then to the men ; and immediately sat down and eTitered into conversation with Lord Keith." — Maiti and. p. 202. * " After Napoleon had quilted the ship, oeing desirous to know what were the feelings of the ship's comjiany towards him, I asked my servant what the [jeojde samof him. ' Why, sir,' he answered. ' I heard several of them conversing toge- ther about him this morning; when one of them observed, "VVell! they may abuse that man as much as they please, but if the peo)de of Kngland kncv him as well .as we do, they would not hurt a hair of his htadi" iu which the othcn> agreed.' " — Maitland, p. 2i3. 780 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [181; to the first society, a handsome person, and an | agreeable address, he had yet so much of the firm- ; ness of his profession as to be able to do unpleasing things when necessary. In every particular within the circle of his orders, he was kind, gentle, and accommodating; beyond them, he was inflexible. This mixture of courtesy and firmness was parti- cularly necessary, since Napoleon, and still more his attendants on his behalf, were desirous upon several occasions to arrogate a degree of royal rank for the prisoner, which Sir George Cockburn's in- structions, for reasons to be hereafter noticed, posi- tively forbade him to concede. All that he could give, he gave with a readiness which showed kind- ness as well as courtesy ; but aware that, beyond the fixed limit, each admitted claim would only form the foundation for another, he made his French guests sensible that ill-humour or anger could have no effect upon his conduct. The consequence was, that though Napoleon, when transferred to the Northumberland, was, by the orders of the Admiralty, deprived of certain marks of deference which he received on board of the Bellerophon (where Captain Maitland had no precise orders on the subject, and the withholding of wliich in him would have been a gratuitous in- fliction of humiliation,) yet no positive quarrel, far less any rooted ill-will, took place betwixt Napo- leon and the admiral. The latter remained at the principal place of his own table, was covered when on the quarterdeck,- after the first salutations had passed, and disregarded other particulars of eti- quette observed towards crowned heads ; yet such circumstances only occasioned a little temporary coldness, which, as the admiral paid no attention to his guests' dis])leasui'e, soon gave way to a French- man's natural love of society ; and Sir George Cockburn (ceasing to be the Riquin, as Las Cases says the French termed him when they were in the pet,) became that mixture of the obliging gen- tleman and strict officer, for which Napoleon held him whenever he spoke candidly on the subject. It may be mentioned as no bad instance of this line of conduct, and its effects, that upon the North- umberland crossing the line, the Emperor desiring to exhibit his munificence to the seamen, by pre- senting them with a hundred louis-d'or, under pretext of paying the ordinary fine, Sir George Cockburn, considering this tribute to Neptune as too excessive in amount, would not permit the do- native to exceed a tenth part of the sum ; and Na- ' Las Cases [torn, i., p. 101.] gives somewhat a different ac- count of this trifling matter, which appears to have been a misunderstanding:. Las Cases supposes the admiral to have been offended at Napoleon's rising, whereas Sir George Cock- burn was only desirous to show that he did not conceive him- himself obliged to break up the party because his French guests withdrew. It seems, however, to have dwelt on Napo- leon's mind, and wasalwavsquntcd when he desired to express dissatisfaction with the admiral. 2 Las Cases, torn, i., p. 13H. — " After dinner the grand ma- rechal and I always followed the Emperor to the quarterdeck. After the preliminary remarks on the weather, &c.. Napoleon used to start a subject of conversation, and when he had taken eight or nine turns the whole length of the deck, lie would seat himself on the second gun from the gangway, on the larboard side. The midshiiimen soon observed this habi- tual predilection, so that the cannon was thenceforth called tlie Emjierur's (jiin. It was there that Napoleon often con- versed hours together, and that I learned, for the first time, a part of what 1 am about to relate." — Las Cases, p. 95. 3 "Sept. 1-6. — The Emperor expressed a wish to learn Eng- lish. I endeavoured to form a very simple plan for his iii- Mruction. This did very well for two or three days; but tlic ennui occasioned by the study was at least equal to that which poleon, offended by the restriction, paid nothing at all. Upon another occasion, early in the A'o^-age, a difference in national manners gave rise to one of those slight misunderstandings which we have no- ticed. Napoleon was accustomed, like all French- men, to leave the table immediately after dinner, and Sir George Cockburn, with the English offi- cers, remained after him at table ; for, in permitting his French guests their liberty, the admiral did not choose to admit the right of Napoleon to break up the party at his, Sir George's, own table. This gave some discontent.' Notwithstanding these trifling subjects of dissatisfaction, Las Cases informs us that the admiral, whom he took to be prepossessed against them at first, became every day more amic- able. The Emperor used to take his arm every evening on the quarter-deck, and hold long conver- sations with him upon maritime subjects, as well as past events in general." While on board the Northumberland, the late Emperor spent his mornings in reading or writing ;"* his evenings in his exercise upon deck, and at cards. The game was generally vingt un. But when the play became rather deep, he discouraged that amusement, and substituted chess. Great tactitian as he was. Napoleon did not play well at that mili- tary game, and it was with difficulty that his anta- gonist, Montholon, could avoid the solecism of beating the Emperor. During this voyage. Napoleon's jour de fite oc- curred, which was also his birth-day. It was the 15th August; a day for which the Pope had ex- pressly canonized a St. Napoleon to be the Em- peror's patron. And now, strange revolution, it was celebrated by him on board of an English man- of-war, which was conducting him to his place of imprisonment, and, as it proved, his tomb. Yet Napoleon seemed cheerful and contented during the whole day, and was even pleased with being fortunate at play, which he received as a good omen.'' Upon the 1,5th October, 1815, the Northumber- land reached St. Helena, which presents but an unpromising aspect to those who design it for a residence, though it may be a welcome sight to the sea-worn mariner. Its destined inhabitant, from the deck of the Northumberland, surveyed it with his spy-glass. St. James' Town, an inconsiderable village, was before him, enchased as it were in a valley, amid arid and scarped rocks of immense Iieight; every platform, every opening, every gorge. it was intended to counteract, and the English was laid aside." — Las Cases, tom. i., p. 13?. " Sept. 7- The Emperor ob- served that I was very much occupied, and he even suspected the subject on wliich I was engaged. He determined to ascer- tain the fact, and obtained sight of a few pagesof my Journal : he was not displeased with it. He observed that such a work would be interesting rather than useful. The militarv events, for example, thus detailed, in the ordinary course of conver- sation, would be meagre, incomplete, and devoid of end or object. I eagerly seized the favourable opportunity, and ven- tured to suggest the idea of his dictating to me the campaigns in Italy. On the 9th, the Emperor called me into his cabin, and dictated to me, for the first time, some details respecting the siegeof Toulon," &c.-LAsCASES,p.l71. "Sept. 19-22. The Emperor now began regularly to dictate to me his campaigns of Italy. For the first few days he viewed this occupation with indifference : but the regularity and promptitude with which I presented to him my daily task, together with the jirogress we made, soon excited his interest ; and at length the pleasure he derived from this dictation, rendered it absolutely necessary to him. He was sure to send for me about eleven o'clock every morning, and he seemed himself to wait \\.t liour with impatience."— Las Cases, p. 187- * Las Cases, tom. i., p. 92. 1815.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. rsi was bi'istled with cannon. Las Cases, who stood by him, could not perceive the slightest alteration of his countenance ' The orders of Government had been that Napoleon should remain on board till a residence could be prepared suitable for the line of life he was to lead in future. But as this was likely to be a work of time, Sir Geor^je Cockburn readily undertook, on his own responsibility, to put his riassengers on shore, and provide in some way for Tlie security of Napoleon's person, until the necessary habitation should be fitted up. He was accordingly trani^ferred to land upon the 16th Oc- tober ;^ and thus the Emperor of France, nay, well-nigh of Europe, sunk into the Recluse of St. Helena. CHAPTER XCIII. Causes which justify the English Government in the measure of Napoleon's Banichment — Napoleon's wish to retire to England, in order that, being near France, he might again interfere in her af- fairs — Reasons fur withholding from him the title of Emperor — Sir George Cockburn' s Instructions — Temporary Accommodation at Briars — Napo- leon removes to Longwood — Precautions taken for the safe custody of the Prisoner. We are now to touch upon the arguments which seem to justify the Administration of England in the strict course which they adopted towards Na- poleon Buonaparte, in restraining his person, and abating the privileges of rank which he tenaciously claimed. And here we are led to observe the change produced in men's feelings within the space of only twelve years. In 1816, when the present author, however inadequate to the task, attempted to treat of the same subject,' there existed a con- siderable party in Britain who were of opinion that the British government would best have dis- charged their duty to France and Europe, by deli- veringup Napoleon to Louis XVIIL's government, to be treated as he himself had treated the Duke d'Enghien. It would be at this time of day need- less to throw away argument upon the subject, or to show that Napoleon was at least entitled to secu- rity of life, by his surrender to the British flag. As needless would it be to go over the frequently repeated ground, which proves so clearly that in other respects the transaction with Captain Mait- land amounted to an unconditional surrender. Napoleon had considered every plan of escape by force or address, and none had seemed to him to present such chance of a favourable result, as that which upon full consideration he adopted. A sur- render to England ensured his life, and gave him the hope of taking further advantages from the generosity of the British nation ; for an uncondi- tional surrender, as it secures nothing, so it ex- cludes nothing. General Bertrand, when on board the Northumberland, said that Napoleon had been much influenced in taking the step he had done by the Abb^ Sieyes, who had strongly advised him to proceed at once to England, in preference to taking any other course, which proves that his resolution must of course have been formed long before he ■ 1 Las Cases, tniti. i., p. 241. 2 " Before Napoleon stepped into the boat, he sent for the captain of tlie Nortliumberland and lock leave of him, desir- ever saw Captain Maitland. Even M. Las Cases, when closely examined, comes to the same result ; for he admits that he never hoped that Napoleon would be considered as a free man, or receive passports for America ; but only that he would be kept in custody under milder restrictions than were inflicted upon him. But as he made no stipulation of any kind concerning the nature of these restric- tions, they must of course have been left to the option of the conquering party. The question, tlierefore, betwixt Napoleon and the British na- tion, was not one of justice, which has a right to its due, though the consequence should be destruction ^ to tlie party by which it is to be rendered, but one of generosity and clemency, feelings which can only be wisely indulged with reference to' the safety of those who act upon them. Napoleon being thus a prisoner sirrrendered at discretion, became subjected to the common laws of war, which authorise belligerent powers to shut up prisoners of war in places of confinement, from which it is only usual to except such whose honour may be accounted as a sufiicient guarantee for their good faith, or whose power of doing injury is so small that it might be accounted contemptible. But Buonaparte was neither in the one situation nor the other. His power was great ; the temp- tation to use it strong ; and the confidence to be placed in his resolution or promise to resist such temptation, very slight indeed. There is an unauthorised report, that Lord Castlereagh, at the time of the treaty of Fontain- bleau, asked Caulaincourt, why Napoleon did not choose to ask refuge in England, rather than accept the almost ridiculous title of Emperor of Elba. We doubt much if Lord Castlereagh did this. But if, either upon such a hint, or upon his own fi-ee mo- tion. Napoleon had chosen in 1814, to repose his confidence in the British nation ; or even had he fallen into our hands by chance of war, England ought certainly, on so extraordinary an occasion, to have behaved with magnanimity ; and perhaps ought either to have permitted Napoleon to reside as an individual within her dominions, or suffered him to have departed to America. It might then have been urged (though cautious persons might even then hesitate,) that the pledged word of a soldier, who had been so lately a sovereign, ought to be received as a guarantee for his observance of treaty. Nay, it might then have been held, that the talents and activity of a single individual, sup- posing them as gi-eat as human powers can be can-ied, would not have enabled him, however desirous, to have again disturbed the peace of Eu- rope. There would have been a natural desire, therefore, to grant so remarkable a person that liberty which a generous nation might have been willing to conceive would not, and could not, be abused. But the experiment of Elba gave too ample proof at once how little rehance was to be placed in Napoleon's engagement, and how much danger was to be apprehended from him, even when his fortunes were apparently at tlie lowest ebb. His breach of the treaty of Fontainbleau altered entirely his relations with England and with Europe ; and placed him in the condition of one ins him, at the same time, to convey his thanks to the officers and crew." — Las Casks, torn, i., p.'243. 3 See the Edinburgh Annual Rtgister for 1815. 782 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1815. whose word could not be trusted, and whose per- sonal freedom was inconsistent with the liberties of Europe. The experiment of trusting to his parole had been tried and failed. The wise may be de- ceived once ; only fools are twice cheated in the same manner. It may be pleaded and admitted for Napoleon, that he had, to instigate his returning from Elba, as strong a temptation as earth could hold out to an ambitious spirit like his own — the prospect of an extraordinary enterprise, with the imperial throne for its reward. It may be also allowed, that the Bourbons, delaying to pay his stipulated revenue, afforded him, so far as they were con- cerned, a certain degree of provocation. But all this would only argue against liis being again trusted within the reach of such temptation. While France was in a state of such turmoil and vexation, with the remains of a disaffected army fermenting amid a fickle population — while the king (in order to make good his stipulated payments to the allies) was obliged to impose heavy taxes, and to raise them with some severity, many opportunities might arise, in which Napoleon, either complaining of some petty injuries of his own, or invited by the discontented state of the French nation, might renew his memorable attempt of 28111 February. It was the business of the British ^linistry to pre- vent all hazard of this. It was but on the 20th April before, that they were called upon by the Opposition to account to the House of Commons for not taking proper precautions to prevent Buo- naparte's escape from Elba.' For what then would they have rendered themselves responsible, had they placed him in circumstances which admitted of a second escape ? — at least for the full extent of all the confusion and bloodshed to which such an event must necessarily have given rise. The jus- tice, as well as the necessity of the case, warranted the abridgement of Buonaparte's liberty, the extent of which had been made, by his surrender, depen- dent upon the will of Britain. In deducing this conclusion, we have avoided having any recourse to the argument ad hombiem. We have not mentioned the dungeon of Toussaint, on tlie frontier of the Alps, or the detention of Ferdinand, a confiding and circumvented ally, in the chateau of Valen9ay. We have not adverted to the instances of honours and appointments be- stowed on officers who had broken their parole of honour, by escaping from England, yet were re- ceived in the Tuileries with favour and prefer- ments. Neither have we alluded to the great state maxim, which erected political necessity, or expe- diency, into a power superior to moral law. Were Britain to vindicate her actions by such instances as the above, it would be revei'sing the blessed rule, acting towards our enemy, not according as we would have desired he should have done, but as he ' Mr. Abercrombie's motion respecting the escajie of Buona- parte from Elba.— Prtrt. Drhates, vol. xxx., p. 716- - This, to be sure, according to Las Cases, was only in order to carry through those great schemes of establishing the peace, the honour, and the union of the country. He had hoped to the last, it seems, in the critical moment, "That, at the sight of the public dancer, the eyes of the people of France would be opened ; that tiiey would return to him, and enable him to save the country of France. It was this which made him pro- long the time at Malmaison ; it was this which induced him to tarry yet longer at Rochefort. If he is now at St. Helena, he owes it to that sentiment. It is a train of thouglit from which he could never be separated. Yet more lately, when actually had done in regard to us, and observing <> crooked and criminal line of policy, because our adversary had set us the example. But Buonaparte's former actions must neces- sarily have been considered, so far as to ascertain what confidence was to be reposed in his personal character ; and if that was found marked by gross instances of breach of faith to others, Ministers would surely have been inexcusable had they placed him in a situation where his fidelity was what the nation had principally to depend on for tranquillity. The fact seems to be admitted by Las Cases, that while he proposed to retire to England, it was with the hope of again meddling in French affairs.* The example of Sir Niel Campbell had shown how little restraint the mere presence of a commissioner would have had over this extraordinary man ; and his resurrection after leaving Elba, had distinctly demonstrated that nothing was to be trusted to the second political death which he proposed to submit to as a recluse in England. It has, however, been urged, that if the character of the times and his own rendered it an act of stern necessity to take from Napoleon his personal free- dom, his captivity ought to have been at least ac- C(mipanied with all marks of honourable distinc- tion ; and that it was unnecessarily cruel to hurt the feelings of his followers and his own, by rc- fu.sing him the Imperial title and personal obser- vances, which he had enjoyed in his prosperity, and of which he was tenacious in adversity. It will be agreed on all hands, that if any thing could have been done consistent with the main exigencies of the case, to save Napoleon a single pang in his unfortunate situation, that measure should have been resorted to. But there could be no reason why Britain, in compassionate courtesy, should give to her prisoner a title which she had refused to him de jure, even while he wielded the empire of France de facto; and there were argu- ments, to be hereafter stated, which weighed power- fully against granting such an indulgence. The place of Napoleon's confinement, also, has been the subject of severe censure ; but the question is entirely dependent upon the right of confining him at all. If that is denied, there needs no further argument ; for a place of confinement, to be effec- tual, must connect several circumstances of safety and seclusion, each in its degree aggravating the sufferings of the person confined, and inflicting pain which ought only to be the portion of a legal prisoner. But if it be granted that a person so for- midable as Napoleon should be debarred from the power of making a second avatar on the earth, there is perhaps no place in the world where so ample a degree of security could have been reconciled with the same degree of personal freedom to the captive, as St. Helena. The healthfulness of the climate of that island there was no other resource than to accept the hospitality of the Bellerophon, perhaps it was not without a species of satis- faction that he found himself irresistibly drawn on by the course of events towards England, since being there w.as being near France. He knew well that he would not be free, but he hoped to make his opinion heard ; and then how many chances would open themselves to the new direction which he wished to inspire." — Journal, tom. i., p. .334. We cannot understand the meaning of this, unless it implies that Napo- leon, while retiring into England, on condition of abstaining from politics, entertained hopes of regaining his ascendency in French affairs, by and through the influence whi;h he ex- pected to exercise over those of Britain.— S. isir,.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. will be best proved by the contents of a report annexed tea return made on 20th March, 1821, by Dr. Thomas Shortt, physician to the forces ; from which it appears, that among the troops then sta- tioned in St. Helena, constantly employed in ordi- nary or on fatigue duty, and always exposed to the atmosphere, the proportion of sick was only as one man to forty-two, even including casualties, and those sent to the hospital after punishment. This extraordinary degree of health, superior to that of most places in the world, Dr. Shortt imputes to the circumstance of the island being placed in the way of the trade-winds, where the continued steady breeze carries off the superfluous heat, and with it such effluvia no.xious to the human constitution, as it may have generated. The same cause, bringing with it a succession of vapours from the ocean, affords a cloudy curtain to intercept the sun's rays, and prevents the occurrence of those violent and rapid forms of disease, which present themselves throughout the tropics in general. Checked per- spiration is noticed as an occasional cause of disease, but which, if properly treated, is only fatal to those whose constitutions have been previously exhausted by long residence in a hot climate. It should also be observed, that the climate of the island is remark- ably steady, not varying upon an average more than twenty degrees in the course of the year ; which equality of temperature is another great cause of the general healthfulness.' The atmosphere is warm indeed ; but, as Napoleon was himself born in a hot climate, and was stated to be afraid of the cold even of Britain, that could hardly m his case be considered as a disadvantageous circumstance. In respect to Napoleon's pei'sonal treatment, Sir George Cockburn proceeded on his arrival tc> ar- range this upon the system recommended by his final instructions, which run thus : " In committing so important a trust to British officers, tlie Prince Regent is sensible tliat it is not necessary to impress upon them his anxious desire that no greater measure of seve- rity with respect to confinement or restriction be imposed, than what is deemed necessary for the faithful discharge of that duty, which the admiral, as well as the governor of St. Helena must ever keep in mind — the perfect security of Ge- neral Buonaparte's person. Whatever, consistent with this great object, can be allowed in the shape of indulgence, his royal highness is confident will be willingly shown to the general : and he relies on Sir George Cockhurn's known zeal nnd energy of character, that he will not allow himself to be betrayed into any improvident relaxation of his duty." 2 It was in the spirit of these instructions that Sir George Cockburn acted, in selecting a place of re- sidence for his important prisoner, while, at the same time, he consulted Napoleon's wishes as much as the case could possibly admit. The accommodation upon the i.sland was by no means such as could be desired in the circum- stances. There were only three houses of a public character, which were in any degree adapted for such a guest. Two, the town residences of the governor and lieutenant-governor of the island, were unfit for the habitation of Napoleon, because they were within James' Town, a situation which, for obvious reasons, was not advisable. The third was Plantation-house, a villa in the country, be- longing to the governor, which was the best dwelling in the island. The British Administration had pro- hibited the selection of this house for the residence of the late Imperial captive. We differ from their ' See Appendix, No. XV. * Extract of a despatch from Earl Calhurst, addressed to opinion in this particular, becatise the very best ac« commodation was due to fallen greatness ; and, in his circumstances. Napoleon, with every respect to the authority of the governor, ought to have been the last person on the island subjected to inconve- nience. We have little doubt that it would have been so aiTanged, but for the dispositiow of the late French Emperor and his followers to use every point of deference, or complaisance, exercised to- wards them, as an argument for pushing their pre- tensions farther. Tims the civility showed by Ad- miral Hotham and Captain Maitland, in manning the yards as Napoleon passed from one vessel to the other, was pleaded upon as a proof that his free and regal condition was acknowledged by these ofKcers ; and, no doubt, the assigning for his use the best house in the island, might, according to the same mode of logic, have been assumed to imply that Napoleon had no superior in St. Helena. Still there were means of repelhng this spirit of en- croachment, if it had shown itself; and we think it would have been better to risk the consequences indicated, and to have assigned Plantation-house for his residence, as that which was at least the best accommodation which the island afforded. Some circumstances about the locality, it is believed, had excited doubts whether the house could be com- pletely guarded. But this, at any rate, was a ques tion which liad been considered at home, where, perhaps the actual state of the island was less perfect- ly understood ; and Sir George Cockburn, fettered by his instructions, had no choice in the matter. Besides Plantation-house, there was another re- sidence situated in the country, and occupied by the lieutenant-governor, called Longwood, which, after all the different estates and residences in the island had been examined, was chosen by Sir George Cockbtu-n as the future residence of Napo- leon. It lies detached from the generally inhabited places of the island, consequently none were likely to frequent its neighbourhood, unless those who came there on business. It was also distant from those points which were most accessible to boats, which, until they should be sufficiently defended, it was not desirable to expose to the observation of Napoleon or his military companions. At Long- wood, too, there was an extent of level ground, capable of being observed and secured by sen- tinels, presenting a space adapted for exercise, whether on horseback or in a carriage ; and the situation, being high, was more cool than the con- fined valleys of the neighbourhood. The house itself was equal in accommodation (though that is not saying much) to any on the island. Plantation- house excepted. To conclude, it was approved of by Napoleon, who visited it personally, and expressed himself so much satisfied, that it was difficult to prevail on him to leave the place. Immediate preparations were therefore made, for making such additions as should render the residence, if not such a one as could be wished, at least as commodious as the cir- cumstances admitted. Indeed it was hoped, by assistance of artificers, and frames to be sent from England, to improve it to any extent required. In the meanwhile, until the repairs immediately ne- cessary could be made at Longwood, General Ber- the Lords Commissioners of the Admiralty, dated 30th July. IU15. 784 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1 81, trand, and the rest of Napoleon's suite, were quar- tered in a furnished house in James' Town, while he himself, at his own request, took up his abode at Briare, a small house or cottage, romantically situated, a little way from the town, in which he could only have one spare room for his own accom- modation. . Sir Geoi'ge Cockburn would have per- suaded him rather to take up his temporary abode iu the town, where the best house in the place was provided for him. Napoleon declined this proposal, pleading his natural aversion to expose himself to the public gaze. Besides the solitude, the pleasing landscape, agreeable especially to those whose per- sons have been lately confined to a ship, and whose eyes have long wandered over the waste of ocean, determined the Ex-Emperor in favour of Briars. Whilst dwelluig at Briars, Napoleon limited himself more than was necessai'y ; for, taking ex- ception at the sentinels, who were visible from the windows of the house, and objecting more reason- ably to the resort of visitors, he sequestered him- self in a small pavilion, consisting of one good room, and two small attic apartments, which stood about twenty yards from the house. Of course his free- dom, unless when accompanied by a British field- officer, was limited to the small garden of the cot- tage, the rest of the precincts being watched by sentinels. Sir George Cockburn felt for the situa- tion of his prisoner, and endeavoured to hurry forward the improvements at Longwood, in order that Napoleon might I'emove thither. He employed for this purpose the ship-carpenters of the squadron, and all the artificers the island could afford ; " and Longwood," says Dr. O'iNIeara, " for nearly two months, exhibited as busy a scene as had ever been witnessed, during the war, iu any of his Majesty's dock-yards, whilst a fleet was fitting out under the personal direction of some of our best naval com- manders. The admiral, indefatigable in his exer- tions, was frequently seen to arrive at Longwood shortly after sunrise, stimulating by his presence the St. Helena workmen, who, in general lazy and mdolent, beheld with astonishment the despatch and activity of a man-of-war succeed to the cha- racteristic idleness, which until then they had been accustomed both to witness and to practise." ' During the Ex-Emperor's residence at Briars, he remained much secluded from society, spent his mornings in the garden and in the evening played at whist for sugar-plums, with Mr. Balcombe, the proprietor, and the members of his family. The Count Las Cases, who seems, among those of his retinue, to have possessed the most various and extensive information, was naturally selected as the chief, if not the only companion of his studies and i-eereations in the morning.^ On such occasions he was usually gentle, accessible, and captivating in his manners. The exertions of Sir George Cockburn, strug- gling with every diflSculty which want of building matsrials, means of transport, and every thing ' Voice, &c., vol. i., p. 14. 2 " Briars, Oct. 28-31. We had nearly arrived at the end of the campaign of Italy. The Emperor, however, did not yet find that he had sufficient occu])ation. Employment was his only resource, and the interest which his first dictations had assumed furnished an additional motive for proceeding with them. The campaign of Egypt was now about to be uoramenced. The Emperor had frequently talked of employ- '"R *\^ grand mar<5chal on this suVjject. I'snggcsted, that he should set us all to work at the same time, and proceed at once with the campaigns of Italy and Eg>pt-the hibtoiv of which facilitates such operations, could possibly interpo.se, at length enabled him to accomplish the transmutation of Longwood into such a dwelling- house, as, though it w-as far below the former dig- nity of its possessor, might sufficiently accommo- date a captive of the rank at which Napoleon was rated by the British Government.^ On the 9th December, Longwood received Na- poleon and part of his household ; the Count and Countess of Montholon and their children ; the Count Las Cases and his son. General Gourgaud, Doctor O'Meara, who had been received as his medical attendant, and such other of Napoleon's attendants as could not be lodged within the house, were, for the time, accommodated with tents ; and the Count and Countess Bertrand were lodged in a small cottage at a place called Hut's-gate, just on the verge of what might be called the privileged grounds of Longwood, whilst a new house was building for their reception. Upon the whole, as it is scarcely denied, on the one hand, that every effort was made to render Longwood-house as com- modious for the prisoner as time and means could possibly permit, so, on the other, it must in fairness be considered, that the delay, however inevitable, must have been painfully felt by the Ex-Emperor, confined to his hut at Briars ; and that the house at Longwood, when finished as well as it could be in the circumstances, was far inferior in accommo- dation to that which every Englishman would have desired that the distinguished prisoner should have enjoyed whilst in English custody. It had been proposed to remedy the deficiencies of Longw^ood by constructing a habitation of wood upon a suitable scale, and sending it out iu pieces from England, to be put together on the spot ; the only mode, as the island can scarce be said to afford any building-materials, by which the desired object of Napoleon's fitting accommodation could, it was thought, be duly attained. Circumstances, however, prevented this plan from being attempted to be carried into execution for several months ; and a series of unhappy disputes betwixt the governor and his prisoner added years of delay ; whicli leads us again to express our regret that Plantation- house had not been at once assigned to Napoleon for his residence. We have already said, that around the house of Longwood lay the largest extent of open ground in the neighbourhood, fit for exercise either on foot or upon horseback. A space of twelve miles in circumference was traced off, within which Napo- leon might take exercise without being attended by any one. A chain of sentinels surrounded this do- main to prevent his passing, unless accompanied by a British officer. If he inclined to e.xtend his excursions, he might go to any part of the island, providing the officer was in attendance, and near enough to observe his motions. Such an orderly officer was always in readiness to attend him wheu required. Within the limited space already men- the Consulate— the return from Elba, &c The idea pleased the Emperor; and, from that time, one or two of his suite came regularly every day to write by his dictations, the tran- script of which thev brought to biin next morning." — Las Cases, tom. i., p. 281). 3 The suite of apartments, destined for his o%Tn peculiar use, consisted of a saloon, an eating-room, a library, a small study, and a sleeping apartment. This was a strange contrast with the palaces which Napoleon had lately inhabited; but it wa» preferable, in the same proportion, to the Tower of the Tem- ple, and the dungeons of Vincennc*.— S. 1815-16.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 785 tioned, there were two camps, that of tlie 53(1 re- giment at Deadwood, about a mile from Long- wood ; anotlier at Hut's-gate, where an officer's guard was mounted, that being the principal access to Longwood. We are now to consider the means resorted to for the safe custody of this important prisoner. The old poet has said, that " every island is a prison ;" ' but, in point of difficulty of escape, there is none which can compare with St. Helena ; which was no doubt the chief reason for its being selected as the place of Napoleon's detention. Dr. O'Meara, no friendly witness, informs us that the guards, with attention at once to Napoleon's feelings, and the security of his person, were post- ed in the foUowihg manner : " A subaltern's guard was posted at the entrance of Long- wood, about six hundred paces from the houses, and a cordon of sentinels and picquets was placed round the limits. At nine o'clock the sentinels were drawn in and stationed in com- munication with each other, surroundinj; the house in such positions, that no person could come ii. or go out without being seen and scrutinized by thcni. At the entrance of the house double sentinels were placed, and patrols were continually passing backward and forward. After nine. Napoleon was not at liberty to leave the house, unless in company with a field officer ; and no person whatever was allowed to pass without the counter-sign. This state of affairs continued until daylight in the morning. Every landing-place in the island, and, indeed, every place which presented the semblance of one, was furnished with a jucquct, and sentinels were even placed upon every goat-path leading to the sea: tho\igh in truth the obstacles presented by nature, in almost all the paths in that direction, would, of themselves, have proved in- surmountable to so unwieldy a person as Napoleon. "- The precautions taken by Sir George Cockburn, to avail himself of the natural character and pecu- liarities of the island, and to prevent the possibility of its new ir.hr^bitant making his escape by sea, were so strict, as, even without the assistance of a more immediate guard upon his person, seemed to exclude the possibility, not only of an escape, but even an attempt to communicate with the prisoners from the sea-coast. " From the various signal-posts on the island," continues the account of Dr. O'lMeara, " ships are frequently discovered at twenty-four leagues' distance, and always long before they c?ii approach the shore. Two ships of war continually cruised, one to windward, and the other to leeward, to whom signals Tfere made, as soon as a vessel was discovered, from the posts on shore. Every ship, excey>t a British man-of war, was ac- companied down to the road by one of the cruisers, who re- mained with her until she was either permitted to anchor, or was sent away. No foreign vessels were allowed to anchor, unless under circumstances of great distress ; in which case, no person from them was permitted to land, and an officer and party from one of the ships of war was sent on board to take charge of them as long as they remained, as well as in order to prevent any improper communication. Every tisliing-boat belonging to the island was numbered, and anchored every evening at sunset, under the superintendence of a lieutenant in the navy. No boats, excepting guard-boats from the ships of war, which pulled about the island all night, were allowed to be down after sunset. The orderly officer was also in- structed to ascertain the actual presence of Napoleon twice in the twenty-four hours, which was done with as much deli- cacy as possible. In fact, every human precaution to prevent escajie. short of actually incarcerating or enchaining him, was adopted by Sir George Cockburn." 3 CHAPTER XCIV. Buonaparte's alleged grievances considered — Right to restrict his Liberty — Limits allowed Napoleon — Complaints urged by Las Cases against Sir George Cockburn — Sir Hudson Lowe appointed Governor of St. Helena — Information given by 1 " Every island is a prison, Strongly guarded by the sea ; Kings and princes, for that reason, Prisoners are, as well as we," Kitso.n's Songs, toI. ii., p. 105. VOI„ It. General Gow(jaud to Government— Agitation oj tarious Plans for Buonaparte's Escape — Wi-iters on the subject of Napoleon's Residence at St. Helena — Napoleon's irritating Treatment of Sir Hudson Lowe — Interviews between them. Hitherto, as we have prosecuted our task, cac^i year has been a history which we have found it difficult to contain within the limits of half a vo- lume ; remaining besides conscious, that, in the necessary compression, we liave been obliged to do injustice to the importance of our theme. But the years of imprisonment which pass so much more slowly to the captive, occupy, with their melan- choly monotony, only a small portion of the page of history ; and the tale of five years of St. Helena, might, so far as events are concerned, be sooner told than the history of a single campaign, the shortest which was fouglit under Buonaparte's auspices. Yet these years were painfully marked, and indeed embittered, by a train of irritating dis- putes betwixt the prisoner and the officer to whom was committed the important, and yet most deli- cate, task of restraining his liberty, and cutting off all prospect of escape ; and whose duty it was, at the same time, to mix the necessary degree of vi- gilance with as much courtesy, and we will add kindness, as Napoleon could be prevailed on to accept. We have had considerable opportunity to collect infoiTnation on this subject, the correspondence of Sir Hudson Lowe with his Majesty's Government having been opened to our researches by the libe- rality of Lord Bathurst, late secretary of state for the colonial department. This communication has enabled us to speak with confidence respecting the general principles by which the British Government were guided in their instructions to Sir Hudson Lowe, and the tenor of these instructions them- selves. We therefore propose to discuss, in the first place, the alleged grievances of Napoleon, as they arose out of the instinictions of the British Government; reserving as a second subject of dis- cussion, the farther complaints of the aggravated mode in which these instructions are alleged to have been executed by the Governor of St. Helena. On the latter subject our information is less per- fect, from the distance of Sir Hudson Lowe from Europe precluding personal inquiry, and the im- possibility of producing impartial evidence on the subject of a long train of minute and petty inci- dents, each of which necessarily demands investiga- tion, and is the subject of inculpation and defence. We have, however, the means of saying something upon this subject also. We have already discussed the circumstances of Napoleon's surrender to the British, without re- serve, qualification, or condition of any kind ; and we have seen, that if he sustained any disappoint- ment in being detained a prisoner, instead of being considered as a guest, or free inmate of Britain, it arose from the failure of hopes which he had adopted on his own calculation, without the slight- est encouragement from Captain Maitland. We doubt greatly, indeed, if his most sanguine expec- tations ever seriously anticiptated a reception very * Voice from St. Helena, Tol. i., p. 21. s Voice from St. Helena, vol. i., p. 22 3 K 786 SCOTT S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1816. different from what he experienced ; at least he testified httle or no surprise when informed of his destiny. But, at any rate, he was a prisoner of war, having acquired by his surrender no right save to claim safety of hfe and Hmb. If the Eng- Ush nation had inveigled Napoleon into a capitula- tion, under conditions which they had subsequently broken, he would have been in the condition of Toussaint, whom, nevertheless, he immured in a dungeon. Or, if he had been invited to visit the Prince Regent of England in the character of au ally, had been at first received with courteous hos- pitality, and then committed to confinement as a prisoner, his case would have approached that of Prince Ferdinand of Spain, trepanned to Bayonne. But we should be ashamed to vindicate our coun- try by quoting the evil example of our enemy. Truth and falsehood remain immutable and irre- concilable ; and the worst criminal ought not to be pi-oceeded against according to his own example, but according to the general rules of justice. Ne- vertheless, it greatly diminishes our interest in a complaint, if he who prefers it has himself been in the habit of meting to others with the same unfair weight and measure, which he complains of when used towards himself. Napoleon, therefore, being a prisoner of war, and to be disposed of as such, (a point which ad- mits of no dispute,) we have, we conceive, further proved, that his residence within the territories of Great Britain was what could hardly take place consistently with the safety of Europe. To have delivered him up to any of the other allied powers, wliose government was of a character similar to his own, would certainly have been highly objection- able ; since in doing so Britain would have so far broken faith with him, as to part with the power of protecting his personal safety, to which extent the country to which he surrendered himself stood un- deniably pledged. It only remained to keep this important prisoner in such a state of restraint, as to ensure his not having the means of making a second escape, and again involving France and Europe in a bloody and doubtful war. St. Helena was se- lected as the place of his detention, and, we think, with much propriety ; since the nature of that se- questered island afforded the means for the great- est certainty of security, with the least restriction on the personal liberty of the distinguished pri- soner. Waves and rocks around its shores afforded the security of walls, ditches, bars, and bolts, in a citadel ; and his hours of exercise might be safely extended over a space of many miles, instead of being restrained within the narrow and guarded limits of a fortress. The right of imprisoning Napoleon being con- ceded, or at least proved, and the selection of St. Helena, as his place of residence, being vindicated, we have no hesitation in avowing the principle, that every thing possible ought to have been done to alleviate the painful feelings, to which, in every point of view, a person so distinguished as Napo- leon must have been subjected by so heavy a change of fortune. We would not, at that mo- ment, have remembered the lives lost, fortunes de- stroyed, and hopes blighted, of so many hundreds ' F.t traRicus plerumque doitt sermone pcdestri. Telephus et Peleus, cum pauper ct cxul uterque, Projicit ampuUas et sesquiijedalia verba. HoR. Aj-t Poetica. of our counti'jTnen, civilians travelling in France, and detained there against every rule of civilized war ; nor have thought ourselves entitled to avenge upon Napoleon, in his misfortunes, the ci'uel in- flictions, which his polic}', if not his inclination, prompted him to award against others. We would not have made his dungeon so wretched, as tliat of the unhappy Negro chief, starved to death amidst the Alpine snows. We would not have surrounded him, while a prisoner, with spies, as in the case of the Earl of Elgin ; or, as in that of Prince Ferdi- nand, have spread a trap for him by means of an emissary like the false Baron Koli, who, in prof- fering to assist his escape, should have had it for an object to obtain a pretence for treating him more harshly. These things we would not then have remembered ; or, if we could not banish them from our recollection, in considering how far fraud and ignoble violence can debase genius, and render power odious, we would have remembered them as examples, not to be followed, but shunned. To prevent the prisoner from resuming a power which he had used so fatally, we would have regarded as a duty not to Britain alone, but to Europe and to the world. To accompany his detention with every alleviation which attention to his safe custody would permit, was a debt due, if not to his per- sonal deserts, at least to our own nobleness. With such feelings upon the subject in general, we pro- ceed to consider thg most prominent subjects of crimplaint, which Buonaparte and his advocates have brought against the Administration of Great Britain, for their treatment of the distinguished exile. The first loud subject of complaint has been al- ready touched upon, that the imperial title w^as not given to Napoleon, and that he was only addressed and treated with the respect due to a general officer of the highest rank. On this subject Napoleon was particularly tenacious. He was not of the number of those persons mentioned by the Latin poet, who, in poverty and exile, suited their titles and their language to their condition.' On the contrary, he contended with great obstinacy, from the time he came to Portsmouth, on his right to be treated as a crowned head ; nor was there, as we have noticed, a more fertile source of discord betwixt him and the gentlemen of his suite on one side, and the Governor of St. Helena on the other, than the per- tinacious claim, on Napoleon's part, for honours and forms of address, which the orders of the British Ministry had prohibited the governor from grant- ing, and which, therefore, Napoleon's knowledge of a soldier's duty should have prevented his exacting. But, independently of the governor's instructions, Buonaparte's claim to the peculiar distinction of a sovereign pi'ince was liable to question, both in re- spect of the party by w-hom it was insisted on, and in relation to the government from whom it was claimed. Napoleon, it cannot be denied, had been not only an Emperor, but perhaps the most powerful that has ever existed ; and he had been acknowledged as such by all the continental sovereigns. But lie had been compelled, in 1814, to lay aside and abdi- cate the empire of France, and to receive in ex- " Princes will sometimes mourn their lot in prose. Pelcus and Telephus, broke down by woes In indigence and exile forced to roam. Leave sounding phrase, and long-tail'd words, at home.' — S. 181G.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 787 change the title of Emperor of Elba. His breach of tlie treaty of Paris was iu essence a renunciation of the empire of Elba ; and the reassumption of tliat of France was so far from being admitted by the allies, that he was declared an outlaw by the Congress at Vienna. Indeed, it this second occu- pation of the French throne were even to be admit- ted as in any respect re-establishing his forfeited claim to the Imperial dignity, it must be remem- bered that he himself a second time abdicated, and formally renounced a second time the dignity he had in an unhappy hour reassumed. But if Napo- leon had no just pretension to the Imperial title or honours after his second abdication, even from those who had before acknowledged him as Emperor of France, still less had he any right to a title which ho had laid down, from a nation who had never ac- quiesced iu his taking it up. At no time had Great Britain recognised him as Emperor of France ; and Lord Castlereagh had expressly declined to accede to the treaty of Paris, by which he was acknow- ledged as Emperor of Elba.' Napoleon, indeed, founded, or attempted to found, an argument upon the treaty of Amiens having been concluded with him, when he lield the capacity of First Consul of France. But he had himself destroyed the Consu- lar Government, of wliich he then constituted the head ; and his having been once First Consul gave him no more title to the dignity of Emperor, than the Directorship of Barras invested kim with the same title. On no occasion whatever, whether directly or by implication, had Great Britain recog- nised the title of her prisoner to be considered as a sovereign prince ; and it -was surely too late to ex- pect acquiescence in claims in his present situation, which had not been allowed when he was actually master of half the world. But it may be urged that, admitting that Napo- leon's claim to be treated with royal ceremonial was in itself groundless, yet since he had actually enjoyed the throne for so many years, the British ministers ought to have allowed to him that rank which he had certainly possessed de facto, though not de jure. The trifling points of rank and cere- monial ought, it may be thought, according to the principles which we have endeavoured to express, to have been conceded to eclipsed sovereignty and downfallen greatness. To this it may be replied, that if the concession recommended could have had no further conse- quences than to mitigate the repinings of Napo- leon — if he could have found comfort in the empty sound of titles, or if the observance of formal eti- quette could have reconciled his feelings to his melancholy and dethroned condition, without alter- ing the relative state of the question in other re- spects — such concession ought not to have been refused to him. But the real cause of his desiring to have, and of the British Government's persisting in refusing to him, the name and honours of a sovereign, lay a great deal deeper. It is true, that it was a foible of Buonaparte, incident, perhaps, to his situation as a parvenu amongst the crowned heads of Europe, to be at all times peculiarly and anxiously solicitous that the most strict etiquette and form should be observed about his person and court. But granting that his vanity, as well as his policy, was concerned ' Pari. Debates \ol. xxx., p. 377- iu insisting upon such rigid ceremonial as is fre- quently dispensed with by sovereigns of ancient descent, and whose title is unquestionable, it will not follow that a, person of his sense and capacitv could have been gratified, even if indidged in all the marks of external influence paid to the Great Mogul, on condition that, like the later descendants of Timur, he was still to remain a close prisoner. His purpose in tenaciously claiming the name of a sovereign, was to establish his claim to the immu- nities belonging to that title. He had ah-eady ex ■ perienced at Elba the use to be derived from erect- ing a barrier of etiquette betwixt his pei-son and any inconvenient visitor. Once acknowledged as Emperor, it followed, of course, that he was to be treated as such in every particular ; and thus it would have become impossible to enforce such re^ gulations as were absolutely demanded for his safe custodj'. Such a status, once granted, would have furnished Napoleon with a general argument against every precaution which might be taken to prevent his escape. Who ever heard of an emperor re- stricted in his promenades, or subjected, in certain cases, to the surveillance of an officer, and the re- straint of sentinels ? Or how could these precau- tions against escape have been taken, without iri-e- vereuce to the person of a crowned head, which, iu the circumstances of Napoleon Buonaparte, were indispensably necessary ? Those readers, therefore, who may be of opinion that it was necessary that Napoleon should be restrained of his liberty, must also allow that the British Government would have acted imprudently if they had gratuitously invested him with a character which they had hitherto re- fused him, and that at the very moment when their doing so was to add to the difliculties attending his safe custody. The question, however, does not terminate even here ; for not only was Great Britain at full liberty to refuse to Buonaparte a title which sh? had never recognised as his due — not only would her grant- ing it have been attended with great pi-actical in- convenience, but farlher, she could not have com- plied with his wishes, without aflbrding the most serious cause of complaint to her ally the King of France. If Napoleon was called emperor, his title could apply to France alone ; and if he was ac- knowledged as Emperor of France, of what coun- try was Louis XVIII. King ? Many wars have arisen from no other cause than that the govern- ment of one country has given the title and cere- monial due to a sovereign, to a person pretending to the throne of the other, and it is a ground of quarrel recognised by the law of nations. It is true, circumstances might have prevented Louis from resenting the supposed recognition of a royal cha- racter in his rival, as severely as Britain did the acknowledgment of the exiled Stuarts by Louis XIV., yet it must have been the subject of serious complaint ; the rather that a conduct tending to in- dicate England's acquiescence in the imperial title claimed by Napoleon, could not but keep alive dan- gerous recollections, and encourage a dangerous faction in the bosom of France. Yet, notwithstanding all we have said, we feel there was an awkwardness in approaching the in- dividual who had been so pre-eminently powerful, with the familiarity applicable to one who had never stood more high above others than he would have done merely as General Buonaparte, A compro 788 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [181G. tnise was accordingly offered by Sir Hudson Lowe, in proposing to make use of the word Napoleon, as a more dignified style of addressing his prisoner. But an easy and respectable alternative was in the prisoner's own power. Napoleon had but to imi- tate other sovereigns, who, either when upon fo- reign travel, or when other circumstances require it, usually adopt a conventional appellative, which, while their doing so waves no part of their own claim of right to royal honours, is equally far from a concession of that right on the pai't of those who may have occasion to transact with them. Louis XVIIL was not the less the legitimate King of France, that he was for many years, and in various countries, only known by the name of the Conite de Lille. The conveniency of the idea had struck Napoleon himself ; for at one time, when talking of the conditions of his residence in England, he said he would have no objection to assume the name of Meuron, an aide-de-camp who had died by his side at the battle of Areola.' But it seems that Napoleon, more tenacious of form than a prince who had been cradled in it, considered this vailing of his dignity as too great a concession on his part to be granted to the Governor of St. Helena. Sir Hudson Lowe, at one time desirous to compromise this silly subject of dispute, would have been con- tented to render Napoleon the title of Excellency, as due to a field-mareschal, but neither did this meet with acceptation. Napoleon was determined either to be acknowledged by the governor as Emperor, or to retain his grievance in its full ex- tent. No modifications could be devised by which it could be rendered palatable. Whether this pertinacity in claiming a title which was rendered ridiculous by his situation, was tlie result of some feelings which led him to doubt his own title to greatness, when his ears were no longer flattered by the language of humi- lity ; or whether the political considerations just alluded to, rendered him obstinate to refuse all epithets, except one which might found him in claims to those indemnities and privileges with which so high a title is intimate, and from which it may be said to be inseparable, it is impossible for us to say ; vanity and policy might combine in recommending to him perseverance in his claim. But the strife should certainly, for his own sake, have been abandoned, when the point remained at issue between the governor and him only, since even if the former had wished to comply with the prisoner's desires, his instructions forbade him to do so. To continue an unavailing struggle, was only to invite the mortification of defeat and re- pulse. Yet Napoleon and his followers retained so much sensibility on this subject, that though they must have been aware that Sir Hudson Lowe only used the language prescribed by his govern- ment, and indeed dared use no other, this unfortu- uate phrase of General Buonaparte occurring so often in their correspondence, seemed to render every attempt at conciliation a species of deroga- tion and insult, and made such overtures resemble a coarse cloth tied over a raw wound, which it frets and injures more than it protects. Whatever might be the merits of the case, as between Napoleon and the British Ministry, it was ' " Tn default of America, I prefer England to any other conntD'. I shall take the name of Colonel Meuron, or of clear that Sir George Cockburn and Sir Hudson Lowe were left by their instructions no option in the matter at issue. These instructions bore that Napoleon, their prisoner, was to receive the style and treatment due to General Buonaparte, a pri- soner of war ; and it was at their peril if they gave him a higher title, or a different style of attention from what that title imjilied. No one could know better than Napoleon how sti-ictly a soldier is bound by his consigne ; and to upbraid Sir Hudson Lowe as ungenerous, unmanly, and so forth, be- cause he did not disobey the instructions of his go- vernment, was as unreasonable as to hope that his remonstrances could have any effect save those of irritation and annoyance. He ought to have been aware that persisting to resent, in rough and insult- ing terms, the deprivation of his title on the part of an officer who was prohibited from using it, might indeed fret and provoke one with whom it would have been best to keep upon civil terms, but could not bring him one inch nearer to the point which he so anxiously desired to attain. In fact, this trivial but unhappy subject of dispute was of a character so subtle, that it penetrated into the whole correspondence between the Emperor and the governor, and tended to mix with gall and vinegar all attempts made by the latter to cultivate something like civil intercourse. This unlucky barrier of etiquette started up and poisoned the whole effect of any intended politeness. While Sir George Cockburn remained on the island, for example, he gave more than one ball, to which General Buonaparte and his suite were regularly- invited. In similar circumstances, Henry IV. or Charles II. would have attended the ball, and to a certainty would have danced with the prettiest young woman present, A\ithout dreaming that, by so doiug, they derogated from pretensions dei'ived from a long line of royal ancestors. Buonaparte and Las Cases, on the contrary, took offence at the familiarity, and wrote it down as a wilful and fla- grant affront on the part of the admiral. These were not the feelings of a man of conscious dignity of mind, but of an upstart, who conceives the hon- our of preferment not to consist in having enjoyed, or in still possessing, a high situation, gained by superiority of talent, so much as in wearing the robes or listening to the sounding titles, which are attached to it. A subject, upon which we are called upon to ex- press much more sympathy with the condition of Napoleon, than moves us u])on the consideration of his abrogated title, is, the screen which was drawn betwixt him, and, it may be said, the living world, through which he was not permitted to penetrate, by letter, even to his dearest friends and relatives, unless'such had been previously communicated to, and read by, the governor of the island. It is no doubt true, that this is an inconvenience to which prisonei's of war are, in all cases, subjected ; nor do we know any country in which their parole is held so sacred as to induce the government to dispense with the right of inspecting their letters. Yet the high place so lately occupied by the fallen monarch might, we think, have claimed for him some dispensation from a restriction so humiliating. If a third person, cold-blooded at best, perhaps T>nToc."—Ir,strucliotis to Gourgaud, July 13, 1815; Savary, torn. iv.. D. 162. 1816.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 789 inclined to hold up to scorn the expressions of our grief or our affection, is permitted to have the re- view of the effusions of our heart towards a wife, a sister, a brother, or a bosom-friend, the corres- pondence loses half its value ; and, forced as we are to keep it within the bounds of the most discreet caution, it becomes to us rather a new source of mortification, than the opening of a communion with those absent persons, whose friendship and attachment we hold to be the dearest possession of our lives. We the rather think that some exercise of this privilege might haA'e been left to Napoleon, without any risk of endangering the safe custody of his person ; because we are pretty well convinced that all efforts strictly to enforce this regulation did, and must have proved, ineffectual, and that in some cases by means of money, and at other times by the mere influence of compassion, he and his followers would always acquire the means of trans- mitting private letters from the island without re- gard to the restriction. Whatever, therefore, was to be apprehended of danger in this species of in- tercourse by letter, was much more likely to occur in a clandestine correspondence, than in one car- ried on even by sealed letters, openly and by permission of the government. We cannot help expressing our opinion, that, considering the accu- rate attention of the police, which would naturally have tm-ned in foreign countries towards letters from St. Helena, there was little danger of the public post being made use of for any dangerous machinations. Supposing, therefore, that the Exile had been permitted to use it, it would have been too dangerous to have risked any proposal for his escape through that medium. A secret correspon- dence must have been resorted to for that purpose, and that under circumstances which would have put every well-meaning person, at least, upon his guard against being aiding in it ; since, if the ordi- nary channels of communication were open to the prisoner, there could have been no justifiable rea- son for his resorting to private means of forward- ing letters from the island. At the same time, while such is our opinion, it is founded upon rea- soning totally unconnected with the claim of right urged by Napoleon ; as his situation, considering him as a prisoner of war, and a most important one, unquestionably entitled the government of Britain to lay him under all the restrictions incident to per- sons in that situation. Another especial subject of complaint pleaded upon by Napoleon and his advocates, arose from a regulation, which, we apprehend, was so essential to his safe custody, that we are rather siu'prised to find it was dispensed with upon any occasion, or to any extent ; as, if fully and regularly complied with, it would have afforded the means of relaxing a considerable proportion of other restrictions of a harassing and irritating character, liable to be changed from time to time, and to be removed and replaced in some cases, without any very adequate or intelligible motive. The regulation which we allude to is that which required that Buonaparte should be visible twice, or at least once, in the day, to the British orderly officer. If this regulation had been submitted to with equanimity by the Ex- Emperor, it would have given the strongest possible guarantee against the possibility of his attempting an escape. From the hour at which he had been seen by the officer, until that at which he should again become visible, no vessel would have been permitted to leave the island ; and supposing that he was missed by the officer at the regular hour, the alarm would have been general, and, whether concealed in the town, or on board any of the ves- sels in the roadstead, he must necessarily have been discovered. Indeed, the risk was too gi-eat to induce him to have tried an effort so dangerous. It might easily have been arranged, that the or- derly officer should have the opportunity to exe- cute his duty with every possible respect to Napo- leon's privacy and convenience, and the latter might himself have chosen the time and manner of exiiibiting himself for an instant. In this case, and considering how many other precautions were taken to prevent escape — that every accessible jiath to the beach was closely guarded — and that the island was very much in the situation of a citadel, of which soldiers are the principal inhabitants — the chance of Napoleon's attempting to fly, even if per- mitted the unlimited range of St. Helena, was highly improbable, and the chance of his effecting his pur- pose next to an impossibility. But this security depended upon his submitting to see a British offi- cer at a fixed hour ; and, resolute in his plan of yielding nothing to circumstances. Napoleon re- sisted, in every possible manner, the necessity of complying with this very important regulation. Indeed, Sir Hudson Lowe, on his part, was on many occasions contented to wink at its being alto- gether neglected, when the orderly officer could not find the means of seeing Napoleon by stealth while engaged in a walk, or in a ride, or as it sometimes happened, through the casement. This was not the way in which this important regulation ought to have been acted upon and enforced, and the governor did not reap a great harvest of gra- titude from his conduct in dispensing with this act of superintendence upon his own responsibility. We have seen that a circuit of twelve miles and upwards was laid off for Buonaparte's private ex- ercise. No strangers entered these precincts with- out a pass from Bertrand, and the Emperor had uninternipted freedom to walk or ride within them, unaccompanied by any one save those in his own family. Beyond these privileged bounds, he was not permitted to move, without the attendance of a British officer ; but under the escort of such a per- son he was at liberty to visit every part of the island. To this arrangement Napoleon was more averse, if possible, than to that which appointed that a British officer should see him once a-day. Other subjects of complaint there were ; but as they chiefly arose out of private discussions with Sir Hudson Lowe — out of by-laws enacted by that officer — and restrictions of a more petty description, we limit ourselves for the present to those of a ge- neral character, which, however inconvenient and distressing, were, it is to be observed, such as na- turally attached to the condition of a prisoner ; and which, like the fetters of a person actually in chains, are less annoying when submitted to with fortitude and equanimity, than when the captive struggles in vain to wrench himself out of their gripe. We are far, nevertheless, from saying, that the weight of the fetters in the one case, and the Irardship of the personal restrictions in the other, are in themselves evils which can be easily endured by those who sustain them. We feel especially how painful the loss of libertv nmst have been to one who Ltd nol 790 SCOTT'S IMISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [181G. only enjoyed the freedom of his own actions, but tlie uncontrolled right of directing those of others. Imjiatience, however, in this, as in other instances, has only the prerogative of injuring its master. In the many hours of meditation whicli were afforded to Buonaparte by his residence in St. Helena, we can never perceive any traces of the reflection, that he owed his present unhappy situation less to the immediate influence of those who were agents in his defeat and imprisonment, than to that course of ambition, which, sparing neither the liberties of France, nor the independence of Europe, had at length rendered his personal freedom inconsistent with the rights of the world in general. He felt the distresses of his situation, but he did not, or could not, reason on their origin. It is impossible to reflect upon him without the idea being excited, of a noble lion imprisoned within a narrow and gloomy den, and venting the wrath which once made tlie forest tremble, upon the petty bolts and bai's, which, insignificant as they are, defy his lord- ly strength, and detain him captive. The situation was in every respect a painful one ; nor is it possible to refuse our sympathy, not only to the prisoner, but to the person whose painful duty it became to be his superintendent. His duty of detaining Napoleon's person was to be done most strictly, and required a man of that extraordinary firmness of mind, who should never yield for one instant his judgment to his feelings, and should be able at once to detect and reply to all such false arguments, as might be used to deter him from the downright and manful discharge of his office. But, then, there ought to have been combined with those rare qualities a calmness of temper almost equally rare, and a generosity of mind, which, confident in its own honour and integrity, could look with sere- nity and compassion upon the daily and hourly ef- fects of the maddening causes, which tortured into a state of constant and unendurable irritability the extraordinary being subjected to their influence. Buonaparte, indeed, and the followers who reflect- ed his passions, were to be regarded on all occa- sions as men acting and speaking under the feverish and delirious influence of things long past, and al- together destitute of the power of cool or clear reasoning, on any grounds that exclusively referred to things present. The emperor could not forget his empire, the husband could not forget his wife, the father his child, the hero his triumphs, the le- gislator his power. It was scarce in nature, that a brain agitated by such recollections should remain composed under a change so fearful, or be able to reflect calmly on what he now was, when agitated by the extraordinary contrast of his present situa- tion with what he had been. To have soothed him would have been a vain attempt ; but the honour of England required that he should have no cause of irritation, beyond those which severely enough attached to his condition as a captive. From the chai-acter we have given of Sir George Cockburn, it may be supposed that he was attentive, as far as his power extended, and his duty permit- ted, to do all that could render Napoleon's situation more easy. The various authors, Dr. O'AIeara, Las Cases, Santini, and others, who have written with much violence concerning Sir Hudson Lowe's con- duct, have mentioned that of Sir George as fair, honourable, and conciliatory No doubt there were many occasions, as the actual inconveniences of the place were experienced, and as the rays of unde- fined hope vanished fi"om their eyes, when Napoleon and his followers became unreasonably captious in their discussions with the admiral. On such oc- casions he pursued with professional bluntness the straightforward path of duty, leaving it to the French gentlemen to be sullen as longas they would, and entering into communication again with them whenever they appeared to desire it. It was pro- bably this equanimity, which, notwithstanding va rious acknowledgments of his good and honour- able conduct towards them, seemed to have drawn upon Sir George Cockburn the censure of M. Las Cases, and something that was meant as a species of insult from Napoleon himself. As Sir George Cockburn is acknowledged on the whole to have discharged his duty towards them with mildness and temper, we are the rather tempted to enter into their grounds of complaint against him, because they tend to show the exasperated and ulcerated state of mind with which these unfortunate gentle- men regarded those, who, in their present office, had no alternative but to discharge the duty which their sovereign and country had imposed upon them. At the risk of being thought trifling with our readers' patience, we shall recapitulate the griev- ances complained of by Las Cases, who frankly admits, that the bad humour, arising out of his situation, may have in some degree influenced his mind in judging of Sir George Cockburn's conduct, and shall subjoin to each charge the answer which seems to correspond to it. 1st, The admiral is accused of having called the Emperor Napoleon, General Buonaparte ; and to have pronounced the words with an air of self-satis- faction, which showed that the expression gratified him. It is replied, that Sir George Cockburn's instructions were to address Napoleon by that epi- thet ; and the commentary on the looks or tone with which he did so, is hypercritical. — ■2d, Napoleon was quartered in Briars for two months, while the admiral himself resided in Plantation-house. An- swered, that the instructions of Government were, that Napoleon should remain on board till his abode was prepared ; but finding that would occupy so much more time than was expected. Sir George Cockburn, on his own responsibility, placed him on shore, and at Briars, as being the residence which he himself prefeiTed. — 3d, The admiral placed sen- tinels under Napoleon's windows. Replied, it is the usual pi'actice when prisoners of importance are to be secured, especially if they do not even off"er their parole that they will make no attempt to es- cape. — 4th, Sir George did not permit any one to visit Napoleon without his permission. Replied, it seemed a necessary consequence of his situation, until Sir George should be able to distinguish those visitors who might be with propriety admitted to an unlimited privilege of visiting the important prisoner. — 5th, He invited Napoleon to a ball, by the title of General Buonaparte. The subject of the title has been already discussed ; and it does not appear how its being used in sending an invitation to a convivial party, could render the name by which the admiral was instructed to address his prisoner more off'ensive than on other occasions. — 6th, Sir George Cockburn, pressed by Bertrand's not^s, in which he qualified the prisoner as an emperor, re- plied sarcastically, that he knew of no emperor at St. Helena, nor had heard that any European em- 181G.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. \ 791 peror was at present travelling abroad. Replied, by referring to the admiral's instructions, and by the fact, that if an emperor can abdicate his quality, certainly Napoleon was no longer one. — 7th, Sir George Cockbum is said to have influenced the opinions of others upon this subject, and punished with arrest some subordinate persons, who used the phrase of emperor. Answered as before, he had orders from his government not to suffer Buo- napai'te to be addressed as emperor, and it was his duty to cause them to be obeyed. He could not, however, have been very rigorous, since Monsieur Las Cases informs us that the officers of the 53d used the mezzoterm'ine Napoleon, apparently with- out censure from the governor. — Lastly, There re- mains only to be added the complaint, that there was an orderly officer appointed to attend Napoleon when he went beyond certain limits, a point of precaution which must be very useful, if not indis- pensable, where vigilant custody is required. From this summary of offences, it must be plain to the reader, that the resentment of Las Cases and his master was not so much against Sir George Cockburn personally, as against his office ; and that the admiral would have been very acceptable, if he could have reconciled it to his duty to treat Napo- leon as an emperor and a free man ; suffered him- self, like Sir Niel Campbell, to be admitted or excluded from his presence, as the etiquette of an imperial court might dictate ; and run the risk of being rewarded for his complaisance by learning, when he least looked for it, that Napoleon had sailed for America, or perhaps for France, Tlie question how far Britain, or rather Europe, had a right to keep Napoleon prisoner, has already been discussed. If they had no such right, and if a second insurrection in France, a second field of Waterloo, should be hazarded, rather than that Napoleon Buonaparte should suffer diminution of dignity, or restraint of freedom, then Napoleon had a right to complain of the ministry, but not of the officer, to whom his instructions were to be at once the guide and vindication of his conduct. While these things passed at St. Helena, the ministry of Great Britain were employed in plac- ing the detention of the Ex-Emperor under the regulation of an act of Parliament, which inter- dicted all intercourse and commerce with St. He- lena, excepting by the East India Company's re- gular chartered vessels. Ships not so chartered, attempting, to trade or touch at St. Helena, or hovering within eight leagues of the island, were declared subject to seizure and confiscation. The crews of the vessels who came on shore, or other persons visiting the island, were liable to be sent on board, at the governor's pleasure ; and those who might attempt to conceal themselves on shore, were declared subject to punishment. Ships were permitted to approach upon stress of weather, but it was incumbent on them to prove the indispensable necessity, and while they remained at St. Helena, they were watched in the closest manner. A clause of indemnity protected the governor and commis- sioners from any act transgressing the letter of the law, which they might already have committed, while detaining Napoleon in custody. Such was the act 56 George III. ch. 23, which legalized the confinement of Napoleon at St. Helena.' 1 Pari. Debates, vol. xxxiii., p. 213. Another convention betwixt the principal powers of Europe, at Paris, 2d August, 1815, had been also entered into upon the subject of Napoleon, and the custody of his person. It set forth, I. That, in order to render impossible any further attempt on the part of Napoleon Buonaparte against the repose of the world, he should be considered as prisoner to the high contracting powers, the King of Great Britain and Ireland, the Emperor of Austria, the Emperor of Russia, and the King of Prussia. II. That the custody of his person was committed to the British Government, and it was remitted to them to choase the most secure place and mode of detaining him in security. III. That the courts of Austria, Russia, and Prussia, were to name commissioners who were to inhabit the same place which should be assigned for Napoleon Buo- naparte's residence, and who, without being respon- sible for his detention, should certiorate themselves that he was actually present. IV. His Most Christian Majesty was also invited to send a com- missioner. V. The King of Great Britain engaged faithfully to comply with the conditions assigned to him by this convention.'^ Of these powers, only three availed themselves of the power, or privilege, of sending commissioners to St. Helena. These were Count Balmain, on the part of Russia, Baron Sturmer for Austria, and an old emigrant nobleman, the Marquis de Mont- chenu, for France. Prussia seems to have thought the expense of a resident commissioner at St. He- lena unnecessary. Indeed, it does not appear that any of these gentlemen had an important part to play while at St. Helena, but yet their presence was necessary to place what should pass there under the vigilance of accredited representatives of the high powers who had engaged in the Convention of Paris. The imprisonment of Napoleon was now not the work of England alone, but of Europe, adopted by her most powerful states, as a measure indispensable for public tranquillity. Several months before the ai'rival of the com- missioners. Sir George Cockburn was superseded in his anxious and painful office by Sir Hudson Lowe, who remained Governor of St. Helena, and had the charge of Napoleon's person, until the death of tliat remarkable person. The conduct of this officer has been censured, in several of the writings which have treated of Napoleon's confine- ment, with such extremity of bitterness as in some measure defeats its own end, and leads us to doubt the truth of charges which are evidently brought forward under deep feelings of personal animosity to the late Governor of St. Helena. On the other hand, it would require a strong defence on the part of Sir Hudson Lowe himself, refuting or explaining many things which as yet have neither received contradiction nor commentary, to induce us to con- sider him as the very i-are and highly exalted spe- cies of chai'acter, to whom, as we have already stated, this important charge ought to have been intnisted. Sir Hudson Lowe had risen to rank in the army while serving chiefly in the Mediterranean, in a foreign corps in the pay of England. In this situa- tion he became master of the French and Italian languages, circumstances which highly qualified him for the situation to which he was appointed. 2 Pari. Debates, vol. x.xxiii., \>. 235. 792 scorrs miscellaneous prose works. [I8in. In the campaign of 1814, he had been attached to the army of tlie alHes, and carried on a correspon- dence with the English Government, describing the events of the campaign, part of which was pub- lished, and intimates spirit and talent in the writer. Sir Hudson Lowe received from several of the allied sovereigns and generals the most honourable testimonies of his services that could be rendered. He had thus the opportunity and habit of mixing with persons of distinction in the discussion of affairs of importance ; and his character as a gentle- man and a man of honour was carefully inquired into, and highly vouched, ere his nomination was made out. Tliese were points on which precise inquiries could be made, and distinct answers re- ceived, and they were all in favour of Sir Hudson Lowe. But tliere were otlier qualifications, and those not less important, his possession of Avhich could only be known by putting him upon trial. The indispensable attribute, for example, of an imper- turbable temper, was scarce to be ascertained, until his proceedings in the office intrusted to him siiould show whether he possessed or wanted it. The same must be said of that firmness and decision, which dictate to an official person the exact line of his duty — prevent all hesitation or wavering in the exercise of his purpose — render him, when it is discharged, boldly and firmly confident that he has done exactly that which he ought — and enable him fearlessly to resist all importunity which can be used to induce him to change his conduct, and to contemn all misrepresentations and obloquy which may arise from liis adhering to it. Knowing nothing of Sir Hudson Lowe person- ally, and allowing him to possess the qualities of an honourable, and the accomplishments of a well- informed man, we are inclined, from a review of his conduct, divesting it so far as we can of the ex- aggerations of his personal enemies, to think there remain traces of a warm and irritable temper, which seems sometimes to have overborne his discretion, and induced him to forget that his prisoner was in a situation where he ought not, even when his con- duct seemed most unreasonable and most provok- ing, to be considered as an object of resentment, or as being subject, like other men, to retort and retaliation. Napoleon's situation precluded the pos- sibility of his inflicting an insult, and therefore the temper of the person to whom such was offered, ought, if possible, to have remained cool and un- rutfied. It does not seem to us that this was uni- formly the case. In like manner. Sir Hudson Lowe appears to have been agitated by an oppressive sense of the importance and the difficulties of liis situation, to a nervous and irritating degree. This over-anxiety led to frequent changes of his regulations, and to the adoption of measures wliich were afterwards abandoned, and perhaps again resumed. All this uncertainty occasioned just subject of complaint to his prisoner ; for, though a captive may become gradually accustomed to the fetters which he wears daily in the same manner, he must be driven to impatience if the mode of adjusting them be altered from day to day. It is probable that the w^rm temper of Sir Hud- son Lowe was in some degree convenient to Napo- leon, as it afforded him the means of reprisals upon tiie immediate instrument of his confinement, by making the governor feel a part of the annoyance wliich he himself expei'ienced. Sir George Cock- burn had been in seipso totus, teres, atque rotun- diis. He did what his duty directed, and cared little what Napoleon thought or said upon the sub- ject. Tlie new governor was vulnerable; he could be rendered angry, and might therefore be taken at advantage. Thus Napoleon might enjoy the vindictive pleasure, too natural to the human bo- som, of giving pain to the person who was the agent, though not the autlior, in tlie restrictions to which he himself was subjected. But Napoleon's interest in provoking the governor did not rest upon the mere gratification of spleen. His views went far deeper, and were connected with the prospect of obtaining his liberty, and with the mode by which he hoped to accomplish it. And this leads us to inquire upon what these hopes were rested, and to place before our readers evidence of the most indisputable credit, concerning the line of policy adopted in the councils of Longwood. It must be pi'emised that the military gentlemen, who, so much to the honour of their own fidelity, had attended on Buonaparte, to soften his calamity by their society and sympathy, wei-e connected by no other link than their mutual respect for the same unhappy master. Being unattached to each other by any ties of friendship, or community of feelings or pursuits, it is no wonder that these offi- cers, given up to ennui, and feeling the acidity of temper which such a situation is sure to cause, should have had misunderstandings, nay, positive quarrels, not with the governor only, but with each other. In these circumstances, the conduct of Ge- neral Gourgaud distinguished him from the rest. After the peace of Paris, this officer had been aide- de-camp to the Duke of Berri, a situation which he abandoned on Napoleon's return at the period of the Hundred Days. As he was in attendance upon the Ex-Emperor at the moment of his fall, he felt it his duty to accompany liim to St. Helena. While upon that island, he took less share in Na- poleon's complaints and quarrels with the governor, than either Generals Bertrand and Montholon, or Count Las Cases, avoided all appearance of in- trigue with the inhabitants, and was regarded by Sir Hudson Lowe as a brave and loyal soldier, who followed his emperor in adversity, without taking any part in those proceedings which tlie governor considered as prejudicial to his own au- thority. As such, he is characterised uniformly in Sir Hudson's despatches to his Government. This officer had left in France a mother and sister, to whom he was tenderly devoted, and who loved him with the fondest affection. From attach- ment to these beloved relatives, and their affecting desire that he should rejoin them, General Gour- gaud became desirous of revisiting his native country ; and his resolution was the stronger, that considerable jealousies and misunderstandings arose betwixt him and Count Bertrand. In these cir- cumstances, he applied for and obtained permission from the governor, to return to London direct Before leaving St. Helena, he was very commu- nicative both to Sir Hudson Lowe and Baron Sturmer, the Austrian commissioner, respecting the secret hopes and plans which were carrying on at Longwood. When he arrived in Britain in the spring 1818, he was no less frank and open with the British Government; informing them of the IRIC] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPAETE. 793 various proposals for escape which had heen laid before Napoleon ; the facilities and difficulties which attended them, and the reasons why he preferred remaining on the island, to making the attempt. At this period it was supposed that General Gour- paud was desirous of making his peace with the King of France ; but whatever might be his pri- vate views, the minutes of the information which he afforded to Sir Hudson Lowe and Baron Stur- mcr at St. Helena, and afterwards at London to the Under Secretary at Wai", are still preserved in the records of the Foreign Office. They agree entirely with each other, and their authenticity cannot be questioned. The communications are studiously made, with considerable reserve as to proper names, in order that no individual should be called in question for any thing which is there stated ; and in general they bear, as was to be ex- pected, an air of the utmost simplicity and veracity. We shall often have occasion to allude to these documents, that the reader may be enabled to place the real purposes of Napoleon in opposition to the language which he made use of for accomplishing them ; but we have not thought it proper to quote the minutes at length, unless as far as Napoleon is concerned. We understand that General Gour- gaud, on his return to the continent, has resumed that tenderness to Napoleon's memory, which may induce him to regret having communicated the secrets of his prison-house to less friendly ears. But this change of sentiments can neither diminish the truth of his evidence, nor affect our right to bring forward wliat we find recorded as communi- cated by him. Having thus given an account of the evidence we mean to use, we resume the subject of Napoleon's quarrels with Sir Hudson Lowe. It was not, according to General Gourgaud, for want of means of escape, that Napoleon continued to remain at St. Helena. There was one plan for carrying him out in a trunk with dirty linen ; and so general was the opinion of the exti'eme stupidity of the English sentinels, that there was another by which it was proposed he should slip through the camp in disguise of a servant cari-ying a dish. When the Baron Sturmer represented the im- possibility of such wild plans being in agitation, Gourgaud answered, " There was no impossibility to tliose who had millions at their command. Yes, I repeat it," he continued, " he can escape from hence, and go to America whenever he has a mind."' — " Why, then, should he remain here?" said Baron Sturmer. Gourgaud replied, " Tiiat all his follov.ers had urged him to make the experi- ment of escape ; but he preferred continuing on the island. He has a secret pride in the consequence attached to the custody of his person, and the interest generally taken in his fate. He has .said repeatedly, ' I can no longer live as a private per- son. I would rather be a prisoner on this rock, tlian a free but undistinguished individual in the United States.'" 2 1 " Jc U ripcle, il petU s'dvnder scul, ct allcr en yimdn'qini qniini! il le vinidra." Taken from a report of fiaron Stunner to Prince Metternich, giving an account of General Gour- gaud'a communications, dated 14tli March, 1818. — S. 2 " Jene. puis plii.1 vivre en pdrticnlin: .J'aimcmicux etre prisonnier ici, que lihrc aujc Etnls Uiii.i." — S. 3 Warden's Letters from St. Helena. ♦ Voice from St. Helena, &c. General Gourgaud said, therefore, that the event to which Napoleon trusted for liberty, was some change of politics in the court of Great Britain, which should bring into administration the juirty who were now in opposition, and who, he rather too rashly perhaps conceived, would at once restore to him his liberty. The British ministers received the same assurances from Gc.ieral Gourgaud with those given at St. Helena. Tliest last are thus expressed in the original : — " Upon the subject of General Buonaparte's escape, M. Gourgaud stated coiifidentlv, that altliough Longwood was, from its situation, capable of being well ])rotected by sentries, yet he was certain that there would be no difficulty in eluding at any time the vigilance of the sentries posted round the house and grounds ; and, in short, that escape from the island appeared to him in no degree impracticable. The subject, he confessed, had been discussed at Longwood amongst the in- dividuals of the establishment, who were separately desired to give their plans for effecting it. But he expressed his beliel to be, that General Buonajiarte was so fully impressed with the opinion, that he would be permitted to leave St. Helena, either upon a change of ministry in England, or by the unwil- lingness of the Knglish to bear the cx]iense of detaining him, that he would not at present run the hazard to which an at- tempt to escape miglit e.xjiose him. It appeared, however, from the statement of General Gourgaud, and from other cir- cumstances statedby him, that Buonaparte had always looked to the period of the removal of the allied armies from France as that most favourable for his return ; and the probability of such an event, and the consequences which would flow from it, were urged by him as an argument to dissuade General Gourgaud from quitting him until after that period." General Gourgaud's communications further bear, what, indeed, can be collected from many other cir- cumstances, that as Napoleon hoped to obtain his liberty from the impression to be made on the minds of the English nation, he was careful not to suffer his condition to be forgotten, and most anxious that the public mind should be carefully kept alive to it, by a succession of publications coming out one after another, modified according to the different temper and information of the various author.s, but bearing all of them the stamp of having issued in whole or in part from the interior of Long- wood. Accordingly, the various works of Warden,' O'jNIeara,* Santini,^ the letter of Montholon,^ and other publications upon St. Helena,'' appeared one after another, to keep the subject awake ; which, although seemingly discharged by various hands, bear the strong peculiarity of being directed at identically the same mark, and of being arrows from the same quiver. Gourgaud mentioned this species of file-firing, and its purpose. Even the Manuscrit de St. Helenc, a tract, in whicli dates and facts were misplaced and confounded, was also, ac- cording to General Gourgaud, the work of Buona- parte, and composed to puzzle and mystify the Bri- tish public. He told Sir Hudson Lowe that he was not to consider the abuse in these various pamphlets as levelled against him j^ersonally, but as written upon political calculation, with the view of extort- ing some relaxation of vigilance by the reiteration of complaints. The celebrated Letter of Montho- lon was, according to the same authority, written in a great measure by Napoleon ; and the same was the case with Santini's, tliough so grossly over- coloured that he him.self afterwards disowned it.' 5 Appeal to the British Nation, &c. By M. Santini, Porter of the l'jn])er<)r's closet. 6 Official Memoir, dictated by Napoleon ; being a Letter from Count de Montholon to Sir ^ud^on Lowe. 7 Manuscrit veiiu de St. Heltne d'une mani6re inconnuc, &c. 8 " Santini has published a brochure full of trash. Tliere are some truths in it ; but every thing is exaggerated." — Na- poleon, Voice, -Jc. vol. ii., p. 70. 794 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1816. Uther papers, he said, would appear under the names of captains of merchantmen and the Hke, for Napoleon was possessed by a mania for scrib- bling, which had no interruption. It becomes the historian, therefore, to receive with caution the narratives of those who have thus taken a deter- minedly partial part in the controversy, and con- cocted their statements from the details afforded by the party principally concerned. If what Ge- nei-al Gourgaud has said be accurate, it is Na- poleon who is pleading his own cause under a borrowed name, in the pages of O'Meara, Santini, Montholon, &c. Even when the facts mentioned in these works, therefore, are undeniable, still it is necessary to strip them of exaggeration, and place them in a fair and just light before pronouncing on them. The evidence of O'Meara, as contained in a Voice from St. Helena, is that of a disappointed man, bitterly incensed against Sir Hudson Lowe, as the cause of his disappointment. He had no need to kindle the flame of his own resentment, at that of Buonaparte, But it may be granted that their vindictive feelings must have strengthened each other. The quarrel was the more irreconcil- able, as it appears that Dr. O'Meara was originally in great habits of intimacy with Sir Hudson Lowe, and in the custom of repeating at Plantation-house the gossip which he had heard at Longwood. Some proofs of this were laid before the public, in the Quarterly Review;^ and Sir Hudson Lowe's cor- respondence with government contains various allusions to Mr. O'Meara's authority,* down to the period when their mutual confidence was termi- nated by a violent quarrel.' Count Las Cases is not, in point of impartiality, to be ranked much above Dr. O'Meara. He was originally a French emigrant, a worshipper by pro- fession of royalty, and therefore only changed his idol, not his religion, when he substituted the idol Napoleon for the idol Bourbon. He embi'aces with passive obedience the interests of his chief, real or supposed, and can see nothing wrong which Napo- leon is disposed to think right. He was also the personal enemy of Sir Hudson Lowe. We have no idea that he would falsify the truth ; but we cannot but suspect the accuracy of his recollection, when we find he inserts many expressions and incidents in his Journal, long after the period at which it was originally written, and it is to be pre- sumed from memory. Sir Hudson Lowe had the original manuscript for some time in his possession, and we have at present before us a printed copy, in which Sir Hudson has, with his own hand, marked those additions which had been made to the Journal since he saw it in its primitive state. It is remarkable that all, or almost all, the addi- tions which are made to the Journal, consist of ' Vol. xxviii., p. 227. 2 Sir Hudson Lowe writes, for example, to Lord Bathurst, 13th May, 1816:—" Having found Dr.-O'Meara, who was at- tached to Buonaparte's family on the removal of his French pliysician, very useful in Riving information in many instances, anil as, if removed, it misht be difficult to find another person who mit'ht be equally agreeable to General Buonaparte, I )iave aeemed it advisable tO'Sufter him to remain in the fa- mily on the same footing as before my arrival." On the 2t)th tif Slarch, I8I7, Sir Hudson writes :— " Dr. O'Meara had in- formed me of the conver.sations that had occurred, and, with that readiness which he always manifests upon such occa- •ions, immediately wrote them down for me."— S. * " A catastrophe seemed inevitable. Napoleon indeed «oncluded that there was a determination to bring it about. passages highly injurious to Sir Hudson Lowe, which had no existence in the original manuscript. These additions must therefore have been made under the influence of recollection, sharpened by angry passions, since they did not at first seem im- portant enough to be preserved. When memory is put on the rack by passion and prejudice, she will recollect strange things ; and, like witnesses under the actual torture, sometimes avow what never took place. Of Dr. Antommarchi it is not necessary to say much ; he was a legatee of Buonaparte, and an annuitant of his widow, besides being anxious to preserve the countenance of his very wealthy family. He never s])eaks of Sir Hudson Lowe without rancour. Sir Hudson's first off'ence against him was inquiring for clandestine correspondence ;* his last was, preventing the crowd at Napoleon's funeral from pulling to pieces the willow-trees by which the grave was sheltered, besides placing a guard over the place of sepulture.^ What truth is there, then, to be reposed in an author, who can thus misrepresent tw8 circumstances — the one im- posed on Sir Hudson Lowe by his instructions ; the other being what decency and propriety, and respect to the deceased, imperatively demanded ? The mass of evidence shows, that to have re- mained upon good, or even on decent terms with the governor, would not have squared with the politics of one who desired to have grievances to complain of; and who, far from having the usual motives which may lead a captive and his keeper to a tolerable understanding, by a system of mutual accommodation, wished to provoke the governor, if possible, beyond the extent of human patience, even at the risk of subjecting himself to some new infliction, which might swell the list of wrongs which he was accumulating to lay before the public. What we have stated above is exemplified by Napoleon's reception of Sir Hudson Lowe, against whom he appears to have adopted the most violent prejudices at the very first interview, and before the governor could have afforded him the slightest disrespect. We quote it, because it shows that the mind of the prisoner was made up to provoke and insult Sir Hudson, without waiting for any provo- cation on his part. The governor's first aggression (so represented,) was his requiring permission of General Buonaparte to call together his domestics, with a view to their taking the declaration required by the British Go- vernment, binding themselves to abide by the rules laid down for the custody of Buonaparte's person. This permission was refused in very haughty terms. If Napoleon had been at the Tuileries, such a re- quest could not have been more highly resented. The servants, howeverj appeared, and took the ne- On the 6th of May, he sent for O'Meara, in order that he might learn his personal position. He desired me to express to him in English, that he had hitherto no cause of complaint .igainst him. It was necessary, he said, to come to an understanding. Was he to consider him as his own physician personally, or merely as a prison doctor, appointed by the English Govern- ment ? Was he is confessor or his inspector? Had he made reports rcspecthig him, or was it liis Intention to do so if called upon. The doctor replied with great firmness, and in a tone of feeling. He said he had made no report respecting the Emperor, and that he could not imagine any instance in which he might be induced to make a report, except m case of se- rious illness." — Las Cases, torn, i., p. 211. * Last Days of the Emperor Napoleon, vol. i., p. 60. 6 Last DayB of the Emperor Napoleon, vol. ii., p. IBS. 181 G.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. roo cessary declaration. But the affront was not can- celled ; " Sir Hudsor; Lowe had put his finger be- twixt Napoleon and his valet-de-chambre." This was on the iZth April, 1816.' Upon the 30th, the governor again paid his respects at Longwood, and was received with one of those calculated bursts of furious passion witli which Napoleon was wont to try the courage and shake the nerves of those over whom he desired to acquire infhience. He spoke of protesting against the Convention of Paris, and demanded what right the sovereigns therein allied had to dispose of one, their equal always, and often their superior. He called upon the governor for death or liberty — as if it had been in Sir Hudson Lowe's power to give him either the one or the other. Sir Hudson en- larged on the conveniences of the building which was to be sent from England, to supply the present want of accommodation. Buonaparte repelled the proposed consolation with fury. It was not a house that he wanted, it was an executioner and a line. These he would esteem a favour ; all the rest was but irony and insult. Sir Hudson Lowe could in reply only hope tlmt he had given no personal offence, and was reminded of his review of the do- mestics ; which reproach he listened to in silence.^ Presently afterwards, Napoleon fell on a new and cutting method of exercising Sir Hudson's patience. A book on the campaign of 1814,^ lay on the table. Napoleon turned up some of the English bulletins, and asked, with a tone which was perfectly intelligible, whether the governor had not been the writer of these letters. Being answered in the affirmative. Napoleon, according to Dr. O'Meara, told Sir Hudson they were full of folly and falsehood ; to which the governor, with more patience than most men could have commanded on such an occasion, replied, " I believe I saw what I have stated ;"* an answer certainly as temperate as could be returned to so gratuitous an insult. After Sir Hudson left the room in which he had been received with so much unprovoked incivility, Na- poleon is described as having harangued upon the sinister expi'ession of his countenance, abused him in the coarsest manner, and even caused his valet- de-chambre throw a cup of coffee out of the win- dow, because it had stood a moment on the table beside the governor.^ Every attempt at conciliation on the part of the governor, seemed always to furnish new subjects of irritation. He sent fowling-pieces to Longwood, and Napoleon returned for answer, it was an insult to give fowling-pieces where there is no game ; though Santini, by the way, pretended to support the family in a great measure by his gun. Sir Hudson sent a variety of clothes and other articles from England, which it might be supposed the exiles wex-e in w.ant of. The thanks returned were, that the governor treated them like paupers, and that the articles ought, in due respect, to have been ' Las Cases, torn, ii., p. 89. 2 Las Cases, torn, ii., p. 115-120. 3 Hist, de la Campagne de 1814, par Alplionse de Boau- chanip. * " It appears that this governor was with Blucher, and is the writer of some ofticial letters to yourRovernment, descrip- ti%e of part of the operations of 1814. I pointed them out to him, and asked him, ' K.sl-cc vous, Mun.sieur?' He replied. ' Yes.' 1 told him that they were pleines de/ini.isrtis tt de sot- Uses. He shrugged up his shoulders, and replied, ' J ai cru voir cela.'"— Voice, ^c, vol. i., p. 49. I left at the store, or governor's house, while a list j was sent to the Emperor's household, that such things were at their command if they had any oc- casion for them. On a third occasion. Sir Hudson resolved to be cautious. He had determined to give a ball ; but he consulted Dr. O'Meara whether Napoleon would take it well to be invited. The doctor foresaw that the fatal address, General Btto- naparte, would make shipwreck of the invitation. The governor proposed to avoid this stumbling- block, by asking Napoleon verbally and in person. But with no name which his civility could devise for the invitation, could it be rendered acceptable. A governor of St. Helena, as Napoleon himself ob- served, had need to be a person of great politeness, and at the same time of gi-eat firmness. At length, on 18th August, a decisive quarrel took place. Sir Hudson Lowe was admitted to an audience, at which was present Sir Pulteney Mal- colm, the admiral who now commanded on the station. Dr. O'Meara has preserved the ft)llowing account of the interview, as it was detailed by Na- poleon to his suite, the day after it took place. " ' That governor,' said Napoleon, ' came here yesterday to annoy me. He saw me walking in the garden, aiid in conse- quence, I could not refuse to see him. He wanted to enter into some details with me about reducing the expenses of the establishment. He had the audacity to tell me that things were as he had found them, and that he came up to justify himself; that ho had come up two or three times before to do so, but that I was in a bath.' I replied, ' No, sir, I was not in a bath ; but 1 ordered one on purpose not to see you. In endeavouring to justify yourself vou make matters worse.' He said, that I did not know liim ; that, if I knew him, I should change my opinion. ' Know you, sir! ' 1 answered, 'how could I know you? People make themselves known by their ac- tions— hy commanding in battles. You have nevercommanded in battle. You have never commanded any but vagabond Corsican deserters, Piedmontese and Neajjolitan brigands. I know the name of every English general who has distin- guished himself ; but I never heard of you, except as a. vcrirano [clerk] to Blucher, or as a commandant of brigands. You have never commanded, or been accustomed to men of ho- nour ' He said, that he had not sought for l^is present situa- tion. I told him that snch employments were not asked for; that they were given by governments to peojde who had dis- I honoured tliemselves. "He said, that he only did his duty, and that I ought not to blame him, as he only acted according to his orders. I replied, ' So does the hangnian ; he acts accord- ing to his orders. But when he puts a rope about mv neck to finish me, is that a reason that I should like that hangnian, because he acts according to his orders? Besides, I do not believe that any government could be so mean as to give such orders as you cause to be executed.' I told him, that if he pleased, he need not send up any thiny to cat ; that 1 would go over and dine at the table of the brave oflicers of the i3d ; that 1 was sure there was not one of them who would not be happy to give a plate at the table to an old soldier ; that there was not a soldier in the regiment who had not more heart than he had ; that in the iniquitous bill of Parliament, they had decreed that 1 was to be treated as a prisoner ; but that he treated me worse than a condemned criminal or a galley slave, as they were permitted to receive newspapers and printed books, of which he deprived me.' I said, ' You have power over my body, but none over my soul. That soul is as proud, tierce, and determined at the present moment, as when it commanded Europe.' I told him that he was a sbirro Sici- liaiio (Sicilian thief-taker,) and not an Eniilishman ; and dc- siicd him not to let me see him again until he came with or- ders to despatch me. when he would find all the doors thrown open to admit him. '"6 It is not surprising that this extreme violence met with some return on Sir Hudson's part. He 5 Las Cases, torn, i., p. 121. 6 Voice, SfC, vol. i., p. 9:).—" The Emperor admitted that he had, during this conversation, seriously and repeatedlv of- fended Sir Hudson Lowe ; and he also did him the justice to acknowledge, that Sir Hudson had not precisely shown, in at single instance, any want of respect ; he had contented hina- self with muttering, between his teeth, sentences which wer« not audible. The only failure, i)erhaps, on the part of the go- vernor, and which was trifling, compared with ihc treatment he had received, was the abrupt way i» which lie retire^, while the admiral withdrew slowlv, and with numerous iv lutes."— Las Cases, torn, iii., p. 222, 796 SCOTTS MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1816. told Napoleon that his language was uncivil and ungentlemanlike, and that he would not remain to listen to it. Accordingly, he left Longwood with- out even the usual salutation. Upon these occasions, we think it is evident that Napoleon was the wilful and intentional aggressor, and that his conduct proceeded either from the stings of injured pride, or a calculated scheme, •which made him prefer heing on bad rather than good terms with Sir Hudson Lowe. On the other hand, we could wish that the governor had avoided entering upon the subject of the expenses of his detention with Napoleon in person. The subject was ill-chosen, and could produce no favom-able result. They never afterwards met in friendship, or even on terms of decent civility ; and having given this account of their final quarrel, it oidy remains for us to classify, in a general manner, the various subjects of angry discussion which took place be- twixt them, placed in such uncomfortable relative circumstances, and each determined not to give way to the other's arguments, or accommodate himself to the other's wishes or convenience. CHAPTER XCV. Instnutions to Sir Hudson Lowe — Sum alloiced for the Ex-Emjyeror's Expenses — Napoleoii's proposal to defray his oicn Expenses — Sale of his Plate — made in order to produce a false impression : he had at that time a large sum of Money in his stronij-hox — Wooden-House constructed in Lon- don, and transported to St. Helena— I nterciexo between Sir H. Lowe and Napoleon — Delays in the Erection of the House — The Regulation that a British Officer should attend Napoleon in his Hides — Communication with Europe carried on by the Inmates of Longwood — Regulation respect- inq Napoleon's Intercourse with the Inhabitants of St. Helena — General Reflections on the Dis- putes between him and Sir H. Lowe. Before entering upon such brief inquiry as our bounds will permit, into the conduct of the new governor towards Napoleon, it may be necessary to show what were his, Sir Hudson Lowe's, instruc- tions from the English Government on the subject of the custody of the Ex-Emperor : — " Dimming Street, I2th September, 1816. " You will observe, that the desire of his Majesty's Govern- ment is, to allow every indiilKcnce to General Buonaparte, which may be compatible witli the entire security of his per- son. That he should not by any means escape, or hold com- munication with any person whatsoever, excepting through your agency, must be your unremitted care ; and those points being made sure, every resource and amusement, which may serve to reconcile Buonaparte to his confinement, may be liermittcd." A few weeks later, the Secretary of State wrote to Sir Hudson Lowe a letter to the same purpose with the former, 2Gth 0>.-tober, 1816 :— " With respect to General Buonaparte himself, I deem it unnecessary to give you any farther instructions. I am confi- dent that your own disposition will prompt you to anticipate the wishes of his Royal Higliness the Prince Regent, and make every allowance for the effect which so sudden a chanpe of situation cannot fail to produce on a peison of his irritable temper. You will, however, not permit your forbearance or generosity towards him to interfere with any regulations which may have been established for preventing his escape, or which you may hereafter consider necessary for the better tccurity of his person." The just and honourable principle avowed by Government is obvious. But it was an extraor- dinary and most delicate tax upon Sir Hudson Lowe, which enjoined him to keep fast prisoner an individual, who, of all others, was likely to be most impatient of restraint, and, at the same time, to treat him with such delicacy as might disguise his situation from himself, if it could not reconcile him to it. If Sir Hudson failed in doing so, he may be allowed to plead, that it was in a case in which few could have succeeded. Accordingly, Napoleon's complaints against the governor were bitter and clamorous. The first point of complaint on the part of the family at Longwood, respected the allowance as- signed by the British Government for their sup- port, which they alleged to be insufficient to their wants. This was not a point on which Napoleon thought it proper to express his feelings in his own person. His attention was apparently fixed upon obtaining concessions in certain points of etiquette, which might take him from under the condition in which he was most unwilling to allow himself to be placed, in the rank, namely, of a prisoner of war. The theme, of the inadequacy of the allowance, was not, however, left untouched, as those con- cerned were well aware that there was no subject of grievance which would come more home to the people of England than one which turned upon a deficiency either in the quantity or quality of the food supplied to the exiles. Montholon's letter was clamant on the subject ; and Santini intimated, that the Emperor must sometimes have gone with- out a meal altogether, had he (Santini) not been successful with his gun. The true state of the case was this : — The Bri- tish Government had determined that Napoleon's table should be provided for at the rate of a gene- ral of the first rank, together with his military fa- mily. The expense of such an establishment wa& by the regulations furnished to Sir Hudson Lowe, dated 15th April, and SSd November, 1816, sup- posed to reach to £8000 a-year, with permission, however, to extend it as far as £12,000, should he think it necessary. The expense could not, in Sir Hudson Lowe's opinion, be kept within L.8000 ; and indeed it was instantly extended by him to £12,000, paid in monthly instalments to the pur- veyor, I\Ir. Balcombe, by whom it was expended in support of the establishment at Longwood. If, however, even L. 12,000, the sum fixed as a pro- bable ultimatum, should, in the governor's opinion, be found, from dearth, high price of provisions, or otherwise, practically insufficient to meet and an- swer the expense of a general's family, calculated on a liberal scale. Sir Hudson Lowe had liberty from Government to e.xtend the purveyor's allow- ance without limitation. But if, on the other hand, the French should desire to add to their house- keeping any thing which the governor should think superfluous, in reference to the rank assigned to the principal person, they were themselves to be at the charge of such extraordinary expenditure. It is apprehended that the British Government could not be expected to do more fur Napoleon's liberal maintenance, than to give the governor an unlimited order to provide fur it, upon the scale applicable to the rank of a general (jfficer of the first rate. But yet the result, as the matter was managed, was not so honourable to Great Britain* 181G.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 797 as the intentions of the Government really designed. The fact is, that virtues as well as vices have their day of fashion in England ; and at the conclusion of the peace, when the nation were cloyed with victory, men began, like epicui-es after a feast, to wrangle about the reckoning. Every one felt the influence of the Quart d'heure de Rabelais. It as- cended into the Houses of Parliament, and eco- nomy was the general theme of the day. There can be no doubt that a judicious restriction upon expenditure is the only permanent source of na- tional wealth ; but, like all other virtues, parsi- mony may be carried to an extreme, and there are situations in which it has all the meanness of ava- rice. The waste of a few pounds of meat, of a hun- dred billets of wood, of a few bottles of wine, ought not to have been made the shadow of a question between Britain and Napoleon ; and it would have been better to have winked at and given way to the prodigality of a family, which had no motives of economy on their own part, than to be called upon to discuss such petty domestic details in the great council of the nation, sitting as judges betwixt Eng- land and her prisoner. A brief answer to those who might in that case have charged the govern- ment with prodigality, might have been found in refeiTing the censors to the immense sums saved by the detention of Napoleon in St. Helena. It is something of a different scale of expense, which is requisite to maintain a score of pei'sons even in the most extravagant manner, and to support an army of three hundred thousand men. But although such disputes arose, we think, from the governor mistaking the meaning of the British ministers, and descending, if he really did so, to details about the quality of salt or sugar to be used in the kitchen at Longwood, there is no reason to entertain the belief that the prisoners had any actual restriction to complain of, though it might not always happen that articles of the first quality could be procured at St. Helena so easily as at Paris. The East India Company sent out the sup- plies to the purveyor, and they consisted of every luxury which could be imagined ; so that delicacies very unusual in St. Helena could, during Napo- leon's residence, be obtained there for any one who chose to be at the expense. The wine was (gene- rally speaking) excellent in quality, and of the first price ;' and although there was rather too much said and thought about the quantity consumed, yet it was furnished, as we shall hereafter see, in a quantity far beyond the limits of ordinary convi- viality. Indeed, although the French officers, while hunting for grievances, made complaints of their treatment at table, and circulated, in such books as that of Santini, the gi-osscst scandal on that subject, yet when called on as men of honour to give their opinion, they did justice to the gover- nor in this respect. In a letter of General Bertrand to the governor, he expresses himself thus : — " Be assured that we are well persuaded of the good intentions of the governor, to supply us with every thing necessary, and that as to provisions there will never be any complaints, or if there are, they will be made against the government, not against the governor, up in ' The claret, foi example, was that of Carhonel, at L.G pe.- dozen without duty. Each domestic of superior rank was al- lowed a liottle of this wine, which is as choice, as dear cer- tainly, as could be brought to the table of sovereigns. The whom the matter does not depend." He adds, " that such were the sentiments of the Enipei'or. That indeed they had been under some difficulties when the plate was broken up, but that ever since then they had been well supplied, and had no com- plaint whatever to make." Such is the evidence of Count Bertrand, when deliberately writing to the governor through his military secretary. But we have also the opinion of the Ex-Em- peror himself, transmitted by Dr. O'Meara, who was at that time, as already noticed, in the habit of sending to the governor such scraps of informa- tion as he heard in conversation at Longwood : " 5th .Time, 1817. " He (Buonaparte) observed that Pantini's was a foolish production, exasgerated, full of coplinnerie. and some lies; Truths there were in it, but exasperated. That there never had existed that actual want described by him ; that there had been enough to eat supplied, but not enough to keep a proper table; that there had been enough of wine for them ; that there certainly had been sometimes a deficiency of necessary articles, but that this might be accounted for by accidents ; that he believed frequent purchases had been made, at the camp, of bread and other provisions, which might also have occasionally arisen from the same cause. He added, he was convinced some Englishman had written it, and not Santini." There is something to the same purpose in Dr. O'Meara's printed book,^ but not so particular. What makes Napoleon's confutation of Santini's work the more amusing, is, that according to Ge- neral Gourgaud's communication to the British Government, Napoleon was himself the author of the whole, or greater part, of the work in question. The difference between the prisoner and governor, so far as it really existed, may have had its rise in the original dispute ; for a table, which suited the rank of a general, must have been considerably in- ferior to one kept for an emperor ; and while the former was what the governor was directed to maintain, the latter was what Napoleon conceived himself entitled to expect. The permission given to Buonaparte, and which indeed could not be well refused, to purchase from his own funds what additional articles he desired beyotid those supplied by the British Government, afforded peculiar facilities to the French, which they did not fail to make use of. Napoleon's money had been temporarily taken into custody when he left the Bellerophon, with a view to prevent his having the means of facilitating his escape by bri- bery. The permitting him to draw upon the con- tinent for money, would have been in a great mea- sure restoring to him the golden key before which prison-gates give way, and also tending to afford him the means of secret correspondence with those friends abroad, who might aid him to arrange a scheme of flight. Indeed, the advantages of this species of corres- pondence were of such evident importance, that Napoleon, through General Montholon, made tlie following proposal, which was sent to Lord Ba- thurst by the governor, 8t]i September, 1816 : — " The Emperor," he said, " was desirous to enter into ar- rangements for paying the ivhole of his expenses, providing any house here, or in England, or on the continent of Eu- rope, to be fixed on with the governor's consent, or even at his own choice, were ajijiointed to transact his money-mat- ters ; under assurance from him. General Huonaparte, that all letters sent through his hands would be solely on pecuni- ary affairs. But provided always, that such letters should pass scaleil and unopened to their direction." labourers and soldiers had each, daily, a bottle of Tenerifiit wine of excellent quality. — S. 2 Voice, &c., vol. ii., p. 76. 798 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1816. It is probable that Napoleon concluded, from the ferment which was at tiiat time talcing place in Parliament on the subjeot of economy, that the English nation was on the point of bankruptcy, and did not doubt that an offer, which promised to. re- lieve them of £12,000 a-year, would be eagerly caught at by Sir Hudson Lowe, or the British Mi- nistry. But the governor saw the peril of a mea- sure, which, in its immediate and direct tendency, went to place funds to any amount at the command of the Ex-Emperor, and might, more' indirectly, lead the way to private correspondence of every kind. Napoleon, indeed, had offered to plight his word, that the communication should not be used for any other than pecuniary purposes ; but Sir Hudson liked not the security. On his part, the governor tendered a proposal, that the letters to the bankers should be visible only to himself, and to Lord Bathurst, the secretary for the colonial department, and pledged his word that they would observe the most inviolable secrecy on the subject of the contents ; but this arrangement did not an- swer Napoleon's purposes, and the arrangement was altogether dropped. It was about the same time that Sir Hudson Lowe was desirous to keep the expense of the es- tablishment within £12,000. A conference on this subject was held betwixt General Montholon, who took charge of the department of tlie household, and Major Gorrequer, belonging to Sir Hudson's staff, who acted on the part of the governor. It appears that Sir Hudson had either misapprehended the instructions of the government, and deemed himself rigidly bound to limit the expenses of Long- wood within £12,000 yearly, not adverting that he had an option to extend it beyond that sum ; or else that he considei-ed the surplus above £1000 per month, to consist of such articles of extra ex- penditure as the French might, in a free interpre- tation of his instructions, be required to pay for themselves, as being beyond the limits of a general- officer's table, provided upon the most liberal plan. General Montholon stated, that the family could not be provided, even after many reductions, at a cheaper rate than £15,194, and that this was the minimum of minhnums, the least possible sum. He offered, that the Emperor would draw for the sum wanted, providing he was permitted to send a seal- ed letter to the banking-house. This, Major Gor- requer said, could not be allowed. Count ftlontho- lon then declared, thatasthe Emperor was not per- mitted by the British Government to have access to his funds in Europe, he had no other means left than to dispose of his property here ; and that if the Emperor was obliged to defray those expenses of the establishment, which went beyond the al- lowance made by Britain, he must dispose of his plate. This pi'oposal was too rashly assented to by Sir Hudson Lowe, whose instructions of 22d Novem- ber empowered him to have prevented a circum- stance so glaringly calculated to accredit all that had ever be said or written respecting the mean and sordid manner in which tlie late Emperor of France was treated. Napoleon had an opportunity, at the ' " Sept. U(.— The Emperor examined a large bas>ket-full of broken plate, which was to be sent next day to the town. This was to be for the future the indispensable complement for our monthly subsistence, in consequence of the late reduc- tions ot the governor. When the moment had come for sacrifice of a parcel of old silver plate, to amuse his own moments of languor, by laughing at and turn- ing into ridicule the inconsistent qualities of tha English nation— at one time sending him a liouse and furniture to the value of £60,000 or £70,000 ; at another, obliging him to sell his plate, and dis- charge his servants ; and all for the sake of a few bottles of wine, or pounds of meat. Sir Hudson Lowe ought not to have exposed his country to such a charge ; and, even if his instructions seemed inexplicit on the subject, he ought, on his own in- terpretation of them, to have paid the extra ex- pense, without giving room to such general scandal as was sure to arise from Napoleon's disposing of his plate. But if the governor took too narrow a view of his duty upon this occasion, what are we to say of the poor conduct of Napoleon, who, while he had specie in his strong-box to have defrayed three times the sum wanted to defray the alleged balance, yet preferred making the paltry sale alluded to, that he might appear before Europe in forma pau- peris, and set uj) a claim to compassion as a man driven to such extremity as to be obliged to part with the plate from his table, in order to be enabled to cover it with the necessary food ! He was well aware that little compassion would have been paid to him, had he been possessed of ready money suffi- cient to supply any deficiencies in the tolerably ample allowance paid by England ; and that it was only the idea of his poverty, proved, as it seemed, by a step, which even private individuals only take in a case of necessity, which made his case appear strong and clamant. The feeling of compassion must have given place to one of a very different kind, had the actual circumstances of the case been fully and fairly known. The communications of General Gourgaud, upon parting with Sir Hudson Lowe, put the governor in possession of the curious fact, that the breaking up of the plate' was a mere trick, resorted to on account of the impression it was calculated to pro- duce in England and Europe ; for that at the time they had at Longwood plenty of money. Sir Hud- son Lowe conjectured, that General Gourgaud al- luded to the sale of some stock belonging to Las Cases, the value of which that devoted adherent had placed at Napoleon's disposal ; but Genera) Gourgaud replied, " No, no ; before that transac- tion they had received 240,000 francs, chiefly in Spanish doubloons." He further said, that it was Prince Eugene who lodged the money in the hands of the bankers. In London, General Gourgaud made the same communication. We copy the words in which it is reported by Sir Hudson Lowe to Lord Bathurst: — " General Gourgaud stated himself to have been aware of General Buonaparte having received a considerable sum of money in Spanish doubloons, viz. £lO,0(KI, at the very time he disposed of his plate ; but, on being jircssed by me as to the persons privy to that transaction, he contented himself with' assuring me, that the mode of its transmission was one purely accidental : that it could never again occur; and that, such being the case, be trusted that I should not press a dis- covery, which, while it betrayed its author, could have no effect, either as it regarded the punishment of the offenders, or the prevention of a similar act in future. The actual pos- session of money was, moreover, not likely, in his view of the breaking up this plate, the servants could not, without the greatest reluctance, bring themselves to apply the hammer to these objects of their veneration. This act upset all tlicii ideas ; it was to them a sacrilege, a desolation! Soine of thern shed tears on the occasion ! I " — Las Cases, torn, iii., p. 1R4. 1816.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 799 enbjcct, to afford any additional means of corniptin<» tlie fide-' iity of those whom it miaht be advisable to seduce ; as it was well known, that any draught, whatever misiht be its amount, drawn by General Buonaparte on Prince Eugene, or on cer- tain other members of his family, would be scrupulously honoured." He further stated, that it was Napoleon's policy io make a moyen, a fund for execution of his plans, by placing sums of money at his, General Gour- gaud's command, and that he had sustained ill- treatment on the part of Napoleon, and much im- jiortunity on that of Bertrand, because he declined lending himself to facilitate secret correspondence. Whatever sjinpathy Buonaparte may claim for his other distresses at St. Helena, it was made plain from this important disclosure, that want of funds could be none of them ; and it is no less so, that the trick of selling the plate can now prove nothing, excepting that Napoleon's system was a deceptive one ; and that evidence of any sort, arising either from his word or actions, is to be received with caution, when there is an apparent point to be carried by it. When Sir Hudson Lowe's report reached Eng- land, that the excess of the expenditure at Long- wood, about twelve thousand pounds, had been defrayed by Napoleon himself, it did not meet the approbation of the Ministry; who again laid before the governor the distinction which he was to draw betwixt expenses necessary to maintain the table and household of a general officer, and such as might be of a nature different from, and exceeding those attendant on the household of a person of that rank ; which last, and those alone, the French might be called on to defrav. The order is dated '24th Oct. 1817. • " As I o(«erYe from the statement contained in your de- spatch, No. 84, that the expense of General Buonaparte's establishment exceeds A.'12,(li per annum, and that tlic ex- cess beyond that sum has, up to the date of that dcsjiatch, been defrayed from his own funds, I deem it necessary again to call your attention to that iiart of my despatch. No. 15, of the 22d November last, in which, in limiting the expense to i'12,0iifl a-year, I still left you at liberty to incur a farther expenditure, should yon consider it to be necessary for the comfort of General Buonaparte: and to repeat, that, if you should consider the sum of f 12,00ii a-year not to be adequate to maintain such an establishment as would be requisite Jbr a general crfficer of distinction, you u-ill have no difficulty in mak- ing what you deem to be a requisite addition. But, on the other hand, if the expenses which General Buonaparte has himself defrayed are beyond what, on a liberal construction, might be proper for a general officer of distinction, tou will permit them, as heretofore, to be defrayed from Lis own funds." These positive and reiterated instructions serve to show that there was never a wish on the part of Britain to deal harshly, or even closely with Napo- leon ; as the avowals of General Gourgaud prove, on the other hand, that if the governor was too rigid on the subject of expense, the prisoner pos- sessed means sufficient to have saved him from any possible consequences of self-denial, which might have accrued from being compelled to live at so low a rate as twelve thousand pounds a- year. The subject of the residence of Napoleon con- tinued to furnish great subjects of complaint and commotion. We have recorded otu: opinion, that, from the beginning, Plantation-house, as the best residence in the island, ought to have been set apart for his use. If, however, this was objected to, the building a new house from the foundation, even with the indifferent means which the island affords, would have been far more respectable, and perhaps as economical, as constructing a great wooden frame in London, and transporting it to St. Helena, where it arrived, with the furniture des- tined for it, in May, 1816. It was not, however, a complete />rt)'a^j/uie house, as such structures have been called, but only the materials for constructing such a one ; capable of being erected separately, or, at Napoleon's choice, of being employed for making large and commodious additions to the mansion which he already occupied. It bccatre a matter of courtesy to inquire whether it would best answer Napoleon's idea of convenience thai an entirely new edifice should be constructed, or whether that end would be better attained by suf- fering the former building to remain, and con- structing the new one in the form of an addition to it. We have recounted an interview betwixt Napoleon and the governor, in the words of the former, as delivered to O'Meara. The present we give as furnished by Sir Hudson, in a de- spatch to Lord Bathurst, dated 17th May, 1816 : — " It becoming necessary to cnrae to some decision in respect to the house and furniture which had been sent from England for the accommodation of General Buonaparte and his follow- ers, I resolved on waiting upon him, communicating to him the arrival of the various materials, and asking his sentiments with respect to their a])propriation, before I made any dispo- sition of them. I previously called on General Bertrand, to ask if he thought General Biionaparte would be at leisure to receive me; and on his reply, which was in' the afhrmative, I proceeded to LongwoodThousc, where, having met Count Las Cases, I begged he would be the bearer of my message to the general, acquainting him with my being there, if his conve- nience admitted of being visited by me. I received a reply, saying, ' The Emperor would see me.' '' I passed through his outer dining-room into his drawing- room. He was alone, standing with his hat under his arm, in the manner in which he usually presents himself when he assumes his imperial dignity. He remained silent, expecting 1 would address him. Finding him not disposed to commence, 1 began in the following words :—' Sir, you will probably have seen by our English newspapers, as well, perhaps, as heard througii other channels, ot the intention of the British Go- vernment to send out hither for your accommodation the ma- terials for the construction of a house, with every necessary funiiture. These articles have now for the first time arrived. In the meantime, Government has received information of the building prepared for your reception at this place, and I have instructions for ajipropriating the articles as may seem best, whether for making a new building, or adding to the conveniences of the jiresent one. Before making any disposi- tion on the subject, I waited to know whether you had any desires to communicate to me regarding it." He stood as be- fore, and made no reply. " Observing his silence continue, I again commenced by saying. ' I have conceived, sir, that possibly the addition of two or three good rooms (deux ou trois salons) to vour present house, with other improvements to it, might add to your con- venience in less time than bv constructing a new building.' He then commenced, but Bpo"ke with such rapidity, such in- temperance, and so much warmth, that it is difficult to repeat every word he used. Without apparently having lent an ear to what I said, he began—' I do not at all understand the conduct of your government towards me. Do they desire to kill me':" And do you come here to be my executioner, as well as my gaoler?— Posterity will judge of the manner in which I have been treated. The misfortunes which I suffer will recoil upon your nation. No, sir; never will I suffer any person to enter into the interior of my house, or jienetrate into my bed-chamber, as you have given orders. When I heard of your arrival in this island, 1 believed that, as being an officer of the army, you would be possessed of a more polite character than an admiral, who is a navy-officer, and might have more harsh manners. I have no reason to complain of his heart. By you, sir— in what manner do you treat me? It is an insult to invite me to dinner by the name of General Buonaparte. I am not General Buonaparte— I am the Em- peror Napoleon. I ask you again— have you come hitherto be mv gaoler— my hangman ? ' Whilst speaking in this man- ner, his right arm moved backward and forward; his person stood fixed ; his eyes and countenance exhibiting every thing which could be sujjposed in a person who meant to intimidate or irritate. " I suffered him to proceed throughout, not without a strong feeling of restraint on myself, until he was really out of breath, when, on his stopping, I said, ' Sir. I am not come here to be insulted, but to treat of an affair which regards you more than me. If you arc not disposed to talk upon the sub- ject ' " ' I have no intention to Insult you, sir,' lie replied ; ' btit 800 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [181C, in what sort of manner have you treated me? is it in a soldier- like fashion?' " I answered, 'Sir, I am a soldier aecordiiif; to the fashion of ray own country, to do my duty to her nccordinRly, and not according to the fashion of foreigners. Besides, if you con- ceive you have any reason to complain of me, you have only to put your accusation upon paper, and I will send it to Eng- land iy the nrst opportunity.' " 'To what good purpose?* he said; 'my complaints will not be more public there than here.' " ' I will cause them be published,' I answered, ' in all the gazettes of the continent, if you desire it. I do my duty, and every thing else is indifferent to nie.' " Then, adverting for the tirst time to the matter which had oron^ht me to him. he said, ' Your government has made me no official communication of tlie arrival of this house. Is it to be constructed where I please, or where you may fix it to be?' " ' I am now come, sir, for the express purpo.se of announ- cing it to you. I have no difficulty in replying to tlie other point: If tnere is any particular spot, which you might have thought of to erect it upon, I will examine it, and have it erected there, if I see no objection to it. If I see any objec- tion to it, I will acquaint you with it. It was to combine this matter in some degree of concert with you that I am now come.' " ' Then you had better speak to the grand mar^chal about it, and settle it with him.' " ' I prefer, sir, addressing you upon it. I find so many m^siniclliflcnces happen, when I adopt the medium of other persons (i>articularly as in the instance of the orders which you mention I had given for forcing an entrance into your pri- vate apartments,) that I find it more satisfactory to address yourself " He made no particular reply to this, walked about for a moment, and then, working himself up apparently to say something which lie thom^ht would appal me with extraordi- nary surprise or dread, he said—' Do you wish me, sir, to tell you the truth? Yes, sir, I ask you if you desire me to tell you the truth? 1 believe that you have received orders to kill me— yes, to kill me — yes, sir, I believe that you have re- ceived orders to stick at nothing— nothing.' He then looked at me, as if expecting a reply. My answer was—' You were pleased to remark, sir, in our last interview, that you had miscalculated the spirit of the English people. Give me leave to say, you at present calculate as erroneously the spirit of an English soldier.' " Our intervievr here terminated; and, as if neither of us had any thing more to say, we mutually separated." Sir Hudson received a Ifctter in reply to his account of this strange and violent scene, in which his forbearance and firmness are approved of. But we quote it, chiefly because it marks the intention of the British Government with respect to Buonajiarte, and shows the consideration which they had for his peculiar condition, and the extent of forbearance which it was their desire should be extended towards him by the governor of St. Helena : " There is a wide distinction between the ciraduct which you ought to hold towards General Buonaparte, and towards those who h.ave cliosen to follow his fortunes, by accompany- ing him to St. Helena. " It would be a want of generosity not to make great allow- ance for the intemperate language into which the former may at times be betrayed. The height from whence he has been f)recipitated, and all the circumstances which have attended lis fall, are sufhcicnt to overset a mind less irritable than his ; and it is to be apprehended that he can find little consolation in his reflections, either in the means by which he obtained his ])Ower, or his maniier of exercising it. So long, therefore, as his violence is confined to words, it must be borne with— always understanding, and giving him to understand, that any wilful transgression, on his part, of the rules which you may think it necessary to prescribe for the security of his per- son, will place you under the necessity of adopting a system of restraint, which it will be most painful to you to inflict. " With respect to his followers, they stand in a very differ- ent situation ; they cannot be too frequently reminded, that their continuance in the island is an act of indulgence on the part of the British Government; and you will inform them that you have received strict instructions to remove them from the person of General Buonaparte, and to transport them out of the island, if thiy shall not conduct themselves ' " As I was waiting in the antechamber with the military secretary. I could hear, from the Emperor's tone of voice, that he was irritated. The audience was a very long, and a verv clamorous one. On the governor's departure, 1 went to the gardeii, whither the Emperor had sent for me. ' Well, Las Cases,' said he, ' we have had a violent scene. I have been , .. ...„ _ . thrown quite out of temper ! They have now sent me worse | fore.' "—Las Casks, tom. ii., p. 280. I •with that respect which your situation demanfts, and •with that strict attention to your regulations which is the indispen- sable condition on which their residence in the island is per- mitted." The stormy dispute, which took place on the 16th May, 1816,' left every thing unsettled with respect to the house ; and indeed it may be conjectured, without injustice, that Napoleon preferred the old and inconvenient mansion, with the right to complain of it as a grievance, to the new and commodious one, the possession of which must have shut his lips upon one fertile subject of mis- representation. Repeated and equally nugatory discussions on the subject took place during the course of two or three years, all which time Napo- leon complained of the want of the promised house, and the governor, on his side, alleged, there was no getting Napoleon to express a fixed opinion on the situation or the plan, or to say whether he would prefer a thorough repair of the old house, occupying M. Bertrand's apartments in the mean while, until the work should be accomplished. Sometimes Napoleon spoke of changing the situa- tion of the house, but he never, according to Sir Hudson Lowe's averment, intimated any specific wish upon that suliject, nor would condescend to say distinctly in what place it should be erected. Napoleon on his part maintained that he was con- fined for three years in an unhealthy barn, during which time the governor was perpetually talking about a house which had never been commenced. While the blame is thus reciprocally retorted, the impartial historian can only say, that had Sir Hud- son Lowe delayed willingly the building of the house, he must have exposed himself to severe censure from his government in consequence, since his despatches were daily urging the task. There was nothing which the governor could place against this serious risk, except the malicious purpose of distressing Napoleon. On the other hand, in sub- mitting to indifferent accommodation, rather than communicate with a man whom he seemed to hold in abhorrence, Napoleon only acted upon his gene- ral system, of which this was a part, and sacrificed his convenience, as he afterwards did his health, rather than bend his mind to comply with the regulations of his place of captivity. Mr. Ellis an unprejudiced witness, declares that the original house seemed to him commodious and well fur- nished. The fate of the new house was singular enough. It was at last erected, and is said to be a large and comfortable edifice. But it happened, that the plan directed the building to be surrounded, as is common in England, with something like a sunk ditch, surrounded by cast-iron railing of an orna- mental character. No sooner had Napoleon seen these preparations, than the idea of a fortification and a dungeon entered into his head ; nor was it possible to convince him that the rails and sunk fence were not intended as additional means of securing his person. When Sir Hudson Lowe learned the objection which had been started, he ordered the ground to be levelled, and the palisade removed. But before this was accomplished, Na- than a gaoler ! Sir Hudson Lowe is a downright executioner ; I received him to-day with my stormy countenance, my head inclined, and my ear's pricked up. W e looked most furiously at each other. My anger must have been powerfully excited, for I felt a vibration in the calf of my left leg. This is always a sure sign with me ; and I have not felt it for a long time be- 1818.J LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 801 poleon's health was too mucli broken to permit of his being removed, so tliat he died under tlie same roof which received b.ini after his temporary resi- dence at Briars. Another subject of complaint, which Napoleon greatly insisted upon, was, that the governor of St. Helena had not been placed there merely as a ministerial person, to see duly executed the in- structions which he should i-eceive from Britain, but as a legislator, himself possessing and exercis- ing the power to alter the regulations under jvhich his prisoner was to be confined, to recall them, to suspend them, and finally, to replace them. To this it must be answered, that in such a situation, where the governor, holding so important a charge, was at so great a distance from the original source of his power, some discretionary authority must necessarily be lodged in himj since cases must occur where he was to act on the event as it arose, and it was indispensable that he siiould possess the ])ower to do so. It must also be remembered, that different constructions might possibly be given to the instructions from the Secretary of State ; and it would, in that case, have been equally anomalous and inconvenient should the governor not have had it in his power to adopt that explanation which cir- cumstances demanded, and not less so if he had been obliged to litigate the point with his prisoner, and, as a more ministerial person must have done, wait till a commentary on the disputed article should arrive from England. It is a different question, and on which we are far from having so clear an opinion, whether Sir Hudson Lowe, in every case, exercised this high privilege with sound discretion. It would be unjust to condemn him unlieard, who has never fairly been put upon his defence, and the evidence against whom is, we must again say, of a very suspicious natiu-e. Still it appears, that alterations of the existing regulations were, as far as we have information, more frequent than necessity, the best if not the only apology for varying the manner of such proceedings, .seems to have autho- rised. For example, one of the heaviest of Napoleon's complaints is made against the restriction of the limits within which he might take exercise witlmut the company of a British officer, which, instead of extending to twelve miles in circumference, were contracted to two-thirds of that space. Every thing in this world is relative, and we can conceive the loss of one-third of his exercising groimd to iiave been, at this moment, a more sincere subject of distress to Napoleon, than the loss of a kingdom while he yet govei'uod Europe. The apology al- leged for this was the disposition which Napoleon seemed to show to cultivate the acquaintance of the inhabitants of St. Helena, more than it was advisable that he should have the op])ortunity of doing. We can easily conceive this to be true ; for not only might Napoleon be disposed, from policy, to make friends among the better classes by his irresistible conciliation of manners, and of the lower class by familiarity and largesses ; but he must also be supposed, with the feelings natural to humanity in distress, to seek some little variety from the monotony of existence, some little resump- tion of connexion with the human race, from which, his few followers excepted, he was in a manner excluded. But this aptitude to mingle with such \0L. II. society as chance tlu-ew within his reach, in his very limited range, might perhaps have been in- dulged without the possibility of his making any bad use of it, especially since no one could enter these grounds without passes and orders. The limits were shortly after restored by Sir Hudson Lowe to their original extent. Napoleon having declared that unless this were the case, he would not consent to take exercise, or observe the usual means of keeping himself in health. The injunction requiring that Buonaparte should daily be seen by an orderly officer, was, under Sir Hudson Lowe's authority, as it had been under that of Sir George Cockburn, the subject of Buo- naparte's most violent opposition. He affected to apprehend that it was to be enforced by positive violence, and carried this so far as to load fire-arms, with the idea of resisting by force any attempt of an orderly officer to insist upon performing this part of his duty. He alludes resentfully to the circumstance in his angry interview with Sir Hud- son Lowe upon the 16th May, 1816. Yet, of all unpleasant regulations to which a prisoner is sub- jected by his captivity, that appears the least ob- jectionable, which, assuring us from space to space that the person of the prisoner is secure, enables us, in the interval, to leave him a much greater share of personal freedom than otherwise could be permitted, because the shortness of each interval does not allow him time to use it in escape. Never- theless, Sir Hudson Lowe, as already hinted, was content in this case to yield to the violent threats of Napoleon, and rather svift'er the duty to be exer- cised imperfectly and by chance, than run the risk of his prisoner perishing in the affray which his obstinacy thi-eatened. Perhaps the governor may be in this case rather censured as having given up a point impressed upon him by his original instruc- tions, than blamed for executing them too strictly against the remarkable person wlio was his prisoner. We cannot but repeat the opinion we have been led to form, that, could Buonaparte's bodily pre- sence liave been exactly ascertained from time to time, his rambles through the whole of the island might have been permitted, oven without the pre- sence of a military officer. This regulation was another circumstance, of which Napoleon most heavily complained. He re- garded the company of such attendant as a mark of his defeat and imprisonment, and resolved, there- fore, rather to submit to remain within the limits of the grounds of Longwood, narrow as they were, than, by stirring without them, to expose himself to the necessity of admitting the company of this odious guardian. It may be thought, that in thus judging. Napoleon did not adopt the most philoso- phical or even the wisest opinion. Misfortune in war is no disgrace ; and to be prisoner, has been the lot before now both of kings and emperors. The orderly officers, also, who were ready to ac- company Napoleon in his ride, might be often men of information and accomplishment ; and their so- ciety and conversation could not but have added some variety to days so little diversified as those spent by Napoleon. The prisoner, however, was incapable of deriving amusement from any such source. It might be as well ex[>ected that the occupant of a dungeon should amuse himself with botanizing in the ditches which moat it round. Napoleon could not forget wjiai 3f 802 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1818. he had been and what lie was, and plainly confessed by his conduct that lie was contented rather to die, than to appear iu public wearing the badge of his fate, like one who was sitting down resigned to it. \VhiIe so averse to this regulation. Napoleon had not taken the proper mode of escaping Ironi its in- fluence. Sir George Cockburn, upon his remon- strance after his first arrival, had granted to him a dispensation from the attendance of an orderly officer, at least in his immediate company or vici- nity. This privilege was suddenly withdrawn while the admiral was yet upon the island, and both Napoleon and the various St. Helena authors, Ijas Cases in particular, make the most bitter com- nlaints on the tantalizing conduct of Sir George Cockburn, who gave an indulgence, as it would seem, only with the cruel view of recalling it the next morning. The truth is here told, but not the whole truth. Napoleon had engaged to the ad- miral, that, in consideration of this indulgence, he would not enter into any intercourse with any of the inhabitants whom he might meet during the time of his excursion. He chose to break through his promise the very first time that he rode out alone, or only with his suite ; and hence Sir George Cockburn, considering faith as broken with him, recalled the permission altogether. It was not, therefore, with a good gi*ace, that Napoleon com- plained of the want of inclination on the part of the governor, to restore an indulgence to him, which he had almost instantly made a use of that was contrary to his express engagement. The truth is, that the Ex-Emperor had his own peculiar manner of viewing his own ease. He considered every degree of leniency, which was at any time exercised, as a restoration of some small portion of that liberty, of which he conceived himself to be deprived illegally and tyrannically ; and scrupled no more to employ what he got in endeavouring to attain a farther degree of freedom, than the prisoner whose hand is extricated from fetters would hesitate to employ it in freeing his feet. There can be no doubt, that if by means of such a privilege as riding without the attendance of an officer, he could have arranged or facilitated any mode of final escape, he would not have hesitated to use it to that effect. But, on the other hand, such being his way of thinking, and hardly disguised, it put the governor strongly on his guard against granting any relaxa- tion of the vigilance necessary for effectually con- fining him. Indulgences of this nature are, so far as tliey go, a species of confidence reposed in the captive by the humanity of his keeper, and cannot, in perfect good faith, be used to purposes, which must lead to the disgrace, or perhaps the ruin, of the party who grants them. If, therefore. Napo- leon showed himself determined to hold a closer and more frequent intercourse with the natives of St. Helena, and the strangers who visited the island, than Sir Hudson Lowe approved, it only remained for the latter to take care that sucli interviews should not occur without a witness, by adhering to the restrictions, which required that a British offi- cer should attend upon the more distant excursions of the hard-ruled captive. It is to be remarked, that this intercourse with the inhabitants, and others who visited St. Helena, was no imaginary danger, but actually existed to a considerable extent, and for jnirposes calculated to alarm Sir Hudson Lowe's watchfulness, and to transgress in a most material respect his instruc- tions from government. The disclosures of General Gourgaud are on these points decisive. Tliat officer " had no difficulty in avowing, that there has always existed a free aiid uninterrupted communication be- twixt the inhabitants or J^ongwood and the country, without the knowledge or intervention ot the governor; and that this has been made use of, not only for the purpose of receiving and transmitting letters, but for that of transmitting pani plilets, money, and other articles, of which the party in Long- wood might from time to time have been in want^ and that the cort-espondence was for the most part carried on direct with Great Britain. That the persons employed in it wero those Englishmen who from time to time visit St. Helena, to all of whom the attendants and servants of Buonaparte have free access, and who, generally speaking, are willing, many of them without reward, and others for very small pecuniary considerations, to convey to Europe any letter or packet in- trusted to their charge. It would appear also, that the cap- tain and others on board the merchant ships touching at the Island, whether belonging to the East India Company, or to other persons, are considered at Longwood as being peculiarly open to the seduction of Buonaparte's talents ; so much so, that the inhabitants of Longwood have regarded it as a mat- ter of small difficulty to procure a j>assage on board one of these ships for General Buonaparte, if escape should be at any time his object." In corroboration of what is above stated, of the free communication betwixt St. Helena and Europe, occurs the whimsical story told by Dr. Antommarchi, of a number of copies of Dr. O'Meara's book being smuggled ashore at St. Helena, inider the disguise of tracts distributed by a religious society. Another instance is mentioned by Count Las Cases, who, when removed from Longwood, and debarred from personally communicating with his master, felt considerable difficulty in discovering a mode of conveying to him a diamond necklace of great value, which had been intrusted to his keeping, and which Napoleon might want after his departure. He addressed at hazard the first decent-looking person he saw going to Longwood, and conjured him in the most pathetic manner, to take charge rf the packet. The stranger slackened his pace with- out speaking, and pointed to his coat-pocket. Las Cases dropt in the packet; and the jewels, thus consigned to the faith of an unknown person, reached their owner in safety.' It is honourable to humanity, that distress of almost any kind, but especially that which affects the imagination by exciting the memory of fallen greatness, should find assistants even among those who were enemies to that greatness when in pros- perity. But it was the duty of the governor to take heed, that neither overstrained notions of romantic compassion and generosity, nor the temp- tation of worse motives, should lead to any com- bination which might frustrate his diligence ; and Napoleon having at once avarice and the excess of generosity to solicit in his favour, the governor naturally secluded him as much as he could from those individuals who might be liable to be gained over to his interest by such powerful seductions. Upon the 7th January, 1818, the Government of Britain intimated their approbation of the enlarge- ment of Napoleon's bounds of exercise to the ordi- nary limits which had been for a time restricted ; and, in order to preserve for him the opportunity of keeping up society with such of the people of the island as he might desire to receive on busi- ness, or as visitors, the following regulation was adopted : — ' Las Cases, torn, i., p. 61. 1818.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 803 ■' Respecting the intercourse with llie inlialjitants, I see no material objection to the placing it upon the footing recently suggested by Count Bertrand, as it is one which he represents would be more consonant to General Buonaparte's wishes. The count's proposition is, that a list of a given number of persons, resident in tlie island, should be made out who shall be at once admitted to Longwood on the general's own invita- tion, w itiiout a previous application being made to your e.\cel- .'ency on each invitation. You will, therefore, consideryour- self at liberty to accede to the suggestions of Count Bertrand ; and you will for this purpose direct him to present to you for your approbation, a list of persons, not exceeding fifty in number, resident in the island, who may be admitted to Long- wood at reasonable hours, without any other pass than the in- vitation of General Buonaparte, it being understood that they arc on each occasion to deliver in the invitation as a voucher, with their names, at the barrier. In giving your approbation lO the list, you will, as far as is consistent with your duty, con- sult the wishes of General Buonaparte ; but you will let it be clearly understood, that you reserve to yourself a discretion- ary power of erasing from the list, at any time, any of those individuals, to whom you may have found it inexpedient to continue such extraordinary facility of access; and you will take special care, that a report be always made to you by the orderly officer, of the several persons admitted to Longwood upon General Buonaparte's iuvitation." We have touched upon these various subjects of grievance, not as being the only causes of dispute, or rather of violent discord, which existed betwixt the Ex- Emperor of France and the governor of St. Helena, for there were many others. It is not in our purpose, however, nor even in our power, to give a detailed or exact history of these particular quarrels, but merely to mark — as our duty, in this a very painful one, demands — what was the cha- racter and general scope of the debate which was so violently conducted on both sides. Of course it follows, that a species of open war having been declared betwixt the parties, every one of the va- rious points of discussion which must necessarily have arisen betwixt Sir Hudson Lowe and Napo- leon, or through their respective attendants and followers, was turned into matter of offence on the one side or the other, and as such \'\arnily con- tested. It is thus, that, when two armies approach each other, the most peaceful situations and posi- tions lose their ordinary character, and become the subjects of attack and defence. Every circum- stance, whether of business or of etiquette, which occurred at St. Helena, was certain to occasion some dispute betwixt Napoleon and Sir Hudson Lowe, the progress and termination of which sel- dom passed without an aggravation of mutual hostilities. It is beneath the dignity of history to trace these tracasseries ; and beyond possibility, unless for one present on the spot, and possessed of all the minute information attending each .subject of quarrel, to judge which had the right or the wrong. It would be, indeed, easy for us, standing aloof and remote from these agitating struggles, to pass a sweeping condemnation on the one party or the other, or perhaps upon each of them ; and to show that reason and temper on either side would have led to a very diff"erent course of proceeding on both, had it been permitted by those human in- firmities to which, unhappily, those who have power or pretensions are more liable than the common class, who never possessed the one, and make no claim to the other. Neither would it be difficult for us to conceive a governor of St. Helena, in the abstract, who, treat- ing the reviling and reproaches with which he was on all occasions loaded by Buonaparte, iis the idle chidings of a storm, which nuist howl around what- ever it meets in its course, would, with patience and equanimity, have suffered the tempest to expend its rage, and die away in wcaknci^s, the sooner that it found itself unresisted. We can conceive such a person wrapping himself up in his own virtue, and, while he discharged to his country the duty she had intrusted to him, striving, at the same time, by such acts of indulgence as nn'ght be the moi'O gratifying because the less expected, or per- haps merited, to melt down the sullenness which the hardship of his .situation naturally imposed on the prisoner. We can even conceive that a man of such rare temper might have found means, in some ha]5py moment, ot re-establishing a tolerable and o.stensible good understanding, if not a heart- felt cordiality, which, could it have existed, would so much have lessened the vexations and troubles, both of the captive and of the governor. All this is very easily conceived. But in order to form tlio idea of such a man, we must suppose him, in the case in question, stoically impassive to insults of the grossest kind, insults poured on him before he had done any thing which could deserve them, and expressed in a manner which plainly intimated the detei'mination of Napoleon to place himself at once on the most hostile terms with him. This must have required the most uncommon share of calm- ness and candour. It is more natural that such a functionary as the governor of St. Helena— feeling the impulse of ill usage from a quarter where no regular satisfaction could be had — if he did not use the power which he held for the time, to the actual annoyance and vexation of the party by whom he had been deliberately insulted, should be apt at least to become indifferent how much, or how little, his prisoner was aff'ected by the measures which he adopted, and to go forward with the necessary means of confining the person, without being so so- licitous as he might otherwise have been, to spare the feelings. An officer, termed to his face a liar, a brigand, an assassin, a robber, a hangman, has few terms to keep with him by whom he has been loaded with such unworthy epithets ; and who, in using them, may be considered as having declared mortal war, and disclaimed the courtesy, while he defied the power, of the person to whom he address- ed them. In the same manner, judging with the coolness of a third party, we should be inclined to say, that the immediate attendants and followers of Napoleon might have here served their master more effec- tually, by endeavouring to accommodate the sub- jects of dispute with Sir Hudson Lowe, than by aggravating and carrying them still farther by their own subordinate discussions with the governor and his aides-de-camp, and thus heating their master's passions by their own. But while that was the line of conduct to be desired, it is impossible to deny that another was more naturally to be ex- pected. Generals Bertrand, Montholon, and Gour- gaud, were all soldiers of high reputation, who rising to fame under Napoleon's eye, had seen their own laurels flouri.sh along with his. In the hour of adversity, they had most laudably and honour- ably followed him, and were now sharing with him the years of solitude and exile. It was not, there- fore, to be wondered at, that they, wearied of their own restrained and solitary condition, enraged, too, at every thing which appeared to add to the cala- mitous condition of their fallen master, should be more disposed to increase the angry spirit which manifested itself on both sides, than, by interpos- 804 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. ing their mediation, to endeavour to compose jars wliich miglit well render Napoleon's state more irritable and uncomfortable, but could not, in any point of view, tend to his comfort, jjeace, or even respectability. But perhaps we might have been best entitled to hope, from the high part «liich Napoleon had played in the world, from the extent of his genius, and the natural pride arising from the conscious- ness of talent, some indifference towards objects of mere form and ceremony, some confidence in the g nuine character of his own natural elevation, and a no))le contempt of the change which fortune could make on circumstances around him. We might have hoped that one whose mental superiority over tJie rest of his species was so undeniab/s, would liave been tlie last to seek with eagerness to retain the frippery and feathers of which the wind of adverse fortune had stripped hira, or to be tenacious of that etiquette, which now, if yielded to him at all, could only have been given by compassion. We might have thought the conqueror in so many bloody conflicts, would, even upon provocation, have thought it beneath him to enter on a war of words with the governor of an islet in the Atlantic, where foul language could be the only weapon on either side, and held it a yet greater derogation, so far to lay aside his high charactei*, as to be the first to engage in so ignoble a conflict. It might, we should have supposed, have been anticipated by such a person, not only that calm and patient endurance of inevitable misfortunes is the noblest means of surmounting them, but that, even with a view to his liberty, such conduct would have been most advisable, because most politic. The peoi)le of Europe, and especially of 13ritain, would have been much sooner apt to unite in the wish to see him removed from confinement, had he borne him- self with philosophical calmness, than seeing him, as they did, still evincing within his narrow sphere the restless and intriguing temper which had so long disturbed the world, and which now showed itself so engrained in his constitution, as to lead him on to the unworthy species of warfare which v.e have just described; But the loftiest and proud- est beings of mere humanity are like the image which the Assyrian monarch beheld in his dream — blended of vai'ious metals, uniting that which is vile with those which are most precious ; that which is frail, weak, and unsubstantial, with what is most perdurable and strong. Napoleon, like many an emperor and hero before him, sunk under his own passions after having vanquished nations ; and became, in his exile, the prey of petty spleen, wliich racked him almost to frenzy, and induced him to hazard his health, or perhaps even to throw away his life, rather than submit with dignified patience to that which his misfortunes had rendered imavoidable. CHAPTER XCVI. Napoleon's Domestic Habits — Manner in icldch he spent the day — his Dress — Nature of the Frag- ments of Memoirs he dictated to Gourgaud and Monthvlon — His admiration of Ossian — He pre- fers liacine and Corneille to Voltaire — Dislike of Tacitus — His Vindication of the Character of i.'cesar — His Behaviour towards the Persons of his Household — Amusements and Exercises — Hit Character of Sir Pulteney Malcolm — Degree oj his Intercourse vUh the Islanders, and icith Visi- tors to the Island — Interview ivilh Captain Basil Hall — noith Lord 'Amherst and the Gentlemen at- tached to the Chinese Embassy. The unpleasant and discreditable disputes, of which we have given some account in the last chap- ter, form, unhappily, the most marked events of Napoleon's latter life. For the five years and seven months that he remained in the island of St. Helena, few circumstances occurred to vary the melancholy tenor of his existence, excepting those which affected his temper or his health. Of the general causes influencing the former, we have given some account ; the latter we shall hereafter allude to. Our present object is a short and gene- ral view of his personal and domestic habits while in this melancholy and secluded habitation. Napoleon's life, until his health began to give way, was of the most regular and monotonous cha- racter. Having become a very indifferent sleeper, perhaps from his custom of assigning, during the active part of his life, no precise time for repose, his hours of rising were uncertain, depending upon the rest which he had enjoyed during the earlier part of the night. It followed from this irregular- ity, that during the day time he occasionally fell asleep, for a few minutes, upon his couch or arm- chair. At times, his favourite valet-de-chambre, Marchand, read to him while in bed until he was composed to rest, the best remedy, perhaps, for that course of " thick-coming fancies," which must so oft have disturbed the repose of one in circum- stances so singular and so melancholy. So soon as Napoleon arose from bed, he either began to dictate to one of his generals, (Montholon or Gour- gaud generally,) and placed upon record such pas- sages of his remarkable life as he desired to pre- serve ; or, if the weather and his inclination suited, he went out for an hour or two on horseback. He sometimes breakfasted in his own apartment, some- times with his suite, generally about ten o'clock, and almost always d /a fourchette. The fore part of the day he usually devoted to reading, or dictat- ing to one or other of his suite, and about two or three o'clock received such visitors as had permis- sion to wait upon him. An airing in the carriage or on horseback generally succeeded to this species of levee, on which occasions he was attended by all his suite. Their horses, supplied from the Cape of Good Hope, were of a good race and handsome appearance. On returning from his airings, he again resumed the book, or caused his amanuensis take up the pen until dinner-time, which was about eight o'clock at night. He preferred plain food, and eat plentifully, and with an apparent appetite. A very few glasses of claret, scarce amounting to an English pint in all, and chiefly drank during the time of dinner, completed his meal. Sometimes he drank champagne ; but his constitutional sobriety was such, that a large glass of that more generous wine immediately brought a degree of colour to his cheek. No man appears to have been in a less degree than Napoleon, subject to the influence of those appetites which man has in common with the lower range of nature. He never took more than two meals a day, and concluded each with a small cup of coffee. After dinner, chess, cards, a volume LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 805 of light literature, read aloud for the benefit of his suite, or general conversation, in -which the ladies of his suite occasionally joined, served to consume the evening till ten or eleven, about which time he retired to his apartment, and went immediate! v to bed. We may add to this brief account of Napoleon's domestic habits, that he was very attentive to the duties of the toilet. He usually appeared in the morning in a white night-gown, with loose trousers and stockings joined in one, a chequered red Mad- ras handkerchief round his head, and his shirt- collar open. When dressed, he wore a green uni- form, very plainly made, and without ornament, similar to that which, by its simplicity, used to mark the sovereign among the splendid dresses of the Tuileries, white waistcoat, and white or nan- keen bi-eeches, with silk stockings, and shoes with gold buckles, a black stock, a triangular cocked hat, of the kind to be seen in all the caricatures, with a very small tri-coloured cockade. He usually wore, when in full dress, the riband and grand cross of the Legion of Honour.' Such were the personal habits of Napoleon, on which there is little for the imagination to dwell, after it has once received the general idea. The circumstance of the large portion of his time em- ployed in dictation, alone interests our curiosity, and makes us anxious to know with what he could have found means to occupy so many pages, and so many hours. The fragments upon military sub- jects, dictated from time to time to Generals Gour- gaud and Montholon, are not voluminous enough to account for the leisure expended in this manner; and even when we add to them the number of pamphlets and works issuing from St. Helena, we shall still find room to suppose either that manu- scripts remain which have not yet seen the light, or that Napoleon was a slow composer, and fastidious in the choice of his language. The last conjecture seems most probable, as the French are particularly scrupulous in the punctilios of composition, and Napoleon, emperor as he had been, must have known that he would receive no mercy from the critics upon that particul.ir. The avowed works themselves, fragments as they are, are extremely interesting in a military point of view ; and those in which the campaigns of Italy are described, contain many most invaluable lessons on the art of war. Their political value is by no means so considerable. Gom-gaud seems to have formed a true estimation of them, when, in answer to Baron Sturmer's inquiries, whether Napoleon was writing his history, he expressed himself thus : — " He writes disjointed fragments, which he will never finish. When asked wliy he will not put history in possession of the exact fact, he answers, it is better to leave something to be guessed at than to tell too much. It would also seem, that not con- sidering his extraordinary destinies as entirely accomplished, he is unwilling to detail plans which have not been executed, and which he may one day resume with more success." To these reasons for leaving blanks and imperfections in his proposed history, should be added the danger which a faith- ful and unreserved narrative must have entailed upon many of the actors in tiie scenes from which he was lifting the veil. It is no doubt true, that ' Las Cases, torn, ii., ]>. 1-7. Napoleon seems .systematically to have painted his enemies, more especially such as had been onco his adherents, in the most odious colours, and par- ticularly in such as seemed likely to render them most obnoxious to the ruling powers ; but the same principle induced him to spare his friends, and to afford no handle against them for their past eftorts in his favour, and no motive for taking from them tlie power of rendering him farther service, if they should be in a capacity to do so. These considerations operated as a check upon the pen of the historian ; and it may be truly said, that no man who has written so much of his own life, and that consisting of such singular and import- ant events, has told so little of himself which was not known before from other sources. But the present is not the less valuable ; for there is some- times as much information derived from the silence as from the assertions of him who aspires to be his own biographer ; and an apology for, or vindication of, the course of a remarkable life, however par- tially written, perhaps conveys the most informa- tion to the reader, next to that candid confession of faults and errors, which is so very seldom to be obtained in autobiography. Napoleon's Memoirs, together with the labour apparently bestowed upon his controversial pamph- lets written against Sir Hudson Lowe, seem to huxo furnished the most important part of his occupation whilst at St. Helena, and probably also of his amusement. It was not to be expected that in sickness and calamity he could apply himself to study, even if his youth had furnished him witli more stores to work upon. It must be remembered that his whole education had been received at the military school of Brienne, where indeed he dis- played a strong taste for the sciences. But the studies of mathematics and algebra were so early connected and carried on with a view to the mili- tary purposes in which he employed them, that it may be questioned whether he retained any relish for prosecuting his scientific pursuits in the charac- ter of an inquirer into abstract truths. The prac- tical results had been so long his motive, so long his object, that he ceased to enjoy the use of the theoretical means, when there was no siege to be formed, no complicated manoeuvres to be arranged, no great military purpose to be gained by the dis- play of his skill — but when all was to begin and end with the discus.sion of a problem. That Napoleon had a natural turn for belles let- tres is unquestionable ; but his leisure never per- mitted him to cultivate it, or to refine his taste or judgment on such subjects. The recommendation which, in 1784, described him as fit to be sent to the Military School at Paris, observes, that he is tolerably acquainted with history and geography, but rather deficient in the ornamented branches, and in the Latin language.^ At seventeen years of age, he joined the regiment of La Fere, and thus ended all the opportunities afforded him of regular education. He read, however, very extensively ; but, like all young persons, with little discrimina- tion, and more to amuse himself than for the pur- pose of instruction. Before he had arrived at that more advanced period when youths of such talent as his, and especially when gifted with such a powerful memoi'y, usually think of arranging and - See iintc, p. 17-i- sno SCOTT'S 3IISCELLANE0US PROSE WORKS. classifying tlic information which thej- have col- i'.-cted during their carhcr course of niiseellaueous reading, the tumults of Corsica, and subsequently the siege of Toulon, carried him into those scenes of war and business which were his element during the rest of his life, and down to the period we now sfjeak of. The want of information which we have noticed, he supplied, as most able men do, by the assistance derived from conversing with persons possessing knowledge, and capable of communicating it. No one was ever more dexterous than Napoleon at oxtractmg from individuals the kind of information which each was best qualified to impart ; and in many cases, while in the act of doing so, he con- trived to conceal his own ignorance, even of that which he was anxiously wishing to know. But al- though in this manner he might acquire facts and results, it was impossible to make himself master, on such easy terms, of general principles, and the connexion betwixt them and the conclusions which they lead to. It was no less certain, that though in this man- ner Napoleon could obtain by discoursing with others the insulated portions of information which he was desirous of acquiring, and tliough the know- ledge so acquired served his innnediate purpose in public life, these were not habits which could in- duce him to resume those lighter subjects of study so interesting and delightful in youth, but which an advanced age is unwilling to undertake, and slow to profit by. He had, therefore, never corrected his taste in tlie belles lettres, but retained his ad- miration for Ossian, and other books which had fascinated his early attention. The declamatory tone, redundancy of expression, and exaggerated character of the poetry ascribed to the Celtic bard, suit the taste of very young pei*sons ; but Napoleon continued to retain his relish for them to the end of his life ; aiid, in some of his proclamations and bulletins, we can trace the hyperbolical and bom- bastic expressions which pass upon us in youth for the sublime, but are rejected as taste and reason become refined and improved. There was indeed this apology for Napoleon's lingering fondness for Ossian, that the Italian translation, by Cesarotti, is said to be one of the most beautiful specimens of the Tuscan language. The work was almost con- stantly beside him. Historical, philosophical, or moral works, seem more rarely to have been resorted to for the amuse- ment of Longwood. We have, indeed, been in- formed, that the only books of this description for which Napoleon showed a decided partiality, were those of Jlachiavel and Montesquieu, which he did not perhaps consider as fit themes of public recita- tion ; Tacitus, who holds the mirror so close to the ' " Plays occupied our attention for the future; tragedies in particular. Napoleon is uncommonly fond of analyzing ttieni, which he does in a singular mode of reasoning, and with a great deal of taste. He remembers an immense quantity of poetry, which he learned when he was eighteen years old, at which time, he says, he knew more than he does at present." —Las C.\ses, torn, i., p. 249. 2 " Tragedy fires the soul, elevates the heart, and is calcu- lated to generate heroes. Ck)nsidered under this point of view, perhaps. France owes to Corneille i part of her great actions ; anil, had he lived in my time, I *ould have made him a prince."— Napoleo.v, torn, i., p. 250. ^ " Napoleon is delighted with Racine, in whom he finds an abundance of beauties. He thinks liut littleof Voltaire, who, he says, is full of bombast and tinsel ; always incorrect, un- features of sovereigns, he is said always to havp. held in aversion, and seldom to have mentioned without terms of censure or dislike. Thus will the patient sometimes loathe the sight of the most wholesome medicine. Tlie French novels of the day were sometimes tried as a resource ; but the habits of order and decency wiiich Napoleon ob- served, rendered their levities and indelicacies un- fitted for such society. There remained another department of litera- ture, from wJiich the party at Longwood derived frequent resources. The drama occupied a consi- derable part of those readings with which Napo- leon used to while away the tedious hours of his imprisonment. This was an indication that he still retained the national taste of France, where few neglect to attend the spectacle, in one form or an- other, during the space betwixt dinner and the re- union of society in the evening. Next to seeing his ancient favourite Talma, was to Napoleon the reading some of those chef-d'oeuvres to which he had seen and heard him give life and per.sonifica- tion. He is himself said to have read with taste and effect, which agrees with the traditions that represent him as having been early attached ta theatrical representations.' It was in the discus- sions following these readings, which Las Cases has preserved with so much zeal, that Buonaparte displayed his powers of conversation, and expressed his peculiar habits and opinions. Corneille'2 and Racine^ stood much higher in his estimation than Voltaire. There seems a good reason for this. They wrote their immortal works for the meridian of a court, and at the command of the most monarchical of monarchs, Louis XIV. The productions, therefore, contain nothing that can wound the ear of the most sensitive sovereign. In the King of Denmark's phrase, they " have no offence in them." With Voltaire it is different. The strong and searching sjjirit, which afterwards caused the French Revolution, was abroad at this time, and though unaware of the extent to which it might lead, the philosopher of Ferney was not the less its proselyte. There were many passages, there- fore, in his works, which could not but be instantly applied to the changes and convulsions of the period during which Napoleon had lived, to the despotic character of his government, and to the plans of freedom which had sunk under the influ- ence of his sword. On this account Voltaire, whose compositions recalled painful comparisons and re- collections, was no favourite with Napoleon. The Mahomet* of that author he particularly disliked, avowing, at the same time, his respect for the Oriental impostor, whom lie accused the poet of traducing and misrepresenting. Perhaps he secretly acquainted either with men or things, with truth or the subli- mity of the passions of mankind."— L.*s Cases, tom. i., p. 24!fc * " Voltaire, in the character and conduct of his hero, has departed both from nature and history. He has degraded Ma- homet, by making him descend to the lowest intrigues. He has represented a great man wiio changed the face of the world, acting like a scoundrel, worthy of the gallows. He has no less absurdly travestied the character of Omar, which he has drawn like that of acutthroat in a melo-drama. Voltaire committed a fundamental error in attributing to intrigue that which was solely the result of opinion. Those wlio have wrought great changes in the world, never succeeded by gain- ing over chiefs : but always by exciting the multitude! The first is the resource of intrigue, and produces only secondary results : the second is the resort of genius, and transforms tlit face of the universe."— N' iolkon, Las Cases, tom. ii., p. }i i. LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 807 acknowledged a certain degree of resemblance be- tween his own career and that of the youthful camel-driver, who, rising from a mean origin in his native tribe, became at once the conqueror and the legislator of so many nations. Perhaps, too, he remembered his own proclamations while in Egypt, in the assumed character of a Moslem, which he was wont to term by the true phrase of Charlata- nerie, but adding, that it was charlatanerie of a high and elevated character. The character of Caesar ^^•as another which Na- poleon always strove to vindicate. The French general could not be indifferent to the Roman leader, who, like himself, having at first risen into notice by his victories over the enemies of the republic, had, also like himself, ended the struggles between the patricians and plebeians of ancient Rome, by reducing both parties equally under his own absolute dominion ; who would have jiro- elaimed himself their sovereign, even by the pro- scribed title of king, had he not been prevented by conspiracy ; and who, when he had conquered his country, thought of nothing so much as extending an empire, already much too large, over the distant regions of Scythia and Parthia. The points of per- sonal difference, indeed, were considerable ; for nei- ther did Napoleon indulge in the gross debauchery and sensuality imputed to Ctesar, nor can we attri- bute to him the Roman's powers as an author, or the gentle and forgiving character which distin- guished him as a man. Yet, although Napoleon had something vindic- tive in his temper, which he sometimes indulged when Csesar would have scorned to do so, his inter- course with his familiar friends was of a character the most amiable. It is true, indeed, that, deter- mined, as he expressed himself to be Emperor within Longwood and its little demesne, he exacted from his followers the same marks of severe eti- quette which distinguished the Court of the Tuile- ries ; yet, in other respects, he permitted them to carry their freedom in disputing his sentiments, or replying to his arguments, almost beyond the bounds of ordinary decorum. He seemed to make a distinction between their duty tow^ards him as subjects, and their privileges as friends. All re- mained uncovered and standing in his presence, and even the person who played at chess with him .sometimes continued for hours without sitting down. But their verbal intercourse of language and sentiments was that of free men, conversing with a superior, indeed, but not with a despot. Captain Maitland mentions a dispute betwixt Na- poleon and General Bertrand. The latter had adopted a ridiculous idea that £30,000 a-year, or some such extravagant sum, was spent in main- taining the grounds and establishment at Blenheim. Napoleon's turn for calculation easily detected the improbability. Bertrand insisted upon his asser- tion, on which Buonaparte said with quickness, " Bah ! c'est imjwsslhlc." — " Oh ! " said Bertrand, much offended, " if you are to reply in that man- ner, there is an end of all argument ;" and for some time would not converse with him. Buonaparte, 1 Narrative, p. 2»4. 2 " The sound of btlls produced u))on Napoleon a sinRular so far from taking umbrage, did all he could to soothe him and restore him to good-humour, which was not very difficult to effect.' But although Napoleon tolerated freedoms of this kind to a considerable extent, yet he still kept in his own hands the royal privilege of starting the topic of conversation, and conducting it as he should think proper ; so that, in some respects, it seemed that, having lost all the substantial enjoyment of power, he had become more attached than ever to the observance of its monotonous, wearisome, un- profitable ceremonial. Yet there might be a reason for this, besides the gratification of his o^n perti- nacious temper. The gentlemen who inhabited Longwood had followed him from the purest motives, and there was no reason to suppose that their purpose would waver, or their respect dimi- nish. Still their mutual situation compelled the deposed sovereign, and his late subjects, into such close familiarity, as might perhaps beget, if not contempt, at least an inconvenient degree of fi'ee- dom betwixt the parties, the very possibility of which he might conceive it as well to exclude by a strict barrier of etiquette. We return to Napoleon's habits of amusement. Music was not one of the number. Though born an Italian, and possessing something of a musical ear, so far, at least, as was necessary to enable him to hum a song, it was probably entirely without cultivation.^ He appears to have had none of the fanaticism for music which characterises the Ita- lians ; and it is well known that in Italy he put a stop to the cruel methods which had been used in that country to complete their concerts. Neither was Napoleon, as we have heard Denon reluctantly admit, a judge or an admirer of painting. He had some pretence to understand sculpture ; and there was one painting in the Museum, before which he used to pause, terming it his own ; nor would he permit it to be ransomed for a very large sum by its proprietor the Duke of Modena.^ But he valued it, not on account of its merits, though a masterpiece of art, but because he had himself been the means of securing it to the ISIuseum at a gi'eat sacrifice. The other paintings in that immense collection, however great their excellence, he sel- dom paid much attention to. He also shocked admirers of painting by the contempt he showed for the durability of the art. Being informed that a first-rate picture would not last above five or six hundred years, he exclaimed, " Bah ! a fine im- mortality !" Yet by using Denon's advice, and that of other syavans. Napoleon sustained a high reputation as an encourager of the arts. His medals have been particularly and deservedly admired. In respect of personal exercise at St. Helena, he walked occasionally, and while strong, did not shun steep, rough, and dangerous paths. But although there is some game on the island, he did not avail himself of the pleasure of shooting. It docs not indeed appear that he was ever much attached to field sports, although, when Emperor, he replaced the hunting establishment upon a scale still more magnificent, as well as better regulated, than for- Hc stopped, lest tlic movinR of (jur feet miglit cause the loss of a tone in the sounds which charmed liim. The influence, indeed, was so jiowerful, that his voice trembled with emo- effect. When we were at Malniaison, and while wall the French prisoners, such ' Las Cases, torn, ii., p. ^C5. * Las Casts torn, ii.^ ji. '.iM. estrangement naturally followed from the unwil- lingness of military men to go where they were sure to hear not only their commanding officer for the time, but also their country and its ministers, treated with the grossest expressions of disrespect, while there was no mode of calling the person who used them either to account or to explanation. The rank and character of Sir Pulteney Malcolm who commanded the squadron upon the station, set him above the feelings which might influence inferior officers, whether of the army or navy. He visited Napoleon frequently, and was eulogised by him in a desci'iption, which (though we, who have the advantage of seeing in the features of Sir Pul- teney those of an honoured friend, can vouch for its being just) may have been painted the more willingly, because it gave the artist an opportunity of discharging his spleen, while contrasting the ap- pearance of the admiral with that of the governor, in a manner most unfavourable to the latter. Never- theless w-e transcribe it, to prove that Buonaparte could occasionally do justice, and see desert even in a Briton. " He said he had seen the new admiral. ' Ah ! there is a man with a countenance really pleasing, open, frank, and sincere. There is the face of an Englishman. His countenance bespeaks his heart, and I am sure he is a good man : I never yet be- held a man of whom I so immediately formed a good opinion, as of that fine soldier-like old man. He carries his head erect, and speaks out openly and boldly what he thinks, without being afraid to look you in the face at the time. His physiogno- my would make every person desirous of a further acquaintance, and render the most suspicious con- fident in hira.'"^ Sir Pulteney Malcolm was also much recom- mended to Napoleon's favourable judgment by the circumstance of having nothing to do with the re- straints imposed upon his person, and possessing the power neither of altering or abating any of the restrictions he complained of. He was fortunate, too, in being able, by the calmness of his temper, to turn aside the violent language of Buonaparte, without either granting the justice of his complaints or giving him displeasure by direct contradiction. " Does j'our Government mean," said Napoleon, one day to the English admiral, " to detain me upon this rock until my death's day?" — " I am I sorry to say, sir," answered Sir Pulteney, " that j such I apprehend is their purpose." — " Then the j tei'm of my life will soon arrive," said Napoleon. " I hope not, sir," answered the admiral ; " I hope you will survive to record your great actions, which are so numerous that the task will ensure you a term of long life." Napoleon bowed, and was gra- tified, probably both as a hero and as an author. Nevertheless, before Sir Pulteney Malcolm left the island, and while he was endeavouring to justify the governor against some of the harsh and extrava- gant charges in which Napoleon was wont to in- dulge, the latter began to appeal from his judgment as being too much of an Englishman to be an impar- tial judge. They parted, however, on the best terms, and Napoleon often afterwards expressed the pleasure which be liad received from the society of Sir Pulteuev Malcolm. 2 (J'.Meara, vol. i., p. (w. 1R17.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON JiUONAPARTE. 809 The colonists of St. Helena did not, it may bo well sii])posed, faI■ni^ll many individuals, sufficient- ly qiialiHed, by rank and education, to be admitted into the society of tlie exile. They, too, lay under the same awkward circumstances, which prevented the British officers from holding intercourse with liongwood and its inhabitants. The governor, should he be displeased at the too frequent atten- tions of any individual, or should he conceive any suspicion arising out of such an intercourse, had the power, and, iu the opinion of the colonists, might not want the inclination, to make his resent- ment severely felt. Mr. BaLomb, however, who held the situation of purveyor, with one or two other inhabitants of the island, sometimes visited at Longwood. The genei'al intercourse between the French prisoners and the colonists was carried on by means of the French domestics, who had th^ privilege of visiting James' Town as often as they pleased, and whose doing so could infer no disadvantageous suspicions. But the society of Longwood gained no advantage by the intercourse with James' Town, although unquestionably the facility of foreign communication was considerably increased to the exiles. Their correspondence was chiefly maintained by the way of Bahia ; and it is certain they succeeded in sending many letters to Europe, although they are believed to have been less fortunate in receiving answers. It was to be expected, that some accession to the society of Longwood might have accrued, from the residence of three gentlemen of rank (two of them, we believe, having ladies and a family) the commissioners of Austria, Russia, and France. But here also ceremonial interposed one of those bars, which are effectual, or otherwise, according to the opinion of those betwixt whom they are erected. The commissioners of the allied powers had re- quested to be presented to Napoleon. On their wish being announced, he peremptorily declined to i-eceive them in their official capacity, disclaiming the right which the princes of Europe had to intei'fere w ith and countenance the custody of his person. On the other hand, the commissioners, finding their public function disowned, refused to hold any communication with Longwood in their private capacity ; and thus there were excluded from this solitary spot three persons, whose man- ners and habits, as foreigners, might have assorted tolerably with those of the exile and his attend- ants. The society of St. Helena receives a great tem- porary increase at the seasons when vessels touch there on their way to India, or on their return to Europe. Of course, every officer and every pas- senger on such occasions was desirous to see a person so celebrated as Napoleon ; and there might sometimes occur individuals among them whom he too might have pleasure in receiving. The regulation of these visits to Longwood seems to have been one of the few parts of the general system of which Napoleon made no complaints. He had a natural reluctance to gratify the idle curiosity of strangers, and the regulations protected him effectually against their intrusion. JSuch per- sons as desired to wait upon Napoleon were obliged to apply, in the first ])lace, to the governor, by whom their names were transmitted to General Bertraud, a.s grand niarcehal of the household, who communicated Napoleon's reply, if favoiu-able. and assigned an hour at which ho was to receive their visit. Upon such occasions, Napoleon was particularly anxious that the etiquette of an imperial court should be observed, while the visitors, on the con- trary, were strictly enjoined by the governor not to go beyond the civilities due to a general of rank. If, therefore, as sometimes happened, the intro- duction took place in the open air, the French part of the company attendant on Buonaparte remained uncovered, while the English replaced their hats after the first salutation. Napoleon saw the incon- gruity of this, and laid his ordci's on his attendants to imitate the English in this particular point. It is said, that they did not obey without scruples and murmurs. Those visitors who were pennitted to pay their respects at Longwood, were chiefly either persons of distinguished birth, officei-s of rank in the army and navy, persons of philosophical inquiry (to whom he was very partial,) or travellers from foreign regions, who could repay, by some infor- mation, the pleasure which they received from being admitted to the presence of a man s'> remark- able. Of these interviews, some who enjoyed the benefit of them have published an account; and the memoranda of others we have seen in manu- script. All agree in extolling the extreme good gi'ace, propriety, and appearance of benevolence, with which Napoleon clothed himself whilst holding these levees ; and which scarce left the spectators permission to believe that, when surprised by a fit of passion, or when choosing to assume one for the purpose of effect, he could appear the rude, abrupt, and savage despot, which other accounts described him. His questions were uniformly introduced with gi-eat tact, so as to put the person interro- gated at his ease, by leading to some subject with which he was acquainted, while, at the same time, they induced him to produce any stock of new or curious information which he possessed. The Journal of Captain Basil Hall of the Iloyal Navy, well-known by his character both in his j)ro- fession and in literature, affords a pleasing example of what we have been endeavouring to express, and displays at the same time the powerful extent of Buonaparte's memory. He recognised the name of Captain Hall instantly, from having seen his father, Sir James Hall, Bart, when he was at the Military Academy of Brienne, to which visit Sir James had been led by the love of science, by which he was always distinguished. Buonaparte explained the cause of his recollecting a private individual, after the intervention of such momentous events as he had himself been concerned in. " It is not," he said, " surprising. Your father was the firet Englishman that I ever saw ; and I have recol- lected him all my life on that account." He was afterwards minute in his inquiries respecting the Royal Society of Edinburgh, of which Sir James Hall was long President. He then came to the very interesting subject of the newly- discovered island of Loo-Choo; and Captain Hall gives an account of the nature of the interrogations which he underwent, which we will not risk spoiling by an attempt at condensing it. " Havinp settled where the island lay, he cniss-qucstioned ine about the inhabitants with a closeness— 1 may call it a se- verity of investigation— which far exceeds every thing 1 have met with in any other instance. His qnt^tions were not by any means pat at random, but each one had some dctinittj it> 810 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE AVORKS. [1817. fercnce to that which preceded it, or was qbout to follow. I felt in a short time so completely exposed to his view, that it would have been impossible to have concealed orqualifiod the smallest particular. Such, indeed, was the rajjidity of his apprehension of the subjects which interested him, and the astonishing e.-ise with which he arranged and generalized the tew points of information 1 gave him, that he sometimes out- ^t^ipped my narrative, saw the conclusion I was coming to liefore I spoke it, and fairly robbed me of my story. "Several circumstances, however, respecting the Loo-Clioo people, surprised even him a good deal ; and I had the satis- faction of seeing him more than once completely perplexed, and unable to account for the phr.nomena which I related. Nothing struck him so much as their having no arms. ' Point il'nrmes! ' he exclaimed, ' c'est d dire pointde canons~Us out iliS fusils?' Not even muskets, I replied. ' /;/( bien done — (ii:slanees, on, aumoins,desarcsctdesfleches?' I toldhimthey had neither one nor other. ' Nipoignardsf cried he, with increasing vehemence.— ' No, none.' — ' Mais!' said Buona- parte, clenching his tist, and raising his voice to a loud pitch, • Mais ! sans armcs, comment se bat-on ? ' '• I could only reply, that as far as we had been able to dis- cover, they had never had any wars, but remained in a state of internal and external peace. ' No wars ! ' cried he, with a hcornfuland incredulous expression, asif the existence of any people under the sun without wars was a monstrous anomaly. " In like manner, but without being so much moved, he seemed to discredit the account 1 gave hini of their having no money, and of their setting no value upon our silver or gold coins. After hearing these facts stated, he mused for some time, muttering to himself, in a low tone, 'Not know the use cif money — are careless about gold and silver.' Then looking up, he asked, sharply, ' How then did you contrive to pay these strangest of all people, for the bullocks and otlier good things which they seem to have sent on board in such quanti- ties ? ' When I informed him that we could not prevail upon the people of Loo-Chooto receive payment of any kind, he ex- pressed great surprise at their liberality, and made me repeat to him twice, the list of things with which we were supplied by these hospitable islanders." The conversation proceeded with equal spirit, in which it is singular to remark the acuteness of Napoleon, in seizing upon the most remarkable and interesting facts, notwithstanding the hurry of a casual conversation. Tlie low state of the priest- hood in Loo-Choo was a subject which he dwelt on without coming to any satisfactory explanation. Captain Hall illustrated the ignorance of the peo- ple of Loo-Choo with respect to all the world, save Japan and China, by saying they knew nothing of Europe at all — knew nothing of France and Eng- land — and never had even heard of his Majesty ; at which last proof of their absolute seclusion from the world, Napoleon laughed heartily. During the whole interview, Napoleon waited with the utmost ])atience until his questions were replied to, inquired with earnestness into every subject of interest, and made naturally a most favourable impression on his visitor. " Buonaparte," says the acute traveller, "struck me as dif- fering considerably from the pictures and busts 1 had seen of him. His face and figure looked much broader and more square, larger, indeed, in every way, than any representation I liad met with. His corpulency, at this time universally re- ported to be excessive, was by no means remarkable. His fiesh looked, on the contrary, firm and muscular. There was not the least trace of colour in his cheeks ; in fact, his skin was more like marble than ordinary flesh. Not the smallest trace of a wrinkle was discernible on his brow, nor an ap- proacli to a furrowon any part of hiscountenance. His health and spirits, judging from appearances, were excellent ; though at this period it was generally believed in England, that he was fast sinking under a comjilication of diseases, and that his spirits were entirely gone. His manner of speaking was ra- ther slow than otherwise, and perfectly distinct : he waited with great patience and kindness for my answers to his ques- tions, and a reference to Count Bertrand was necessary only once during the whole conversation. The brilliant and some- times dazzling expression of his eye could not be overlooked. It was not, however, a permanent lustre, for it was only re- markable when he was excited by some point of particular in- terest. It is impossible to imagine an expression of more en tire mildness. I may almost call it of benignity and kindliness, >han that which played over his features during the whole ' Captain Hall's Voyage to the Eastern ?cas, vol. i., ch. vii., pp. -Wl, 3.». interview. It, therefore, he were at this time out of health and in low spirits, his power of self command must have been even more extraordinary than is generally supposed ; for his whole deportment, his conversation, and the expression of his countenance, indicated a frame in perfect health, and a mind at ease." ' The date of this meeting was 13th August, 1817. In the above interview, Buonaparte played a natural part. Upon another remarkable occasion, 1st July, 1817, when he received Lord Amherst and the gentlemen composing and attached to the embassy, then returning from China, his behaviour and conversation were of a much more studied, constrained, and empirical character. He had ob- viously a part to play, a statement to make, and propositions to announce, not certainly with the view that the seed he had sowed might fall into barren ground, but that it might be retained, gathered up, and carried back to Britain, there to take root in public credulity, and bear fruit seven- fold. He rushed at once into a tide of politics, declaring that the Russian ascendency was to be the destruction of Europe ; yet, in the same moinent, proclaimed the French and English to bo the only effective troops deserving notice for their discipline and moral qualities. Presently after, he struck the English out of the field on account of the smallness of the army, and insisted that, by trusting to our military forces, we were endanger- ing our naval ascendency. He then entered upon a favourite topic — the extreme negligence of Lord Castlereagh in failing to stipulate, or rather extort, a commercial treaty from France, and to wring out of Portugal reimbursement of our expenses. He seemed to consider this as sacrificing the interest and welfare of his country, and stated it as such with a confidence which was calculated to impress upon the hearers that he was completely serious in the extravagant doctrines which he announced. He failed, of course, to make any impression on Lord Amherst, or on Mr. Henry Ellis, third com- missioner of the embassy, to whom a large portion of this violent tirade was addressed, and who has permitted us to have the perusal of his private journal, which is much more full on the subject of this interview than the account given in the printed narrative of the embassy which appeared in 1817.''' Having stated Lord Castlereagh's supposed errors towards the state. Napoleon was not silent upon his own injuries. It was chiefly in his con- versation with Lord Andierst that he dwelt with great bitterness on Sir Hudson Lowe's conduct to him in various respects ; but totally failed in pro- ducing the conviction which he aimed at. It seemed, on the contrary, to the ambassador and his attend- ants, that there never, perhaps, was a prisoner of importance upon whose personal liberty fewer ac- tual restraints had been imposed, than on that of the late Sovereign of France. j\lr. Ellis, after per- sonal inspection, was induced to regard his com- plaints concerning provisions and wine as totally undeserving of consideration, and to regret that real or pretended anger should have induced so great a man to countenance such petty misrepre- sentations. The hou.se at Longwood, considered as a residence for a sovereign, Mr. Ellis allowed to " See Appendix, No. XVI., for one of the best and most au- thentic accounts of Napoleon's conversation and mode of reasoning. 1S17.1 LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 81] lie small and inadoquate ; but, on the otliei' band, regarded as the residence of a person of rank living in retirement, being the view taken in England of the prisoner's condition, it was, in his opinion, both convenient and respectable. Reviewing, also, the extent of his limits, Mr. Ellis observes that greater personal, liberty, consistent with any pre- tension to security, could not be granted to an in- dividual supposed to be under any restraint at all. His intercourse with others, he observes, was cei*- tainly under immediate surveillance, no one being permitted to enter Longwood, or its domains, with- out a pass from the governor ; but this pass, he affirms, was readily granted, and had never formed any check upon such visitors as Napoleon desired to see. The restraint upon his correspondence is admitted as disagreeable and distressing to his feel- ings, but is considered as a " necessary consequence of that which he now is, and had formerly been." " Two motives," said Mr. Ellis, " may, I think, be assigned for Buonaparte's unreasonable complaints : The first, and principal, is to keep alive public in- terest in Europe, but chiefly in England, where he flatters himself that he has a party ; and the second, I think, may be traced to the personal character and habits of Buonaparte, who finds an occupation in the petty intrigues by which these complaints are brought forward, and an unworthy gratification in the tracasseries and annoyance which they produce on the spot." The sagacity of Mr. Ellis was not deceived ; for General Gourgaud, among other points of informa- tion, mentions the interest which Buonaparte had taken in the interview with the embassy which re- turned to Britain from China, and conceived that his arguments had made a strong impression upon them. The publication of Mi*. Ellis's account of the embassy dispelled that dream, and gave rise to proportional disappointment at St. Helena. Having now given some account of the general circumstances attending Buonaparte's residence in St. Helena, while he enjoyed a considerable portion of health, of his mode of living, his studies and amusements, and having quoted two remarkable instances of his intercourse with strangers of obser- vation and intelligence, we have to resume, in the next chapter, the melancholy particulars of his de- cline of health, and the few and unimportant inci- dents which occurred betwixt the commencement of his sickness and its fiual termination. CHAPTER XCVII. Napoleon's Illness — viz. Cancer in the Stomach — Removal of Las Cases — Montholon's Complaints brought forxrard hy Lord Holland — and replied to hy Lord Bathurst — Effect of the failure of Lord Holland's motion- — RemotalofDr. O'Meara from his attendance on Buonaparte — icho refuses to permit the visits of any other English Physician — Tico Priests sent to St. Helena at his desire — Dr. Antommarcki — Continued Disputes with Sir Hudson Lowe^Plans for Effecting Buonaparte's Escape — Scheme of a Smuggler to ajijiroach St. Hevtua in a Submarine Vessel — Seizure of the Vessel — Letter erprcssing the King of Engl and'' s interest in the Hlness of Napoleon — Consent of the latter to admit the ri^ils of Dr. Arnott — Napoleon employs himself in making his Wi/l — and gives other directions connected with his De- cease — Eitreme Unction administered to him — His Death, on 5th May, 1821 — Anatomization of the Body — His Funeral. Reports had been long current concerning tlie decline of Buonaparte's health, even before the battle of Waterloo ; and many were disposed to impute his failure in that decisive campaign, less to the superiority of his enemies than to the de- crease of his own habits of activity. There seems no room for such a conclusion : The rapid manner in which he concentrated his army n])on Charleroi, ought to have silenced such a report for ever. He was subject occasionally to slight fits of sleepiness, such as are incident to most men, especially after the age of forty, who sleep ill, rise early, and work hard. When he landed at St. Helena, so far did he seem from showing any appearance of declin- ing health, that one of the British grenadiers, who saw him, exclaimed, with his national oath, " They told us he was growing old ; — he has forty good campaigns in his belly yet, d — n him !" A speech which the French gentlemen envied, as it ought, they said, to have belonged to one of the Old Guard. We have mentioned Captain Hall's ac- count of his apparent state of health in summer 1817 ; that of Mr. Ellis, about the same period, is similar, and he expresses his belief that Buona- parte was never more able to undergo the fatigues of a campaign than at the moment he saw liim. Yet at this time, viz. July, 1817, Napoleon was alleging the decline of his health as a reason for obtaining more indulgence, while, on the other hand, he refused to take the exercise judged ne- cessary to preserve his constitution, unless a relaxation of superintendence should be granted to him. It is probable, however, that he himself felt, even at that period, the symptoms of that in- ternal malady which consumed his life. It is now well known to have been the cruel complaint of which his father died, a cancer, namely, in the stomach, of which he had repeatedly expressed his apprehensions, both in Russia and elsewhere. The progress of this disease, however, is slow and insi- dious, if indeed it had actually commenced so early as 1817. Gourgaud, at a much later period, avowed himself a complete disbeliever in his illness. He allowed, indeed, that he was in low spirits to such an extent as to talk of destroying himself and his attached followers, by shutting himself and them up in a small apartment with burning charcoal — an easy death, which Berthollct the chemist had, it seems, recommended. Nevertheless, "on the sub- ject of General Buonaparte's health, General Gour- gaud stated, that the English were much imposed upon ; for that he was not, as far as bodily health was concerned, in any degree materially altered, and that the representations upon this subject had little, if any, truth in them. Dr. O'Meara was cer- tainly the dupe of that influence wliich General Buonaparte always exercises over those with whom he has frequent intercourse, and though he (General Gourgaud) individually had only reason de se loner de Mr. O'Meara, yet his intimate knowledge nf General Buonaparte enabled him confidently to assort, tliat his state of health was not at all worse than it had been for some time previous to his ar- rival at St. Helena." 812 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1817. Yet, as before hinted, notwithstanding the dis- beHef of friends and foes, it seems probable tliat the dreadful disease of which Napoleon died, was already seizing upon the vitals, though its charac- ter was not decisively announced by external symp- toms. Dr. Arnott, surgeon to the 20th regiment, who attended on Napoleon's death-bed, has made the following observations upon this important sub- ject: " We arc given to understand, from great authority,' that this affection of the stomach cannot be produced without a considerable predisposition of the parts to disease. I will not venture an opinion : but it is somewhat remarkable, that he often said that his father died of scirrhus of the pylorus ; that the bodv was examined after death, and the fact ascertained. His faithful followers. Count and Countess Bertrand, and Count Montliolon, have repeatedly declared the same to me. " If, then, it should be admitted that a previous disposition of the parts to this disease did exist, might not the depressing passions of the mind act as an exciting cause? It is more than probable that Napoleon Buonaparte's mental sufferings in St. Helena were very poignant. By a man of such unbounded ambition, and who once aimed at universal dominion, capti- vity must have been severely felt. " The climate of St. Helena I consider healthy. The air is pure and temperate, and Europeans enjoy their health, and retain the vigour of their constitution, as in their native coun- try." Dr. Arnott proceeds to state, that notwithstand- ing this general assertion, dysentery, and other acute diseases of the abdominal viscera, prevailed among the troops. This he imputes to the careless- ness and intemperance of the English soldiers, and the fatigue of the working parties ; as the officers, who had little night duty, retained their health and strength as in Europe. " I can therefore safely assert," continues the physician, " that any one of temperate habits, who is not exposed to much bodilv exertion, night air, and atmospherical changes, as a soldier miist be, may have as much immunity from disease in St. Helena as in Europe ; and I may therefore farther as- sert, that the disease of which Napoleon Buonaparte died was not the effect of climate." In support of Dr. Arnott's statement, it may be observed, that of Napoleon's numerous family of nearly fifty persons, English servants included, only one died during all their five years' residence on the island ;'■' and that person (Cipriani, the major- domo) had contracted the illness which carried him off", being a species of consumption, befoi-e he left Europe. Dr. Arnott, to whose opinion we are induced to give great weiglit, both from the excellence of his character and liis having the be.st opportunities of information, states that the scirrhus, or cancer of the stomach, is an obscure disease ; the symptoms which announce it being common to, and charac- teristic of, other diseases in the same region ; yet he early conceived that some morbid alteration of the structure of the stomach had taken place, es- pecially after he learned that his patient's father had died of scirrhus of the jiylorus. He believed, as already hinted, that the disease was in its inci- l)ient state, even so far back as the end of the year 1817, when the patient was affected v,-ith pain iu the stomach, nausea, and vomiting, especially after taking food ; which symptoms never left him from that period, but increased progressively till the day of his death. From this period, therefore. Napoleon was in a situation which, considering his great actions, and the height of liis former fortunes, deserved the compassion of his most bitter enemies, and the ' " See Dr. Baillie's inestimable book on Morbid Anatomy, pp. 141, 142."-S. sympathy of all who were disposed to take a moral lesson from the most extraordinary vicissitude of human affairs which history has ever presented. Nor can we doubt that such reflections might have eventually led to much relaxation in the severity with which the prisoner was watched, and, it may be, at length to his entire emancipation. But to attain this end, it would have been necessary that Napoleon's conduct, while under restrictions,should have been of a vei'y different character from that which he thought it most politic, or felt it most natural, to adopt. First, to obtain the sympathy and privileges due to an invalid, he ought to have jierinitted the visits of some medical person, who.se report might be held as completely impartial. This could not be the case with that of Dr. O'Meara, engaged as he was in the prisoner's intimate and even secret service, and on the worst tei'ms with the governor ; and Napoleon's positive rejection of all other assistance seemed to countenance the be- lief, ho.M'ever unjust, that he was either feigning indisposition, or making use of some slight symp- toms of it to obtain a relaxation of the governor's vigilance. Nor was it to be suppo.sed that Dr. Antommarchi's evidence, being that of an indivi- dual entirely dependent on Napoleon, could be considered as more authentic, till cori'oborated by some indiff"erent, and, at the same time, competent medical authority. Secondly, It is to be rememberea, tnat the fun- damental reason on which Napoleon's confinement was vindicated, was, that his liberty was inconsist- ent with the tranquillity of Europe. To prove the contrary, it would have been necessary that the Ex-Einperor should have evinced a desire to re- treat from political disputes, and shown symptoms of having laid aside or forgotten those ambitious projects which had so long convulsed Europe. Compassion, and the admiration of great talents, might then have led the states of Europe to con- fide in the resigned dispositions of one, whom age, infirmities, and sufferings, appeared to incline to dedicate the remainder of his days to ease and retirement, and in whom they might seem a sure guarantee for his pacific intentions. But so far wore such feelings from being exhibited, that every thing which emanated from St. Helena showed that the Ex- Emperor nourished all his former plans, and vindicated all his former actions. He was not satisfied that the world should adopt the opinion that his ambition was allayed, and his pretensions to empire relinquished. On the con- trary, his efforts, and those of the works into which he breathed his spirit, went to prove, if they proved any thing, that he never entertained ambition of a culpable character — that his claims of sovereignty \\ere grounded upon national law and justice — that he had a right to entertain them formerly, and that he was disposed and entitled to as.sert them still. He was at pains to let the world know that he was not altered in the slightest degree, was neither ashamed of his projects, nor had renounced their. , but, if restored to Europe, that he would be in all respects the same person, with the same claims, and little diminished activity, as when he landed at Cannes to recover the empire of France. This mode of pleading his cause had the iiievit- - Sec, for a detailed account of the establishment at LoDf- vood, Appendix, No. XVII. LSI 7.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 8i: able consequence of confirming all those who had deemed restrictions on his freedom to be necessary in the outset (and these were the great majority of Europe,) in tlie belief that the same reasons existed for continuing the restraint, which had ori- ginally caused it to be imposed. We ai-e unwilling to revert again to the hackneyed simile of the im- prisoned lion ; but certainly, if the royal animal which Don Quixotte desired to set at liberty, had, instead of demeaning himself peaceably and with urbanity, been roaring, ramping, and tearing the bars of his cage, it may bo questioned whether the Great Redresser of Wrongs himself would have advocated his freedom. In November 1816, Napoleon sustained a loss to which he must liave been not a little sensible, in the removal of Count Las Cases from his society. The devoted attachment of the count to his person could not be doubted, 'and his age and situation as a civilian, made him less apt to enter into those feuds and quarrels, which sometimes, notwithstand- ing their general attachment to Napoleon, seemed to have arisen among the military officers of the household of Longwood. He was of a literary turn, and qualified to converse upon general topics, both of history and science. He had been an emigrant, and understanding all the manoeuvres and intrigues of the ancient noblesse, had many narrations which Napoleon was not unwilling to listen to. Above all, he received and recorded every thing which was said by Napoleon, with undoubting faith and unwearied assiduity. And, like the author of one of the most entertaining books in the English lan- guage (Boswell's Life of Johnson,) Count Las Cases thought nothing trivial that could illustrate his subject. Like Boswell, too, his veneration for his principal was so deep, that he seems to have lost, in some cases, the exact perception of right and wrong, in his determination to consider Napo- leon as always in the right. But his attachment, if to a certain degree tending to blind his judgment, came warm from his heart. The count gave a substantial mark, also, of his sincerity, in dedicating to his master's service a sum of £4000, or there- about, his whole private fortune, which was vested in the English funds.' For our misfortune, as also for his own, since he must have considered his separation from Buona- parte as such, Count Las Cases had been tempted into a line of conduct inconsistent with the engage- ment he had come under with the other attendants of the Ex-Emperor, not to hold secret communica- tion beyond the verge of the island. The oppor- tunity of a servant of his own returning to England, induced him to confide to the domestic's charge a letter, written upon a piece of white silk, that it might be the more readily concealed, which was stitched into the lad's clothes. It was addressed to Prince Lucien Buonaparte. As this was a direct transgression, in a most material point, of the con- ditions which Count Las Cases had promised to observe, he was dismissed from the island and sent to the Cape of Good Hope, and from thence to Europe.'-* His Journal remained for some time in tlie hands of Sir Hudson Lowe ; but, as we had formerly occasion to mention, alterations and addi- tions were afterwards made, which, in general, are ' Las Cases, torn, iii., j). 359. * Las Ca'cs, torn, iv., p. 2U1. more vituperative of the governor, than the manu- script as it originally stood when the count left St. Helena. The abridgement of the count's stay at the island was much to be regretted, as his Journal forms the best record, not only of Napoleon's real thoughts, but of the opinions which he desired should be received as such. Unquestionably, the separation from this devoted follower added greatly to the disconsolate situation of the Exile of Long- wood ; but it is impossible to suppress the remark, that, when a gentleman attached to Napoleon's suite found himself at liberty thus to break through a plighted engagement in his chief's behalf, it suffi- ciently vindicated Sir Hudson Lowe for putting little faith in tlie professions made to him, and declining to relax any reasonable degree of vigi- lance which the safe custody of his prisoner seemed to demand. The complaints of Napoleon and his followers produced, as they ought to have done, an inquiry into the personal treatment of the Ex-Emperor, in the British Parliament ; when the general reason- ing which we have hinted at, joined to the exposure which ministers afforded of the exaggerated repre- sentations that had been made in the statements which had come from St. Helena, were found greatly to preponderate over the arguments of Napoleon's compassionate and accomplished advo- cate. Lord Holland. The question came before the House of Lords, on 18th March, 1817.'' Lord Holland, in a speech of great good sense and moderation, disowned all attempts at persuading the House, that the general line of policy adopted with respect to Napoleon should be changed. It had been adopted in contra- diction to his (Lord Holland's) sentiments, but it had been confirmed by Parliament, and he did not hope to obtain a reversal of their judgment. But, if the confining Napoleon was, as had been alleged, a measure of necessity, it followed that necessity must limit what necessity had ci'eated, and of course that the prisoner should be treated with no unne- cessary harshness. His lordship did not presume to state the reports which had reached him as ab- solute matters of fact, but only as rumours which demanded an inquiry, where the honour of the country was so nearly concerned. Most of the allegations on which Lord Holland grounded his motion, were contained in a paper of complaints sent by General Montholon. The particulars no- ticed in this remonstrance were circumstances which have been already adverted to, but may be here briefly noticed, as well as the answers by the British Government. First, the restrictions upon the exercising ground formerly allowed to Napoleon, was alleged as a gi-ievance. The climate of St. Helena, Lord Hol- land admitted, was good, but his lordship com- plained that the upper part of the island, where Longwood was situated, was damp and unhealthy. The inconvenience of the house was also com- plained of. Lord Bathurst, the colonial secretary of state, replied to this charge, that the general accounts of Longwood described it as healthy. It had been the usual coimtry residence of tlie lieutenant-go- vernor, which went far to show that the site could 3 See Pari. Debates, vol. xxxv., p. 1UJ7. 814 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1817. not be ineligible. The situation had been preferred by Napoleon himself, who was so impatient to take ])ossession of it, that he even wished to have l)itehed a tent tlure till the house could be cleared for his reception. The restriction of the bounds of exei-cise, he explained to have been caused by Napoleon's evincing some disposition to tamper with the inhabitants. He still had a circuit of eight miles, within which he might range unat- tended and uncontrolled. If he wished to go far- ther, he was at liberty to traverse the island, upon permitting an orderly officer to join his suite. His refusal to take exercise on such terms, was not the fault of the British Government; and if Napo- leon's health suffered in consequence, it was the result not of the regulations, which were reasonable and indispensable, but of his own wilfulness in re- fusing to comply with them. The second class of exceptions taken by Lord Holland, was against what he considered as the harsh and iniquitous restrictions upon the exile's communication with Europe. He was not, his lordship stated, permitted to obtain books, or to subscribe for journals and newspapers. All inter- course by letter was interdicted to the distinguished prisoner, even with his wife, his child, and his near- est and dearest relatives. He was not allowed to write under seal to the Prince Regent. Upon these several topics Lord Bathurst an- swered, that a list of books, the value of which amounted to £1400 or £1500 (which General Montholon termed a few books,) had been sent by Napoleon to Britain ; that the commissioners put this list into the hands of an eminent French book- seller, who had supplied as many as could be ob- tained in London and Paris, but several of them, chiefly works on military matters, could not be procured. The volumes which could be procured, had been sent, with an apology for the omission of those which were not to be gotten ; but the resi- dents of Longwood had not admitted the excuse. Respecting the permission of a free subscription by Napoleon to journals. Lord Bathurst deemed it his duty to place some restriction upon that species of indulgence, attempts having been detected to esta- blish a correspondence with Napoleon through the medium of newspapers. On the subject of inter- course with Europe by letter. Lord Bathurst sta- ted that it was not interdicted, unless by the condi- tion that Sir Hudson Lowe should previously be permitted to read the letter, whether of business or otherwise. This right, Lord Bathurst stated, had been exercised only by the governor in person, and with strict delicacy and feeling ; and he repelled, with the most flat contradiction, the assertions of Montholon, that the governor of St. Helena had broken open and detained letters, under pretence that they did not come through the channel of the English minister. Lord Bathurst said, that Gene- ral Montholon had been challenged by Sir Hudson Lowe to produce a single instance of such tyranny having been permitted, but that the French general liad remained silent, the assertion being absolutely false. All the letters which the relatives of Na- poleon were disposed to send through his. Lord Bathurst's office, he said, should be instantly for- warded, but it was a necessary preliminary that Buch should be written. Now, a letter from his brother Joseph, which was received in October last, and instantly forwarded, was the only one from any of his family or relatives which had reached the office. His lordship then adverted to the re- gulation which enacted, that even a letter to the Prince Regent must pass through the governor of St. Helena's hands in an open state. Lord Bathurst ex])lained that the regulation gave the governor no authority or option as to transmitting the 'etter, which lie was directed to forward instantly. The rule only required that Sir Hudson Lowe should be pi-ivy to the contents, in order, that, if it should contain any impeachment of his conduct, his de- fence or apology might reach London as soon as the accusation. This, his lordship remarked, was necessary, in order that no time might be lost in redressing a complaint of a grave character, or in repelling any frivolous and imsubstantial charge. He added, that should any sealed letter be ad- di-essed to the Prince Regent by Napoleon, he. Lord Bathurst, would have no hesitation to open it, if the governor had not previously done so. He should conceive it to be his duty to forward it in- stantly as addressed, whenever he was acquainted with the contents; but being in his department responsible for the acts of the sovereign, he would feel it his duty to make himself previously ac- quainted with the nature of the communication. Thirdly, Lord Holland touched on the inade- quacy of the sum allowed for the maintenance of Napoleon, and on the unworthiness of making that personage contribute to bear his own charges. The ministers, his lordship stated, having placed him in a situation where great expense was necessary, turned round upon him, and insisted that he should himself be in a great measure at the charge of sup- porting it. Lord Bathurst replied by stating the facts with which the reader is ah-eady acquainted. He men- tioned, that the sum of £8000 had been fixed upon as adequate, after the heavy expenses of the first year ; and that it was inci-eased to £12,000 on the remonstrance of Sir Hudson Lowe. This allow- ance, he said, was the same given to the governor, who had to bear the cost of frequent entertain- ments. It did not appear to government, that the family of Napoleon, which was to be maintained on the footing of that becoming a general officer of distinction, ought to cost more than that of Sir Hudson Lowe, who actually held that condition, with the necessity of discharging the expenses of his staff, and all other incumbent disbursements. He gave some details on the subject of the provi- sions and the cellar, from which it appeared, that, besides the inferior species of wine, the table of Napoleon was supjjlied at the rate of two bottles daily of those of a superior quality for each indi- vidual. Lord Holland concluded with stating, that al- though Queen Mary could be no otherwise re- garded than as the bitterest enemy of the illus- trious Elizabeth, yet the greatest stain upon the memory of the latter sovereign was not the unjust, for unjust it was not, but the harsh and ungenerous treatment of Mary. He reminded the House, that it would not be considered by posterity, whether Buonaparte had been justly punished for his crimes, but whether Great Britain had acted in that generous manner which became a great coun- try. He then moved for the production of such papers and correspondence betwixt St. Helena and the British Government, as should seem best fitted 1817.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 815 to throw liglit on the personal treatment of Napo- leon. It may be observed, that in the candid and libe- ral manner in which Lord Holland stated the case, he was led into a comparison unfavourable to his own argument. To have rendered the case of Mary (the justice of w hich his lordship admitted, in questioning its generosity) parallel to that of Napoleon, two remarkable circumstances were wanting. First, Mary, far from being at war with Queen Elizabeth, was ostensibly on the most friendly terms with that sovereign when she took refuge in England ; secondly, the British Ministry testified no design to finish Napoleon's confinement by cutting off his head. Lord Darnley, who had concurred with Lord Holland in desiring an inquiry, now considered the j'eports alluded to as totally refuted by the candid and able statement of Lord Bathurst, and was not of opinion that Lord Holland should press the motion farther. The Marquis of Buckingham's opinion was founded on the broad ground of Na- poleon's delinquencies towards Europe, and Eng- land in particular. He was of opinion, that every degree of restraint necessary to prevent his escape, should be imposed and enforced. The severe and close durance to which General Buonaparte was subjected, was not, his lordship said, dictated by motives of revenge, but of security. It was a piece of political justice which we owed to Europe, and the defeat of which would never be forgotten in this or in any other state of the civilized world. The motion of Lord Holland does not appear to have been seconded, and was negatived without a division. There can be no doubt that the failure of this effort in the British Senate had a deep effect on Napoleon's spirits, and may, perhaps, have aggra- vated that tendency to disease in the stomach, which was suspected to have already taken place. Nothing is better known, though perhaps few things are more difficult to be satisfactorily explained, than the mysterious connexion betwixt distress of mind and the action of the digestive powers. Violent sickness is produced on many pei-sons by extreme and sudden affliction, and almost every one feels the stomach more or less affected by that which powerfully and painfully occupies the mind. And here we may add, that Lord Holland's kindness and compassion for so great a man, mider such severe circumstances, were shown by a variety of delicate attentions on his part and that of his lady, and that the supplies of books and other articles sent by them through the Foreign Office, where every facility was afforded for the conveyance, continued from time to time to give Napoleon assurance of their sympathy. But though he gratefully felt their at- tentions, his distress of body, and perhaps of mind, assumed a character incapable of receiving conso- lation. This unhappy state was kept up and prolonged by the extent to which Buonaparte indulged in determined opposition to the various regulations respecting the custody of his person ; on which subject every thing which occurred occasioned a struggle against the authority of Sir Hudson Lowe, or a new effort to obtain the Imperial distinctions which he considered as due to his rank. The last point seems to have been carried to the length of childish extravagance. It was nccess;iry. for example, that Dr. O'Meara should report to tho governor of the island the state of the prisoner's health, which began to give room for serious aji- prehension. Napoleon insisted, that when this bul- letin was rendertnl in writing, O'Meara, whom he considered as in his own service, should give him the title of Emp( ror. It was in vain that the Doc- tor remonstrated, pleading that the instructiims of Government, as well as the orders of Lieutenant- General Lowe, prohibited him from using this for- bidden epithet ; and it was with difficulty that he at last prevailed that the word Personage or Pa- tient might be substituted for the offensive phrase of General Buonaparte. Had this ingenious device not been resorted to, there could have been no com- munication with the Government on the subject of Napoleon's health. The physician of Napoleon had till now enjoyed an easy office. His health was naturally sound ; and, like many persons who enjoy the same inesti- mable advantage, the Ex-Emperor doubted of the healing powers of medicines which he never needed to use. Abstinence was his chief resource against stomach complaints, when the.sc began to assail him, and the bath was frequently resorted to when the pangs became more acute. He also held it expe- dient to change the character of his way of living, when he felt affected with illness. If it had been sedentary, he rode hard and took violent exercise ; and if, on the contrary, he had been taking more exercise than usual, he was accustomed to lay it aside for prolonged repose. But more recently he had not the wish to mount on horseback, or take exercise at all. About the 25th of September, 1817, Napoleon's health seems to have been seriously affected. He complained much of nausea, his legs swelled, and there were other unfavourable symptoms, which induced his physician to tell him that he was of a temperament v/hich required much activity ; that constant exertion of mind and body was indispen- sable ; and that without exercise he must soon lose his health. He innnediately declared, that while exposed to the challenge of sentinels, he never would take exercise, however necessary. Dr. O'Meara proposed calling in the assistance of Dr. Baxter, a medical gentleman of eminence on Sir Hudson Lowe's staff. " He could but say the same as you do," said Napoleon, " and recommend my riding abroad ; nevertheless, as long as tho pre- sent system continues, I will never stir out." At another time he expressed the same resolution, and his determination to take no medicines. Dr. O'Meara replied, that, if the- disease should not be encountered by remedies in due time, it would ter- minate fatally. His answer was remarkable : " I will have at least the consolation that my death will be an eternal dishonour to the English nation, who sent me to this climate to die under the hands of * * * *." The physician again represented, that, by neglecting to take medicine, he would accele- rate his own death. " That which is written is writ- ten," said Napoleon, looking up. " Our days are reckoned." ' This deplorable and desperate course seems to have been adopted partly to spite Sir Hudson Lowe, partly in the reckless feelings of despon- dency inspired by his situation, and in some de- ' Voice, i5.;c.. vol. ii., p. 256. 81 () SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. [1818. gree, pei-liaps, was the effect of the disease itself, which must necessarily have disinclined him to motion. Napoleon might also hope, that, by thus threatening to injure liis health by forbearing exer- cise, he might extort the governor's acquiescence in some points which were disputed betwixt them. When the governor sent to offer him some exten- sion of his riding ground, and Dr. O'Meara wished him to profit by the permission, he replied, that he should be insulted by the challenge of the sentinels, and that he did not choose to submit to the caprice of the governor, who, granting an indulgence one day, might recall it the next. On such grounds as these — which, after all, amounted just to this, that being a prisoner, and one of great importance, he was placed under a system of vigilance, rendered more necessary by the constant intrigues carried on for his escape — did he feel himself at liberty to neglect those precautions of exercise and medicine, which were necessary for the preservation of his healtli. His conduct on such occasions can scarce be termed worthy of his powerful mind ; it resem- bled too much that of the froward child, who re- fuses its food, or its physic, because it is contra- dicted. The removal of Dr. O'Meara from Napoleon's person, which was considered by him as a great injury, was the next important incident in the monotony of his life. It seems, from quotations given elsewhere in this volume, that Dr. O'Meara had been for some time a confident of Sir Hudson Lowe, and was recommended by him to ministers as a person by whose means he could learn what passed iii the family of Napoleon. But in process of time, Dr. O'Meara, growing, perhaps, more inti- mate with the prisoner, became unwilling to supply the governor with the information of which he had been formerly profuse, and a quarrel took place betwixt him and Sir Hudson Lowe. In describing the scenes wliich passed between him and the governor, we have already said that Dr. O'Meara writes with a degree of personal animosity, which is unfavourable to his own credit. But his depart- ure from St. Helena was occasioned by a warmer mark of the interest which he took in Napoleon's fortunes, than could be inferred from his merely refusing to inform Sir Hudson of what was said at Longwood. Dr. O'Meara seems not only to have taken the part of Napoleon in his controversies with the governor, but also to have engaged deeply in for- warding a secret correspondence with a Mr. Holmes, the Ex-Emperor's agent in London. This appears to have been clearly proved by a letter received from the agent, relating to lai'ge remittances of money to St. Helena, by the connivance of the physician.' Under such suspicions, Dr. O'Meara was withdrawn by the governor's mandate from attending on the person of Napoleon, and sent back to England. Napoleon had never obeyed his medi- cal injunctions, but he complained severely when he was recalled from his household ; expressing his belief that the depriving him of the medical attend- ant, whose prescriptions he had never followed, 1 The letter alluded to is quoted at full length in the Quar- terly Review, vol. xxviii., p. '224 to p. 226. It was received after Dr. O'Meara's digraission ; wliich, therefore, must have been occaaiimed only by the suspicion of what was afterwards prcived. — S. - " As member of the College of the Propaganda, he could was a direct and bold step in the plan contrived for nmrdering him. It is probable, however, he regretted Dr. O'Meara's secret services more than those which were professional. Sir Iludsou Lowe again offered the assistance of Dr. Baxter, but this was construed at Longwood into an additional offence. It was even treated as an offer big with suspicion. The governor tried, it was said, to palm his own private physician upon the Emperor, doubtless that he might hold his life more effectually in his power. On the other hand, the British ministers were anxious that every thing should be done which could prevent complaints on this head. " You cannot better fulfil the wishes of his Majesty's Government" (says one of Lord Bathurst's despatches to the Governor) " than by giving effect to any measure which you may con- sider calculated to prevent any just ground of dis- satisfaction on the part of General Buonaparte, on account of any real or supposed inadequacy of medical attendance." Dr. Stokoe, surgeon on board the Conqueror, was next called in to visit at Longwood. But diffe- rences arose betwixt him and the governor, and after a few visits his attendance on Napoleon was discharged. After this period, the prisoner expressed his determination, whatever might be the extremity of his case, not to permit the visits of an English physician ; and a commission was sent to Italy to obtain a medical man of reputation from some of the seminaries in that country. At the same time. Napoleon signified a desire to have the company of a Catholic priest. The proposition for this purpose came through his uncle, Cardinal Fesch, to the Papal government, and readily received the assent of the British ministry'. It would appear that this mission had been thought by his Holiness to re- semble, in some degi'ee, those sent into foreign and misbelieving countries ; for two churchmen were despatched to St. Helena instead of one. The senior priest. Father Bonavita, was an elderly man, subject to the infirmities belonging to his period of life, and broken by a residence of twenty-six years in Mexico. His speech had been affected by a paralytic stroke. His recommenda- tion to the office which he now undertook, was his having been father confessor to Napoleon's mother. His companion was a young abb^, called Vignali.'' Both were pious, good men, well qualified, doubt- less, to give Napoleon the comfort which their Church holds out to those who receive its tenets, but not So much so to reclaim wanderers, or con- firm those who might doubt the doctrines of the Church. Argument or controversy, however, were not necessary. Napoleon had declared his resolution to die in the faith of his fathers. He was neither an infidel, he said, nor a philosopher. If we doubt whether a person who had conducted himself to- wards the Pope in the way which history records of Napoleon, and who had at one time been excom- municated, (if, indeed, the ban was yet removed,) could be sincere in his general professions of Catho- not go alone. Missions in which the line is to be crossed, must be composed of at least two missionaries ; and the Abbe Vig- nali, who had some notions of medicine, was attached to Bo- navita. Princess Pauline save her cook ; Madame M^ro one of her valets ; and thus a little colony was formed." — AiilMi- ntarchi, vol. i., p. y. 1819.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 817 lic-ism, we must at least acquit the Exile of the charge of deliberate atheism. On varii)us occasions, he expressed, with deep feelings of devotion, his conviction of the existence of the Deity, the great truth upon which the whole system of religion rests ; and this at a time when the detestable doc- trines of atlieism and materialism were generally current in France. Immediately after his elevation to the dignity of First Consul, he meditated the restoration of religion ; and thus, in a mixture of feeling and of policy, expressed liimself upon the subject to Thibaudeau, then a coimsellor of state. Having combated for a long time the systems of modern philosophers upon different kinds of wor- ship, upon deism, natural religion, and so forth, he proceeded. " Last Sunday evening, in the general silence of nature, I was walking in these grounds (of Malniaison.) The sound of the church- bell of Ruel fell upon my ear, and renewed all the impres- sions of my youth. I was profoundly affected, such is the power of early habit and associations ; and I considered, if such was the case with me, what must not be the effect of such recollections upon the more simple and credulous vulgar ? Let your philosophers answer that. The people must have a religion." He went on to state the terras on which he would negotiate with the Pope, and added, "They will say I am a Papist — I am no Buch thing. I was a Mahoraedan in Egypt. I will be a Catholic here, for the good of the people. I do not believe in forms of religion, but in the exist- ence of a God !" He extended his hands towards heaven — " Who is it that has created all above and around us ? " ' This sublime passage proves, that Napoleon (unfortunate in having proceeded no farther towards the Christian shrine) had at least crossed the threshold of the temple, and l)e- lieved in and worshipped the Great Father of the Universe. The missionaries were received at St. Helena with civility, and the rites of mass were occasion- ally performed at Longwood. Both the clergymen were quiet, unobtrusive characters, confining them- selves to their religious duties, and showing neither the abilities, nor the active and intriguing spirit which Protestants ai'e apt to impute to the Catho- lic priesthood. The same vessel which arrived at St. Helena on the 18th September, in 1819, with these physicians for the mind, brought with them Dr. F. Antom- marchi, anatomic pro-sector (that is, assistant to a professor of anatomy) to the Hospital of St. Marie Neuve at Florence, attached to the University of Pisa, who was designed to supply the place about the prisoner's person, occupied by Dr. O'Meara, and after him provisionally by Dr. Stokoe. He continued to hold the office till Napoleon's death, and his Account of his Last Moments, a work in two volumes, though less interesting, and showing far less acutencss than that of Las Cases, or of O'Meara, is yet useful and entertaining, as relating to the last days of so extraordinary a person. Dr. Antommarchi seems to have been acceptable to Napoleon, and the rather that he was a native of Corsica. He brought also news from his family. The Princess Pauhne Borghcse had offered to come to attend him. " Let her remain where she is," said Napoleon ; " I would not have her witness ■ Memoire sur le Consulat, 17P9 at 1804.— S, VOL. 11. the degrading state which I am reduced to, and the insults to which I am subjected." It is needless to resume the subject of these al- leged insults. They consisted in the precautions wliicli Sir Hudson Lowe deemed himself obliged to take for the security of his prisoner ; particularly in requiring that a British officer should be regu- larly made assured of his being at Longwood, and that an officer, not under the rank of captain, should attend him on the excursions which he proposed to make through the island. On these subjects. Na- poleon had made his mind up to a species of passive resistance ; and had, as we have seen, already ex- pressed himself determined to take no exercise, however indispensable to his health, imless the regulations of his confinement were entirely dis- pensed with, or modified according to his own plea- sure. This was an argument ad vdsericordiam, which must have given the governor great distress and uneasiness ; since, if the health of Ihe pi-isoner should fail, even though it was through his own wilfulness. Sir Hudson could not expect that his conduct would escape censure. At the same time, if he yielded to this species of compulsory argu- ment, it might be carried to an extent altogether inconsistent with the safe custody of the captive. His vigilance was also sharpened by constant reports of plots for the liberation of Napoleon ; and the sums of money which he and his family had at their command, rendered it dangerous to trust to the natural securities of the island. It is remark- able, too, that, in demanding, as a matter of right, freedom from the restrictions of which he com- plained. Napoleon never proposed any concessions on his part, by offer of his parole or otherwise, which might tend to give any additional moral assurance, in place of those limitations wliich he desired to have removed. Yet, to accommodate himself, in some degree to his prisoners obstinacy, Sir Hudson Lowe was content that the British officer, whose duty it was to report on the presence of Napoleon at Longwood, should only be required to satisfy himself of it by such indirect opportuni- ties as his walking in the garden, or appearing at the window, permitted him to enjoy, and on such occasions he was enjoined to keep his own person concealed. In this way, there were days which passed without any regular report on this most important point, for which Sir Hudson Lowe would have been highly responsible if an escape had been effected. We beg to refer to Dr. Antommarchi's work for instances of the peculiar and gi'ossly in- delicate opportunities, which, to compound between the necessity of the case and the obstinacy of Na- poleon, his attendants took to make his person visible when he was not aware of it.'^ Schemes for Napoleon's escape were not want- ing. A Colonel Latapie, distinguished as a parti- san officer, was said to be at the head of an attempt to carry him off from St. Helena, which was to bo undertaken by a baiul of desperadoes from Ame- rica. But Napoleon said, lie knew too well the character of such adventurers to hojie to profit by them. Government had other information of at- tempts to be made from America, but none of them seem to have proceeded to any serious length. It was different with the undertaking of Johu- ^ Antommarchi, vol. ii., p. 71. 2o 818 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS TROSE WORKS. Btone, a smuggler af an uncommonly resolute cha- racter, and whose life had been a tissue of despe- rate risks. He had made a memorable escape from Newgate, and had afterwards piloted Lord Nelson's vessel to the attack of Copenhagen, when the ordinary masters of the fleet, and pilots, de- clined the task. Johnstone was also said to have meditated a bold attempt to carry off Buonaparte on a former occasion, when he trusted himself on the water for the purpose of visiting Flushing.' And now he certainly engaged in a plot to deliver Napoleon from St. Helena, of a very singular kind. A submarine vessel — that is, a ship capable of being sunk under water for a certain time, and of being raised again at pleasure by disengaging certain weights, was to be the means of effecting this enterprise. It was thought that, by sinking the vessel during the daytime, she might escape the notice of the British cruizers, and being raised at night, might approach the guarded rock without discovorj^ The vessel was actually begun in one of the building-yards upon the Thames ; but the peculiarity of her construction having occasioned suspicions, she was seized by the British Govern- ment. These, and others wliich we could name, were very perilous and wild attempts, yet calculated to keep vigilance alive ; for in every case in which great natural difficulties had been surmounted by such enterprises, it has been because these difficul- ties have been too much relied upon. But while such precarious means of escape were presented from time to time, the chance upon which Napoleon secretly relied for release from his present situation was vanishing fi-om his eyes. His case was mentioned in the House of Com- mons, but incidentally only, on the 12th July 1819.^ The subject was introduced into a debate on finance, when Mr. C. H. Hutchinson pointed out the yearly expense of detaining Napoleon at St. Helena, which he stated to amount to half-a-million sterling, as a useless expenditure of public money. In this state- ment, he received no countenance from any one except Mr. Joseph Hume. It was answered by the Chancellor of the Exchequer ; and the expense was declared not to exceed a fifth-part of the sum alleged. The leading members of Opposition seemed to take no interest in the question ; and it was be- lieved at St. Helena, that Napoleon's disappoint- ment in the hopes which he had entertained of their strong and overpowering interposition in his behalf, first led to his mental depression and total aban- donment of hope. The complexion of the times, indeed, had become such as to strengthen every reason which existed for detaining him in captivity. The state of Eng- land, owing to the discontent and sufferings of the manufacturing disti'icts — and more especially that of Italy, convulsed by the short-lived revolutions of Naples and Savoy — rendered the safe custody of Napoleon a matter of more deep import than it had been at any time since his fall. What the effect of his name might have produced in that ' Such at least was the report. The attempt was to have been made by Johnstone and his desperate associates in a boat, which they were to row across the Scheldt towards Flushing, just when Napoleon was proceeding thither. They were to board the imperial barge, throw everyone save Napo- leon into the sea. and, removing him to their own light row- boat, were to pull out and deliver him up to the British squa- dron, then cruizing oft" the island. It is added, that Napoleon [1819-20. moment of general conmiotion, cannot be estimated, but the consequences of his escape must have been most formidable. The British Ministry, aware of the power of such a spirit to work among the troubled elements, anxiously enjoined additional vigilance to the go- vernor of St. Helena : " The overthrow of the Neapolitan government, the revo- lutionary spirit which more or less prevails over all Italy, and the doubtful state of France itself, must excite his attention, and clearly show that a crisis is fast appro.iching, if not al- ready arrived, when his escape would be productive of im- portant consequences. That his partisans are active, cannot be doubted; and if he be ever willing to hazard the attempt, he will never allow such an opportunity to escape. You will, therefore, exert all your attention in watching his proceedings, and call upon the admiral to use his utmost vigilance, as upon the navy so much must ultimately depend." 3 The alarm was natural, but there was no real cause for apprehension. Politics and war were never more to know the powerful influence of Na- poleon Buonaparte. His lost hopes aggravating the progress of the cruel disease, which had its source in the stomach, it now affected the whole frame, and undermined the strength of the constitution. Death was now' finally to terminate the fretful and degrading discussions, by which he inflicted, and from which he received, so much pain, and to open the gates of a prison, for wliich Hope herself could scarce present another key.- The symptoms of dis- organisation in the digestive powers became more and more apparent, and his reluctance to take any medicine, as if from an instinctive persuasion that the power of physic was in vain, continued as ob- stinate as ever. On one of the many disputes which he maintained on this subject, he answered Antom- marchi's reasoning thus : — " Doctor, no physicking. We are, as I already told you, a machine made to live. We are organised for that pm-pose, and such is our nature. Do not counteract the living prin- ciple. Let it alone — leave it the liberty of defend- ing itself — it will do better than your drugs. Our body is a watch, that is intended to go for a given time. The watchmaker cannot open it ; and must, on handling it, grope his way blindfolded and at random. For once that he assists and relieves it by dint of tormenting it with his crooked instru- ments, he injures it ten times, and at last destroys it."* This was on the 14th of October, 1820. As the Ex-Emperor's health grew weaker, it cannot be thought extraordinary that his mind be- came more and more depressed. In lack of other means of amusing himself, he had been somewhat interested in the construction of a pond and fomi- tain in the garden of Longwood, which was stocked with small fishes. A mixture of copperas in the mastick employed in cementing the basin, had af- fected the water. The creatures which had been in a good measure the object of Napoleon's atten- tion, began to sicken and to die. He was deeply affected by the circumstance, and, in language strongly resembling the beautiful verses of Moore, expressed his sense of the fatality which seemed to attach itself to him. " Every thmg I love — every thing that belongs to me," he exclaimed, " is im- took the alarm from seeing a boat rowing very swiftly towards him, and, ordering his crew to pull harder, or give way, as it is called, the smuggler, instead of running athw;irt the barge, fell astern, and the opportunity was lost. We do not know that there is any good authority for thia story. — S. - Pari. Debates, vol. xl., p. l.l')!). 3 Despatches to Sir Hudson Lowe, 3(Jtli September 1820.— S. '> Antommarchi, vol. i., p. 3Si). 1821-2;.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 8i' mediately struck.- Heaven and mankind unite to afllict me." * At other times lie lamented liis decay of energy. The bed, he said, was now a place of luxury, which he would not exchange for all the tlu'ones in the universe. Tlie eyes, which formerly were so vigilant, could now scarcely be opened. Ho recollected that he used to dictate to four or five secretaries at once. " But then," he said, " I was Napoleon — now I am no longer any thing — my strength, my faculties, forsake me — I no longer live, I only exist."' Often he remained silent for many hours, suffering, as may be supposed, much pain, and immersed in profound melancholy. About the 22d January, 1821, Napoleon appear- ed to resume some energy, and to make some at- tempt to conquer his disease by exercise. He mounted his horse, and galloped, for the last time, five or six miles around the limits of Longwood, but nature was overcome by the effort. He com- plained that his strength was sinking under him rapidly.* The governor liad already transmitted to Britain accounts of Napoleon's decay of health, without having it, however, in his power to ascertain how far it was real, or how far the appearances were assumed. The patient would neither receive the visit of any English surgeon or physician, nor would he authorise the communication of Dr. Antommai'- chi with Sir Hudson Lowe. The governor was ob- liged to state accounts of the prisoner's declining health as reports, the reality of which he had no means of ascertaining. The generous feelings of the great personage at the head of the British Goverinnent were naturally deeply interested in the fate of the prisoner, and prompted him, by every means in his power, and especially by expressions of his own sympathy, to extend such hope and com- fort to Napoleon as he could be supposed to re- ceive, under tlie necessity of his continued captivi- ty. The following is Lord Bathurst's despatch to Sir Hudson Lowe on this interesting subject, dated 16th February, 1821 :— " I am aware how difficult it is to make any communication to the General which will not be liable to misrepresentation ; and yet, if he be really ill, he may derive some consolation by knowing, that the repeated accounts which have of late been transmitted of his declinius health, have not been received with indifference. You will, therefore, communicate to Ge- neral Buonaparte the great interest which his Majesty has taken in the recent accounts of his indisposition, and the anxiety which his Majesty feels to afford him every relief of which his situation admits. You will assure General Buona- parte that there is no alleviation which can be derived from additional medical assistance, nor any arrangement consistent »ith the safe custody oi his person at St. Helena, (and his Majesty cannot now hold out any expectation of his removal, ) which his Majesty is not most ready and desirous to afford. You will not only repeat the offer which has already been more than once made, of such further medical assistance as the island of St. Helena affords, but you will give him the option of procuring the attendance of any of the medical gen- 1 Antommarclii, vol. i., p. .303. 2 " 'Twas ever thus— from childhood's hour I've seen my fondest hopes decay ; I never loved a tree or flower, But was the first to fade away." 8 Antommarchi, vol. i., p. 371. ■* " He repeated the attempt three or four times, and with a» little success. ' I now see," said he, with a tone of afflic- tion, ' that my strength forsakes me. Nature no longer an- swers, as formerly, to the appeals of my will ; violent shocks are no longer suited to my debilitated franje : but I shall at- tain the end I propose by moderate exercise." On the follow- ing day, the Emperor was labouring under ])rofound depres- sion of spirits ;— he still felt jiersuadcd that exercise wnuld save him. ' Sire,' said Moiitholon, ' perhaps the sec saw would do your Majesty good ?'— ' True, I will try : have one arranged.' '1' his was immediately done ; but this motion pro- tlomen who are at the Cape, where there is one, ai least, ot considerable eminence in his profession ; and in c.ise of any wish being exj)resscd by the General to receive such assist- ance, you will consider yourself authorised to make a com- munication to the Cape, and take such other measures as may be necessary to secure the immediate attendance of the person whom the General may name." Napoleon had not the satisfaction to know the interest which his Majesty took in his illnosp, which would probably have afforded him some gleam of consolation. The tenor of the letter might, perhaps, liave induced liim to think, that his own system of pertinacious contest with the autliorities under whose charge he was placed, had been so far inju- dicious, as to lead to doubts of the reality of tlie disorder under which he was dying ; and had there- fore been one great cause of intercepting the sym- f)athy, and perhaps the relief, which must otherwise lave extended itself to a situation so well deserving of commiseration. Towards the end of March the disease assumed a character still more formidable, and Dr. Antom- marchi became desirous of obtaining a consultation with some of the English. medical men. The Em- peror's aversion to their assistance had been increased by a well-meant offer of the governor, announcing that a physician of eminence had arrived at the island, whom lie therefore placed at Greneral Buonaparte's devotion." This proposal, like every other advance on the part of Sir Hudson Lowe, had been received as a meditated injury ; " He wants to deceive Europe by false bulletins," said Napoleon ; " I will not see any one who is in communication with him." ^ To refuse seeing every physician but his own, was certainly an option which ought to have been left in Napoleon's choice, and it was so left accordingly. But in thus obstinately declining to see an impartial medical man, wlio.se report must have been conclusive respecting his state of health, Napoleon unques- tionably strengthened the belief, that his case was not so desperate as it proved to be. At length the Ex-Emperor consented that Dr. Antommarchi should consult with Dr. Arnott, surgeon of the 20th regiment.^ But the united opinion of the medical gentlemen could not over- come the aversion of Napoleon to medicine, or shake the belief which he reposed in the gloomy doctrines of fatalism. " Quod scriptum scriptum," l;e replied in the language of a Moslem ; " All tliat is to happen is written down. Our hour is marked, and it is not in our power to claim a moment longer of life than Fate has predestined for us." * Dr. Antommarchi finally prevailed in obtaining admittance for Dr. Arnott into the apartment and presence of the patient, who complained chiefly of durcd no favourable effect, and he gave it up." — Antommarchi, vol. i., p. .39.'). s Dr. Shortt, physician to the forces ; who, at this time, re- placed Dr. Baxter as princijial medical officer at St. Helena, and to whom we have been obliged for much valuable infor- mation. 6 Antimimarchi, vol. ii., p. 5!). 7 " I seized a moment, when the Kii Iniperor was more tran- quil, to hazard a few words about the necessity of a consulta- tion. — ' A 'consultation ! what would be the use of it )* You all work in the dark. No! 1 will have none of them." The Kniperor was warm, and 1 therefore did not insist for the mo- ment, but waited until he was more calm, when I .again pressed the subject. ' You persist,' said he, with ,1 tone of kindness, ' consult with tlie physician of the island that you consider the most skilful. I accordingly applied to Dr. Ar- nott."— Anto.mmakchi, vol. ii., p. ."iK. H Antommarchi, vol. ii., p. 6."). 820 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. ri82i, his stomach, of the disposition to vomit, and defi- ciency of the digestive powers. He saw him, for the first time on 2d April, 1821, and continued his visits regularly. Napoleon expressed his opinion that his liver was affected. Dr. Arnott's observa- tions led him to think, that though the action of the liver might be imperfect, the seat of the disease was to be looked for elsewhere. And here it is to be remarked, that Napoleon, when Dr. Antom- marchi expressed doubts on the state of his stomach, had repelled them with sharpness, though his own private belief was, that he was afflicted with the disease of his father. Thus, with a capricious inconsistency, natural enough to a sick bed, he communicated to some of his retinue his sense of what disease afflicted him, though, afraid perhaps of some course of medicine being proposed, he did not desire tliat his surgeon should know his suspi- cions.i From the 1 5th to the 2-4th of April, Na- poleon was engaged from time to time in making his testamentary bequests, of which we shall have occasion to make some mention hereafter, as illus- trative of his peculiar character and sentiments. On the day last mentioned, he was greatly exhausted by the fatigue of writing, and showed sj-mptoms of over-excitation. Among these may be safely included, a plan which he spoke of for reconciling all religious dissensions in France, which he said he had designed to carry into effect. As the strength of the patient gradually sunk, •the symptoms of his disease became less equivocal, until, on the 27th April, the ejection of a dai-k- coloured fluid gave farther insight into the nature of the malady. Dr. Antommarchi persevered in attributing it to climate, which was flattering the wish of the patient, who desired to lay his death upon his confinement at St. Helena ; while Dr. Ar- nott expressed his belief that the disease was the same which cut off his father in the pure air of Montpellier. Dr. Antommarchi, as usually happens to the reporter of a debate, silenced his antagonist in the argument, although Dr. Arnott had by this time obtained the patient's own authority, for the assertion. Upon the 28tli of April, Napoleon gave instructions to Antommarchi, that after his death his body should be opened, but that no English medical man should touch him, unless in the ease of assistance being absolutely necessary, in which case he gave Antonunarchi leave to call in that of Dr. Arnott. He directed that his heart should be con- veyed to Parma, to Maria Louisa ; and requested anxiously tliat his stomach should be particularly examined, and the report transmitted to his son. " The vomitings," he said, " which succeed one another without interruption, lead me to suppose that the stomach is, of all my organs, the most diseased ; and I am inclined to believe that it is attacked with tlie same disorder which killed my father — I mean a scirrhus in the pj'lorus." On the 2d May, the patient returned to the same in- teresting subject, reminded Antommarchi of his anxiety that the stomach should be carefully exa- mined. " The physicians of Montpellier had an- nounced that the scirrhus in the pylorus would be hereditary in my family. Their report is, I believe, in the hands of Louis. Ask for it, and compare it 1 Madame Bertrand mentioned to 0r. Shortt that Napoleon conceived himself dyins of cancer in the stomach, which she considered as a mere whim.— S. with your own observations, that I may save my son from the sufferings I now experience." During the 3d May, it was seen that the life of Napoleon was drawing evidently to a close ; and his followers, and particularly his physician, became desirous to call in more medical assistance ;— that of Dr. Shortt, physician to the forces, and of Dr. Mitchell, surgeon of the flagship, was referred to. Dr. Shortt, however, thought it proper to assert the dignity belonging to his profession, and refused (being under the same roof with the patient,) to give an opinion on a case of so much iinportance in itself, and attended with so much obscurity, unless he were permitted to see and examine him. The officers of Napoleon's household excused them- selves, by professing that the Emperor's strict commands had been laid on them, that no English physician. Dr. Arnott excepted, should approach his dying bed. They said, that even when he was speechless they would be unable to brook his eye, should ho turn it upon them in reproof for their disobedience. About two o'clock of the same day, the priest Vignali administered the sacrament of extreme unction. Some days before. Napoleon had ex- plained to him the manner in which he desired his body should be laid out in state, in an apartment lighted by torches, or what Catholics call une chamhre ardente. " I am neither," he said, in the same phrase which we have formerly quoted, " a philosopher nor a physician. I believe in God, and am of the religion of my father. It is not every- body who can be an atheist. I was born a Catho- lic, and will fidfil all the duties of the Catholic Church, and receive the assistance which it ad- ministers." He then turned to Dr. Antommarchi, whom he seems to have suspected of heterodoxy, which the doctor, however, disowned. " How can you carry it so far ? " he said. " Can you not be- lieve in God, whose existence every thing proclaims, and in whom the greatest minds have believed?"* As if to mark a closing point of reseml:ilance be- twixt Cromwell and Napoleon, a dreadful tempest arose on the 4th May, which preceded the day that was to close the mortal existence of this extraor- dinary man. A willow, which had been the Exile's favourite, and under which he had often enjoyed the fresh breeze, was torn up by the hurricane ; and almost all the trees about Longwood shared the same fate. The 5th of May came amid wind and rain. Na- poleon's passing spirit was deliriously engaged in a strife more terrible than that of the elements around. The words " ttte d'armie," the last which escaped his lips, intimated that his thoughts were" watching the current of a heady fight. About eleven minutes before six in the evening, Napoleon, after a struggle which indicated the original strength of his constitution, breathed his last. The officers of Napoleon's household were dis- posed to have the body anatomized in secret. But Sir Hudson Lowe had too deep a sense of the re- sponsibility under which he and his country stood, to permit tliis to take place. He declared, that - Antommarchi, vol. ii., p. \iO. 1821.] LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 821 even if he were reduced to make use of force, lie would insure the presence of English physicians at the dissection. Generals Bertrand and Montholon, with March- and, the valet-de-chambre of the deceased, were present at the operation, which took place on the 6th of May. It was also witnessed by Sir Thomas Readc, and some British staff-officers. Drs. Thomas Shortt, Archibald Arnott, Charles Mitchell, Mat- thew Livingstone, and Francis Burton, all of them medical men, were also present. The cause of death was sufficiently evident. A large ulcer occupied almost the whole of the stomach. It was only the strong adhesion of the diseased parts of that organ to the concave surface of the lobe of the liver, which, being over the ulcer, had prolonged the patient's life by preventing the escape of the contents of the stomach into the cavity of the abdomen. All the other parts of the viscera were found in a tolerably healthy state. Tlie report was signed by the Bri- tish medical gentlemen present. Dr. Antommarchi was about to add his attestation, when, according to information which we consider as correct, Gene- ral Bertrand interdicted his doing so, because the report was drawn up as relating to the body of General Buonaparte. Dr. Antommarchi's own ac- count does not, we believe, greatly diff'er from tliat of the British professional persons, though he has dra«n conclusions from it which are apparently inconsistent with the patient's own conviction, and the ghastly evidence of the anatomical operation. He continued to insist that his late patron had not died of the cancer which we have described, or, in medical language, of scirrhus of the pylorus, but of a chronic gastro hepatitis, a disease he stated to be endemic in the island of St. Helena ; although we do not observe it asserted or proved that the hospital of the island, at any time, produced a sin- gle case like that of the deceased captive. The gentlemen of Napoleon's suite were desirous that his heart should be preserved and given to their custody. But Sir Hudson Lowe did not feel himself at liberty to permit this upon his own au- thority. He agreed, however, that the heart should be placed in a silver vase, filled with spirits, and inteiTed along with the body ; so that, in case his instructions from home should so permit, it might be afterwards disinhumed and sent to Europe. The place of interment became the next subject of discussion. On this subject Napoleon had been inconsistent. His testamentary disposition ex- l)ressed a wish that his remains should be deposited on the banks of the Seine ; a request which he could not for an instant suppose would be complied with, and which appears to have been made solely for the sake of producing effect. The reffcction of an instant would have been sufficient to call to recol- lection, that he would not, while in power, have allowed Louis XVIII. a grave in the land of his fathers ; nor did he permit the remains of the Due D'Enghien any other interment than that assigned to the poorest outcast, who is huddled to earth on the spot on which he dies. But neither did the agitated state of the public mind, now general through Italy, recommend the measm-e. A grave for the Emperor of France, within the limits of the rocky island to wliieh his last years were limited, was the alternative that remained ; and sensible that tliis was li!;ely to be the case, he bad himself indicated the sput where ho wished to lie. It was a small secluded recess, called Slane'a, or Haines' Valley, where a fountain arose, at which his Chinese domestics used to fill the silver pitchers which they carried to Longwood for Napoleon's use. The s])ot had more of verdure and shade than any in the neighbourhood ; and the illustrious Exile was often accustomed to repose under the beautiful weeping willows which overhung the spring. The body, after lying in state in his small bed-room, during which time it was visited by every person of condition in the island, was, on the 8th May, carried to the place of interment. The pall which covered the coffin was the military cloak which Napoleon had worn at the battle of Marengo. The members of his late household attended as mourners, and were followed by the governor, the admiral, and all the civil and mili- tary authorities of the island. All the troops were under arms upon the solemn occasion. As the road did not permit a near approach of the hearse to the ])lace of sepulture, a party of British gi-enadiers had the honour to bear the coffin to the grave. Tli<= prayers were recited by the priest, Abb^ Vignali. Minute guns were fired from the admiral's ship. The coffin was then let down into the grave, imder a discharge of three successive volleys of artillery, from fifteen pieces of cannon. A large stone was then lowered down on the grave, and covered tire moderate space now sufficient for the man for whom Europe was once too little. CONCLUSION. Arrived at the conclusion of this momentous narrative, the reader may be disposed to pause a moment to reflect on the character of that wonder- ful person, on whom Fortune showered so many favours in the beginning and through the middle of his career, to overwhelm its close with such deep and unwonted afflictions. The external appearance of Napoleon was not imposing at the first glance, his stature being only five feet si.\ inches English. His person, thin in youth, and somewhat corpulent in age, was rather delicate than robust in outward appearance, but cast in the mould most capable of enduring priva- tion and fatigue. He rode ungracefully, and with- out the command of his hoi-se which distinguishes a perfect cavalier; so that he showed to disadvan- tage when riding beside such a horseman as Murat. But he was fearless, sat firm in his seat, rode with rapidity, and was capable of enduring the exercise for a longer time than most men. We have ah-eady mentioned his indifference to the quality of his food, and his power of enduring abstinence. A morsel of food, and a flask of wine hung at his saddle-bow, used, in his earlier campaigns, to sup- port him for days. In his latter wars, he more frequently used a carriage ; not, as has been sur- mised, from any particular illness, but from feeling in a frame so constantly in exercise the premature effects of age. The countenance of Napoleon is familiar to al- most every one from description, and the portraits which are found every where. Tlie dark-brown liair bore little marks of the attentions of the toilet. The shape of the countenance approached more than is usual in the human race to a square. His 822 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. eyes were grey and full of expression, the pupils rather large, and the eyebrows not very strongly marked. The brow and upper part of the couute- nance was rather of a stern character. His nose and mouth were beautifully formed. The upper lip was very short. The teeth were indifferent, but were little shown in speaking.' His smile possessed uncommon sweetness, and is stated to have been irresistible. The complexion was a clear olive, otherwise in general colourless. The prevailing character of his countenance was grave, even to melancholy, but without any signs of severity or violence. After death, the placidity and dignity of expression which continued to occupy the features, rendered them eminently beautiful, and the ad- miration of all wOio looked on them. Such was Napoleon's exterior. His personal and private character was decidedly amiable, excepting in one particular. His temper, when he received, or thought he received, provocation, especially if of a personal character, was warm and vindictive. He was, however, placable in the case even of his ene- mies, providing that they submitted to his mercy ; but he had not that species of generosity which respects the sincerity of a manly and fair opponent. On the other hand, no one was a more liberal re- warder of the attachment of his friends. He was an excellent husband, a kind relation, and, unless when state policy intervened, a most affectionate brother. General Gourgaud, whose communica- tions were not in every case to Napoleon's advan- tage, states him to have been the best of masters, labouring to assist all his domestics whei'ever it lay in his power, giving them the highest credit for such talents as they actually possessed, and im- puting, in some instances, good qualities to such as had them not. There was gentleness, and even softness, in his character. He was affected when he rode over the fields of battle, which his ambition had strewed with the dead and the dying, and seemed not only desirous to relieve the victims — issuing for that purpose directions, which too often were not, and could not be, obeyed — but showed himself subject to the influence of that more acute and imaginative species of sympathy, which is termed sensibility. He mentions a circumstance which indicates a deep sense of feeling. As he passed over a field of bat- tle in Italy, with some of his generals, he saw a houseless dog lying on the body of his slain master. The creature caii.e towards them, then returned to the dead body, moaned over it pitifully, and seemed to ask their assistance. " Whether it were the feeling of the moment," continued Napoleon, " the scene, the hour, or the circumstance itself, I was never so deeply affected by any thing which I have seen upon a field of battle. That man, I thought, has perhaps had a house, friends, com- rades, and here he lies deserted by every one but his dog. How mysterious are the impressions to which we are subject 1 I was in the habit, without emotion, of ordering battles which must decide the fate of a campaign, and could look with a dry eye on the execution of manoeuvres which must be at- tended with much loss ; and here I was moved — nay, painfully affected — by the cries and the grief of a dog. It is certain that at that moment I should ' When at St. Helena, he was much troubled with toothache and scurvy in the gums.— S. have been more accessible to a suppliant enemy, and could better understand the conduct of Achilles in restoring the body of Hector to the tears of Priam." ^ The anecdote at once shows that Na- poleon possessed a heart amenable to humane feel- ings, and that they were usually in total subjection to the stern precepts of military stoicism. It was his common and expressive phrase, that the heart of a politician should be in his head ; but his feel- ings sometimes surprised him in a gentler mood. A calculator by nature and by habit. Napoleon was fond of order, and a friend to that moral con- duct in which order is best exemplified. The libels of the day have made some scandalous aver- ments to the contrary, but without adequate foun- dation. Napoleon respected himself too much, and understood the value of public opinion too well, to have plunged into general or vague de- bauchery. Considering his natural disposition, then, it may be assumed that if Napoleon had continued in the vale of private life, and no sti-ong temptation of passion or revenge had crossed his path, he must have been generally regarded as one whose friend- ship was every way desirable, and whose enmity it was not safe to incur. But the opportunity afforded by the times, and the elasticity of his own great talents, both military and political, raised him with unexampled celerity to a sphere of great power, and at least equal temptation. Ere we consider the use which he made of his ascendency, let us briefly review the causes by which it was accomplished. The consequences of the Revolution, however fatal to private families, were the means of filling the camps of the nation with armies of a description which Europe had never seen before, and it is to be hoped, will never witness again. There was neither safety, honour, nor almost subsistence, in any other profession than the military ; and accordingly it became the refuge of the best and bravest of tlie youth of France, until the army ceased to consist, as in most nations, of the miserable and disorderly class of the community, but was levied in the body and bosom of the state, and composed of the flower of France, whether as regarded health, moral qualities, or elevation of mind. With such men, the generals of the republic achieved many and great victories, but without being able to ensure corresponding advantages. This may have been in a great measure occasioned by the dependence in which these leaders were held by the various administrators of the republic at home — a depen- dence accounted for by the necessity of having re- course to those in power at Paris, for the means of paying and supporting their armies. From the time that Napoleon passed the Alps, he inverted this state of things ; and made the newly conquered countries not only maintain the army by means of contributions and confiscations, but even contribute to support the government. Thus war, which had hitherto been a burden to the republic, became in his hands a source of public revenue ; while the youthful general, contributing to the income of the state, on which his predecessors had been depen- dent, was enabled to assert the freedom at which he speedily aimed, and correspond with the Direc- - Las Cases, tom. L, part ii., p r> LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPAKTE. 823 tory upon a footing approaching to equality. His talents as a soldier, and situation as a victorious general, soon raised him from equality to pre- eminence. These talents applied not less to the general arrangements of the campaign, than to the dispo- sitions for actual battle. In each of these great departments of war. Napoleon was not merely a pupil of the most approved masters of the art— he was an improver, an innovator, and an inventor. In strategie, he applied upon a gigantic scale the principles upon which Frederick of Prussia had acted, and gained a capital or a kingdom, when Frederick would have won a town or a province. His system was, of course, that of assembling the greatest possible force of his own upon the vulner- able point of the enemy's position, pai'alyzing, per- haps, two parts of tlieir army, while he cut the third to pieces, and then following up his position Dy destroying the remainder in detail. For this purpose, he taught generals to divide their armies upon the march, with a view to celerity of move- ment and facility of supply, and to unite them at the moment of contest, where an attack would be most feebly resisted, because least expected. For this, also, he first threw aside all species of baggage which could possibly be dispensed with — supplied the want of magazines by the contributions exacted from the country, or collected from individuals by a regular system of marauding — discontinued the use of tents, and trusted to bivouacking with his soldiers, where hamlets could not be found, and there was no time to erect huts. His system was ruinous in point of lives, for even the military hos- pitals were often dispensed with ; but although Moreau termed Napoleon a conqueror at the rate of ten thousand men a-day, yet the sacrifice for a length of time uniformly attained the object for which it was designed. The enemy who had re- mained in their extensive cantonments, distracted by the reports of various columns moving in differ- ent directions, were surprised and defeated by the united force of the French, which had formed a junction where and when it was least expected. It was not till they had acquired the art of with- drawing from his attack so soon as made, that the allies learned to defeat the efforts of his movable columns. Napoleon was not less original as a tactician than as a strategist. His manoeuvres on the field of bat- tle had the promptness and decision of the thunder- bolt. In the actual shock of conflict, as in the pre- parations which he made for bringing it on, his ob- ject was to amuse the enemy upon many points, while he oppressed one by an unexpected force of numbers. Tlie breaking through the line, the turn- ing of a flank, which had been his object from the commencement of the fight, lay usually disguised under a gi"eat number of previous demonstrations, and was not attempted until both the moral and physical force of the enemy was impaired by the length of the combat. It was at this period that he brought up his guards, who, impatient of inac- tivity, had been held in readiness for hours, and now, springing forward like wolf-dogs from the leash, had the glorious task, in which they rarely failed, of deciding the long-sustained contest. It may be added, as further ciiaracteristic of his tactics, that ho preferred employing the order of the column to that of the line ; perhaps on account of the faith which he might rest in the extreme valour of the French officers by whom the column was headed. The interest which Napoleon preserved in the French soldier's affection by a frequent distribution of prizes and distinctions, as well as by his familiar notice of their persons, and attention to their wants, joined to his possession of absolute and independent command, rendered it no difficult matter for him to secure their support in the revolution of the eigh- teenth Brumaire, and in placing him at the head of aff'airs. Most part of the nation were heartily tired by this time of the continually misettled state of the government, and the various changes which it had experienced, from the visionary speculations of the Girondists, the brutal and bloody ferocity of the Jacobins, and the sordid and undecided versa- tility and imbecility of the Directory; and the people in general desired a settled form of government, which, if less free, should be more stable in dura- tion, and better calculated to assui'e to individuals the protection of property and of personal freedom, than those which had followed the downfall of the monarchy. A successful general, of a character more timid, or conscience more tender, than that of Napoleon, might have attempted the restoration of the Bourbons. But Napoleon foresaw the difficul- ties which would occur by an attempt to reconcile the recall of the emigrants to the assurance of the national sales, and aptly concluded, that the par- ties which tore France to pieces would be most readily amalgamated together under the authority of one, who was in a great measure a stranger to them all. Arrived at the possession of supreme power, a height that dazzles and confounds so many. Napo- leon seemed only to occupy the station for which he was born, to which his peculiar powers adapted him, and his brilliant career of success gave him, under all circumstances, an irresistible claim. He continued, therefore, with a calm mind and en- lightened wisdom, to consider the means of render- ing his power stable, of destroying the republican impulse, and establishing a monarchy, of which he destined himself to be the monarch. To most men the attempt to revive, in favour of a military ad- venturer, a form of government, which had been rejected by what seemed the voice of the nation with universal acclaim, would have appeared an act of desperation. The partisans of the Republic were able statesmen, and men of superior talent, accustomed also to rule the fierce democracy, and organise those intrigues which had overthrown crown and altar ; and it was hardly to be supposed that such men would, were it but for shame's sake, have seen their ten years' labour at once swept away by the sword of a young though suc- cessful general. But Napoleon knew himself and them ; and felt the confidence, that those who had been associates in the power acquired by former revolutions, must be now content to sink into the instruments of his advancement, and the subordinate agents of his authority, contented with such a share of spoil as that witli which the lion rewards the jackall. To the kingdom at large, upon every new stride towards power, ho 8lK)wed the certificate of supe- rior efficacy, guaranteed by the most signal suc- cess ; and he as-sumed the enq)ire of France under the proud title, JJettir dii/iihs'uiio. Neither did his 82t SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PEOSE AVOEKS. ftfltions up to tin's point encourage any one to chal- lenge the defects or flaws of his title. In practice, his government was brilliant abroad, and, with few exceptions, liberal and moderate at home. The abominable murder of the Due d'Enghien showed the vindictive spirit of a savage ; but, in geiieral, the public actions of Napoleon, at the commence- ment of his career, were highly laudable. The battle of Marengo, with its consequences — the softening of civil discord, the reconciliation with the Church of Rome, the recall of the great body of the emigrants, and the revivification of National Jurisprudence — were all events calculated to flatter the imagination, and even gain the affections, of the people. But, with a dexterity peculiar to himself. Napo- leon proceeded, while abolishing the Republic, to press into his service those very democratical prin- ciples which had given rise to the Revolution, and encouraged the attempt to found a commonwealth. His sagacity had not failed to observe, that the popular objections to the ancient goverinnent were founded less upon any objection to the royal autho- rity in itself, than a dislike, amounting to detesta- tion, of the privileges which it allotted to the nobles and to the clergy, who held, from birth and office, the right to fill the superior j-anks iu every profes- sion, and barred the competition of all others, how- ever above them in merit. When, therefore. Na- poleon constructed his new form of monarchical government, he wisely cousidered that he was not, like hereditary monarchs, tied down to any parti- cular rules arising out of ancient usage, but, being himself creator of the power which he wielded, he was at liberty to model it according to his own pleasure. He had been raised also so easily to the throne, by the general acknowledgment of his merits, that he had not needed the assistance of a party of his own ; consequently, being unfettered liy previous engagements, and by the necessity of gratifying old partisans, or acquiring new ones, his conduct was in a very unusual degree free and unlimited. Having, therefore, attained the summit of human power, he proceeded, advisedly and deliberately, to lay the foundation of his throne on that democratic principle which had opened his own career, and which "as the throwing open to merit, though without farther title, the road to success in every department of the state. This was the secret key of Napoleon's policy ; and he was so well aided in the use of it, by acute perception of character, as well as by good nature and good feeling (both of which, in his cooler moments, he possessed,) that he never, through all his vicissitudes, lost an op- portunity of conciliating and pleasing the nudtitude by evincing a well-timed attention to distinguish and reward talent.' To. this his conversation per- petually alluded ; and for this he claims, and is entitled to, the highest praise. We have little hesitation in repeating, that it was thus opening a full career to talent of every kind, which was the key-stone of his reputation, and the main founda- tion of his power. Unhappily, his love of merit, and disposition to reward it, were not founded exclusively upon a patriotic attention to the public welfare, far less on a purely benevolent desire to reward what was praiseworthy ; but upou a prin- ' See .Aiipciidix, No. Ji.VIIl. ciple of selfish policy, to which must be ascribed a great part of his success, no small portion of his misfortunes, and almost all his political crimes. We have quoted elsewhere the description given of the Emperor by his brother Lucien, in a mo- ment probably of spleen, but which has been never- theless confirmed by almost all the persons habi- tually conversant with Napoleon at whom we have had an opportunity of making inquiries. " His conduct," said his brother, " is entirely regulated by his policy, and his policy is altogether founded upon egotism." No man, perhaps, ever possessed (under the restrictions to be presently mentioned) so intense a propoi'tion of that selfish principle which is so common to humanity. It was planted by nature in his heart, and nourished by the half monastic, half military education, which so early separated him from social ties ; it was encouraged by the consciousness of possessing talents which rendered him no mate for the ordinary men among wlumi his lot seemed cast ; and became a confirmed habit, by the desolate condition in which he stooa at his first outset in life, without friend, protector, or patron. The praise, the promotion he received, were given to his genius, not to his person ; and he who was conscious of having forced his own way, had little to bind him in gratitude or kindness to those who only made room for him because they durst not oppose him. Ilis ambition was a modi- fication of selfishness, sublime indeed in its effects and consequences, but yet, when strictly analyzed, leaving little but egotism in the crucible. Our readers are not, however, to suppose, that the selfishness of Napoleon was of that ordinary and odious character, which makes men miserly, oppressive, and fraudulent in private life ; or which, under milder features, limits their exertions to such enterpi'ises as may contribute to their own indivi- dual profit, and closes the heart against feelings of pati-iotism, or of social benevolence. Napoleon's egotism and love of self was of a far nobler and moi-e elevated kind, though founded on similar motives — ^just as the wings of the eagle, who soars into the regions of the sun, move on the same prin- ciples with those which cannot bear the dunghill fowl over the pales of the poultry -yard. To explain our meaning, we may add that Na- poleon loved France, for France was his own. He studied to confer benefits upon her, for the profit redounded to her emperor, whether she received amended institutions, or enlarged territories. He represented, as he boasted, the People as well as the Sovereign of France ; he engrossed in his own person her immunities, her greatness, her glory, and was bound to conduct himself so as to exalt at the same time the emperor and the empire. Still, however, the sovereign and the state might be, and at length actually were, separated ; and the ego- tistical character of Buonaparte could, after that separation, find amusement and interest in the petty scale of Elba, to which his exertions were then limited.''^ Like the magic tent in the Arabian Tales, his faculties could expand to enclose half a world, with all its cares and destinies, or could accommodate themselves to the concerns of a petty rock in the Mediterranean, and his own convenien- ces when he retreated to its precincts. We believe that while France acknowledged Napoleon as em- 2 See ante. p. 636. LIFE OF NAPOLEON UUONAPARTE. 825 peror, he would cheerfully have laid down his life for her benefit ; but we greatly doubt, if, by mere- ly raising his finger, he could have made her happy under the Bourbons, whether (unless the merit of the action had redounded to his own pei-sonal fame) that finger would have been lifted. In a word, his feelings of self-interest were the central point of a circle, the circumference of which may be extended or contracted at pleasure, but the centre itself re- mains fixed and unchanged. It is needless to inquire how far this solicitous, and we must add, enlightened attention to his own interest, facilitated Buonaparte's ascent to the supreme power. We daily witness individuals, possessed of a very moderate pix)portion of parts, who, by intently applying themselves to the prose- cution of some particular object, without being drawn aside by the calls of pleasure, the seductions of indolence, or other interruptions, succeed ulti- mately in obtaining the object of their wishes. When, therefore, we conceive the powerful mind of Napoleon, animated by an unbounded vivacity of imagination, and an unconquerable tenacity of purpose, moving forward, without deviation or repose, to the accomplishment of its purpose, which was nothing less than to acquire the dominion of the whole world, we cannot be surprised at the immense heiglit to which he raised himself. But the egotism which governed his actions, — subject always to the exercise of his excellent sense, and the cultivation of his interest in tlie public opinion — if in a great measure it favoured the success of his various enterprises, did him in the end much more evil than good ; as it instigated his most desperate entei'prises, and was the source of his most inexcusable actions. Moderate politicians will agi-ee, that after the imperial system was substituted for the republican, the chief magistrate ought to have assumed and exerted a considerable strength of authority, in order to maintain that re-establishment of civil order, that protection of the existing state of things, which was necessary to terminate the wild and changeful reciu'rence of perpetual revolutions. Had Napoleon stopped here, his conduct would have been unblameable and unblaraed, unless by the more devoted followers of the House of Bourbon, against whom Providence appeared to most men to have closed the gate of restoration. But his principles of egotism would not be satisfied until he had totally destroyed every vestige of those free institutions which had been acquired by the perils, the blood, the tears of the Revolution, and reduced France, save for the influence of public opinion, to the condition of Constantinople, or of Algiers. If it was a merit to raise up the throne, it was natural that he who did so should himself occupy it ; since in ceding it to the Bourbons he must have betrayed those at whose hands he accepted power ; but to plunder the nation of their privileges as free-born men, was the act of a parricide. The nation lost, under his successive encroachments, wliat liberty the ancient government had left them, and all those rights which had been acquired by the Re- volution. Political franchises, individual interests, the property of municipalities, the progress of edu- cation, of science, of mind and sentiment, all were -' Histoire dt la Gucne Jc la reiiiiiiuk'. par Le GdncSral l-<.).-S. usurped by the government. France was ono immense ai'my, under the absolute authority of a military commander, subject to no control nor I'e- sponsibility. In that nation so lately agitated by the nightly assembly of thousands of political clubs, no class of citizens under any suppnsable circum- stances, had the right of uniting in the expression of their opinions. Neither in the manners nor in the laws, did there remain anj' popular means of resisting the errors or abuses of the administration. France resembled the political carcass of Constan- tinople, without the insubordination of the Pachas, the underhand resistance of the Ulemas, and the frequent and clamorous mutinies of the Janiza- ries.' Whilst Napoleon destroyed successively every ban-icr of public liberty — while he built new state prisons, and established a high police, which filled France with spies and jailors — while he took the charge of the press so exclusively into his own hand — his policy at once, and his egotism, led him to undertake those immense public works, of gi-eater or less utility or ornament as the chance might be, but which were sure to be set down as monuments of the Emperor's splendour. The name given him by the working classes, of the General Undei'taker, was by no means ill bestowed ; but in what an in- calculably greater degree do such works succeed, when raised by the skill and industry of those who propose to improve their capital by the adventure, than when double the expense is employed at the arbitrary will of a despotic sovereign ! Yet it had been well if bridges, roads, harbours, and public works, had been the only compensation which Napoleon offered to the people of France for the hberties he took from them. But he poured out to them, and shai'ed with them, to drown all pain- ful and degrading recollections, the intoxicating and fatal draught of military glory and universal domi- nation. To lay the whole universe prostrate at the foot of France, while France, the nation of Camps, should herself have no higher rank than the first of her own Empei-or's slaves, was the gigantic project, at which he laboured with such tenacious assiduity. It was the Sisyphaean stone which he rolled so high up the hill, that at length he was crushed under its precipitate recoil. The main objects of that innnense enterprise were such as had been undertaken while his s])irit of ambition was at its height ; and no one dared, e\en in his councils, to interfere with the resolu- tions which he adopted. Had these been less emi- nently successful, it is possible he might have paused, and perhaps might have preferred the tranquil pur- suit of a course which might have rendered one kingdom free and happy, to the subjugation of all Europe. But Napoleon's career of constant and uninterrupted success under the most disadvanta- geous circumstances, together with his implied be- lief in his Destiny, conspired, with the extravagant sense of his own importance, to impress him with an idea that he was not " in the roll of common men,"'^ and induced him to venture on the most desperate undertakings, as if animated less by the result of reason than by an internal assurance of success. After great miscarriages, he is said some- times to have shown a corresponding depression ; 2 "And all the couj-scs of iiiv life do show, 1 am not in the roll of common BU:n."—lhiiri/'W., act iii., sc. 2. 826 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. and tlience ho resigned four times tlie charge of his army wlien he found liis situation embarrassing, as if no longer feeling confidence in his own mind, or conceiving he was deserted for the moment by his guardian genius. There were similar alternations, too, according to General Gourgaud's account, in his conversation. At times, he would speak like a deity,' at others, in the style of a very ordinary person. To the egotism of Napoleon, we may also trace the general train of deception which marked his public policy, and, when speaking upon subjects in which his own character Avas implicated, his private conversation. In his public capacity, he had so completely pros- tituted the liberty of the press, that France could know nothing whatever but through Napoleon's own bulletins. The battle of Trafalgar was not hinted at till several months after it had been fought, and then it was totally misrepresented ; and so deep and dark was the mantle which covered the events in which the people were most interested, that, on the very evening when the battle of Montmartre was fought, the Moniteur, the chief organ of public intelligence, was occupied in a commentary on nosographie, and a criticism on a drama on the subject of the chaste Susannah.^ The hiding the truth is'only one step to the invention of falsehood, and, as a periodical publisher of news, Napoleon became so eminent for both, that, to " lie like a bulletin," became an adopted expression, not likely soon to lose ground in the French language, and tlie more disgraceful to Napoleon, that he is well known to have written those official documents in most instances himself. Even this deceptive system, this plan of alter- nately keeping the nation in ignorance, or abusing it by falsehood, intimated a sense of respect for public opinion. Men love darkness, because their deeds are evil. Napoleon dared not have submitted to the public an undisguised statement of his perfi- dious and treacherous attacks upon Spain, than which a more gross breach of general good faith and existing treaties could scarce have been con- ceived. Nor would he have chosen to plead at the public bar, the policy of his continental system, adopted in total ignorance of the maxims of political economy, and the consequences of which were, first, to cause general distress, and then to encourage universal resistance against the French yoke throughout the whole continent of Europe. Nor is it more likely tliat, could the public have had the power of forming a previous judgment upon the pi'obable event of the Russian campaign, that rash enterprise would ever have had an existence. In silencing the voice of the wise and good, the able and patriotic, and communicating only with such counsellors as wore the echoes of his own inclina- tions. Napoleon, like Lear, " Kill'd his ])hysi(Man, and the fee bestow'd Upon the foul disease." Tins was the more injurious, as Napoleon's know- ledge of the politics, interests, and character of foreign courts was, excepting in the case of Italy, exceedingly imperfect. The peace of Amiens might have renaained uninterrupted, and the essential good understanding betwixt France and Sweden need ' " For deity, read prrnl man, and Gourgaud's account is perfectly correct."— J osBPH Buonapartk Enxunde Bour- ricnnc, toni. i., p. 233. never have been broken, it Napoleon could, of would, have understood the free constitution of England, wliich permits every man to print or publish what he may choose ; or if he could have been convinced that the institutions of Sweden did not permit their government to place their fleets and armies at the disposal of a foreign power, or to sink the ancient kingdom of the Goths into a secondary and vassal government. Self-love, so sensitive as that of Napoleon, shun- ned especially the touch of ridicule. The gibes of the English papers, the caricatures of the London print-shops, were the petty stings which instigated, in a great measure, the breach of the peace of Amiens. The laughter-loving Frenchmen were interdicted the use of satire, which, all-licensed during the times of the republic, had, even under the monarchy, been only punished with a short and easy confinement in the Bastile. During the time of the consulate. Napoleon was informed that a comic opera, something on the plan of the English farce of High Life Belvw Stairs, had been com- posed by Monsieur Dupaty, and brought forward on the stage, and that, in this audacious perfor- mance, three valets mimicked the manners, and even the dress of the three Consuls, and especially his own. He ordered that the actors should* be exposed at the Greve, in the dresses they had dared to assume, which should be there stripped from their backs by the executioner ; and he commanded that the author should be sent to St. Domingo, and placed, as a person under requisition, at the dis- posal of the commander-in-chief. The sentence was not executed, for the offence had not existed, at least to the extent alleged;' but the intention shows Napoleon's ideas of the liberty of the stage, and intimates what would have been the fate of the author of the Beggar^s Opera, had he written for the French Opera Comique. But no light, which reason or information could supply, was able to guide the intensity of a selfish ambition, which made Napoleon desire that the whole administration of the whole world should not only remotely, but even directly and immediately, depend on his own pleasure. When he distributed kingdoms to his brothers, it was under the express understanding that they were to follow in every thing the course of politics which he should dic- tate ; and after all, ho seemed only to create de- pendent states for the purpose of resuming them. The oppressions, which, in the name of France, he imposed upon Holland, were the direct, and, in all probability, the calculated means of dethroning his brother Louis ; and he had thoughts of removing Joseph from Spain, when he saw of what a fair and goodly realm he had pronounced him king. In his wild and insatiable extravagance of administer- ing in person the government of every realm which he conquered, he brought his powerful mind to the level of that of the spoiled child, who will not be satisfied without holding in its own hand whatever has caught its eye. The system, grounded on am- bition so inordinate, carried with it in its excess the principles of its own ruin. The runner who will never stop for repose must at last fall down with fatigue. Had Napoleon succeeded both in Spain and Russia, he would not have rested, until he had ■ Memorable Events at Paris, p. 93. 3 Thibaudaud, MemoireB sur le Consulat, p. 148. — S. LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 827 found elsewhere the disasters of Baylen and of Moscow. The consequences of the unjustifiable aggressions of the French Emperor were an unlimited extent of slaugliter, fire, and human misery, all arising from the ambition of one man, who, never giving the least sign of having repented the unbounded mischief, seemed, on the contrary, to justify and take pride in the ravage which he had occasioned. This ambition, equally insatiable and incurable, jus- tified Europe in securing his person, as if it had been tliat of a lunatic, whose misguided rage was not directed against an individual, but against the civilized world ; which, wellnigh overcome by him, and escaping with difficulty, had a natural right to be guaranteed against repetition of the frantic ex- • ploits of a being who seemed guided by more than human passion, and capable of employing in exe- cution of his purpose more than human strength. The same egotism, the same spirit of self-decep- tion, which marked Napoleon during his long and awful career of success, followed him into adver- sity. He framed apologies for the use of his little company of followers, as he had formerly manufac- tured bulletins for the Great Nation. Those to whom these excuses were addressed, Las Cases and the other gentlemen of Napoleon's suite, being too much devoted to him, and too generous to dispute, after his fall, doctrines which it would have been dangerous to controvert during his power, received whatever he said as truths delivered by a prophet, and set down doubtless to the score of inspiration what could by no effort be reconciled to truth. The horrid evils which, afflicted Europe during the years of his success, were represented to others, and per- haps to his own mind, as consequences which the Emperor neither wished nor contemplated, but which were necessarily and unalterably attached to the execution of the great plans which the Man of Destiny had been called upon earth to perform, re- sembling in so far the lurid and fear-inspiring train pursuing the rapid course of a brilliant comet, which the laws of the universe have projected through the pathless firmament. Some crimes he committed of a different charac- ter, which seem to have sprung, not like the general evils of war, from the execution of great and calcu- lated plans of a political or military kind, but must have had their source in a temper naturally passion- ate and vindictive. The Due d'Enghien's murder wa-s at the head of this hst; a gratuitous act of treachery and cruelty, which, being undeniable, led Napoleon to be believed capable of other crimes of a secret and bloody character — of the murder of Pichegni and of Wright — of the spiriting away of Mr. Windham, who was never afterwards heard of — and of other actions of similar atrocity. We pause before charging him with any of those which have not been distinctly proved. For while it is certain that he had a love of personal vengeance — proper, it is said, to his country — it is equally evident, that, vehement by temperament, he was lenient and calm by policy ; and that, if he had ■ Antommarchi, vol. i., p. 249. 2 See Appendix, No. XIX. s The precise words of the Will seem to bear, that it was the Comte d'Artois' confession which established this charpo. But no such confession was ever made ; neither, if made, C">iild it have been known to Napoleon at the time of the trial ; nor, if known, could it have constituted evidence indulged the former disposition, the security with which he might have done .so, together with the ready agency of his fatal police, would have made his rage resemble that of one of the Roman empe- rors. He was made sensible, too late, of the gene- ral odium drawn upon him by the murder of the Due d'Enghien, and does not seem to have been disposed to incur farther risks of popular hatred in prosecution of his individual resentment. The records of his police, however, and the persecu- tions experienced by those whom Napoleon consi- dered as his personal enemies, show that, by starts at least, nature resumed her bent, and that he, upon whom there was no restraint, save his respect for public opinion, gave way occasionally to the temp- tation of avenging his private injuries. He re- marked it as a weakness in the character of his favourite Caesar, that he suffered his enemies to remain in possession of the power to injure him ; and Antommarchi, the reporter of the observation, admitted, that when lie looked on the per.son before him, he could not but acknowledge that he was un- likely to fall into such an error.i AVhen Napoleon laid aside reserve, and spoke what were probably his ti-ue sentiments, he endea- voured to justify those acts of his government which transgressed tlie rules of justice and mora- lity, by political nece&sity, and reasons of state ; or, in other words, by the pressure of his own interest. This, however, was a plea, the full benefit of which he reserved to vindicate his own actions, never per- mitting it to be used by any other sovereign. He considered /((/««(;// privileged in transgressing the law of nations, wlieii his interests required it ; but pleaded as warmly upon the vahdity of pubhc law, when alleging it had been infringed by other states, as if he himself had in all instances respected its doctrines as inviolable. But although Napoleon thus at times referred to state necessity as the ultimate source of actions otherwise unjustifiable, he more frequently endea- voured to disguise his errors by denial, or excuse them by apologies which had no foundation. He avers in his Will,'-^ that by the confession of the Due d'Enghien, the Comte d'Artois maintained si.xty assa-ssins against his life ;3 and that for this reason the Due d'Enghien was tried, convicted, and put to death. The e.xamination of the duke bears no such confession, but, on the contrary, an express denial of the whole of the alleged system ; nor was there the slightest attempt made to con- tradict him by other testimony. He bequeathed, in like manner, a legacy to a villain ■* wlio had at- tempted the assassination of the Duke of Welling- ton ; the assa.ssin, according to his strange argu- ment, having as good a right to kill his rival and victor, as the English had to detain him prisoner at St. Helena. This clause in the last will of a dying man, is not striking from its atrocity merely, but from the inaccuracy of the moral reasoning which it exhibits. Napoleon has drawn a parallel betwixt two cases, which must be therefore bi.th right or both wrong. If both were WTong, why against the party accused, who was no accessary to the fact alleged. The assertion is utterly false in either case, but under the latter interpretation, it is also irrelevant. The Due d'Enghien might be atfeetcd by his own confession, certainly not by that of hb kinsman. — S. * Cantillon. See Fourth Codicil to Will, Appendix. MOb XIX. 828 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. reward the ruffian witli a legacy ? but if both were right, whj' complain of the British Government for detaininn; him at St. Helena ? But, indeed, the whole character of Napoleon's autobiography marks his desire to divide mankind into two classes — his friends and his enemies ; — the foi-mer of whom are to be praised and vindi- cated ; the latter to be vilified, censured, and con- demned, without any regard to truth, justice, or consistency. To take a gross example, he stoutly affirmed, that the treasures which were removed from Paris in April 1814, and carried to Orleans, were seized and divided by the ministers of the allied powers — Talleyrand, Metternich, Harden- berg, and Castlereagh ; and that the money thus seized included the marriage-portion of the Em- press Maria Louisa.' Had this story been true, it would have presented Napoleon with a very simple means of avenging himself upon Lord Cas- tlereagh, by putting the British public in possession of the secret. It is no less remarkable, that Napoleon, though himself a soldier, and a distinguished one, could never allow a tribute of candid praise to the troops and generals by whom he was successively opposed. In mentioning his victories, he frequently bestows commendation upon the valour and con- duct of the vanquished. This was an additional and more delicate mode of praising himself and his own troops by whom these enemies were over- thrown. But he never allows any merit to those by whom he was defeated in turn. He professes never to have seen the Prussian troops behave well save at Jena, or the Russians save at Austerlitz. Those armies of the same nations, which he both saw and felt in the campaigns of 1812 and 1813, and before whom he made such disastrous retreats as those of Moscow and Leipsic, were, according to his expressions, mere canaille. In the same manner, when he details an action in wliich he triumphed, he is sure to boast, like the old Grecian (very justly perhaps,) that in this Fortune had no share ; while his defeats are en- tirely and exclusively attributed to the rage of the elements, the combination of some most extraordi- nary and unexpected circumstances, the failure of some of his lieutenants or marechals, or, finally, the obstinacy of the general opposed, who, by mere dint of stupidity, blundered into success through circumstances which should have ensured his ruin. In a word, fi-om one end of Napoleon's works to the other, he has scarcely allowed himself to be guilty of a single fault or a single folly, excepting of that kind, which, arising from an over confidence and generosity, men secretly claim as merits, while they affect to give them up as matters of censure. If we credit his own word, we must believe him t(> have been a faultless and impeccable being. If we do not, we must set him down as one that, where his own reputation was concerned, told his story with a total disregard to candour and truth. Perhaps it was a consequence of the same indif- ference to truth, which induced Napoleon to receive into his favour those French officers who broke their parole by escape from England. This, he alleged, he did, by way of retaliation, the British Government having, as he pretended, followed a ' See Dr. O' Meara's Voice from St. Helena, who seems him- self to have been startled at the cnonnitv of the fiction. What makes it yet more extravagant is. that Napoleon's Will dis- similar line of conduct. The defence is false, in point of fact ; but if it were true, it forms no apo- logy for a sovereign and a general countenancing a breach of honour in a gentleman and a soldier. The French officers who liberated themselves by such means, were not the less dishonoured men, and unfit to bear command in the army of France, though they could have pointed with truth to simi- lar examples of infamy in England. But the most extraordinary instance of Napo- leon's deceptive system, and of his determination, at all events, to place himself under the most fa- vourable light to the beholders, is his attempt to represent himself as the friend and protector of liberal and free principles. He had destroyed every vestige of liberty in France — he had persecuted as ideologists all who cherished its ntemory — he had • boasted himself the restorer of monarchical go- vernment — the war between the Constitutionalists and him, covered, after the return from Elba, by a hollow truce, had been renewed, and the Liberalists had expelled him from the capital — he had left in his Testament, the appellation of traitor with La Fayette, one of their earliest, most devoted, and most sincere chiefs — yet, notwithstanding all this constant opposition to the party which professes most to be guided by them, he has ventured to re- present himself as a friend of liberal ideas ! He has done so, and he has been believed. There is but one explanation of this. The friends of revolution are upon principle the enemies of ancient and established governments — Napoleon became the opponent of the established powers from circumstances ; not because he disputed the character of their government, but because they would not admit him into their circle ; and though there \^ as not, and could not be, any real connexion betwixt his system and that of the Liberalists, yet both had the same opponents, and each loved in the other the enemy of their enemies. It was the business of Napoleon in his latter days, to procure, if professions could gain it, the sympathy and good opinion of any or every class of politicians ; while, on the contrary, it could not be indifferent to those to whom he made advances, to number among their disciples, even in the twelfth hour, the name of Napoleon. It resembled what sometimes happens in the Catholic Church, when a wealthy and power- ful sinner on his death-bed receives the absolution of the Church on easy terms, and dies after a life spent i:t licentious courses, wrapt up in the mantle, and girded with the cord, of some order of untisual strictness. Napoleon, living a despot and a con- queror, has had his memory consecrated and held up to admiration by men, who term themselves emphatically the friends of freedom. The faults of Buonaparte, we conclude as we commenced, were rather those of the sovereign and politician, than of the individual. Wisely is it written, that " if we say we have no sin we deceive ourselves, and the trutli is not in us." It was the inordinate force of ambition which made him the scourge of Europe ; it was his efforts to di.sguise that selfish principle, that made him combine fraud with force, and establish a regular system for de- ceiving those whom he could not subdue. Had his natural disposition been coldly cruel, like that of i;nses of a part of that very treasure, as if it were still in the iiands of Maria Louisa — S. LIFE OF NAPOLEON BUONAPARTE. 820 Octavius, or had he given way to the warmth of his temper, like otlier despots, his private history, as well as that of his campaigns, must have been written in letters of blood. If, instead of asserting that he never committed a crime, he had limited his self-eulogy to asserting, that in attaining and wielding supreme power, he had resisted the temp- tation to commit many, he could not have been contradicted. And this is no small praise. His system of government was false in the ex- . treme. It comprehended the slavery of France, and aimed at the subjugation of the world. But to the former he did much to requite them for the jewel of which he robbed them. He gave them a regular government, schools, institutions, courts of justice, and a code of laws. In Italy, his rule was equally splendid and beneficial. The good effects which arose to other countries from his reign and character, begin also to be felt, though unquestion- ably they are not of the kind wliich he intended to produce. His invasions, tending to reconcile the discords which existed in many states between tlia governors and governed, by teaching them to unite together against a common enemy, have gone far to loosen the feudal yoke, to enlighten the mind both of prince and people, and have led to many admir- able results, which will not be the less durably advantageous, that they have arisen, are arising slowly, and without contest. In closing the Life of Napoleon Buonaparte, we are called upon to observe, that he was a man tried in the two extremities, of the most exalted power and the most ineffable calamity, and if he occasionally appeared presumptuous when sup- ported by the armed force of half a world, or un- reasonably querulous when imprisoned within the narrow limits of St. Helena, it is scarce within tlie capacity of those whose steps have never led them beyond the middle path of life, to estimate either the strength of the temptations to which he yielded, or the force of mind which he opposed to those which he was able to resist. APPENDIX. ^o I.— p. 173 BUONAVaRTE's letter to general PAOLl. General, I was born when our country was perishing. Thirty thou- sand 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 legis- lator, and the collector of imposts, our countrymen live de- spised — despised by those who have the forces of the admi- nistration 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 ra])acious 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 circula- ted calumnies against the national government, and against you in particular. Writers, adopting them as trutlis, 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 jiromise myself some success. I wish to compare your government of our country with the present one. 1 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 ])ossible, interest the present minister ' in the deplorable situation we are now in. If my fortune had pennitted 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 comj)elled to resort to this, the only means of jjub- licity ; 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 enthu- siasm, with which the prospect of an amelioration in our state always inspires me, will be my support. If you, general, con- descend to approve of a labour, of which your deeds will form so large a portion— if you condescend to encourage the etiurts 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 1 should have been able to go to London, to express to you in person tlie sentiments you havegiven birth to in my bosom, and to converse together on the misfortunes of our country ; but the distance is an ob- stacle. The day, perhaps, will arrive, when I shall be able to overcome it. Whatever may be the success of my work, T am sensil)le that it will raise against me the whole host of French emplnijcx, who misgovern our island, and against whom my attack is di- rected. 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 mo- ment defy it. Permit me, general, to offer you the homage of my family. And, ah ! why should I not say, of my countrvmen? ihey sigh at the recollection of a time when they had Iioped for liberty. My mother, Madame Letitia, charges me especially to recall to your memory the years long since past at CortC'. I am, with respect, General, Your very humble, and very obedient Servant, NAPOLKON Bl'ONAPAItTK, Officer in Uie Iteginunl of La Fire. AUyonVE-EN-BoURGOYNE, > iiUi June, 1V89. / ) M. Necker. No. ir.— P. 174. LETTER OP NAPOLElN BUONAPARTE TO M. MATTED BITTA - KIIOCO, DEPUTY S-BOM CORSICA TO THE NATIONAL A8- SEWIiLY. Sir, From Bonifacio to Cape Corso, from A jaccio 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 1 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 ])ublic affairs, is well known. Its pnnciiial features are drawn in letters of blood. Still, how- ever, 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 na- tional 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 ; fnr from that, you looked with nothing but pity on the nonsensical stuff about country, liberty, indejiendence, and constitution, which had got into the heads of our meanest peasants. Deep reflec- tion 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 bis 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 occujiy 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 attiiirs of the island on a good footing ; he had founded a uni- versity, in which, for the first time, perhaps, since the creation, the sciences which are useful for the developemeut of reason were taught among our mountains. He had established a foun- dry for cannon, powder-mills, and fortifications, which in- creased 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 esta- blishments, 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 u Solon, but had been un- successful in his imitation. He had placed every thing in the hands of the ]>eople 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 mer- cenary plebeian, the man who alone, by his education, his illus- trious 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 ex- posed it to every species of suffering. You succeedtdto your wish. M. Paoli, constantly surrounded by enthusiastic and hot-heailed persons, never imagined that there could be any other jiassion than the devotion to liberty and independence. Finding that you had some knowledge of France, be did not trouble himself to do more than take your own word for your moral principles. He got you anpointed to treat at Versailles rcsijecting the accommodation wliich was negotiating under the mediation of the cabinet. M. de Choi- seul saw you, and knew yon ; niiiid.s of a certain stamp are speedily ai)precialed. In a short time, in place of being the rei>resentative of a free peojile, you transformed yourself into the clerk of a minister; you communicated to him the iu structions, the plan.s, the secrets of the Cabinet o;' 'Jursica. 832 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. This conduct, which is considered here as base and atrocious, appears to nie quite natural ; but this is because, in all sorts i)f affairs, we should understand one another, and reason with coolness. The prude censures the coquette, and is laughed at byher in return ;— this, in a few words, is your history. The mnin of principle judaes you harshlv, but you do not believe that there is a man of principle. The common people, who are always led away by virtuous demasojues, 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 co7iduct but what is very simple. This brings us Vjack, then, to what we have alreadysaid, 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, fur you do not aspire to the reputation of a Cato or a Catinat. It is sufficient for you to resemble a cer- tain class ; and, among this certain class, it is agreed that he who may get money, and does not ])rofit 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 Compi^gne being concluded, M. de Chauvelin and twenty-four battalions landed on our shores. M. de Choi- seul, to whom the celerity of the expedition was most import- ant, had uneasiness on the subject, which, in his confidential communications, he could not disguise from you. You sug- gested that he should send vou 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 your- self 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 cer- tainly shaken, but they were terrified by the horrible idea of mangling the bosom of their country. They thought they saw their fatliers, their brothers, their friends, who perished in de- fending 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 jjromises, you ])roposed that the Royal Corsican regiment should be bouglit. You hoped that its ex- ample would enlighten our too simple and honest peasants, and accustom them to things to which they felt so much repug- nance. But what happened? Did not Rossi, Marengo, aiid some other madmen, inflamethe mindsof 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 ex- ample 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 1 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 im- peach 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 tliat your conduct was perfectly simple and natural, this incidental charge goes for nothing. As to your want of courage, 1 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, • Clement Paoli, elder brother of the general, agood soldier, an ex(X'llent citizen, a real philosopher. At the beginning of an action he could not bring himself to engage in personal com- bat ; he gave his orders with the saiit) frokl which character- ises the good officer. But he no sooner saw his men begin to fall, than he seized his arms with a convulsive movement of what right has any one to require that you sliould 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. Kxperience 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 7)00r creatures whom you had seduced. In order to justify your having acted in this way, it is only neces- sary 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 chelating 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 batt.alions 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 fied 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 destruc- tion. Alas ! this plan was but too punctually executed. Some perished, victims of crimes unjustly imputed to tfiem ; otheis, Vjetrayed by their own hospitality, and by their own confi- dence, expiated on the scaffold the sighs and tears into which they had been surprised by dissimulation. A great number, crowded by Narbonne-Fridi-elar 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. God, witnessof 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, how- ever, began to enjoy the fruit of your labours— honours, dig- nities, pensions, all were showered upon j-ou. Your pros)>erity would nave advanced still more rapidly, had not Du Barri overthrown jM. de Choiseul, and deprived you of a protector, who duly appreciated your services. This blow did not dis- courage you : you turned your attention to the Inircinix ; you merely felt the necessity of greater assiduity. This flattered the ])ersons in office, your services were so notorious. All your wishes were granted. Not content with the lake of Bi- guglia, you demanded a part of the lands of many communi- ties. 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 bo 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 1 commend you for having done as much harm to the Corsi- cans as you possibly could. You were at war with them ; and, in war, to do evil for one's own advantage, is a first jirinciple. 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 Cor- sica. The same madness with which we were possessed be- fore the war, began, to your great scandal, to infect that ami- able people. \ou comprehended the consequences; for, if noble sentiments were to gain an ascendency in public ojiinion, 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 etir the blood of our 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 opinioB, which was very seldom departed from. — S. APPENDIX TO THE LIFE OF P.UOXAPARTE. 833 anient countrymen, and il ever a national Rovernmeiit Were to be the result of such sentiments, what would become of you? Your own conscience then began to terrifv \ou. Rest- less, however, and uiihaiipy as you were, you did not yield to ycur conscience. You resolved to risk every thing for every thing— but you jjlaycd your game skilfully. You married, to strengthen vour interest. A respectable man. who. relying on your word.liad given his sistertoyour nephew, found himself abused. Your nephew, whose patrimony you had swallowed up in order to increase an inheritance whicli was to have been his own, was reduced to imverty, 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 rufhan 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 lie still might be. You said to your- self, in the joy of your heart, " Things go on well, and the only thing is to kee|> them so." And straightway you leagued yourself with the soldier, the pettifogger, and the tax-ga- therer. The only point now to be attended to was, to pro- cure deputies who should be animated by congenial senti- ments; for, as to yourself, you could never suppose that a nation which was your enemy would choose you for her repre- sentative. But you 111 cessarily changed your opinion, when the letters of convocation, by an absurdity which was perhaps the result of design, determined that the dejiuty from the no- bility should be appointed by an assembly composed or 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 suc- cessful 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 whese mind was full of the horrid actions he had seen, while lie lamented his own want of power to oppose tliem ;— 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 ap- pointment, form he best eulogy on the skill of your manceu- vres. and the influence of your league. When you arrived at Vei-sailles, you were a zealous Roy- alist. When you now arrived at Paris, you must have seen with much concern, that thegovernment, which it was wished to organize upon so many ruins, was the same with that which, ill our country, had been drowned in so much blood. The efforts of the unprincipled were jiowerless ; 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 e.vactly the same with that widch had produced such good effects, and which it cost so much blood to deprive us of. All the delegates of the former administration, who natu- rally 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 exist- ing 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 mi- nisters, over whom you had gained some ascendency in rela- tion 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. Gafibry, a worthy precursor of M. Narbonne, endeavouring, at the head of his troops, to main- tain by force that tyranny which his late father, of glorious memory, had resisted and confounded by his genius. Innu- merable 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 eves, and saw Narlwrnne! Narbonne, profiting by a moment of favour, had laid the plan of establishing firmly, in an island wliicli he had wasted with unheard of cruelty, the despotism w liich oppressed it. You laid your heads together ; the plan was determined on ; five thousand men received orders ; com- missions for increasing by a battalion the provincial regiment were prepared. Narboime set out. This poor nation, un- armed and disheartened, without hope and without resource, is delivered into the hands of her executioner. O unhappy countrymen I Of what odious treachery were you to be tbe 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 degra- dation ; hope would have been extinguished ; and days of un- interrupted misfortune would have succeeded. Hmancipated France would have looked ujion you with contcmjit ; afflicted Italy with indignation ; and Kurope, astonished at this unex- ampled decree of degradation, would Iiave effaced from her annals the traits which do honour to your character. But Tour deputies from the Commons penetrated the design, and YOL. II. Informed yon of it in time. A king, tvhose only wish was the happiness of his jieople, being well informed on the subject by M La Fayette, that steady friend of liberty, dissijiated the intrigues of a iierfidious 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 niost oppressive of governments. Bastia, till then stupifiud as it werel awoke at the sound of danger, and took up arms with that lesolutiiin 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 juiblic enemies tremble. Achilles Meu- rate, the conqueror of Caprana, who had carried desolation as far as Genoa, and who, jo be a Turenne, wanted nothing but opportunity and a more extensive field, reminded his compa- nions in glory, that this was the time to acquire additional fame, — that their country in danger had need, not of intrigues, which hje knew nothing about, but of fire and sword. At the sound of so general an exjilosion, Gafibry returned to the iu- significance from which lie had been brought, so uml-d-jiroiion^ by intrigues ;— he trembled in the fortress of C'erte. Narbonne fled from Lvons, to hide in Rome his shame, and his infernal projects. A few davs afterwards Corsica is united to France, P;ioli recalled ; and in an instant the prosjieet changes, and opens to your view a course of events which you could not have dared to hope for. 1 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 I did you, a son of the same country, never feel any thing for her ? What! did your heart experi- ence no emotion at the sight of the rocks, the trees, the houses, the spots which were thescenesof your infant amuse- rnents? When you came into the world, your country nou- rished 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 ,— tiirougli 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; informthe great king of evei7 tfiing, 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, v.ill 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 tnose moments in which nature gives the alarm to love, when, with- drawn 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 enjoy- ment, and feels only the pleasure of exciting feeling, — in those moments ycm 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 instinc- tive love of destruction, the most infamous avarice, the base pleasures of sense! By and by, the glare of honours, the trap- pings of riches, will disappear ; you will be loaded with gene- ral contempt. Will you seek, in the bosom of him who is the author of your woes, a consolation indispensabletoyourgentle and affectionate mind? Will you endeavour tofind'in his eves tears to mingle with yours? "Will your failing baud, placed on his. bosom, seek to find an agitation like that m your own ? Alas, if you surprise him in tears, they will be those of re- morse ; 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 Lametli ! O Robespierre ! O Petion ! OVolney! O Mira- beau! O Bamave ! OBailly! 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 pre- sents himself with confidence in the dress of a general, the re- ward of his crimes! He dares to call hiniselt the represen- tative of the nation— lie who sold her-and you suffer it ! Ho dares to raise his eyes, and listen to your discourse, and vou sutler 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 liis ef- figy which they would have been very glad to do to hit person. But you, who are induced, by the error of the moment, oi jierhaps temporary abuses, to oppose an v fresh changes, will you tolerate a traitor? a man who, under the cool exterior of a man of sense, conceals the avidity of a lac<|ney? I cannot inia<;ine it. You will be the first to drive him away v.itli itiii<» 3 u 834 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. mjny, 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 Milldi, ■23d January, 1790. No. III.— P. 176. THE SUPPER OF BEALCAIKE. July 29, 1793. I HAPPENED to be at Beaucaire on the hist day of the fair, and by chance had for my companions at supper two merchants from Marseilles, a citizen of ?yimes, and a manufacturer from -Vlontpellier. After the first few minutes of mutual survey, they disco vcred 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 wealili, was at this moment turned to the issue of those pass- ing events, upon which the security of all wealth so much de- pends. 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 diflercntly. The two citizens of Marseilles, in particular, appeared to be perplexed in spirit. The evacua- tion of Avignon had taught tliem to doubt of every thing. They manifested but one great solicitude as to their future fate. Confidence soon made us talkative, and our conversa- tion ran in nearly the following terms: — Nimois.-\% 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 beeu repulsed, why have the Marseillese evacuated Avignon ? Blil'.laire. — Tlie army was four thousand strong when it as- saulted 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 manoeuvred about the place, in order to ascertain v.here an attempt to force the gates, by means of petards, miglit 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 si.x 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 Ville- neuve, and of the open country ; we had intercepted all their communications. They were under the necessity of evacua- ting the town, were pursued by our cavalry, and lost many prisoners, with two guns. Marseille!'!'. — This is a very difi'erent story from what we have l)een 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. Uur army is at Aix. Three good gene- rals 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 mas- ters of the Durance. MiUtaire. — Such is the story you have been told, to entice you to the brink of the abyss, which is deepening every mo- ment, and which periiaps 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 lun 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, witliout 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 AUobroges — and yet the AUobroges 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 nego- tiating 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 danger- ous. 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 con- siderable wealth, and a large population— these they exagger- ate. You have rendered signal services to the cause of liberty — of tlieso they remind you, without, at the same time, point- ing out to you, that the genius of the republic was at that time with you, that it has now abandoned you. Your array, you say, is at Aix with a large train of artillerv, and skilful generals; well, do what it may, 1 tell you it wi'll be beaten. You had three thousand six liundred men — a full half is dispersed. Marseilles, and a few retugees from the department, may offer you four thousand : that is the utmost. You will then have between five and si.x 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, thev will not be seconded by the sub- alterns, 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 array 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 AUobroges, the old regiment of Burgundy, and the brave bat- talion of the Cote d'Or (which has been a hundred times vic- torious in battle,) and si-'c or seven other corp.s, 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 ojiinion ; 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 can- noneers of the new levy — your adversaries have gunners from rigiments of the line, the best masters of their art in all Eu- rope What will your army do if it concentrates itself at Aix ? I( is lost. It is an axiom in the military art, that the army whidi remains in its intrenchmcnts is beaten : exjjtrience and theory agree upon this ])oint ; and the walls of Ai.x are not equal tc tiie worst fit'ld-intrcJichment, especially if you bear in mind their extent, and the houses which skirt them on the exterior within pistolshot. Be you well assured then that this course, which to you appears the best, is the very worst. Besides, what means will you pos.sess of supplying the town, in so short a time, with every kind of provisions? Will your army oft'er 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 ca- valry would prevent it from rallying. Expect, then, to see the war carried into the Marseilles ter- ritory. There a tolerably powerful party is for tlie Republic ; this will be the moment for the struggle ; the junction will be made ; and your city, the centre ofthe commerce of the Levant, the ente, jiul of the ssuth of Europe, is lost ! Recollect the re- cent example of Lisle,' 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 opjjose 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 Mar- seilles? United with Bourdeaux, Lyons, Montpellier, Nimes, Gren- oble, the Jura, the Eure, the Calvados, you undertook a revo- lution. You had a probability of success : those who spurred you on might be ill-intentioned men ; but you were an impos- ing 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, Aries, have submitted, acknowledge that in obsti- nacy there is folly. The fact is, that you are under the influ- ence rf individuals who, Jcrinp no jiroperty of their own tc 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, tc ri.sk the iSlite of your youthful population, young men accus- tomed to hold the commercial balance of the .Mediterranean and enrich you by their economy and their s|)Cculations, 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 inha- bitant 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 posi- tion. But you I— lose but a battle, and the fruits of a thou- sand years of industry, of economy, of prosperity, become the prey of the soldier. Marseillese.— Y o\x 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 liave persuaded me that we could not resist at Aix : your observation as to the want of subsistence is perhaps unanswerable, as applied to .i siege of long duration ; but do you imagine that all Provence can, for a long period, witness with indift'erence 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. ' A small town in the department of Vaucluse, four leagues east of Avignon, having resisted Cartaux's army, was carried by assault, 2Gth July, 1793— S. APPENDIX TO Till-: LIFE OF BUONAPARTE. 835 .'trililairc. — 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 arc besieged, the Sectionary partT will be put down in all the country places. The example of Tarascon, Saint-Remy, Organ, Aries, should convince vou of this : a score of dragoons have sufficed to restore the old au- thorities, and put the new ones to tiight. Henceforward, in your department, any powerful move- ment in your favour is imjiossible. 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 divi- ded ; and there the Sectionarics have not the same superiority as at Marseilles; they must therefore remain in the citv to keep down their adversary. As for the department of the JLower Alps, nearly the whole of it, as you know, has accepted the constitution. ]lfarxcillese.—'\Ve 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 ra- pidity of his movements, the exactness in serving his pieces, and the accuracy of his elevations, is the most sure of having tile .superiority. jITai-seilh'SC. — 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 Allobrose, laden with the spoils of Lisle, shall he give law to Marseilles? What! Dubois du Cranc6, and Albitte, shall they rule over us uncon- trolled? 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 dift'crent pretences, would be in- .'aded : at every instant we should be the victims of a 6oldiei"y, whom plunder unites under the same banner : our best citi- zens 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 ! Iffilifairc.— Such is civil war! men revile one another— de- test one another— kill one another, without knowing one an- other! The AUobroges! 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 Phocoean 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 hapi>ened. The inhabitants killed the trumpeter who was sent to them ; they resisted witlmut the slightest chance of success ; the town was taken by assault ; the soldiers entered it amidst tire and slaughter : it was impossible to restrain them, and fury did the rest. Those soldiers whom yon call brigands, are our best troops, and most disciplined battalions : their reputation is above calumny. Dubois-Cranc^ 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 •' nicked men," so long as they re- mained uncontaniinatcd. It will ever be the fate of the good to be ill-spoken of by the worthless. You imagine they show ''ou no mercy ; on the contrary, they are treating you like /•ayward children. Do you think, if they had been otherwise Jisposed, that the mercliants of Marseilles would have been Buttered 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 thon»and men on I the frontier, and you have not spared yourselves under an^ I circumstances. Shake off, then, the yoke of the fewaiisto- I crats who govern you; return to sounder principles, and you i will have no truer friend than the army. Marseillese.—Ah'. your army! It has greatly degenerated I from the army of l/H!). That army would not take up arms 1 against the nation. Yours should imitate so worthy an ex- i amjile, and not turn their arms against their fellow-citizens. I Militiiire.— With such principles. La Vendee would now , have planted the white flag on the again reared .vails of the liiistile, and the Camp of Jales been dominant at Marseilles. I .If arieillesc— La Vendue is anxious for a king— a counter- I revolution : the war of La Vendue, of the Camp of Jalfes, i» that of fanaticism, of despotism. Ours, on the contrary, is ! that of true Republicans, friends of the laws, of order; ene- I mies of anarchy and of bad men. Is not ours the tn-coloured j flag? and what interest could we have in wishing for slavery? I Militaire.—l well know that the people of Marseilles diftcr I widely from those of La Vendue as to the subject of counter- revolution. The people of La Vendee are robust and healthy ; I the people of Marseilles weak and sickly. They stand in need of honey, to induce them to swallow the pill : to establish i among them the new doctrine, they must be deceived. But after four years of revolution, after so many plots, and coun- I terplots, and conspiracies, all the perversity of human nature j has been developed under all its different aspects, and bad I men have perfected their subtlety. You have, you say, the I tii-coloured flag? Paoli also hoisted it in Corsica to have time to deceive the people, to crush the true friends of liberty, to I entice his countrymen to join him in his ambitions and cri- I minal projects; he hoisted the tii-coloured flag, and henevcr- [ theless fired upon the vessels of the Republic, and drove our I troojis from the fortresses; he disarmed all t'le detachments 1 he could surprise ; he collected forces to drive the garrison from the island ; he plundered the magazines, selling at a low price every thing found within them, to secure money to carry on his revolt ; he confiscated the property of the wealthiest families, because they were attached to the unity of the Re- public ; he got himself appointed generalissimo ; and he de- clared all those who should continue in our armies enemies of their country. Before this, he had caused the failure of the expedition to Sardinia ; and yet he had the shamelessness to call himself the friend of France and a good Republican ; and he deceived the Convention still, after all. He acted, in short, in such a way, that when at length he was unmasked by his own letters found at Calvi— it was too late— the fleets of our enemies intercepted all intercourse with the island. It is no longer to words that we must trust. We must ana- lyse deeds ; and in appreciating yours. It is easy, you must acknowledge, to show vou to be counter-revolutionary. Take my advice, people of Marseilles: shake off the yoke of the handful of wretches who are leading you to a counter-revolu- tion ; restore your constituted authorities ; accept the consti- tution ; liberate the representatives ; let them go to Paris and intercede for you : you have been misled— it is no new thing for the people to be so— by a few conspirators and intriguers. In all ages, the flexibility and ignorance of the multitude have been the causes of most civil wars. ^/arseillese. — Ah ! sir, who is to bring the good about ? Can it be the refugees who arrive on all sides from the department ? They are interested in acting with desperation. Can it be those who at this moment govern us? Are not they in the same situation? Can it be the people? One portion of them knows nothing of its real position ; it is blinded and/tiiiaticizt'il : the other portion is disarmed, suspected, humbled. I see, there- fore, with deep affliction, miseries without remedy. ^fililaln•.— At last vou are brought to reason. Why should not a like change be effected in the minds of a large portion of your fellow-citizens, who are deluded and sincere? In that case, Albitte, who can have no other wish than to spare French blood, will send you some honest and able man ; matters will be arranged ; and without a moment's delay, the army will march under the walls of Pcrpignan, to miike the Spaniard dance the Carmagnole ; and Marseilles will continue to be the centre of gravity to liberty. The only thing Detts- sary will be to tear a few leaves out of its history. This happy prognostic put us all in excellent humour. The citizens of -Vfarseilles, with great readiness, treated us to some bottles of champaign, which dispelled all our doubts and anxieties. We retired to rest at two in the morning, having agreed to meet again at breakfast ; where my now acquaint- ance had still many doubts to suggest, and I many interesting truths to impart. J nil/ -ii), 17!>3. No. IV.— P. 24a I.KTTEnS OF NAPOLEON TO JOSEPHINK. [In the first Edition of this Work, Sir Walter Scott intro- duced, by way of foot notes, u few translatiuus from tbs 836 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. J-etters of Napoleon and Josephine dunng the canipaiKn of 1796, published in lit24 by Mr. Tennant. ISut the laif^er col- lection of those letters, edited by Josephine's daughter, the Duchess of St. Leu, had not then appeared. We now re- print the ivrsions vihich Sir Walter tlinught fit to give; and append to them some specimens of tlie native style and. or- thography of the corrcpj)ondence.l (1.) NAPOLEON TO JOSEPHINE. {Translation.) " Poi-t Jiraiiricc, the Mth Germinal, (Aprili,) 1796. •• 1 have received all thy letters : but not one of them has affected me so much as thy last. Dost thou think, my ador- able love, of writing to me in such terms? Dost thou iriagine, then, that my position is not already cruel enough, without an increase of my sorrows, and an overthrow of my soul? What a style ! what sentiments dost thou describe. They are of fire— they burn my poor heart. My only Josephine !— far from thee there is no joy ;— far from thee the world is a desert, v'here I remain an isolated being, without enjoying the sweets of confidence. Thou hast deprived me of more than my soul ; thou art the only thought of my life. If I am tired of the trou- bles of business— if I dread the result—if mankind disgust me —if 1 am ready to curse this life— I place my hand upon my heart— there thy portrait beats— I look at it, and love becomes to mc absolute happiness; all is smiling, save the time when I am separated from my beloved. "By what is it that thou hast been able to captivate all my faculties, and to concentrate in thyself my rnoral existence? It is a magic, my sweet love, which will finish only with my life. To live for Josephine— there is the history of my life. I am trying to reach thee— I am dying to be near thee. Fool that 1 am, I do not perceive that 1 increase the distance be- tween us. What lands, what countries separate us ! What a time before you read these weak expressions of a troubled Boul in which you reign! Ah! my adorable wife! I know not what fate awaits me, but if it keep me much longer from thee, it will be insupportable— my courage will not go so far. Tliere was a time when I was proud of my courage ; and sometimes, when contemplating on the ills that man could do me, on the fate which destiny could reserve for me, I fixed my eyes steadfastlv on the most unheard-of misfortunes without a frown, without alarm. But now, the idea that my Josephine may be unwell, the idea that she may be ill, and, above all, the cruel, the fatal thoui;ht, that, she may love me less, withers my soul, stops my blood, renders me sad, cast down, and leaves rae not even the courage of fury and despair. For- merly I used often to say to myself, men cannot hurt him who can die without regret ; but liow, to die w ithout being loved Dy thee, to die without that certainty, is the torment of hell ; it is the lively and striking image of absolute annihilation — I feel as if I were stifled. My incomparable companion, thou whom fate lias destined to make along with me the painful journey of life, the day on which I shall cease to possess tliy neart will be the day on which parched nature will be to me without warmth or vegetation. " I stop, my sweet love, my soul is sad — my body is fatigued —my head is giddy— men disgust me — 1 ought to hate them —they separate me from my beloved. " I am at Port Maurice, near Oneille ; to-morrow I shall be at Albenga; the two armies are in motion— We are endea- vouring to deceive each other — Victory to the most skilful ! I am pretty well satisfied with Beaulieu— If he alarm me much, lie is a better man than his predecessor. I shall beat hiin I hope in good style. Do not be uneasy— love me as your eyes -but that is not enough— as yourself, more than yourself, than vour thought, your mind, your sight, your all. Sweet love, forgive me— I am sinking. "Nature is weak for him who feels strongly, for him whom you love ! ! " (2.) " Albenna, Kth Oerminal, {April 6.) " [It is one hour after midnight. They have just brought me a letter. It is sad— my soul is affected by it : It is the death of Chauvet. He was commissary-in-chief of the army. You have seen him sometimes with Barras. My love, I feel the want of consolation that is to be obtained by writing to thee— to thee alone!— Cha-ivct is dead! He was attached to me. He has rendered essential services to his country. His last words were, that he was setting off to join rae. Soul of my existence ! write to me by every courier, otherwise I can- not live. I am here verv much occupied ; Beaulieu moves his army. We are in sight. I am a little fatigued ; I am every day on horseback. Adieu, adieu, adieu. 1 am going to sleep. Sleep consrdes me— it places me at thy side. But alas! on waking, I *ind myself tnree hundred leagues from thee I •' (3.) " Albevga, 1ft Germinal, (Ajy.il 8.) " Mv brother [Joseph] is here. He has heard of my mar- rlase with pleasure. He is most anxious to know thee. I am trying to decide him to go to Paris. His wife htjs 'been brought to bed of a girl. He sends you a present of a box ol Genoese sugar-])lums. You will receive some oran(.es, per- fumes, and orange-flower water, which I send you. Junot and Murat present you their respects."] (4.) " Headquarters, Carru, April 24. " To MY Sweet Love, " My brother [Joseph] will give you this letter. I have the warmest regard for him. I hope he will obtain yours. Ha merits it. Nature has endowed him with a character, gentle, equal, and unchangeably good. He is made up of good qua- lities. I have written to Barras, that lie may be appointed consul in some part of Italy. He wishes to live with his little wife, far away from the great whirlwind, and from great af- fairs. I recommend him to thee. " Junot carries to Paris twenty-two standards. You must return with him. Should he come without thee — misfortune without remedy, grief without consolation, endless suffer- ings! — My adorable love, he will see thee— he will breathe in thy temple — perhaps even thou wilt accord him the rare and invaluable favour of a kiss on thy check. And 1 — I shall be alone, and far, very far away. But thou art coming, art thou not ? Take wings !— come ! come ) but travel gently — the road is long, bad, fatiguing. If you were to be overturned, or to be taken ill ! If the fatigue * * *. Go gently, my adorable love : but be often and rapidly with me in your thoughts. " I have received a letter from Hortense. She is altoge- ther lovely. I am going to write to her. I love her dearly, and I will soon send her the perfumes she wishes to have. " I do not know whether you want money, for you have never spoken to me of these matters. If you do, speak to my brother, who has 200 Louis of aniiie.— N. B." (5.) tcrtone midi le 27 prartal. A Josejihine Ma vie est un cochemar perpetuel un presentiment funeste m empeche de respirer. je ne vis plus j'ai perdu plus que la vie plus que le bonheur plus que ie repos je suis presque sans espoir. je t expedie un courrier. il ne restera que 4 heure a paris et puis m aportera ta reponse— ecris nioi 10 pages cela seul peut me consoler un pen - - tu es malade, tu m aime, je t ai afl3ig6, tu es grosse et je te ne vols pas ! cett idte me con- fond, j'ai tant de tord avec toi que je ne sais comment les expier je t accuse de rester a paris et tu y etois malade— par- donne moi ma bonne amie 1 amour que tu m a inspire m a ote la raison je ne la retrouverai jamais 1 'on ne guerit pas de ce mal la. mes presentimens sont si funcstes que je me bor- nerois a te voir te presser 2 heures centre mon cocur et mourir ensemble ! qu est ce qui a soin de toi. j' imagine que tu a fait appellor hortense j ainie mille fois plus cet aimable enfant depuis que je pense qu'elle peut te consoler un peu quand a moi point de consolation point de repos, point d espoir jusqu 'a ce que j' ai re9u le courrier que je t expedie et que par une longue lettre tu m explique ce que c est que ta maladie et jusqu' a quel point elle doit etre serieuse— si elle est dangereuse, je t en previous je pars de suite pour paris. mon arrive vaudra ta maladie. J 'ai ete toujours heu?eux. jamais mon sort n a resiste a ma volonte et aujourdhui je suis frappe dans ce qui me louche uniquement. Josephine comment pent tu rester tant de tems sans m ecrire— ta derniere lettre laconique est du 3 du mois encore est elle affligante pour moi je 1 ai cepen- dant toujours dans ma poche — ton portrait et tcs lettres sont sans cesse devant mes yeux. je ne suisrien sans toi je concois a peine comment j ai exisfe sans teconnoitre ah! Josephine si tu eusse connu mon coeur serois tu rester de])ui3 le 29 au 16 pour partir? aurois tu pretfi 1 oreil a des amis perfides qui vouloient peuteire te tenir eloignde de moi? je 1 avoue* tout le monde, j en veux a tout ce qui t entourre je te calculuis partie depuis le 5 et le 15 ai- rive a Milan. jose]ihine si tu m 'aime si tu crois que tout depend de ta conservation, menage toi, je n ose pas te dire de ne p.-is entre- prendre un voyage si long et dans les chaleurs a nioins si tu es dans le cas de fair la route va a petites journees ecris moi a toutcs les couches et expedie moi d avance tes lettres. toutcs mes pensecs sont concentri^es dans ton alcove dans ton lit sur ton occur ta maladie voyla ce qui m occupe la no it et le jour— sans apetit, sans someil, sans interet pour 1 amitie, pour la gloirc, pour la jiatrie, toi, toi et le rcste du monde n existe pas plus pour moi que s il etoit anneanti je tiens a 1 honneur puisque tu y tiens, a la victoire puisque cela te fait plaisir sans quoi j aurois tout quitte pour me rendre a tes picds. quelquefois je me dis je m allarme sans raison deja ello est guerie elle part elle est partie, elle est pcutetredeja a lion — vaine imagination— tu es dans ton lit souffrante, i)lus belle, plus interessante plus adorable tu es palle et tes yeux sont jilus languissans mais quand sera tu guerie ' si un de noua deux devoit etre malade ne doit il pas etre moi, )nsacr(?s que jamais il ne se passe une hcure sans pcnser a toi, que jamais il ne m est venu dans 1 idte de penser a une autre femme qu elles sont toutes a mts yeux sans grace sans beautiS et sans esjirit que toi toi toute enti^re telle que je te vu's telle que tu est pouvoit me i)laire et absorber toutes Ics facultes de mon ame que tu en a touchy toute 1 etendue que mon coBur n a point de replis que tu ne voye, point de pens^'cs qui ne te sont subordonnes, que mes forces mes bras mon esprit sont tout a toi, que mon ame est dans ton corps, et que lo jour on tu aurois cnange ou ou tu cesserois de vivre seroit celui de ma mort, que la nature, la terre n est belle a mes yeux que parceque tu 1 habite — si tu ne crois pas tout cela si ton ame n'en est pas convaincue jienetree, tu m afBisc, tu ne m aime pas — il est un fluide magnetique entre Ics per- sonnes qui s aiment tu sais bien que jamais je ne pour- rois te voir un amant encore moins t en offrir un. lui dechirois ie C'CEur et le voir seroit pour moi la meme chose et puis si je t porter la main sur ta personne sacree — non je ne I'oserai jamais mais je sorterois d une vie ou ce qui existe de plus ver- tucuse m auroit trompe. Mais je suis sur et fier de ton amour — les malheurs sont des epreuves qui nous decellent mutuelnient toute la force de notre passion un enfant adorable conime la maman va voir le jour et pourroit passer plusieurs ans dans tes bras — infor- tune! je me contenterois d une journ6e — Mille baise sur tcs yeux, sur tes levres sur ta langue sur ton coeur — adorable femme quelle est ton ascendant je suis bien malade de ta inaladie, j ai encore une fievre brulante! ne garde pas plus de 'i henre le Simple* et qu il rctourne de suite me porter la lettre cherie de ma Souveraine. te souviens tu de ce reve ou j etois tes souliers tes chiffons et je te faisois entrer toute entiere dans mon coeur — pourquoi la nature n a-t-elle pas arrange cela comme cela— il y a bien des clioses a faire. N. B. A la Citoyenne Bonaparte, Rue Chautreine, No. 6 Paris. de Pistoa en toscane le 8 messidor. A Josephine, Depuis un mois je n'ai recu de ma bonne amie que 2 billets de trois lignes chacun— a-t-elle des affaires? celle dY-crire a son bon ami n'est done pas un besoin pour elle des lors celle d'y penser — vivre sans penser a Josephine ce seroit pour ton mari etre mort et ne pas exister — ton image embelit ma pensc^e et egaye le tableau sinistre et noire de la melancolie ct de la douleur un jour pcutetre viendra ou je te verai, car je ne doute pas que tu ne sois encore a paris et bien ce jour la je te montrerai mes poches jik-ines de lettres que je ne t'ai pas envoy^ par qu'ellcs etoient trop bete, bien c est le mot . bon dieu dis mois toi qui sais si bien faire aimer les au- tres sans aimer saurez tu me gucrir de I'amour ? ? ? je pairai cc remede bien chere tu devois partir le 5 prairal— bon que j'etois je tendois le 13 comme si une jolie femme pouvoit abandoner ses habitudes, ses amis, et Me. tallien et un dind chez baras, et une representation d'une piece nouvelle ct fon- tane* oui fontane* tu aime tout plus que ton mari tu n"a pour :j! qu'un peu dVstime ct une portion de cette bienveillance dont ton cceur abonde tous les jours t t rccapituler tes ttird, tes fautes je me bat le flanc pour ne te plus aimer bah n' est* ce* pa.s que je taime da^antat;e enfin mon incomparalile petite mere je vais te dire mon secret. Mocque toi de moi rcste a Paris, aie des amans, que tout le raonde le sache, n ecris jamais eh ! bien je t en aimerai 10 fois darantage— et cc n est pas folic fievre delire! ! et je ne guerirai pas de cela— oil si par dieu j'en guerirai— mais ne vas pas me dire que tu cs malade— n entrepend pas de te justifie bon dieu tu cs par- donnee je t aime a la folic et jamais mon pauvrc cceur ne oesscra de donner tout* a* r*aniour* si tu ne m aimois pas mon sort seroit bien byzare. tu nc m'a pas ccrit — tu etois malade — tu n es pas venue, t t n'a pas voulu et puis ta inaladie et puis ce petit enfant qui se remuoit si fort qu il te faisoit mal ? mais tu as passe lion tu seras le 1(1 a turin le 12 a milan ou tu m atendira. tu seras en italic et je serois en- core loin de toi— adieu, ma bien aim^, un bais^ sur ta bouche — un autre sur ton cceur— et un autre sur ton petit enfants. Nous avons fait la paix avec Home qui nous donne de I'ar- (.tnt — nous serons demain a livournc ct le plutot que je pour- ri.is dans tcs bras, a tcs pieds, sur ton sein. A la Citovcnne Bonaparte, Hue chautreinue No. 6 Paris. No. v.— P. 2ri8. Wk 1 avc found some curious particulars rcsj)CctinR Tate's deaccnt in the Mcinuiri: of Theol. and who, being taken on bis return to Ireland with a French expedition, was condenini d and ex^ cutud there. The author, for whom we entertain much com passion, seems to have been a gallant light-hearted Irishman, liis head full of scraps of plays, and his heart in a high fever on account of the supposed wrongs which his country had sustained at the hands of Great Britain. His hatred, indeed, had arisen to a pitch which seems to have surprised himself, as appears from the conclusion of the following extracts, which prove that nothing less than the total destruction of Bristol was expected from Tate and his merry-men, who had been industriously picked out as the greatest reprobates of the French army. We have that sort of opinion of Citizen Wolfe Tone, which leads us to think he would have wept heartily had he been to witness the havoc of which he seems ambitious to be an instrument. The violence of his expressions only shows how civil war and political fury can deform and warp the moral feelings. But we should have liked to have seen Pat's coun- tenance when he learned tl.at tlie Bande Noire had laid down their arms to a handful of Welsh militia, backed by the appearance of a body of market women, with red cloaks, (such was the fact.l whom they took for the head of a sup- porting column. Kven these attempts at pillage, in which they were supposed so dexterous, were foiled by the exer- tions of the sons of Owen Glendower. The only blood spilt was that of a French straggler, surprised by a Welsh farmer in the act of storming his hen-roost. T!ie bold Briton knocked the assailant on the head with his flail, and, not knowing whom he had slain, buried him in the dunghill, until he learned by the report of the country that he had slain a French invader, when he was much astonished and delighted with his own valour. Such was the event of the invasion ; Mr. Tone will tell us what was expected. Aov. Island 2d, 1706, {Brest.) Colonel Shee tells me that General Quantin has been dis- patched from Flushing with 2C.K10 of the greatest reprobates in the French army, to land in England, and do as much mis- chief as possible, and that we have ,3(Kki of the same stamp, whom we are also to di5gorge on the English coast. . . Nov. 2it?i and 25th. Colonel Tate, an American officer, has offered his services, and the general has given him the rank of chef-de-brigade, and 1(150 men of the Legion Noire, in ord(fr to go on a buca- noering party into England. Excepting some little errors in the locality, which, after all, may seem errors to me from my own ignorance, the instructions are incomparably well drawn ; they are done, or at least corrected, by the general himself; and if Tate be a dashing fellow, with military talents, he may play the devil in England before he is caught. His object is Liverjiool ; and I have some reason to think the scheme has resulted from a conversation I had a few days since with Co- lonel Shee, wherein 1 told him that, if we were once settled in Ireland, I thought we might make a piratical visit in that quarter; and, in fact, I wish it was we that should have the cre;lit and profit of it. I should like, for example, to p.iy a visit to Liver])Ool myself, with some of the gentlemen from Ormond Quay, though I must say the citizens of the Legion Noire are very little behind my countrymen either in appear- ance or morality, which last has been prodigiously cultivated by three or four campaigns in Bretagne and La Vendi;*. A thousand of these desjieradocs, in their black jackets, will edify John Bull exceedingly, if they get safe into Lancashire. Nov. 26t/i. Today, by the general's orders, I have made a fair copy of Colonel Tate's instructions, with some alterations from the rough draught of yesterday, particularly with regard to his first destination, which is now fixed to be Bristol. If he ar- rives safe, it will be very possible to carry it by a coiip-de-niain. in which case he is to bum it to the ground. I cannot but observe here that I transcribed, with the greatest sang froid, the orders to reduce to ashes the third city of the British do- minions, in which there is, perhaps, property to the amount of L.5,000,a'0. No. VI.— P. 25t. nUONAPARTE'S CAMP I^IRRRaRY. BIBt-IOTHEQUE DU CAMP. Sciences ct Arts. vol. Mondes de FontcncUe, .... 1 Lettres a une Princess d'AlIem.igue, ... 2 Le Cours de I'Ecole— Normande, ... 6 Aide ntecssairc pour I'Artilleric, ... 1 Traits des Fortifications, .... 3 Traits des Fcux— d'Artifice, .... I Giographie et Foi'a<;ct. Gt-ogra))hic de Barclay, . . •. , 12 Voyages do Cook, • .... 3 Voyages Franyaisc de la Ilarpe, . • . ?4 838 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE AVORKS. Uistoire. I'lutarqae, .... Tuieniie, .... Cond6, ..... Villars, Lusenibourg, . . . ■ Duguestlin, .... Saxe, ..... Memoiresdes Mar^chaux de France, President Her.au U, Chronologic, .... Marlborough, .... Prince Eugene, Histoire Philusophique de8 Indcs, B'AIlemagne, .... Charles XII., .... Essai sur Ics Mceurs des Nations, Pierre-le-Graiid, Polybe, .... Justin, ..... Arrien, ..... Tacite, ..... Tite-Llve, .... Thucvdide, .... Vertot, ..... Denina, ..... FrMC-ricII., .... Poeiie. Ossian, ..... Tasse, ..... Anoste, ..... Homere, ..... Virgile, . ... Henriade, .... T61emaque, .... Les Jardins, .... Les Chefs-d'OCiivre du Theatre- Franyais, Po&ies Ldgeres (choisies,) Fontaine, .... Ramans. Voltaire, ..... Heloise, Werther, ..... Marmontel, ..... Romans Anglais, " . . . . Le Sage, ...... Prevost, ...... 4 4 1 4 40 10 10 PolHiqiti et Morale. Le Vieui Testament. Le NouTeau. Le Coran. Le Vedam. Mythologie Montesquieu — L'Esprit des Lois. (In all, about 3^0 vols.) No. VII.— P. 2G3. BLOMAPAP.TE, MEMBER OF THE NATIONAl, INSTITUTE, CO.M- B14NDER-[N-CHIEF, TO THE PEOPLE OF EGYPT. Alexandria. July the , 6(h Year of lite Republic, One and ludivisMe, the of the Month of SIu- harrem, the Year vfHie Heqira 1213. For a long time the Beys, who govern Egy])t, have insulted the French nation, and covered her merchants with injuries : the hour of their cliastisement is come. For too long a time this rabble of slaves, purchased in Cau- casus and in Georgia, has tyrannized over the fairest part of the world ; but God, on wliora every thing depends, has de- creed that their empire shall be no more. People of Egypt ! you will be told that I am come to destroy your religion ; do not believe it. Reply, that I am come to restore your rights, to punish usurpators ; and that I rever- ence more than the Mameloucs themselves, God, his prophet Mahomet, and the Koran ! Tell tlicm that all men are equal before God. Wisdom, ta- lents, and virtue, are the only tilings which make a difference between them. Now, what wisdom, what talents, what virtues, have the Mameloucs, tliat they should boast the exclusive possession of every thinu that can render life agreeable? If Egypt is their farm, let tlicm show the lease which God has given them of it ! But God is just and merciful to the people. All the Egyptians shall be appointed to all the public situ- ' " Les notes hisforiques, qui snnt inser^es comme appen- dice k la fin du dernier volume de la Vie de Napoleon, sont ftttribu&s au General Bernadotte, actuellement Roi de Sufede, niaig>tu'il faut pliitot regardcr comme I'ouvrage d'un ami in- ations. The most wise, the most intelligent, and the most vir- tuous, shall govern ; and the people shall be happy. There were formerly among yon great cities, great canals, and a great commerce. What has destroyed them all? What! but the avarice, the injustice, and the tyranny of the Mame- loucs. Cadis, Cheiks, Imans, Tchorbadgis! tell the people that we are the friends of the true Mussulmans. Is it not we, who have destroyed the Pope : who said that it was necessary to make war on Mussulmans? Is it not we, who have destroyed the Knights of Malta, because these madmen believed that it was the good pleasure of God, that they should make war on Mussulmans ? Is it not we, who have been in all ages the friends of the Grand Siguier, (on whose desires be the blessing of God !) and the enemy of his enemies? And, on the con- trary, have not the Mameloucs always revolted against the authority of the Grand Siguier, which they refuse to recognise at this moment ? Thrice happy those who shall be with us ! they shall prosper in their fortune and their rank. Happy those who sliall be neutral! they shall have time to know us thoroughly, and they will range themselves on our side. But woe, woe, woe, to those who shall take up arms in fa- vour of the .Mameloucs, and combat against us ! There shall be no hope for them : they shall all perish. (Signed) Buo.vapartk. A true copy. (Signed) Berthier. No. VIII. -P. 287. HISTORICAI. .NOTES O.V THE EIGHTEE.N-TH BRUMAIRK.' The following facts, which have never been made public, but with which we have been favoured from an authentic channel, throw particular light on the troubled period during wliich Napoleon assumed the supreme power— the risks which he ran of being anticipated in his aim, or of altogether miss- ing it. In the end of July, 1/99, when all those discontents were fermenting, which alterwards led to the Revolution of the 18th Brumaire. General Augereau, with one of the most celebrated veterans of the Republican army, attended by a deputation of six per- sons, amongst whom were Salicetti and otlier members of Convention, came on a mission to General Bernadotte, their minister at war, at an early hour in the morning. Their object was to call the minister's attention to a general report, which announced that there was to be a speedy alte- ration of the constitution and existing order of things. They accused Barras, Sieves, and Fouch^, as being the authors of these intrigues. It was generally believed, they said, that one of the directors (Barras) was for restoring the Bourbons ; an- other (Sieyes is probably meant) was for electing the Duke of Brunswick. Tlie deputation made Bernadotte acquainted with their purpose of fulminating a decree of arrest against the two ofhcial persons. Having first inquired what proofs they could produce in support of their allegations, and being informed that they had no positive proof to oti'er, the minister informed them that he would not participate in the proposed act of illegal violence. " I require your word of honour," he said, " that you will desist from this project. It is the only mode to ensure my silence on the subject. ' One of the depu- tation, whom the minister had reason to regard as a man of the most exemplary loyalty, and with whom he had had con- nexions in military service, replied to him, " Our intention was to have placed you in possession of great power, being well ]iersuadcd that you would not abuse it. Since you do not S'-e the matter as we do, the aft'air is at an end. We give up our scheme. Let the afl'air be buried in complete oblivion." In less tlian two mouths afterwards, Buonaparte's arrival gave a new turn to the state oi aft'airs. He landed, as is well known, at Frejus, after having aban- doned his army, and broke the quarantine laws. When this intelligence reached Bernadotte, he intimated to the Direc- tory, that there was not an instant to lose in having him brought before a council of war. General Debel was instructed to make this communication to a member of the Directory, who was one of his friends. Colonel St. Martin, of the artil- lery, spoke to this director to the same purpose. His answer was, ■• We are not strong enough." On its being said that Burnadotte was of opinion that Buonaparte should be pro- ceeded against according to the principles of military disci- Eline, and that the opportunity which occurred should be laid old of, the director replied, " Let us wait." Buonaparte arrived at Paris. All the generals went to visit him. A public dinner to liim was proposed, and a list for that purpose handed about. When it waspresented to Bernadotte by two members of the Council of Five Hundred, he said to discret. C'est pourtant dans ces notes que, sang les citer ja- mais, Bourrienne a 6videmment puis6a pleincs mains." — Ul> scrvations sur le 18 lirumaire de M. de Buurrienne, pat M BouLAY DE LA Meurthe, Ancien Mviistre d' Etat. APPENDIX TO THE LIFE OF BUONAPARTE. 830 Jhem, " I would advise vou to nut off this dinner till he ac- count satisfactorily for having aliandoned liis army." ' More than twelve days had clajiscfl before Bernadotte saw Ruonaparte. At the request of Josci)h, liis brother-in-law, and of Madame I.cclerc. Buonaparte's sister, Bernadotte at lenatbwcnt to visit him. The conversation turned upon Esypt. Buonaparte havine bepnn to talk of public affairs, Bernadotte allowed him to enlarce on the nccesbity of a change in the co- vernment ; and at last. pcrcciWng that Buonai)arte, aware of the awkwardness of his sitnation, was exasserating the un- favourable circumstances in the situation of France, — " But, Rcnsral," said Bernadotte, " the Russians are beaten in Swit- zerland, and have retired into Bohemia ; a line of defence is maintained between the Alps and the Ligurian Ajiennincs ; we are in possession of Genoa; Holland is saved— the Rus- sian army that was there is destroyed, and the English army has retired to England : — l.j.flOO insurgents have just been dis- persed in the dtjiartnicnt of the Upper Garonne, and con- strained to take refuge in Spain : — at this moment we are bu- sied in raising two hundred auxiliary battalions of KM'O n;cn each, and nO.lKKi cavalry ; and in three months at most, we shall not know what to do with this multitude of torrents. Indeed, if you had been able to bring the army of Egypt with you, the veterans who compose it would have been very use- ful in forming our new corjis. Though we should look upon this army as lost, unless it return by virtue of a treaty. I do not despair lif the safety of the Republic, and I am convinced she will withstand her enemies both at home and abroad." Wliile pronouncing the words f«t>mi>* at home, Bernadotte uninten- tionally looked in the face of Buonajiarte, whose confusion was evident. Madame Bu'^naparte changed the conversa- tion, and Bernadotte soon after took leave. Some davs afterwards. M. R , formerly chief secretary to the minister of war, beL'ged General Bernadotte to intro- duce him to Buonaparte. The general carried him along with him. After the usual compliments, they began to talk of the situation of France. Buonaparte spoke much of the great excitement of feeling among the republicans, and particularly in the " club du manege." Bernadotte said in answer, " When an impulse is once given, it is not easily stopped. This you have often experienced. After having impressed on the army of Italy a movement of patriotic enthusiasm, you could not repress this feeling when you judged it proper to do so. The same thing happens now. ' A number of individuals, and your own brothers principally, have formed the club yuu speak of. I have never belonged to it. I was too busy, and had too many duties to perform as minister, to be able to at- tend it. You have alleged that I have favoured these meet- ings. This is not correct. I have indeed supported many re- spectable persons who belonged to this club, because their views were honest, and they hoped to give prevalence to a spirit of moderation and prudence, which is generally thrown aside bv ambitious men. Salicctti, a particular friend and secret confidant of voijr brothers, was one of the directors of that meeting. It has been believed by observers, and is believed still, that the state of excitement which you com- plain of, has originated in the instructions received by Sali- cetti." Here Buonaparte lost temper, and declared that he would rather live in the woods, than continue to exist in the midst of a society which gave him no security. " What securitv do you want ?" answered General Berna- dotte. Madame Buonaparte, fearing that the conversation would become too warm, changed the subject, addressing her- self to M. R , who was known to her. General Bernadotte did not persist in his questions, and, after some general con- versation, he withdrew. A few davs afterwards, Joseph had a large party at Mor- fontaine. Buonaparte, meeting General Bernadotte i;oming out of the Theatre Fravfaise, inquired if he was to be of the party on the following day. Being answered in the affirma- tive— " Will vou," said he, "give me my coffee to-morrtiw morning? I have occasion to pass near your house, and shall be very glad to stop with you for a few moments." Next morn- ing, Buonaparte and his wife arrived: Louis followed them a moment afterwards. Buonaparte made himself very agree- able.2 In the evening there was some conversation between B:;gnault de St. Jean d'Angely. Joseph, and Lucien. Buona- parte convciscd with Bernadotte, who saw, from his embar- rassea air, and frequent fits of absence, that his mind was deeply occupied. He had no longer any doubt that it was Buonaparte s determined purpose to save himself, by the over- throw of the constitution, from tlic danger with which he was threatened in consequence of his leaving Egy]it. abandoning his army, and violatmg the quarantine laws. He resolved to oppose it by every means in his power. On his return to Paris, he happened, accidentally, to be in a house belonging to a fel- low-countryman and friend of Moreau's. That general having ' When Bernadotte came info the ministry, it b'ecame a question whether Buonajiarte should not be sent for from Egvpt. — " It is the army you mean," said the minister — " for as to the general, you know he has an eve to the dictatorshiji ; and scndi^ig vessels to bring him to France, would just be pving it to him." A French fleet was at that time cruiziT^L' in the Meditcrra- inquired if he had been at the party at Morfoniaine, and if h« had spoken with Buonajiarte. and Bernadotte having tuld him he had, Morcau said, " That is the man who ha» done the greatest harm to the Republic." — "And," added Bernadotte. " who is preparing the greatest." — " We shall prevent him," replied Moreau. The two generals shook hands, and promised to stand bv each other in resisting the deserter from Egypt. So they called him in presence of a number of persons, among whom was the ex-minister, Petiet. The Directory, it is true, did not enjoy the public esteem. Sieyes stood first in reputation among the five members, but he was looked upon as being timid and vindictive. He was believed to be disposed to call the Duke of Brunswick to the throne of France. Barras was snspected by some persons of being in treaty with the Comte Lille. Gohier, Moulines, and Roger Ducos, were very respectable men. but considered to be unfit for the government of a great natioH. Gohier, however, was known to be one of the first lawyers of that jicriod, to be of incorruptible integrity, and an ardent lover of his countn,-. When Sieyes obtained a place in the Directory, he had de- sired to have General Bernadotte for war-minister. Som.e confidential relations between them, and a certain degree of deference which Bernadotte paid to Sieyes, in consequence of his great celebrity, had flattered his self-love. Buonaparte's two brothers, Joseph and Lucien, thinking they should find in Beniadotte a readv instrument for the execution of the plans of their brother, whom they believed to be on the point of land ing in France, agreed with Sieyes in bringing Bernadotte into the ministry. Gohier, Moulines, and Roger Ducos joined the Buonapartes and Sieyes ; Barras alone inclined towards Du- bois-Crancd ; but he yielded with a good grace to the opinion of his colleagues. The proposal was made to Bernadotte at a dinner at Jo- seph's, in the rvc (In Rocher. Joubert, one of the party, whc had recentlv formed an intimacy with the candidate for the place of minister, was chosen by the Buonapartes to propose It to him. The proposal was refused, and the remonstrances of Joubert had no efl'ect on the resolution of Bernadotte, which at that time appeared immovable. The Buonapartes, who were the prime movers of all the changes which took Jilace, and enjoyed the distribution (of all the great posts, were astonished when they heard General Joubert's report. They got several members of the council to endeavour to in duce Bernadotte to accept. Their attempts were vain. Every solicitation was followed by a most obstinate refusal. But what could not be done by Bernadotte's friends and partisans, duped by tlie apparent friendship of the Buonapartes for him, was accomplished by his wife and sister-in-law. After many davs spent in entreaties, Bernadotte yielded, and received the IKi'rlc-jeiiille from the hands of General Milkt-XIorcau, who then had the charge of that department. Tiie Buonapartes were not slow in showing a desire to exercise a direct influence in the war department. Slany of their creatures were raised, by the new minister, to higher situations ; but the number of flesh applications continually made to him, convinced him that they considered him as holding his place merely to serve their purposes, and prepare the way for their elevation. Tne minister, who went regularly at five o'clock in the morn- ing to the oflrtcc of the war-department, wherehe had to repair heavy disasters, recruit the army, put a stop to dilapidations, organise two hundred battalions of a thousand men each, bring back to their corps So.iXK) men, who had, in the course of a few years, absented tlicmselves without permission, and ac- comjilish an extraordinary levyof 40,0(KJ horse, did not return to his house, in the rue Cisalpine, till between five and six in the evening. Joseph and his wife were almost always there. Josejih sometimes turned the conversation on the incapacity of the Directory, the difficulty of things remaining as they were, and the necessity of new-modelling the administration. Bernadotte, on the contrary, thought that if the five direc- tors were reduced to three, otie of whom should go out of oflice every three vears. the constitution would go on very well. He found in that form of government the creation of a patrician order exclusivelv charged with the government of the stale. The Roman republic was his model, and he saw in the consti- tution of the year four a great analogy to the consular privi- leges and the rights of senators. By the 135th article of that constitution, no one could aspire to become a Director, without having been first a member of one of the two councils, a mi- nister of state, &c. As that condition w.as already fulfilled in his case, it was natural that he should incline towards the preservation of a form of government which placed him on an equality with kings, and gave him the hopes of seeing many kings tributary to, or at least protected by, the Republic. These discussions sometimes became rather unreserved ; ana it was at such a time that Joseph intimated to Bernadotte. in a sort of half-confidence, the possibility of his brother's speedy return. The minister had sufficient presence of mina ncan, — the minister insisted that it sliould be ordered to Toulon. 2 It w.ts bv no means from friendship that Buonaparte went to Bernadotte's on this eccasion ; but really to reiidi-r the Di- rectory and the friendi of the lU-public 6Uspi''ioo» as to that general's intentions. 840 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. to conceal his indignation ; but his suqirise was so visible that Joseph was alarmed by it. He endeavoured to diminish the impression which his communication had produced. He said, "'lliat what he had advanced was merely a sini])]e conjecture on his part, which might become a probability— perhaps, even (added he/ a reality ; for he has conquered Ekv])!— his business is at an end— he ha."* nothing more to do in tliat quarter." — " Conquered ! " rejilied Bcrnadotte— " Say rather, ini-aded. This conquest, if you will call it so, is far from being secure. It has given new liieto the coalition, which was extinct ; it has given us all Europe for our enemies ; and rendered the very existence of the Kepiiblic doubtful. Besides, your brother has no authority to quit the army. He knows tlie military laws, and I do not think that he would be inclined, or would dare, to leiKler himself liable to puriishmeiit under them. Such a desertion would be too serious a matter; and he is too well aware of its consequences." .foseph went away a few mo- ments afterwards ; and this conversation having proved to him that Bernadottedid not concur in his opinions, it became an object to produce a breach between him (Bernadotte) and Sieyes. Bernadotte retired from the ministry, and Buonaparte ar- rived about three weeks afterwards. Not being able to doubt that the Directors themselves were either dupes of Buona- parte's ambition, or his accomplices, and that tliey were me- ditating with him the overthrow of the established order of things. General Bernadotte persevered in otfering his counsels and services to those members of the government, or of the Legislative Body, who might have opposed those designs. But the factious and the intriguing went on at a more rapid pace ; and every day Buonaparte increased his party by the accession of some distinguished personage. On the 16th Brumaire, at five o'clock, Bernadotte went to General Buonaparte's, where he was invited to dinner. Gene- ral Jourdan was of the party. He arrived after they had sat down to table. The conversation was entirelv on military .oiibjects : and Bcrnadotte undertook to refute" the maxims which Buonaparte was laying down relative to the system of war by invasion. Bcrnadotte concluded nearly in these words : " There is more trouble in preservingthan in invading;" allud- ing to the conquest of Egypt. The company rose and went to the drawing-room. Immediately afterwards there arrived several very distinguished members'of the council, and a good many men of letters; Volney and Talleyrand were of the number. The conversation was general, and turned on the ftffairs of the west of France. Buonajiarte, raising his voice a little, and addressing somebody near him, said — " Ah ! you see a Chouan in General Bernadotte." The general, in an- swering him, could not refrain from smiling. " Don't contra- dict yourself," said he; "it was but the other day that you com- plained of my favouring the inconvenient enthusiasm of the friends of the Republic, and now you tell me that I protect the Chouans. This is very inconsistent." The company continued to increase every miimte ; and. the apartments not being very spacious, Bernadotte went away. Many persons have thought that the answers given bv Ber- nadotte to Buonai>arte on this occasion, had retarded for twenty-four hours the movement which had been jirepared. Others, on the contrary, have alleged that, the 17th being a Friday, Buonaparte, naturally sui'crstitious, had deferred the execution of the project till the 18th. On the 17th Brumaire, between eleven and twelve at night, Joseph Buonaparte, returning to his house in the rve.dtiRi)- cher by the way of the rue Cisalpine, called at the house of Bernadotte. He. being in bed, sent to request Joseph to re- turn next day. He did so before seven o'clock in the morn- ing of the IHth. He told Bernadotte that his brother desired to speak with him ; that the measures to be taken had been dis- cussed the evening before, and that they wished to inform him of them. They both went immediately to Buonaparte's house in tlie rue de la /-''kioire. The court, the vestibule, and the apartments, were filled with generals and officers of rank. Many of the officers had the air of persons in a state of exci- tation from wine. Bernadotte was shown into a small room ; Joseph did not go in. Buonaparte was sitting at breakfast with one of his aides-de-camp, who, as far as can be remembered, was Lemmarois. General Lcfebvre, afterwards Dukeof Dant- xic. then commanding the 17th military division, of which Paris was the headquarters, was standing. Bernadotte, seeing him in that attitude, did not doubt that he was detained a prisoner. He immediately took a chair, sat down, and made a sign to Lefebvre to do the same. Lefebvre hesitated, but a glance from Buonaparte reassured him. He sat down re- spectfully, looking at Buonaparte. The latter, addressing himself to Bernadotte, said, with embarrassment, — " Why, you are not in uniform !" On Bernadotte answering — " I am not on duty," Buonaparte replied — " You shall be inmic- diately." — "I do not think so," said Bernadotte. Buonaparte rose, took Bernadotte by the hand, and carried him into an idjoining room. "This Directory governs ill," said he ; "it Would destroy the Republic if we did not take care. The Council of Ancients has named me commandant of Paris, of tlie national guard, and of all the troops in the division. Go and put on your uniform, and join me at the Tuileries, where 1 am now goir."." Bcrnadotte having declined doing this, Buonaparte said — " 1 see you think you can count upon Moreau, Bournonville, kud other generals. Yo i will see them all come to me— Mo- reau himself; " and, speaking very fast, he named about thirtt members of the Council of Ancients, whom Bernadotte hail believed to be the greatest friends of the constitution of tlia year IV. " Y^ou don't know mankind," added he; " they promise much, and perform little." Bernadotte having declared that he did not choose to be in- volved in a rebellion of this kind, nor to overturn a constitu- tion which had cost the lives of a million of men, — " Well," said Buonaparte, " you will stay till I receive the decree of the Council of Ancients; for till then I am notliing.'' Ber- nadotte, raising his voice, said—" I am a man whom you may put to death, but whom you shall not detain against his will. ' — " Well, then ! " said Buonaparte, softening his voice, "give me your word that you will do nothing against me." — " Yes, as a citizen ; but if 1 am called upon by the Directory, or if the Legislative Body gives me the command of its guard, I shall oppose you, and you shall not have the upper hand." — "What do you mean by ax a citizen?"—"! will not go to the bar- racks, nor places of public resort, to inflame the miuds of the soldiers and the people." " I am quite easy," answered Buonaparte ; " I have taken my measures; you will receive no appointment; they are more afraid of your ambition than of mine. I wish merely to save the Re|)ublic; I want nothing for myself; 1 shall retire to Malmaison, after having brought about me a circle ot friends. If you wish to be of the number, you shall be made very welcome." Bernadotte said in reply, as he was going away — " As to your being a good friend, that may be; but I am convinced that you will always be the worst of masters." Bernadotte left the room ; Buonaparte fidlowed him into the lobby, and said to Joseph with an agitated voice — " Follow him." Bernadotte passed through a crowd of generals, ofhcors of rank, and soldiers, who filled the court of the house, and a part of the street, making some impression upon them by his looks, which exjiressed his disapprobation of their conduct. Joseph followed Bernadotte, and came up to him in the court of the house. He asked him to go to his house, in the rue du Jineher, where he had assembled several members of the Legis- lative Body. When he arrived at Joseph's, he found a dozen of persons, among whom were several deputies devoted to Buonajiarte, and particularly Salicetti. Breakfast was served. During the few moments they remained at table, they spoke of the resolutions which would be taken, and Joseph repeated that his brother wished for nothing but the consolidation of freedom, that he might then have it in his power to live like a philosopher at Malmaison. Bernadotte went to the garden of the Tuileries, and passed along the front of the 79th dcmi-brigade. The officers having recognised him, though not in uniform, came up to him, and asked him for information as to what was gohig to happen. Bernadotte answered in general terms, expressing his wish that the public tranquillity might not be endangered by the movement about to take place. The soldiers, having in their turn recognised the general who had commanded them at the siege and taking of Maestricht, loudly expressed their astonish- ment at his not being along with the generals, who, said they, were then deciding, in the palace, the fate of France. Bernadotte having observed what he might expect, in case of need, from this corps, and from some detachments before whom he had presented himself on the Boulevard and on the Piixl de la lUeolutioii, went to General Jourdan's, presuming that the Directory would send for him to take care of the safety of the government. He found at Jourdan's a good many members of the Council of Five Hundred, among others Auge- reau, afterw.ardsDukeof Castiglione. He had scarcely arrived, when a great number of the members came to announce the communication ofthe decree of the Council of Ancients, which, in virtue of the 102d article of the Constitution, transferred the sitting of the Legislative Body to St. Cloud. Bernadotte, on his return home, learned from his wife that the Adjutant-General Rapatel. attached to General Moreau's staff, had just been there, and that he had been sent by Buona- parte and Moreau, to persuade him to join them at the Tuile- ries. Buonaparte had said to him — "You have served under General Bernadotte. I know that he has confidence in you. Tell him that all his friends are assembled at the Tuileries, and that they are desirous of seeing him among them ; add that they love their country as much as he, and that they strongly wish to see him ajipear among the number of those to whom she this day owes her safety." Sieyes and Roger Ducos had already joined Buonaparte at the Tuileries. The three Directors, Gohier the President, Mou- lins and Barras, remained at the Luxembourg. The secre- tary-general, Lagarde, was still fiiithful to the majority of the Directory. As General Bernadotte had foreseen, that majority cast their eyes on him for the ministry of war, and the general command of the troops, and of the national guards of the l/th division. The resignation of Barras, and the defection of the secretarv-general, put a stop to this nomination. Buonaparte, having ho longer any thing to fear, made a new division of the different commands, and assigned to Moreau, with an hun- dred horse, that of the Luxembourg, where Gohier and Mou- lins were detained. Moreau, dissatisfied with the indifference with which he had been treated by Buonaparte, and acquaijited with his inten- tions and projects, was already thinking of forsaking Ins cause, which he regarded as unjust and traitorous to the nation. He again desired Kapatcl logo, towards evening, to Bc-rnadolte's. APPENDIX TO THE LIFE OF BUONAPARTE. 841 to invite liim. on the part of Morcau, toRO to the Luxembourg, that they iiiif,'ht consult together as to the measures to be taken for preventing; Buonaparte from seizing the Dictatorship. }ier- nadotte's answer to tliese overtures was, that he was bound by the word of lionour which he had given, not to undertake any thing as a citizen ; but tliat he was free to act if called on or summoned to do so by a public man ; that if Moreau would march outof the Luxembourg, at the head of the detachment which he commanded, present himself at his door, and sum- mon him. in the name of the public good, to make common cause with him in the defence of liberty and of the constitu- tion.which had been sworn to, he, Bernadotte, would mount his horse with his aides-de-camp, put himself under Moreau's command, address the troops, and cause Buonaparte to be immediately arrested and tried as a deserter from the army of Egypt, and as having violated the constitution, by accepting » command given him by a mere fraction of the Legislative Body, iloreau, bound down by the duty of military discipline, according to which he was under the orders of General Buona- parte, did not agree to Bernadotte's proposal ; and the latter, therefore, did not thiuk himself at liberty to go to the Lu.xem- bourg. Bernadotte, from seven o'clock till ten, had conferences with Salicetti, Augereau, Jourdan, Gareau, and a dozen of the most influential members of the Council of Five Hundred. It was decided, that, next morning, Bernadotte should be named commandant of the guard of the Legislative Body, and of all the troo)>s in the capital, and theysejiarated. Salicetti ran to the Tuileries to tell Buonaparte what had happened, and he, who dreaded so courageous an adversary as Bernadotte, charged Salicetti to be present next morning at five o'clock, at the ])reparatory meeting which was tn take place before go- ing to St. (I'loud, and to tell everyone of the deputies, that he, Buonaiiarte, had made the greatest ell'uvts to prevent a decree of deportation being issued against the deputies who liad formed tlie design of giving to Bernadotte the command of the armed force. On the 19th, at seven o'clock in the morning, Generals Jour- dan and Augereau, followed by eight or ten deputies of the Council of Five Hundred, (among whom were Gareau and Taint,) went to General Bernadotte's in the rue (Jisaliihh'. They informed him that Salicetti had made them aware, on the part of Buonaparte, that Sieves had ])roposed to arrest a number of the deputies of the two Councils, in order to pre- vent their appearing at .St. Cloud. They asked Bernadotte what he thought of the events of the day. He saw nothing in the communication of -Salicetti, but the desire of rendering these de])uties favourable to Buonaparte. Some of these legislators seemed to feel grateful for the service which Buo- naparte had done them the evening before. Bernailottc did not appreciate this act of generosity as they did ; but he agreed in their opinion as to the conciliatory measures which they seemed to wish to adopt, and, entering into their views, he explnined himself in these terms: — " Let one of you mount the tribune ; let him describe succinctly the internal situation of France, and her successes abroad ; let him say, that the de- parture of an army for Egypt, while it has involved us in war, has deprived us of an army of more than 30,000 veterans, and a great many experienced generals; that, nevertheless, the Republic is triumphant ; that the coalition is broken up, since Suwarrow is returned to Russia; that the English, with a prince of the blood at their head, have left the Batavian re- public and retired to England ; that the line of defence is maintained between the .\lps and the Ligurian Apennines ; that 2(XI,oOrince's wishes and request." He proceeded to state, that his own fame and personal inte- rests were alike interested in his adherence to a governmeuV sjjrung from the will of the people; and that he was incap- able of violating his oath of fidelity, or overthrowing the con- stitution to which he had sworn. " Make haste," he conti- nued, " to convey my sentiments to him who sent you ; tell him they are sincere and unalterable. But let him know, that for three days I will keep the secret which I have just learned, most profoundly. During that time he must find means of pl.icing himself in se-urity, by repassing the frontiers : but on the fourth morning, the secret will be mine no longer. This very morning, the lerm of three days will commence ; make haste— and remember that the least imprudence on your part will be attended with fatal consequences." 3 Illegible. APPENDIX TO THE LIFE OF BUONAPARTE. 843 Tt w«g afterwards ascertained that the ileputy was inisfa- keii, wlipii he averred tliat the Duked'Eiifjhien was in I'aris. It was pretty certain that he had never crossed the Rhine, and only waited the favourable reidy of the minister at war to make the attempt. But in the light in which the case wa? presented to Bernadotte, lib generous and firm conduct does not the less honour that eminent person, especially when con- trasted with that of Napoleon. There might have been a Btrong temptation, and even a show of right, to have seized on the unfortunate Prince, supposing him to be in Paris, nego- tiating plans against the existing government, and tempting j the fidelity of their principal ministers ; — there could be none j to kidnap him in foreign parts, when, however it might be | suspected, it could not be shown by proof, that the unfortu- I nate duke was concerned in any of the political intrigues which i were laid to his charge. The tottering state of public affair? requiring so much vigilance and vigour on the part of the go- ■yeriiment, might also have been pleaded in excuse of Berna dotte, had he delivered up the Duke d'Enghien to dungeon or j scaffold ; while Napoleon, on the contrary, took the unhappy | prince's life at a moment when his own power was so firmly established, as rather to incur danger than to acquire safety i by the indulgence of a cruel revenge. The above anecdote, j not, we believe, generally known, may be relied upon as au- thentic. Napoleon, four years later, adopted towards the unfortunate | prince that line of severity with which the world is acquainted. : His broad vindication uniformly was stated to be, that the I duke had offended against the laws of the country, and that, ] to put a stop to conspiracies, he had, from the beginning, de- ' termined to let the law take its course against him. He al- I leged, as we shall hereafter notice, various pleas in palliation 1 or excuse ; but his chief defence uniformly consisted in an appeal to the laws ; and it is therefore just to the memory of Napoleon and his victim, that we should examine whetfier, in a legal sense, the procedure against the Duke d'Enghien is vindicated in whole or in part. The labours of Monsieur Du- Rin, the learned author of a pamphlet already quoted, have imished us with an excellent work on this subject. The case of the unfortunate duke must always be admitted to be a hard one. This is not denied by Buonaparte himself; and, on that account, it is the more necessary to the vindica- tion of those upon whom his fate depended, to bring their procedure within the pale of the law. We are not now talking of reconciling the tragedy to the general rules of justice, ge- nerosity, or humanity ; but in resigning the arguments which these afford, we are the more entitled to exjicct that the pro- cedure which we impugn should, however harsh or cruel, be at least in strict conformity with the existing laws of France at the time, and such as could be carried on and vindicated by daylight, and in an open court. This is surely limiting our inquiry to the narrowest possible ground ; and we shall pro- secute the subject by examining the process in detail ARREST OF THE DUKE D'ENGHIEN. Every arrest, to be legal, must be so in three points of view : 1. As to the place where it is made ; 2. concerning the person whom it regards : .3. in respect of the grounds on which it proceeds. The duKe was residing in the territories of the Elector of Baden, a sovereign prince who had not ventured to afford him I that refuge without consulting the French governor on the I subject, and who was authorised to believe that his affording Hospitality to the unfortunate prince would afford no cause of , rupture with his powerful neighbour. The acquiescence of j the French government affords too much reason to suppose, , that the measure afterwards adopted had been for sometime premeditated ; and that there was a secret design of detaining the victim within reach of the blow which they had already resolved to strike, when they should see convenient. Whe- ther this was the case or no, the Duke d'Enghien was residing under protection of the law of nations, which proclaims the inviolability of the tcrritorities of one state by the soldiers of another, unless in case of war openly declared. It would be wasting arguments to show that the irruption of the French troops into the territory of Baden, and the seizure of the prince and his retinue, were directly contrary to public law, and could only be compared to an incursion of Algerincs or robbers. Thus the place of arrest was highly and evidently illegal. The charge on which the arrest was granted did not improve its legality. The only laws which could be referred to as ap- plicable to the occasion, are those of 28th March, 179."}, and of 25 Brumaire, An III. tit. 5, sect, i., art 7. Bythe.se, it is provided that emigrmits, who have carried arms against France, shall be arrested, u-hrlher in Franci; or in a>f>/ >io.i- lile or conr/iiered coiinlrij, and judged within twenty-four hours, by a commission of five members, to be named by the chief of the 6tat major of the dirision of the army quartered in the district where they arc found. A third law extended this order to all cmi'.'rantsof every description, arirsli'il williin the territory of Ih,- Ili'jmhlic ; but provided that the court should consist of seven persons, instead of five, to be named by the general commanding the division in which the arrest was made. These ferocious laws had in practice been so Inr modified, that it was laid down in the law books, that al- tluiugh. speaking strictly, they continued to exist, yet " the government always limited to deportation the sentence of such emigrants as were arrested within the French tnrritorv."' Before reviving them in their utmost severity against a single individual, it was therefore doubly incumbent to show that the party arraigned fell within these charges By no force of construction could the Duke d'Enghien be brought under the influence of these laws. He was not, pro- perly speaking, an emigrant, nor did he jiossess the qualities of such. He was a Prince of France— as such declared an alien, and banished forever from P" ranee. But, what is much more to the purpose, the Duke d'Enghien was neither found within France, norintheprecinctsof any hostile or conquered country, but brought by force from a territory neulral to, and friendly in its relations with, France; and that witliout legal warrant, and by main force. Buonaparte took credit tu himself for having prevented the execution of these laws against emigiants who had been forced on the shore of Fiance by tempest, and had thereby come under the letter, though not the spirit, of the law. How much more ought the Duke d'Enghien's case to have been excepted, who was only within France by the force exercised on his pe~son, and, instead of being arrested within the territorv, as the law required, was arrested in a neutral country, and brought into France against his will ? The arrest was therefoie, so far as respected the person on whom it was used, an act of illegal violence ; and not less so considering the grounds on which it proceeded, since there was no charge founded on any existing law. fNCOMPETENCY OF THE COURT. A military commission was assembled at Paris, to take un- der trial the Duke d'Enghien, accused of having borne arms against the Republic— of having been, and of still being in the pay of England — and, lastly, of having taken part in the con- spiracies against the safety of the Republic, both external and internal. lions. Dupin, by the most decisive arguments and authori- ties, shows, that although the military commission might pos- sibly be competent judges in the case of bearing arms against France, or receiving pay from England, yet the trial of a cri- minal accused of political conspiracy, was totally beyond the power of a court-martial, and could only be taken cognizance of by the regular tribunals. He quotes decisions of the minis- ter of justice upon this point of jurisprudence, and concludes by applving to the military commission the well-known bro- card of law, WuUus major difectus, qiiam potestalis. IRREGULARITIES IN THE PROCEDURE. I. The procedure took place at the dead of night, contrary to the laws of France and every civilized country. 'The worn- out and exhausted criminal was roused at midnight from the first sleep he had been permitted to enjoy for three nights, and called in to place himself on defence for his life, whilst, through fatigue of body and miud, he could scarcely keep himself awake. He answered to their interrogatories in a manly and simple manner; and by the French order of i rocess, his answers ought to have been read over to him, and he should have been called upon for his remarks upon the exactitude with which they had been taken down : but nothing of this kind was pro- posed to the Duke d'Enghien. II. The French law enjoins, that after closing the interroga- tory, the reporter shouldrequireoftheaccused person to make choice of a friend for the puniose of conducting his defence. The accused, it further declares, shall have the selection amongst all the persons present, and failing his m king such a choice, the reporter shall select a defender to act on his be- half. No such choice was allowed to the Duke d'Enghien ; and, indeed, it would have been to little purpose ; nor wi s any legal assistant assigned to him in terms of tne law. The law presumes an open court at a legal hour, and held in broad day- light. It would have been but an additional insult to have re- quired the duke to select a friend or a defender among the gen- darmes, who alone were bystanders in the castle of Vinceiines. or at the hour of midnight. Contrary, therefore, to the pri- vilege of accused persons by the existing law of France, the accused had no benefit either of legal defence, or friendly as- sistance. DEFECTS OP THE SE.VTENCB. The trial itself, though it deserves not the name, took piacu on the day after the interrogatory, or more properly on the night of that day, being what was then called the .'Jtlth Ven- lose ;— like the previous interrogation, at the hour of mid- niglit. The whole castle of Vincennes was filled with gen- d.nrmes, and Savary was in the actual command. He has published that he was led there by curiosity, though the hour w;is midnight, and the place so strictly guarded against every person, saving those who were to be ofhcially concerned, thai even one of the officers, who had been summoned, had consi» derable ditticultyin procuring admission. We shall present'y see if his presence and conduct indicated the part of a mere Xniiivnv Repertoire rfc Jurispruicnce, an mot Co.mmjr 844 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WOKKS. i/vstander ; fnr the vindication which he was pleased to pub- lish, drew forth that of General Hullin, president of the mili- tary commission, who lias informed us of several inijiortant circumstances which had escaped the memory of the Duke of Hovigo, but which bear, nevertheless, very miich on the point at issue. The court beinR constituted duly, the warrant was read, which contained the charge against the prisoner. It accused him, 1. Of having fought against France; 2. Of being in the pay of England ; 3. Of plotting with the latter power against the internal and external safety of the Republic. Of the tico ft-rst counts, as they may be termed, of the indictment, we have already shown that they could not be rendered cognizable under any law then existing in France, unless qualitied by the additional ciicumstanoa, that the emigrant accused had tieen found either within France, or in a country hostile to, or which had been subdued by France, which could not be stated to be the case of the Duke d'Knghien. Respecting the tliiril count, the military commission were not legally comjie- tent to try it ; the courts ordinary of France alone had the al- leged crime within their jurisdiction. Nevertheless, in mock- ery of the form, as well as the essence of law, the court pro- ceeded upon the trial upon two points of accusation, which were irrelevant, and upon a third, which was incompetent. The mock trial, when brought on, was a mere repetition of tlie interrogatory which the duke had been previously subjec- ted to. We are now to give an abstract of both interrogato- ries, only premising that within their limits must be found the whole head and front of the offences charged. The guilt of the accused must either be proved from thence, or his inno- cence must be acknowledged ; the sole evidence produced, or attempted to be brought forward, on the trial, being the answers of the duke. Upon the first examination, the following admissions were made by the accused. The duke avowed his name, birth, itiid quality ; his exile from France, and the campaigns which he had made with the emigrant army under his grandfather, the Prince of Conde. He stated the various countries which he had inhabited since the army of C'ond6 was disbanded, and that he had resided at Ettenheim for two years and a half, by permission of the elector. Interrogated, if he had ever been in England, or if that government had made him any allow- ance ? He answered, he had never been in that country ; but that England did allow him an annuity, which waa his only means of support. Interrogated, what were his reasons for residing at Ettenheim ? He answered, that he had thoughts of settling at Fribourg in the Brisgaw, as a pleasanter place of residence, and had only remained at Ettenneim on account of the elector's indulging him with full liberty of hunting, to which amusement he was very partial. Interrogated, if he kept up any correspondence with the French princes of his family who were at London, and if he had seen them lately ? He replied, that he naturally kept up a correspondence with his grandfather ever since he had left him at Vienna, after the disbanding of his army ; but had not seen him since that pe- riod; — that he also corresponded with his father, (Duke of Bourbon.) but had not seen him since 1794 or IT.)5. Interro- gated, what rank he occupied in thearmy of Cond(5? He an- swered, commandant of the vanguard; and that when the army was received into Prussia, and divided i..,o two corps, he was made cidonel of one of them. These admissions might have been deduced or ])resumed from the simple fact, that the individual before them was the Duke d'Engliien, whose history and military services were sufficiently known. The sub.sequent part of the examination consisted in an at- tempt to implicate the accused in the conspiracy of Georges, Pichegru, and Moreau. The reader will see how far his an- swers make the charge good. " Interrogated, if ht; knew General Pichegru, and if he had any connexion or intercourse with him ? Replied, I do not know him ; I have never, I believe, seen him ; I have had no conversation with him ; I am glad 1 have not been acquainted with him, if the story told be true respecting the vile means which he proposed making use of." " Interrogated, if he knew General Dumouriez, or had any ronnexion with him ? Answered, that he knew him no more than the other — he had never seen him." " Interrogated, if, after the peace, he had not kejit up a correspondence in the interior of the Republic? Replica, I have written to some friends that are still iittached to me, who had fought along with me, both on their affairs and my own. These correspondences were not of the character which I con- ceive to be alluded to." The re])ort further bears, that when the process-verbal was closed, he expressed himself thus: — "Before signing the pro- cess-verbal, I make with urgency the request, to have a parti- cular audience of the First Consul. Mv name, my rank, my manner of thinking, and the horror of my situation^ make me hope he will not refuse my desire." In the second interrogatory, in presence of the military com- mission, the duke adhered to what he had said in his preceding examination, with the sole additional circumstance, that he ' " Did'st thou not maric the king, what words he spake: Have I no friend will rid me of this living fear? Have I no friend ? quoth he : he spake it twice. And, speaking it, he wistfully looked on me ; was ready to renew the war, and to take st rvico in the ap. proaching hostilities betwixt England and France. The commission, as appears from record of their proct-ed- ings, received no other evidence of any kind whatever, whether written or oral, and undertook the task which they knew was expected from them, of extracting reasons for awarding a ca- pital punishment out of a confession from which nothing could be drawn by any ordinary process of reasoning, save tiiat the accused person had been in arms against France, and was will- ing to be so again — but in open warfare, and in the liope of recovering what he considered as the rights of his family— a case which could not be brought under the penalty of death, except under the laws of 28th March, 1793, and of 2.5th Bru- maire, An. III., where the capital punishment is limited, as we have repeatedly said, to emigrants taken within the limits of France, or of countries hostile to her, or subjected by her arms. The avowal tliat the duke had a pension from England did not infer that he was in her military pay, nor, indeed, did he in fact hold that allowance on any other conditions than as an alimentary provision allowed by the generous compassion of the British nation. Neither could he be found guilty upon his candid avowal that he was willing, or even desirous, to enter into the Fliiglish service ; for, supposing the actually do- ing so were a crime, the mere intention to do so could not be construed into one, since men are in this world responsible only for their actions, not for their thoughts, or the unexecuted purposes of their mind. No other evidence was adduced ex- cepting the report of an officer of police, or state spy, sent to watch the Duke d'Engliien's movements, who declared th:it the Duke d'Enghien received many emigrants at bistable, and that he was frequently absent for several days without his (the spy's) being able to discover where he went ; but which sus- picious facts were sufficiently explained, by his having the means of giving some assistance to his distressed companions, and his long hunting parties in the Black Forest, in which he was wont to pass many days at a time. A report from Shee the prefect of the Lower Rhine, was also read; but ncitlier Savary nor Hullin mention its import, nor how it was converted into evidence, or bore upon the question of the Duke d'Eng- liien's guilt or innocence. Hullin also mentions a long report from the counsellor of state. Real, where the affair, with all its ramifications, was rendered so interesting, that it seemed the safety of the state, and the existence of the government, depended on the judgment which should be returned. Such a report could only argue the thirst of the government for the poor young man's blood, and exhibit that open tampering with the court, which they were not ashamed to have re- course to, but certainly could not constitute evidence in the cause. But both Savary and Hullin are disposed to rest the reason of the condemnation upon tlic frank and noble avowal of the prisoner, which, in their 0])inion, made it imperative on the court to condemn him. He uniformly maintained, that " ' he had only sustained the right of his family, and that a Conde could never enter France save with arms in his hands. My birth," he said, ' my opinions, must ever render me inflexible on this point.' The firmness of his answers reduced the judges," continues Hullin, " to despair. Ten times we gave him an opening to retract his declarations, but he still per- sisted in them immovably. ' I see,' he said, 'the honourable intention of the members of the commission, but I cannot re- sort to the means of safety which they indicate.' " And being acquainted that the military commissioners judged witliout appeal; "I know it," he replied, "and I do not disguise from myself the danger which I incur. My only request is, to have an interview with the First Consul." It is sufficiently plain, that the gallant bearing of the prince, so honourable to him- self, brought him under no law by which he was not previously affected. But it did much worse for him in a practical sense. It avowed him the open enemy of Buonaparte, and placed each judge under the influence of such reasoning as encou- raged Sir Piers Exton to the murder of a deposed prince at the hint of a usurper.' The doom of the prisoner had been fixed from the moment he crossed the drawbridge of that gloomy state prison. But it required no small degree of dexterity to accommodate the evidence to the law, so as to make out an ostensible case ot guilt, which should not carry absurdity and contr.adiction on its very front. This was the more difficult, as it is an express legal form in French courts-martial, that it shall express u|)ou its record the exact fact for which death is to be inflicted, and the precise article of the law under which the sentence is awarded. The military commission had much more trouble in placing the record upon a plausible footing, than they found in going through the brief forms of such a trial as they were pleased to aflbrd the accused. They experienced the truth of the observation, that it is much more easy to commit o crime than to justify it. VERDICT. The first difficulty which occurred was to apply the verdict As who should say— I would, thou wert the man. That would divorce this terror from my heart ; Meaning, the king at Pomfrct.— Come, let's go ; I am the king's friend, and will rid his foe. APPENDIX TO THE LIFE OF BUONAPARTE, 8-1 .') CO the indictment, to ^¥hich it ou(>lit to be the precise answer, since it wonld be monstrous to tind a man guilty of a crime dittorcnt fromthat of which he stood accused; as, for example, to find a man suilty of theft, when he had been charRed with murder, or ricf verm. The judgesof this military commission had, at the same time, the additional difticulty of rcconcilinR the verdict with the evidence which bad been adduced, as well as with the accusations laid. If the reader will take the trouble to peruse the following copy of the record, with our observa- tions, which we have marked by italics, they will see how far the military court of Vincennes had been able to reconcile their verdict with the act of accusation, and with the sen- tence. The verdict bears : " The voices being collected on each of the underwritten questions, beginning with the younger, and ending with the president ; the court declares Louis Antoine de Bourbon, Duke de Enghien, — " 1. Unanimously guilty of having borne arms against the French Republic." — This is in coii/onnili/ with the accusation, anil the evidence; there/are, so far rcrjjdar. " 2. Unanimously guilty of having offered his services to the English government, the enemy of the French Republic." — 'J'his is not in coiijhrmily to Vie chorri,'. The tliike oidy said he was willing to Join the English in the new war, nut that his services had been cither qtTercd or accepted. The former was a matter of intention, the latter would have been a point of fact. " 3. Unanimously guilty of having received and accredited agentsof the said English government, ofhavingprocured them means of intelligence in France, and of having conspired with them against the internal and external safety of the Republic." — The facts alluded to in this clause of the verdict mail be con- sidered as contained by implication in the general charge in the accusation, that the duke plotted ivith England. But cer- tainly they are not there slated in the precise and articulate manner in which a charge which a man mi(st answer with his life ought to be brought against him. As to evidence, there is Dot, ill the examination of the duke, the slightest word to justify the finding him guilty of such an offence. Not a question was put, or an answer received, respecting the plot icith England, or the duke's accession to and encouragement of them. " 4. Unanimously guilty of having placed himself at the head of a large collection of French emigrants, and others, formed in the frontiers of France, in the county of Fribourg and Baden, paid by England." — There is not a word of such a charge in the accusation or indictment, nor ivas the slightest evidence of its existence brought forward bcfui-e the court, or in- quired into upon the duke's examination. " .5. Unanimously guilty of having had communications with the town of Strasburg, tending to excite insurrection in the neighbouring departments, for the purpose of a diversion in favour of England." — There is no mention of this charge in the accusation— there is no mention of it in the evidence. " 6. Unanimously guilty of being one of the favourers and accomplices of the conspiracy carried on by the English against the life of the First Consul ; and intending, in the event of such conspiracy, to enter France." — There is no mcntioti of this charge in the act of accusation or indictment. Tlte evidence on the subject goes distinctly to disprove the charge. The Duk^ d'Enghien said he did not know Pichegru, and had no con- nexion with him; and added, that he rejoiced aV'the circum- stance, if it was true tliat the general aimed at success by means so horrible. The result of the whole is, that this most liVjeral commission, in answer to the three charges, brought in a verdict upon six points of indictment ; and that, on applying the evidence to the verdict, not one of the returns is found supported by evi- dence, the first excepted ; of the other five, of which three at least are gratuitously introduced into the charge, four are altogether unsupported by the evidence, and the sixth is not only unsupi>orted, but disproved, being in direct contradiction to the only testimony laid before the commissioners. SENTENCE. Having drawn up their verdict, or answer to the act of ac- cusation, with so little regard either to the es.senceor forms of justice, this unconscientious court proceeded to the sentence, which, according to the regular form, ought to bear an express reference to the law by which it was authorised. But to dis- covursucha law, must be inevitably a work of some difticultv ; and, in the mean time, the devoted victim still lived. The record of the court martial bore the date, two in the morn- ing; i so that two hours had already elapsed upon the trial and subsequent proceedings, and it was destined the sun should not rise on the devoted head of the young Bourbon. It was, therefore, necessary that he should be immediately found guilty and executed, as all that was considered the direct ob- ject for which the court was convened. It would be time enougli to consider after he was no more, under what law he had suffered, and to fill up the blanks in the sentence accord- ingly. One would have thought such a tragedy could never have taken place in a civilized age and country ; seven French officers, claiming to be ektetmed men of honour by profession, t A sense of shame caused these words to be erased, but the operation has left them still legible. The attempt at con- cealmeut Hhowa the sense of guilt, without hiding the crime. being the slavish agents. It must, one would say, have oc- curred at Tripoli or Fez, orrathcramong theGallaand Shan- galla, the Agows, or the Lasta of Abyssinia. But here is the sentence to speak for itself: — " The prisoner having withdrawn, the court being cleared, deliberating with closed doors, the president collected the votes of the members ; beginning with the junior, and voting himself the last, the prisoner was unanimously found guilty ; and in pursuance of the blank article of the law of blank to the following effect [two or three lines left blank for inserting the law which should be found applicable] condemned to suffer the j)un- ishment of death. Ordered thai lite Judge-advocate should see the jiresent sentence executed rMMEDi.\TELY." Alost laws allow at least a fkv/ days of intervention betwixt sentence and execution, ."^uch an interval is due to religion and to humanity; but in France it was also allowed for the purpose of appeal. The laws, 25 Brumaire, An. VI., and 27 Vcntose, An. VIII., permitted appeals from the judgments of courts-martial. The decree of the 17 Messidor, An. XII., permitting no appeal from military sentences, was not then in existence ; but if it had, even that severe and despotic en- actment allowed prisoners some brief space of time betwixt this world and the next, and did not send a human being to execution until the tumult of spirits, incidental to atrial for life and death, had subsided, and his heart had ceased to throb betwixt hope and fear. Twenty-four hours were per- mitted betwixt the court of justice and the scaflold— a small ]iace in ordinary life, but an age when the foot is on the brink of the grave. But the Duke d'Enghien was ordered for instant execution. Besides the blanks in the sentence of this court, as originally drawn up, which made it a mockery of all judicial form, there lay this fatal error to the sentence, that it was not signed by the greftier, or clerk of court. We do the judges the credit to believe that they felt for the accused, md forthemselves ; saw with pity the doom inflicted, and experienced shame and horror at becoming his murderers. A final attempt was made by General Hullin to induce the court to transfer to Buonaparte the request of the prisoner. He was cheeked by Savary. " It will be inopportune," said that officer, who, leaning on the back of the president's chair, seems to have watched and controlled the decisions of the court. The hint was understood, and nothing more was said. We have given one copy of the sentence of the court-martial. It was not "the only one. " Many draughts of this sentence were tried," says Hullin ; " among the rest, the one in ques- tion : but after' we had signed it, we doubted [and with good reason) whether it were regular; and, therefore, caused tlie clerk make out a new draught, grounded chiefly on a report of the privy-counsellor. Real, and the answers of the Prince. Tliis second draught was the true one, and ought alone to have been preserved." This second draught has been preserved, and affords a cu- rious specimen of the cobbling and trumjjing up which the procedure underwent, in hopes it might be rendered fit for public inspection. Notwithstanding what the president says was intended, the new draught contains no reference to the report of Shee, or the arguments of Real, neither of which could be brought into evidence against the duke. The only evidence against him, was his owning the character of a prince of the blood, an enemy by birth, and upon principle, to the present government of^ France. His sole actual crime, as is allowed bv Monsieur Savary himself, consisted in his being the Duke d'Enghien ; the sole proof was his own avowal, with- out which it was pretended the commissioners would not have found him guilty. To return to the new draught of this sentence. It agrees with the original draught, in so far as it finds the duke guilty of ,<(j; criminal acts upon a charge which only accused him of three. But there is a wide distinction in other respects. The new draught, though designed to rest (according to Hullin'g account) upon the report of the privy-counsellor. Real, and the answers of the prince, takes no notice of cither. It does make an attempt, however, to fill up the blanks of the first copy, by combining the sentence with three existing laws ; hut how far applicable to the case under consideration, the reader shall be enabled to judge. Article II. 1st Brumaire, An. V. Every individual, of what- ever rank, quality, or profession, convicted of being a spy for the enemy, shall be punished with dcalh.— The Duke d' Eng- hien had neither been accused nor convicted of being a spy fur the enemy. Article I. Every plot against the Republic shall be punished with death.— T//t)-e was no evidence that the Duke was engaged in any plot ; he positivelij denied it on h 'j' examinativn. Art"icle II. All conspiracies or plots tending to disturb the state by a civil war— to arm the citizens against each other, or against lawful authority, shall be punished with death.— i/t-re thesameivant of evidence apiilies. Upon the whole, it appears that the law could neither bo so moulded as to apply to the evidence, nor the evidence so twisted as to come under the law— the judges were obliged to suppress the one or the other, or to send their sentence forth with a manifest contradiction on the face of it. But this second draught ■)f the sentence was so far conform- ing to the law, that it was signed by the grittier or clerk ol court, which was not the case with tlic former, it was also 846 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. mure indulgent towards the accused ; forthe order for imme- duite execution was omitted, and its place supplied by the f'ullowins details : — " It is enjoined to the capitaine rapporteur instantly to read the present judgment to the condemned person in pre- sence of the guard assembled under arms. " Ordered that the president and the reporter use their dili- gence according to the legal forms, in despatching copies of this procedure to the minister at war, the great judge, minis- ter of justice, and to the general in chief, governor of Paris." By the interposition of these legal forms, the commissioners unquestionably desired to gain some time, to make interest with Buonaparte that he might not carry his cruel purpose into execution. This has been explained by the president of the court-martial. General Hullin himself, who, blind, aged and retired from the world, found himself obliged, on the ap- pearance of Savary's vindication of his share in the murder of the Duke d'Enghien, to come forward, not to vindicate his conduct, but, while expressing his remorse fur the share he really had in the tragedy, to transfer the principal charge to tlie superior officer, who was present during the whole trial, to overawe, it would seem, and to control the court. His ac- count is in these words : — " Scarcely was it (the sentence) signed, when I began a letter to Napoleon, in which I conveyed to him, in obedience to the unanimous wish of the court, the desire expressed by the prince of an interview with the first consul ; and farther, to conjure the first consul to remit the ]>unishment, which the sc'veritv of our situation did not permit us to elude. It was at this moment that a man interfered, [Savary,] who had per- sisted in remaining in the court-room, and whom I should name without hesitation, if I did not recollect that, even in attempting a defence for myself, it does not become me to accuse another. ' What arc you doing there?' said this per- son, coming up to me. ■ I am,' I replied, 'writing to the first consul, to convey to him the wish of the prisoner, and the re- commendation of the court.' — ' You have done your business," said he, taking the pen out of my hand, ' and what follows is mine.' I confess that I thought at the moment, and so did several of my colleagues, that he meant to say, that the con- veying of these sentiments to the first consul was his business. His answer, thus understood, left us still the hope that the recommendation would re.ach the first consul. I only recol- lect, that I even at the moment felt a kind of vexation at seeing thus taken out of my ha ids, the only agreeable circum- stance of the painful situation m which I was placed. Indeed, how could wc imagine, that a person had been placed abo\it us with an order to violate all the provisions of the law? I was in the hall, outside the council-room, conversing about what had just occurred. Several knots of persons had got into private conversation. I was waiting for my carriage, which not being permitted (any more tlia'i those of the other mem- bers) to come into the inner court of the castle, delayed my departure and theirs. We were ourselves shut in, and could not communicate with those without, when an explosion took place — a terrible sound, which struck us to the hearts, and froze tliera with terror and fright. Yes, I swear, in the name of myself and my colleagues, that this execution was not au- thorised by us ; our sentence directed that copies of the sen- tence should be sent to the minister of war, the grand judge, and the general Governor of Paris. The latter alone could, according to law, direct the execution ; the copies were not vet made ; they would occupy a considerable portion of the day. On mv return to Paris, I should have WEiited on the governor— oil the first consul ; who knows what might have happened? — but all of a sudden, this terrific explosion in- formed us that the prince was no more. We know not whe- ther he [Savary] who thus hurried on this dreadful execution, had orders for doing so. If he had not, he alone is responsible ; if he had, the court, which knew nothing of these orders, which, itself was kept in confinement — the court, whose last resolution was in favour of the prince, could neither foresee nor prevent the catastrophe." EXKCUTION. The gallant young prince, therefore, was cut off in the flower of his age, and, so far as we can see. on no evidence whatever, excepting that he was a son of the house of Bourbon, the ene- my, by his birth, of the temporary Governor of France, but liis public and declared enemy, who had never owed duty to him, and who had not been taken engaged in any active pro- ceedings against him. The descendant of the great Condd was condemned to a bloody death, by a court, the judges of which were themselves prisoners, at the hour when thieves and mur- derers deal with their victims, and upon an unproved accusa- tion tried by incompetent judges. The research of the lawyer must go beyond the prince's nameless and bloody tomb to inquire into the warrant by which he was consigned to it. Was it by virtue of the first or of the second draught of that sentence, which the military erudition found so much difficulty in cobliling up into the form of a legal sentence ? We suppose it must have been in virtue of the.^csJ draught, because (/;«? commands instant execution. If this conjecture is allowed, the Duke d'Enghien was exe- cuted in virtue of a document totally deficient in solemnity, (iuce that first remains blank in its most essential parts, and is not signed by the grefKer or clerk of court — a formality ex- pressly enjoined by law. If, again, we suppose that the scconJ, not the_^r,'/ copy ol tile sentence, was tfie warrant made use of, the proceeding to execution will be found not less illegal. For that second draught, though it exhibits no blanks, and is signed by the greffier, and is so far more formal than the first, gives no au- thority for iyistunt execution of the sentence. On the con- trary, it enjoins the usual legal delays, until the copies should be made out and sent to the various officers of state mentioned in the warrant itself. The uftect of this delay might have pro- bably been the saving of the unfortunate prince's life ; for if Paris had not heard of his death at the same time with hia arrestment, it is not likely that Buonaparte would have braved public opinion, by venturing on concluding his nocturnal tra- gedy by a daylight catastrophe. But, laying that considera- tion aside, it is enough for a lawyer to jironounce, that such sentence, executed in a manner disconforming from its war- rant, is neither more nor less than a miRDEn ; for as such are construed in the laws of every civilized country, those cases in which the prompt will of the executioner anticipates the war- rant of the judge. GE.VERAL VIEW OF THE PROCEDURE. Looking over this whole procedure, with the eyes of one ac- customed to juridical reasoning, it is impossible to resist the conviction, that a train of more gross inconsistencies, prac- tised with a more barefaced audacity, or for a worse purpose, does not stain and disgrace the page of history. The arrest was against the law of nations ; the constitution of the court was against the military law , the mode of conducting the trial Wiis against the law of France; the sentence was contrary to the forms of every civilized nation ; the execution was a con- travention of the laws of God and man. It would be absurd to term the slaughter of the Duke d'Enghien a murder com- mitted by the sword of justice, unless we understand Hogarth's parody of that allegorical figure, with one eye open, one scale depressed with a bribe, and a butcher s knife in her hand in- stead of the even-swayed sword. Having endeavoured to trace this bloody and cruel proceed- ing in a legal point of view, we must, before leaving the sub- ject, consider what apologies have been set up against the black charge which arises out of the details. The first of these screens would have been doubly conve- nient, providing it could have been rendered plausible. It amounted to the transference of the more active part of tlie guilt from Napoleon himself to Talleyrand, whom it would have been delicious revenge to have overwhelmed with the odium of a crime which must have made an impassable guH b.-tween the ex imperial minister and the restored royal fa- mily. Napoleon therefore repeatedly hinted and expressed, that the measure of the Duke d'Enghien 's death had been thrust upon him by the advice of Talleyrand, and that, with- out giving the matter due cojisideration, he had adopted the course recommended to him. It was afterwards still more broadly averred, that Talleyrand had intercepted a letter .written by the prince from Strasburg, begging his life, and oflx-ring, iii grateful return, to serve Napoleon in his armies. This boon Napoleon intimates he might have granted, if Tal- leyrand had delivered the letter; but by intercepting it, that statesman became the actual murderer of the unfortunate prince. There are two modes of considering every allegation, that is, according to the presumptive, or the positive and direct evidence brought in support of it. If we look at the former, we cannot discern the shadow of a motive why Talleyrand, however unprincipled we may suppose him, should have led his master into the commission of a great and odious crime, of which he was likely to have the whole unpopularity thrown upon himself, so soon as it should be found too heavy for his principal. Talleyrand was a politician ; but so far as we have ever heard, possessed of no bloodthirsty disposition, and being himself descended from a noble family, was unlikely, to say the least, to urge the catastrophe of a young prince, against whom, or his family, he is never believed to have liad any especial enmity. On the other hand, if we suppose him guided to the step by foolish >and misguided zeal for Buonaparte's own interest, we traduce Talleyrand's mental capacity as much in the one case, as we should do his natural disposition in the other. No man knew better than the Prince of Beneventum, that power is, in enlightened nations, dependent on public opinion, and that the blood of an innocent and high-spirited enemy might indeed stain his master's throne, but could not cement its basis. — Again, if we regard the spirit displayed by the Duke d'Enghien upon his mock trial, when he declared he would not recall his avowed enmity to the French, in con- formity to the hints thrown out by the court-martial, how is it possible that the same individual can be supposed capable of having, two days before, crouched to Buonaparte for his life ; or how are we -to reconcile his having offered to accept service under the first consul, with his declaration that it did not become aCond^ to enter France, save with arms in his liands? We must suppose him a madman, if, baring endea- voured to creep to Buonaparte's favour by the means of sul»- mission, he should have assumed an air of contumacy and defiance towards the judges wlio were to report hit conduct APPENDIX TO THE LIFE OF BUONAPARTE. 817 an Ills trial to the first consul. The existence of the letter, and the fact of its being intercepted by Talleyrand, is, there- fore, disproved as far as it can be, both by the character of the alleged writer, and of the minister for foreign affairs. But, farther, it is disiiroved nut only by reasoning tl priori, but directly and from tne state of facts, as far as negative evi- dence possibly can go. The whole proceedings against the Duke d'Enghien toolc place under the Counsellor of State, Heal, and was managed entirely l)y the police; those safe, silent .T;;ents. who acted by iniiiudiate directions from the su- preme head of the government, like the mutes of the seraglio, and were not liable to the control of any subordinate minister. Talleyrand never interfered, nor indeed had an opportunity of interfering, in it. It was an officer of the police who was sent to inquire into the state of things at Ettenlieim ; and bis rejiort was made not to Talleyrand, not even to his proper chief. Real -But to Buo- naparte himself. This is proved by t-avary's own narrative, who says expressly, that " the first inspector of the gendar- merie received the report from the officer, and carried it him- self to the first consul, instead of giving it to M. Real." The troops employed in the act of seizing the Duke d'Enghien, were .also gendarmes, that is, policemen ; and had a letter been written by their prisoner at Strasburg, or any where else, it would certainly have gone, like the report above mentioned, to the first consul, and not to Talleyrand to the foreign de- partment. 2iU>), There is a sad, but minute memorial of his imprisonment, kept by the duke as a sort of diary. In this record is no mention of his having written such a letter. Sillii, As the Baron St. Jacques, secretary to the unfortunate prince, was with his master constantly until the duke was taken from Strasburg, he was in a situation to offer a formal testimony against the very allegaiion of such a letter having been writ- ten, since he must have become acquainted with it, if it had any real existence. MhU/, The gendarmes who collected the duke's few papers, and made an inventory of them, would not have failed to secure such a document, if, as we said before, there had been such a document to secure. For all these reasons, the story of the suppressed letter must be considered, from beginning to end, as an abnolute fiction, invented to absolve Napoleon of what he felt was ge- nerally considered as a great crime, and to transfer the odium to Talleyrand, whose active offices in behalf of the royal fa- mily, his former master could neither forget nor forgive. But the story of the letter was not the only one to which Najioleon had recourse to qualify the public indignation, which was so generally directed against him as the author of this unhappy deed. In the examination of the persons who were arrested on ac- count of accession to the cons))iracy of Pichegru and Georges, it appeared, according to a very apocryphal statement by Napoleon, that a person occasionally appeared among the con- spirators, of noble mien and distinguished manners, to whom the principal conspirators showed such symptoms of homage and deference as are paid only to princes. " He appeared," says Savary, " ,36 years of age, his hair was fair, his forehead open, of a middle stature and size. When he entered the apartment, all present, e\iBn Messrs. de Polignac and De Ri- viere, rose and remained standing in his presence." The police considered who this mysterious personage could be, and agreed it must be tlie Duke d'Enghien. To the impres- sion this supposed discovery made on the mind of the first consul, was to be imputed, according to his own account and General Savary's, the mission of the police ofhcer to Strasburg, as already mentioned. The report of the spy concerning the frequent absences of the Duke d'Enghien from Ettenheini, was held sufficient to identify him with the mysterious stranger at Paris— the resolution to kidnap him was formed and exe- cuted; and although no circumstances occurred to show that he had been in Paris, or to identify hira with the incognito above alluded to, and although they were not even at the trouble of confronting the duke with the persons who described that individual, to see if they could recognise them to bo one and the same ; yet he was put to death, we are called upon to believe, upon theconviction that he was the visitor and friend of Georges Cadoudal, and the person in whose presence all the world testified such prof nmd respect. Hardly, however, had the duke been huddled into his bloody grave, than we are told it was discovered that the mvsterious personage so often alluded to, was no other than Pichegru ; and the blame of keeping up the mistake in the first consul's mind is imputed to 'Talleyrand, who is destined to be the scape-goat in every version of the story which comes from Napoleon or his fa- vourers. We submit that no author of a novel or romance, when compelled, at the conclusion of his tale, to assign a reason for the various incidents which he has ])laced before the reader, ever pressed into his service a htriiig of such iiniirobable and inconsistent circumstances. Was it credible that a prince of the blood, BUjiposing him to have ventured to Paris during the consulate, and mingled with a band of conspirators, would have insisted upon, or would have nermittcd, the honours of his rank, and thus have betrayed his character to those who did not )irofess to know more of liim than from that circum- stance only';' The very mention of a line of conduct .so im- probable, ouglit to have made the legend suspected at the very outset. Secondly. How could a mistake possibly occur betwixt the person of the Duke d'Enghien and that of General Pichegru? The former was fair, with light-colourtd haii ; the latter was dark, with a high-coloured complexion, and dark hair. 'The duke was slight and elegant in his form ; Pichegru was stout-made, robust, and athletic. 'The prince was but just turned of thirty ; Pichegru was forty years of age and up- wards. There was scarcely a point of similarity between them. Thirdly, How was it possible for those circumstances to have occurred which occasioned the pretended mistake? Under what imaginable character was Pichegru to have commanded the respects paid to a prince of the lilood. and that not only from the Chouan Georges, but from the Messieurs De Polig- nac and De Riviere, who, it is pretended, remained uncovered in his presence ? Lastly, On the voluminous trial of Georges, which was published in the Moniteur, though several of his band were brought to bear witness against him, there was no evidence whatever of royal honours being rendered either to him or anyone else. So that the whole legend seems to have been invented, ex post facto, as a screen, and a very frail one, behind which Napoleon might shelter himself. It is evident, indeed, even by his own most improbable account, that if the Duke d'Enghien died in consequence of a blunder, it was one which a moment's consideration must have h^d every one to doubt, and which a moment's inquiry would have explained, and that Napoleon's credulity can only be imputed to his do- termination to be deceived. How Talleyrand could have con- tributed to it, is not intimated ; but General Savary informs us that the consul exclaimed—" Ah I wretched Talleyrand, what hast thou made me do I" This apostrophe, if made at all, must have been intended to support a future charge against his minister; for as to being led by the nose by Talleyrand, in a matter where his own i)assions were so deeply interested, it is totally inconsistent with all that is recorded of Napoleon, as well as with the character, and even the private interest, of his minister. After this tedious dissertation, the reader may perhaps de- sire to know the real cause of the extraordinary outrage. Napoleon's interest seemed no way, or very slightly, con- cerned, as the sutterer was, of all the Bourbon family, the farthest removed from the succession to the throne. The odium which the deed was to occasion, without any corres- ponding advantage, was, it might have seemed, to tlie politic and calculating spirit which Napoleon usually evinced, a suf- ficient reason for averting an unnecessary outrage ; nor was his temper by any means of that ferocious quality which takes delight in causing misery or in shedding blood. All these things admitted, we must remind our readers, that, as Napoleon was calm and moderate bv policy, he was also by temperament fierce and ardent, and had in his blood a strain of the wild and revengeful disposition, for which his native Corsica has been famous since the days of the ancients. The temptation was strong on the present occasion. He felt himself exj)Osed to the danger of assassination, to which hia nerves seem to have been peculiarly sensible; he knew that the blow would be aimed by the jiartisans of the royal family ; and he susiiected that they were encouraged by the exiled princes. In such a case, what is the principle of the savage state, or that which approaches next to it? A North Ameri- can Indian, injured by one white trader who escapes his ven- geance, retaliates on the first European who falls within his power. A Scotch Highlander, wronged by an individual of another clan, took vengeance on the first of the sept which he happened to meet. The Corsicans are not less ruthless and indiscriminate in their feuds, which go from father to son, and affect the whole family, without the resentment being confined to the particular persons who have done the wrong. Upon this principle the first consul seems to have acted, when, conceiving his life aimed at by the friends of the Bourbons, he sprung like a tiger at the only one of the family who was witliin his reach and his power. The law of nations and those of society were alike forgotten in the thirst of revenge; and, to gratify an immediate feeling of vengeance, he stained his history with a crime of which no time can wash away the in- famy. The tendency to violence, arising out of a fierce and semi- barbaric resentment and love of revenge, might jitrhaps have shown itself in more instances than actually occurred, had it not been for Napoleon's policy, and his respect for public opi- nion, which would not have borne many such acts of vindictive cruelty. But though he was able in general to subdue this peculiar temper, he could not disguise it from those by whom he was closely observed. When some one, in the presence of Mounier, pronounced a culogiunrupon Najioleon, and con- cluded by defying any of the listeners to produce a parallel character — " I tliink I could find something like hira," said Mounier, " among the Muntcmyriiis." No. XI.-Pp. 534, 548. RKKI.KCTIONS O.V THE CO.N'DtTCT OF NAl'OLKON TOU'ARrS TUB FRINCE-KOVAL OF SWEDE.N. ( Translated from the original French. ) It was Napoleon himself, who, by his insupportable preten- sions, forced Sweden to take a jiart in oi)posi'ion tohiin. From the period of the election of the Prince of Polite Corvo, tho only discussions the Prince had with the Emperor consisted in refusals, ou the Prince's part, to enter into engagciucuts 818 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. fiostile to the interests of the nation who had chosen him to be lier ruler. When the first overtures respcctiriK his election in Sweden were made to him by a Swedish nobleman, and by General Count de Wrede, he went immediately to St. Cloud, to inform the Emperor, who said to him :— " I cannot be of any use to you— let tilings take their course," &c. The Prince went to Plombieres. At his return, he paid his respects to the Em- peror, who, addressing him in ])resence of a good many per- sons, asked if he had lately had any news from Sweden? " Yes, Sire." — " What do they say ? " replied the Emperor. — " That your Majesty's chargi d'affaires at Stockholm opposes my election, and says publicly that your Majesty prefers the Kmg of Denmark." — The Emperor answered with surprise, " It is not possible ; " and changed the subject. It was, how- ever, in consequence of secret instructions given to M. D^sa- guiers, that he had presented a note in favour of the King of Denmark ; but Napoleon, in order not to commit himself in an affair of such delicacy, and in which a check would have been a proof of the decline of his political ascendency, dis- avowed the conduct of M. Desaguiers. When this agent was recalled a short time afterwards, tlie Due de Cadore frankly confessed to M. de Lagerbjelke, the Swedish minister at Pa- ris, " thdt then had sacrificed an innocent-persfjn." The Emperor had expressed himself in the most friendly manner to King Charles XIII., as well as to the Prince of Ponte Corvo, consenting that the Prince should accept the succession to the throne of Sweden. The act of election had been published in the Mniiiteur, and ten days had elapsed without the Emperor's having said any thing about the Prince- Royal's departure. Having finished the pre]>aration9 for his journey, and seeing that the Emperor still remained silent on the subject, the Prince determined to apply to him for let- ters-patent, emancipating him (the Prince) from his allegiance. To this formal application, the Emperor replied, that the ex- jieditingof these letters had been retarded only by the propo- sal made by a member of the i)rivy council, of a preliminary condition. — " What is it?" said the Prince. — " It is that you are to come under an engagement never to bear arms against me." The Prince-Royal, greatly surprised, answered, that his election by the Diet of Sweden, and the consent to it already given by the Emperor, both to iiimself and to King Charles XIII., had already made him a Swedish subject ; and that, in that quality he could not subscribe this engagement. — Here the Emperor frowned, and appeared embarrassed. " Your Majesty tells me," added he, " that this is the proposal of a member of the council. I am very sure it never could have come from yourself, Sire; it must have come from the Arch- Chancellor, or the Grand .ludge, who were not aware to what a height this proposal would raise me." — " What do you mean ? " — " If you prevent me from accepting a crown, unless I come under an engagement never to fight against you. Sire — is not this, in fact, placing me in your line as a general?" The Emperor, after a moment's reflection, said to him, in a suppressed voice, and with a gesture which betrayed his agita- tion : — " Well, go ; — our destinies are about to be accom- plished." — " I beg your pardon. Sire, I did not hear you rightly." — "Go; — our destinies are about to be accomplish- ed," repeated the Emperor, in a more distinct, but equally agitated voice. When the report first became current that there was an in- tention in Sweden to elect the Prince of Ponte Corvo Prince- Royal, Mareschal Davoust, thinking to ]ilease his master, said, in the Emjieror's chamber : — " The Prince of Ponte Corvo suspects nothing." This piece of irony made Napoleon smile. He answered in a low voice, — " He is not yet elected." The Prince, who till then had been very undecided, intimated, that if the King and the States of Sweden fixed their choice on him, he should accept. During this interval. Napoleon, constantly wishing to pre- vent him from becoming heir to the throne of Sweden, said to him one day : " You will proliably be called to Sweden. I liad formed the design of giving you Arragon and Catalonia; for Spain is too great a country for my brother's strength of capacity." The Prince made no reidy. For a considerable time back, not wishing to be an object' of inquietude to go- vernment, he had been considering what means he should use to gain Napoleon's confidence. The greatness of France, the victories gained by her armies, and the eclat which they re- flected upon the commander, imposed on the Prince the duty of not endeavouring to emulate the power of the Emperor. In his conversations with Napoleon, he endeavoured to do away the impressions which the Emperor entertained against him. For this purpose he took general views, spoke of the interests of great states — of the fortunes of men who had astonished the world by their successes, of the difhculties and obstacles which these men had had to surmount ; and finally, of the public tranquillity and happiness which had been the result of these circumstances, from the moment that secondary interests had been satisfied. The E^mperor listened attentively, and seemed almost always to applaud the princi- ples of stability and preservation which the Prince enlarged upon. At times, when the latter reminded the Emperor of the immensity of the means of recompense which he had at his disposal. Napoleon, struck by what he said, held out his hand to him affectionately, when they separated, and seemed, by his manner, to say to him—" Reckon always upon my frichdbhip and supi>ort." The Prince used to return from these conversations, thinking htmselt no longer an object ot suspicion to the Emperor. He expressed this belief'^to the members of Napoleon's family, in order that they, in their turn, might assure the Emperor, that as the Prince went entirely into his system, both from duty and from interest, any mistrust of him should be laid aside. There were individuals of Napc'^eon's family, on those occa- sions, who smiled at the Prince's simplicity, and told him what the Emperor had said the evening before, immediately after the conversation the Prince and he had had together; and all that the Emperor said bore marks of the greatest insince- rity, and of an ill-will constantly founded on his ideas of the extravagant ambition of the Prince. This ill-will seemed to be mitigated, when the time came for the Prince's departure for Sweden. One of his friends was in high favour with Na- )iolcon. On the very day the Prince departed. Napoleon, seeing this friend come in, went up to him, and saidj— " Well '. does not the Prince regret France?" — "Yes, undoubtedly." — " And I, for my part, should have been very glad if he had not accepted the invitation ; but there is no help for it " And then checking himself " Besides, he does not love me." On its being answered, that Napoleon was mistaken, and that the Prince had chosen his J)arty, and had been frankly and cordially attached to him for a long timepast, the Empe- ror replied — "We have not understood each other: now it is too late : he has his own interests, his own policy, and I have mine." Napoleon had acquiesced in the reasons given him Ijy the Prince, for his refusal to engage not to take arms against him. He saw very well that he ought to have ex- pected such a refusal, and that he ought not to have exposed himself to it. He had even endeavoured to efface any pain- ful impression which his proposal had made on the Prince, by making him the most friendly promises of an indemnity of two millions for the cession of his principality of Ponte Corvo, and his possessions in Poland, and leaving him all the others in proi)eity. [The Prince never received more than one million of the two which had been promised him.] He had, besides, permitted him to take with him all his aides- de-camp. Tile Prince knew not what was at the bottom of the Empe- ror's thoughts, but when he left him he was full of confidence in him ; and Napoleon had no just motive for imputing to him any designs hostile to his interest, and still less to the interest of France. This illusion, on the jiart of the Prince, was of short duration. The reception he met with in all the places he passed through, -dnd particularly when he arrived in Swe- den—the speeches addressed to him, and the answers he made — all contrilnited to displease the Emperor. It seemed to him as if the Prince attracted some share of that general atten- tion which should have been fixed on him alone. The ]ia- triotic sentiments e.xpresscd by the s]ieakcrs of the four orders, were no more to his taste than those of the Prince in his answers. He and the Swedes were equally the objects of the Emperor's sarcasms, and even of his insults ; he treated tliem as Jacobins, as anarchists ; and it was chiefly against the Prince that these attacks were levelled. To show the Prince his displeasure, he annulled all the promises he had made him ; and took from him all the lands with which he had en- dowed him, and which he re-united to his own domains. He recalled all the Prince-Royal's French aides-de-camp. It was in vain that the Prince, in his correspondence, tried to ap- pease him, by writing, among others, the following letter : — " At the moment when I was going to address my thanks to your Majesty, for your goodness in extending for a year the leave granted to the French officers who have accompanied me to Sweden, I am informed that your Majesty has retracted that favour. This unexjiected disap))ointnicnt, and, indeed, every thing that reaches me from Paris, makes me sensible that vour Majesty is not well disposed towards me. What have \ done. Sire, to deserve this treatment ? I suppose that calumny alone has been the cause of it. In the new situation in which Fortune has jilaced me, I should doubtless be more exposed to it than ever, were I not fortunate enough to find a defender in your Majesty's own heart. Whatever may be said to you. Sire, I beseech you to believe that I have nothing to rejiroach myself with, and that I am entirely devoted to your person, not merely through the strength of my old asso- ciations, but from a sentiment that is unalterable. If things are not conducted in .Sweden entirely according to your Ma- jesty's wish, this is solely owing to tlie Constitution. To in- fringe this Constitution is not in the power of the King, and still less in mine. There are still here many particular inte- rests to be melted down iu the great national crucible — four orders of the state to be tied up in one bundle— and it is only by means of very prudent and measured conduct that I can hope to sit one day on the throne of Sweden. As JI. Gentil de St. Alphonse, my aide-de-camp, returns to Franco in con- formity to your Majesty's orders, I make him the bearer of this letter. Your Majesty may question him ; he has seen everything; let him tell your Majesty the truth. You will see in what a situation I am placed, and how many measures I have to keep. He will tell your Majesty whether or not I am anxious to please you, and if I am not here in a state of continual torment between the pain of displeasing you, and my new duties. Sire, your Majesty has grieved me by with- drawing from me the officers whom you had granted me for a year. Since vou command it, I send them back to France. Perhaps your Majesty will be inclined to alter your decision ; APPENDIX TO THE LIFE OF BUONAPARTE. ill wliicli Mse, IbcRtliat you vomsclf will tix the niiinlicr that vou inav think proper tosed by Buo- nai)arte. These works have had one particular object— the defence of an unfortunate and great man. The individual, however, it always held up to view ; the actions are softened or strength- ened to suit this purpose, and in the extension of this design, the reputation of his own oflicers, and a strict adherence to facts, are occasionally sacrificed. The military features of the campaign have remained unanswered ; whilst the wounded honour and fame of his generals have called for some coun- ter-statements, which throw curious light on the whole cam- paign, and on the machinery of a svstem which .so long alarmed the world. These last are little known in Britain. Whoever has perused the mass of military works by French officers, most of them ably written, and many artfully com- posed, must feel how much they tend to encourage a ]ieculiar feeling of national superiority in young minds, in a country where onlv their own military' works are read. In these works they never find a French armv beaten in the field, without some plausible reason ; or, as Las Cases terms it [vol. ii., p. I.'),] "a concurrence of unheard-of fatalities," to account for it. Upon the minds of young soldiers, this has an effect of the most powerful description. Great care appears to have been taken in these various work.s, to meet the accusations of military men respecting the dispo- sition and employment of the French army. Where a fault is admitted, the error is at least transferred from Buonaparte to the iucapacitv or remissness of his generals. The talents and honour of the British commanders arc rated at a low state; their success attributed more to chance than to mili- tai7 skill, and the important result of the battle, less to the courage of the British troops, than to the opportune arrival of the Prussians, whom thev allege to have saved the British army from destruction. What are now termed liberal idea.s, seem to have made it a fashion to assert, and give credence to these accounts; and it is no uncommon occurrence to meet with Englishmen who doubt the glory and success of their countrymen on that eventful day. A wounded spirit of faction has contributed to this feeling, and in the indulgence of its own gratification, and under the mask of patriotism, en- deavoured to throw a doubt over the military achievements of our countrymen, eagerly laid hold of any faults or failures, palliating, at the same time, those of their enemies, and often giving that implicit belief to the garbled accounts of the French, which they deny to the simple and manly dispatch of a British general. There does appear in this a decay of that national feeling, and jealousv of our country's honour, the mainspring of all great actions, which other nations, our rivals, cling to with renewed ardour. No man could persuade a Frenchman that it was BriMsh valour which has conquered in almost every battle from Cressv. down to Waterloo; and it is impossible to forget that national pride, so honourable to the French name, which could make their unfortunate emigrants even forget for a while their own distresses, in the glory which crowned the arms of the Republicans at that Revolution which drove them from their homes. The British works on the campaign, with one exception [Battv.] are incomplete productions, written by persons un- acquainted with military aflairs, and hastily composed of rude materials, collected from imperfect sources.^ Whoever has endeavoured to analyse the accounts of mo- dern actions, and to separate in theni what can be proved to be facts, from what is affirmed to be so, or to compare the private accounts (too often indiicreetly published) with the official documents, and the information procured from proper sources, will not be surprised to find in these home-made ac- counts of this campaign, fulsome praises Isvished on indivi- dualsand regiments;* tales of charges, which one would ima- gine must have annihilated whole corps, and yet find not more than fifty or sixty men killed and wounded in a whole regi- ment.'' Our officers, whatever their corps may be, should be above the idea of vain boa.iting or exaggeration. It ia much that we can claim, during a long period of eight years, the praise sert qu'a mieux faire ressortir la prfaomptueuse imp&itiede* iugements qu'ils prononcent." 2 The best account of the campaign is bv an anonymous author, C. de W., published at StuiMrd, 1817. and is attri- buted to Baron MufHing. It docs honour to its illustrious author, from its candour and manliness, though he naturally wishes to give more effect to the I'russian attack on the 18th. than was actually the case ; that is, he brings them into ac- tion, with their whole force, considerably too early in the day. 3 It is well remarked, in Liv. ix., p. 1.50,— •' Ces details en app.artient plus i I'histoire de cliaque regiment qu'a I'histoiro geiK^Tale de la bataille." ■I Rogniat, p. 147, speaking of charges, says,—" S lis marcli- ent, a la baimictte, cc n'est (lu'un simulacre d'atlaque : ils n-j la croisent jamais avcc cel.'e d'un enncmi qu'ils craigncul 852 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. of Iiaving suv,ve9stully contended with troops of the first mi- litary power iu Europe ; while our soldiers nave disputed the palm of valour; and our officers, with less trumpeted claims than their hoasted marshals, have shown as great military skill ; and our armies, in the moment of victory, a spirit of humanity and moderation, not frequently evinced by their antagonists. In the following ohservations, it is not pretended that any new matter can be given on a subject already so much dis- cussed; still some facts and considerations are treated of, which have not been perhaps fully or fairly appreciated. Many charges of blame have been brought forward against the generals of the allied forces ; and superior talent in profiting by their mistakes, has been attributed to their oi)ponents, which might well be accounted for, as arising from the situa- tions in which thev were relatively placed. In order to judge, for instance, of the credit given to Napoleon, of having sur- prised their armies in their cantonments, it is necessary to be aware of the state of both countries (France and Belgium.) and the objects, besides the mere watching of the fron- tiers, to which the attention of the allied commanders was necessarily directed previous to the commencement of the war, and whilst it may be supposed as still in some measure doubtful. France, as is well known, is, on the Belgian frontier, stud- ded with fortresses ; Belgium, on the contrary, is now defence- less. The numerous fortresses in the Low Countries, so cele- brated in our former wars, had been dismantled in the reign of the Emperor Joseph ; and their destruction completed by the French when they got possession of the country at the battle of Fleurus, l/iM, with the exception of Antwerp, Ostend, and Nieuport, which they had kejit up on account of their marine importance. These circumstances placed the two parties in very different situations, both for security and for facility of preparing and carrying into execution the measures either for -attack or defence. The French had maintained their own celebrated triple line of fortresses; extending, on that part of the frontier, from Dunkirk to Philipville, and which had been put into a state of defence during the war in the preceding year [Liv. ix., p. 36;] -these gave every facility for the concentration and for- mation of troops — for affording a supply of artillery, and every requisite for taking the field, and for concealing their movements — particularly from the French organisation of their national guards, which enabled the latter immediately to take tlie garrison duties, or relieve and occupy the outposts along the frontiers ; — such was the relative situation of the frontiers at the period of Napoleon's return from Elba. The necessity of re-establishing the principal fortresses on the Belgian frontier, which commanded the sluices and inun- dation of the country, had indeed already been evident ; and decided upon whilst Napoleon was yet in Elba. A committee of British engineers had been employed in examining the country for that purpose, but only the general plans and re- ports had been prepared, when Buonaparte's sudden return and rapid advance upon Paris, and the probability of a speedy renewal of the war, called for expeditious and immediate means of defence. The declaration of the Congress of Vi- enna, of the 13th March, reached Paris on the same day he arrived there, which must have convinced him he would not be allowed quietly to repossess his throne. It may be well supposed, that the general impression in Belgium was, that he would lose no time to endeavour to re- gain a country which he considered as almost part of France ; important to him from the resources it would have afinrdcd, and perhaps still more so, as it would deprive his enemies of so convenient a base of operations, for the preparation ot the means for attacking France. The discontent in Belgium, and the Prussian provices on the Rhine, also amongst the Saxon troo()8 who had served in his army, was known.— [Liv. ix., pp. 58-61.] — The mutinous spirit of these troops appeared to be in concert with the movements of the French forces on the frontiers ; so much so, that they were disarmed and sent to the rear.— [Muffling, p. 5.]— In the former, the discontent was particularly favoured by the number of French ofHcers and soldiers, who had been discharged as aliens from the French army, iu which they had served nearly since the Re- volution, and now gave themselves little care to conceal their real sentiments and attachments. The flight of Louis from Lisle, through Flanders, added to this feeling in Belgium — such appeared to be the prevailing spirit. The force the Bri- tish had to keep it in check, and resist an invasion, amounted only to GOOO or 7lished. The positions on the different roads of approach from the French frontier had been attentively reconnoitred ; that of Mont St. Jean, or Wa- terloo, very particularly ; and no precaution appears to have been omitted, by which an offensive movement of the enemy was to be encountered. Some movements were observed on the French frontier be- tween Lisle and Berguer, as if preparing for offensive opera- tions, about the end of March, at which period the troops, cantoned near Menin, had orders, after making due resist- ance, and destroying the bridge on the Lys, to fall back on Courtrai, their point of assembling ; and then, after such a re- sistance as would not com])romise their safety in retreat, to endeavour to ascertain the object of the enemy's movements, and give time for the troops to assemble. They were to retire on Oudenarde and Ghent, opening the sluices, and extending the inundation. About the beginning of May similar move- ments were also observed, but less was then to be apprehend- ed, since, by the advanced state of the works at Tournay, the tete-du-pont at Oudenarde and Ghent, we then commanded the Scheldt, and could have assumed the offensive. Great credit is undoubtedly due to Napoleon, for the mode in which he concealed his movements, and the rapidity with which he concentrated his army. The forced marches he was ol)liged to make, appear, however, to have ]>aralysed his sub- sequent movements, from the fatigue his troo))s underwent. The numerous French fortresses favoured his plans in a very great degree, by affording him the means of employing the gar- rison and national guards to occupy the advanced posts along the frontier, and opportunity afterwards to make demonstra- tions across the frontiers near Lisle, whilst he assembled his army on the Sambre.— [Liv. ix., pj). 68 — 85 ; Montholon, vol. li., p. 15.3.] They were also somewhat favoured by the cir- cumstance, that hostilities were not actually commenced, which prevented our advanced posts (even if they suspected a change in the troops opposed to them) from obliging the enemy to show himself, or, by bringing on a skirmish, to ob- tain from jirisoners intelligence of their movements. He had another advantage of powerful consequence. The army he commanded were mostly old soldiers of the same nation, un- der a single chief. The allied armies were composed of dif- ferent nations, a great portion young levies, and under two generals, each of such reputation, as not likely to yield great deference to the other. 2 On the night of the 14th June, the French army bivouacked in three divisions, as near the frontier as possible, without being observed by the Prussians; the left at Ham-sur-heure, ' Buonaparte blames the allied generals for not having formed a camji in front of Brussels, as he alleges might have been done in the beginning of May. The wet season, and dif- ficulty of subsisting so large a body of troops, is some reason against it. Besides which, Buonaparte might have made de- monstrations in front, and sent 2o,(i{ill men from his garrisons to ravage Ghent and the country beyond the Scheldt, and cut off our communications with Ostend. In 1814, when the Prus- sians were concentrated near Brussels, this had been done with effect from Lisle. Though little advantage might have resulted to the enemy from such a measure, much blame would have been attaclied for not taking precautions against It. To cover Brussels, the capital of the country, was cer- t.ainly of great importance ; and had that been the only object, a camp in its front would have certainly been the best means i)f effecting it. " Buonaparte himself has remarked, — " L'unitd do com- mandcmcnt est la chose la jilus iniportante dans la guerre." 3 Buonaparte, Liv. ix., p (iit, rates his force at 122,4(K) men, and .■350 guns. Muffling, p. 17, at l.TO.OOd. Other accounts make it smaller, and Batty, 127,400, with 350 guns. the centre at Beaumont, where the headquarters were esta- blished, and the right at Philipvillc.3 At three o'clock, a.m., on tiie 15th June, the Frencli army crossed the frontier in three columns, directed on Marchi- ennes, Charleroi, and Chatelet. The Prussian out-posts were quickly driven in ; they, however, maintained their ground ohstinately at three points, until eleven o'clock, when General Ziethen took up a position at Gilly and Gosselies, in order to check the advance of the enemy, and then retired slowly on Fleurus, agreeably to the ordersof Marcchal Blucher, to allow time for the concentration of his army.^ The bridge at Char- leroi not having been completely destroyed, was quickly re- paired by the enemy. Upon Ziethen's abandoning thechaus- see, which leads to Brussels through Quatre-Bras, Marshal Ney, who commanded the left of the French army, was or- dered to advance by this road upon Gosselies, ancl found at Frasnes part of the Duke of Wellington's army, composed of Nassau troops, under the command of Prince Bernard of Saxe Weimar, who, after some skirmishing, maintained his position.* The French army was formed, on the night of the loth, in three columns, the left at Gosselies, the centre near Gilly, and the right at Chatelet. Two corps of the Prussian army occupied the position at Sombref on the same night, wliere they were joined by the first corps, and occupied St. Amand, Bry, and Ligny; so that, notwithstanding all the exertions of the French, at a moment where time was of such importance, they had only been able to advance about fifteen English miles during the day, with nearly fifteen hours of day- light. 9 The corps of Ziethen had suffered considerably, but he had effected his orders : so that Mar^dhal Blucher was enabled to assemble three corps of his army, 80,01 men, in position early on the 15th, and his fourth corps was on its march to join him that evening. The Duke of Wellington seems to have expected an at- tack by the Mons chaussee,' and on his first receiving infor- mation of the enemy's movements, merely ordered his troops to hold themselves in readiness ; this was on the evening of the 15th of June, at six o'clock. Having obtained farther intelligence about eleven o'clock, which confirmed the real attack of the enemy to be along the Sambre, orders were im- mediately given for the troops to march upon Quatre-Bras ; a false movement of the English general to his right, at that period, could not have been easily remedied in time to have fought in front of Brussels, and to have effected his junction with the Prussians; and in such a case, as Marechal Blucher only fought at Ligny on the expectation of being supi)orted by the Duke of Wellington, it is probable that that action would not have taken place. He had, however, a safe re- treat on Bulow's corps and Maestricht, as had the Duke of Wellington on Ghent and Antwerp, or else the plan after- wards adopted of concentrating at Waterloo and Wavres, could not have been easily executed. It is, indeed, a matter of surprise, that Buonaparte did not make a. more important demonstration on the side of Lisle and Mons. The Duke, in deciding on these movements, was under the necessity of act- ing on the intelligence given by spies or deserters, which can only be so far depended on, as it is confirmed by reports from the outposts, who may be themselves deceived.8 What was true at their departure, may be entirely changed at their ar- rival with the information ; and whatever may have been the case formerly, few or no instances occur at present of a person in the confidence of the cabinet, particularly of a military ofbcer, betraying the confidence placed in him. The Duke of VVellington arrived at Quatre-Bras on the Ifith, at an early hour, and immediatelv proceeded to Bry, to con- cert measures with Marshal Blucber, for arranging the most efbcient plan of support. It ajipeared at that time, that the whole French attack would be directed against the Prussians, as considerable masses of the enemy were in movement in their front. Blucher was at this time at the wind-mill of Brv, about five English miles from Quatre-Bras. [Muffling, p. lli.] The Duke proposed to advance upon Frasnes and Gosselies, which would have been a decided movement, as acting on the Frencli communications, and immediately in rear of their left flank ; * Grouchy, p. .W, speaks of the rapidity with which Blucher assembled bis army. It is also adverted to by several French military writers. 5 Ney might probably have driven back these troops, and occupied the important' position at Quatre-Bras; but tiearnif^ a heavy cannonade on his right flank, where Ziethen had ta- ken up his position, bethought it neccssarvtohalt. and oet.ach a division in the direction of Fleurus. jhis brings forward a remarkable case, as he was severely censured by Napoleon for not having literally followed his orders, and pushed on to Quatre-Bras. Thin w,as done in the presence of AL-ir(?chal Grouchy,— (see Grouchv's Observations)— who gives it as a reason (pp. .■!2, .3.1, (il,) for acting in the manner he did on the 18th, and not moving to his left to sujqiort Napoleon at Wa- terloo. 6 Kogniat, p. .341. says that a great portion of the French army only reached Charleroi late on the Ijtli, and Fleurus at 11 A.M. on the Kith.— See Groi'chy, p. .'S!. ^ Official Despatch ; Muffling, pp. 8, 10, 18. « Muffling, p. 17. Yet a story is told of Fonch^, who is said to have sent intelligence of Buonaparte's movements to I/ord 854 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WOKKS. bnt as the troops could not be ready to advance from Quatre- Bras before four o'clock, the attack must have been too late, and in the meantime the Prussians would have to sustain the attack of nearly the whole French army. Marechal Bluther, therefore, judged it more desirable, that'thu Duke should form a junction with the Prussian right, by marching direct by the cnausscu from Quatre-Bras to Bry-' The object of the enemy on the I6tli, as may be seen by the general orders*of Napoleon, communicated by Soult to Ney and Grouchv, was to turn the Prussian right, by driving the British from Quatre-Bras, and then to march down thechaus- see upon the Urv, and tlius separate the armies. [Batty, p. 151).] For this pur]i(i'se, Ney was detached with 43,(100 men. [Liv. ix., |i. 1('.3.] On reference to the above orders, it appears that not much resistance was expected in getting possession both of Sorabref and Quatre-Bras.- Ney has been accused of delaving to attack, but reference to those orders will show that Ney had not been commanded to attack 3 until two o'clock p.m., in consequence of the allies having assembled in force at Quatre- Bras. The i>lan was excellent, and if Ney had been success- ful, would have led to important results. After obtaining possession of Quatre-Bras, he was to have detached part of his forces to attack the Prussian right flai]k in rear of St. Amand, whilst Buonaparte was making the chief attack on that vil- lage, the strongest m the position, and at the same time keep- ing the whole Prussian line engaged. Half of Ney's force was left in reserve near Frasnes, to be in readiness either to support the attacks on Quatre-Bras or St. Amand, and in the event of both succeeding, to turn the Prussian right, by march- ing direct on Wagnele or Bry.* The village of St. Amand was well defended ; it formed the strength of the Prussian right, and from the intersection of several gardens and hedges, was very capable of defence ; al- though so much in advance of the rest of the Prussian position. The face of the country in front of this position possesses no remarkable features ; the slopes towards the stream are gen- tle, and of easy access. Altera continued attack for two hours, the enemy had only obtained possession of half the village of St. Amand, and a severe attack was made upon Ligny, which was taken and retaken several times. 5 At this time Buonaparte sent for the corps of reserve left by Ney at Frasnes; before, however, it reached St. Amand, in conse- quence of the check they had sustained at Quatre-Bras, it was countermarched, and from this circumstance became of little use either to Buonaparte or Ney. Buonaparte having ob- served the masses of troops which Blucher had brought up behind St. Amand (and probably in consequence of the corps above mentioned being necessary at Quatre Bras,)® appears to have changed the disposition of his reserves, who were march- ing uimn St. Amand, and moved them towards the right, to attack the Prussian centre at Ligny, which they succeeded in forcing, and so obtained possession of that village. 7 A large body of French cavalry, and another of infantry, then pushed forward to the height between Bry and Sombref, immediately in the rear of Ligny, and quite in the heart of the Prussian position, where they were attacked by Blucher at the head of liis cavalry ; this attempt to re establish the action failed, and the Prussian cavalry were driven back ui)on the infantry.8 It was now nine o clock, about dark, which prevented the French Wellington. The courier was attacked and waylaid, as sup- posed by Fouche's contrivance, so that he had an excuse ready for both parties. 1 Muffling, p. 64, allows that the position at Ligny was too much extended to the left, but the object of this was to have a line of communication with theMeuse and Cologne; a fault alluded to as arising from having two armies, and two chiefs, with different objects in view. 2, Grouchy, p. 47 ; Gourgaud, Liv. ix., p. 102. 3 It is hardly to be supposed that an officer of Ney's bold and enterprising character, with so much at stake, would have hesitated to attack at Quatre-Bras, if he had had hjs troops in readiness; butit appears that he could not have had time to move to that point at the early hour stated by Buona- parte. Ney had, also, too much experience of the nature of the troops he was opposed to, to act rashly. ■* The French did not attack until three p.m., the different corps not being arrived to make the necessary arrangements at an earlier hour.— Grouchy, p. 3H ; Rog.mat, p. 341. s Ney's Letter to the Due d'Otranto. Paris, 1815.— Muffling, p. 14. 6 Muffling, pp. 15-64.— Blucher had employed his reserves to support his right at St. Amand, and was not i)repared for this cnange of attack. Muffling, however, considers, that, in- stead of his cavalry, had he moved his infantry from St. Amand to retake Ligny, he would have succeeded and gained the action. 7 Grouchy, p. 10, shows how little decisive the battle was. " La bataille ae Ligny n'a fini que vers la neuf heure de soir ; Beulement alors la retraite des Prussiens a 6te presum^e." 8 Here it was that Blucher was so nearly falling into the hands of the French cavalry. 9 Grouchy, p. 11, says, that, even on the 17th, it was sup- posed the Prussians had retired upon Namur, so feebly were they followed ; the light cavalry of General Pajot pursued tiiem in this direction on the 17th, captured a few guns, which, from advancing farther, and they contented themselves with the occupation of Ligny. The Prussians did not evacuate Bry before three o'clock A.M. on the 17th. 9 In the course of the night, the Prussians fell back on Tilly and Gembloux. The loss of the Prussians, according to their own account, amounted to 14,000 men, and fifteen pieces of artillery. The French official account in the Moniteur to 15,0(Ki. 'O The French acknowledge to have lost 70011. It is evident that Buonaparte, in changing the point of attack from the Prussian right at St. Amand, to the centre at Ligny, in a manner forced the Prussians, if defeated, to retreat upon the British army, and give up their own line of operations ; but still, at that hour in the evening, when the situation of the armies is con- sidered, the change of attack appears to be the only hope he had of obtaining even a partial success ; under such circum- stances, it was perhaps the best course he could pursue, n It is not easy to conceive that a defeat, in any case, would have been such as to prevent their junction, since each army had such considerable reinforcements moving up, and close upon them : but even in an- extreme case, they could each have retired on their fortresses, and formed intrenched cam])s of perfect security, with every means of repairing the losses they sustained. '- The force of the enemy, at the time the Duke of Wellington left Quatre-Bras to communicate with Blucher, appeared to be so weak, that no serious attack was at that time to be ap- prehended ; but on his return to that position, about three o'clock, he found they had assembled a large force at Frasnes, and were preparing for an attack, which was made about half-past three o'clock by two columns of infantry, and nearly all their cavalrj-, supi)orted by a heavy fire of artillery. The force at that time under his orders, was 17,01 O infantry and 2000 cavalry, of which about 4.11^ were British infantry, the rest Hanoverians, and Belgians, and Nassau troops. '3 They at first olDtained some success, driving back the Belgian and Brunswick cavalry ; their cavalry penetrated amongst our infantry before they had quite time to form squares, and forced a part to retire into the adjoining wood ; they were, however, repulsed. At this period of the action, the third British divi- sion, under General Alten, arrived about four o'clock, soon after the action had commenced. They consisted of about 6.300 men, and were composed of British, King's German le- gion, and Hanoverians. They had some difficulty in main- taining their ground, and one regiment lost a colour.''* They succeeded, however, in repelling the enemy fiimi the advanced points he had gained at the farm of Gemincourt and village ol Pierremont. Ney still, however, occupied part of the wood of Bos.su, which extends from Quatre-Bras, on the right of the road to- wards Frasnes, to the distance of about a mile. This favoured an attack on tlie right of our jiosition, which he accordingly made, after having been repulsed on the left. At this moment tlic division of General Cooke [Guards,) 40O0 strong, arrived from Enghieii, and materially assisted to repel this attack, which, after considerable exertions, was done, and the ene- my driven back upon Frasnes, in much confusion. This af- fair was severely contested, and though the enemy were re- pulsed, the loss on each side was nearly equal, owing to the superiority of the Frencli in artillery. The loss, however, in- with some stragglers, as are found in all armies, was his whole success. 10 The St. Helena productions raise the amount to 2<),(MX) men, 40 guns, standards, &c. See Grouchy, pp. 4H, 49.— Mon- tholon says they lost 60,000.— Liv. x., 148, says, that the Prus- sian army was reduced to 40,00(l men by the loss they had sustained ; 30,000 men killed and wounded, and 20,0(KI men, who had disbanded and ravaged the banks of the Meuse, and by the detachments sent to cover their retreat, and that of the baggage, in the direction of Namur. 1 1 The intention of the allied marechals to remain together, whatever might be the issue, is known. Lord Wellington had ordered the inundations of Antwerp to be effected to their ut- most extent. The fortresses were to have been abandoned tc their own strcngtli, and had the events of the 16th been such as to necessitate a retreat, and give up Brussels, Maestricht is probably the point on which botff armies would have retired. '2 Had earlier or more positive information of the enemy's plans been received by Lord Wellington, and the troops put in movement on the evening of the 15th, the combinations of the two allied chit'fs would have been perfect. Nothing more is necessary to show how well their plans had been laid, but which were not carried into full effect, by one of those acci- dental occurrences which no human foresight can prevent. 13 Liv. ix., p. 103. Buonaparte savs, that Ney attacked with 16,000 infantry, 3000 cavalry, and 44 guns, leaving 16,IXX) iu- faiitrv, 4500 cavalrv, and 64 guns, in reserve at Frasnes. 14 This belonged to the 69th regiment, not to the 42d, as Liv. ix. states, p. 104, and was almost the only one captured during the whole war. It may here be remarked, that if the French had carried one quarter the number of eagles with their re- giments that we nave of colours, a much larger pioporlion would now be found at Whitehall. A weak battalion of Eng- lish infantry always carries two large colours, very heavy and inconvenient, whilst a Frencli eagle .about the size of abiack- bird, was only given to a regiment composed of several bat talions, which was easiJj secured iu case of defeat. APPENDIX TO THE LIFE OF BUONAPARTE. 855 Blcti'd on the French by the fire of musketry, which their at- tacking columns were exi)Oscd to, was very considerable, and counterbalanced the advantage they derived from their artil- lery. It required great exertions to maintain the important post of Quatre-Bras, in the present relative situations of the two armies. It is certain that, if Ney had advanced as rapidly HB Buonaparte says he might have done, he would have ob- tained his object. Ney, however, in his letter, contradicts the possibility of his having done so, which seems to be confirmed Dy Soult's letter to him, dated at 2 o'clock p.m., where lie tells him, that Grouchy is to attack Bry with the 3d and 4th corps, at half-past 2 p.m. [Batty, App.]; that he is to attack the corps in his front, and afterwards to assist Grouchy ; but that if he (Ney) defeats the troops in his front first. Grouchy would be ordered to assist his operations. It is most probable that the corps left at Frasnes, which Ney comjilaius was taken away without his knowledge, was destined to assist either at- tack as might be found necessary. Even had Ney got possession of Quatre-Bras at an early hour, he would scarcely have been able to detach any sufti- cient force against the Prussians, seeing, as he must liave done, or at least ought to have calculated, that the British forces ■were arriving rapidly on the point which we suppose him to have occupied. The British could have still retreated on Wa- terloo, and been concentrated on the 17th at that position : and there was nothing to prevent the Prussians retreating on Wavre, as they afterwai-ds did. Though Buonaparte savs [Liv. ix., p. 2(»9,] that on the 15th everything had succeeded as he wished, and that the Duke of Wellington had manceu- vred as he would have wished him to do ; yet one corps of the Prussian army had so far kept him in check, that he was not able to reach Fieurus; and on the Kith, could not commence the attack until three hours after mid-day. He did not gain possession of Quatre-Bras until the forenoon o( the 17th. He had sustained a. severe check with oiie part of his army, and gained an indecisive action with the other ; the loss of the al- lies not exceeding his own, whilst they had the advantage of retiring leisurely on their resources- and reinforcements, and by the retreat, gave up no place or position now of consequence to the pursuing enemy. The resultof theoperationsof the KJth produced no important consequences to the French. The cele- brated engineer. General Kogniat, does not hesitate to term it an indecisive action. The success of the British in repelling the attack of Quatre-Bras, tended to make them meet the re- newed attack at Waterloo with more confidence, and proba- bly had a contrary effect on the enemy; whilst the manner in which the Prussian corps of Thielman received the attack of Grouchy on the 18th, who had superior forces, showed how little the confidence of the Prussians had been shaken by the action at Ligny. It may be observed, that the forces engaged at .Ligny were nearly equal, even deducting D'Erlon's corps, which was left at Frasnes, as not engaged. The French passed the frontiers with about 12o,0(HJ men— Blucher had 8l),tlU0— and at the. close of the day. Lord Wellington had 30,ii0(i. ' The commanders of the allied armies appear not to have over- rated what was to be expected from their troops, which was not exactly the case with their opponents. The outline of the operations, and the strategie on the part of Napoleon to separate the two armies, was no doubt finely conceived, and, as we have seen, was nearly successful ; yet it is presumed, that, had it been so, even to the extent Buona- parte could hope or expect, the allies had still a safe retreat, and sufficient resources. On all sides, it was a calculation of hours. It is hardly possible to know the point an enterprising enemy means to attack, especially on so extended a line ; and here the assailant has the advantage. Fault has been found with the Duke of Wellington for having no artillery and very few cavalry upon the 16th. No portion of either were with the reserve at Brussels, which is remarkable, particularly as re- gards the artillery. 2 The spirited manner in which the allied martSchals adhered to their plans of defence previously agreed on, and extricated themselves from thedifhcTilties which they found themselves placed in, by the sudden and vigorous attack they had to sus- tain, and which their distinct commands tended rather to in- crease, must command admiration ; and since war is only a great game, where the movements are influenced by many events which occui during their execution and progress- events which human calculation cannot foresee— it becomes easy to criticise when the operations are passed, when all the data on which they rested, or might have rested, are known ; but to form a good plan of attack, or a campaign — to act with decision and firmness, and with a " coup d ceil," So as imme- diately to profit by the changes which incessantly take place, 1 Liv. ix., p. GO. Buonaparte remarks, that the numbers of the allied army must not be rated at their numerical force. " Parceque I'armee des allii'S i'toit compusee de troups yilus on mollis Ijonnes. Un Anglois pouirait etre comptii pour un Franyais ; et deux Hollanilais, Prussiens, ou hommes de la confederation, pour un Franyais. Les arm(;es ennemiesiitoi- ent cantonn(5es sous le commandement de deux Geniiranx diflVSrents, et form<5es de deu.t nations divisiics d'intdrets ct de sentiments." His army, on the contrary, was under one chief, the idol of his soldiers, who were of the best description — ve- Serans who had fought in the brilliant campaign of lUlJ-14, can be said of very few men of the many who have ever u^ rived at the command of an army. On the morning of the 17th, the British troops remained in possession of Quatre-Bras, where the rest of the army had joined the Duke of Wellington, who was prejiarcd to maintain that position against the I'lench army, had the Prussians re- mained in the position of Ligny, so as to give him support. Mar6chal Blucher had sent an aide de camp to inform the duke of his retreat, who was unfortunately killed ; and it was not until seven o'clock on the 17th, that Lord Wellington learned the direction which the Prussians had taken. A ])a- trol sent at daylight to communicate with the Prussians, ad- vanced beyond Bry and Sombref, which confirmed how little of the Prussian position had been occupied by the French The Prussians had fallen back very leisurely on Wavre, their rear-guard occupying Bry, which they did not evacuate before three o'clock on the morning of the 17th. Buonaparte, in de- ceiving the French jieople, by the accounts he gave of the de- feat of the Prussians at Ligny, seems almost to nave deceivea liimself. He must have known that the action was not a decisive one — that the enemy had retired in excellent order- that he had not been able to pursue them — and that his own loss must have considerably weakened his army, whilst the Prussians were falling back upon their reinforcements— and, above all, that Mar^chal Blucher commanded them. Tho Prussian army was concentrated at Wavre at an early hour, and communication took place between the Duke of Wel- lington and Blucher, by which a junction of the army was arranged for the succeeding day at Waterloo.3 The retro- grade movement of the Prussians rendered a correspondinf; one necessary on the ])art of the British, which was performed in the most leisurely manner, the duke allowing the men timo to finish their cooking. About ten o'clock, the whole army retired, in three columns, by Genappe and Nivellcs, towards a position at Waterloo — a rear-guard was left to occupy the ground, so as to conceal the movement from the enemy, wlio, about mid-day, deployed their troops in columns of attack, as if expecting to find the English army in position there. They immediately followed up the retreat with cavalry and light-ar- tillery. An afli'air of cavalry occurred at Genappe, where the 7th hussars attacked a French regiment of lancers without success; upon which the heavy cavalry were brought up by the Marquis of Anglesea, who checked the enemy's advance by a vigorous and decisive charge. As the troops arrived in position in front of Mont Saint Jean, they toolc up the ground they were to maintain, which was effected early in the evening. The weather began to be very severe at this period. The whole French army, under Buonaparte, with the exception of two corps under Grouchy (32,tHJ0 men, and 108 guns,) took up a position immediately in front ; and after some cannonading, both armies remained opposite to each other during the night, the rain falling in torrents. The duke had already communicated with Mart- chal Blucher, who promised to come to his support with the whole of his army, on the morning of the 18th. It was conse- quently decided upon to cover Brussels (the preservation of which was of such importance, in every point of view, to the King of the Netherlands,) by maintaining the position of Mont St. Jean. The intention of the allied chiefs, if they were not attacked on the 18th, was to have attacked the enemy on tho 19th. Since we are now arrived at the position of Mont St. Jean, it may be necessary to offer a few remarks as regards the po- sition itself, which has been considered as a bad one by some writers,'' and some loose allusions to its defects thrown out ; but more particularly fixing upon its not affording a secure retreat, in the event of the enemy's attack having proved suc- cessful. Previous, however, to entering into any disquisition as to the merits of the position of Mont St. Jean, it may be well to consider a few of the conditions that are judgedi es- sential in a greater or less degree, for every position taken up by an army. The first requisite is, that tne ground in front, within cannon-shot, should be well seen ; and every point of approach with musket-shot, well discovered. — id. That the ground which is occupied should admit of a free communica- tion for troops and guns, from right to left, and from front to rear, in order to move supports wherever they may be wanted ; also that, by the sinuosities of the ground, or other cover, such movements may be made unseen by the enemy. — 3d, That your flanks rest on some supiiort, secure from being turned — And, lastly, that yourretreat be ensured in the event of your position being forced or turned. The site of the position of Mont St. Jean, and the features of the ground round it, have been so often and well described. and draughts Siom the numerous garrisons who had since entered 1" ranee from Antwerp, Hamburg, Magdeburg, Dant- zic, Mayenee, Alexandria, Mantua, &c., with the numerous prisoners Irom England. Liv. ix., p. '2(11. 2 Three brigades of iron eightcen-pounders were preparins at Brussels, but not in a state of forwardness to be 8eirt tc Waterloo. 3 .Muffling, p. 20, says, " that Blucher only asked for time to distribute food and cartridges to his men." * Moutholon, Tii., p. 134: Liv. ix., pu 123-207; Gourgaudi p. 131. 85 G SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. that we may conclmle it to be familiar to most yicople ; and hence the possession of these necessary conditions will be al- ready evident. The easy slope from our front into the valley, from whence it rises in an ascent equally gentie and regular, to the opposite heishts, on which the enemy were posted at the distance of about a mile, or a mile and a half, gave.it, in an eminent degree, the condition stated in the first remark. The two chaussdes. running nearly perpendicular to our line —the valley immediately in rear of our first line, and parallel to it, with two country roads jiassing in the same direction ; also the openness of the country— gave the position the re- quisites mentioned in the second. The same valley afforded cover for the support of the first line; also for its artillery, and spare ammunition-waagons ; whilst the second line arid reserves, placed on and behind the next ridge, and about 500 or 60fl yards in rear of the first, were unseen from the enemy's position, althoueh certainly so far exposed, that many of his shot and shells, which passed over the first line, ricocheted into the second, and amongst the reserves. The fourth requi- site, as faras regards the security of the flanks, was comjiletely obtained, by the occupaticjn of the village of Braine la Leude on its right, which would have been intrenched, but for an ac- cidental misunderstanding of orders ; and La Haye and Ohaiii on the left ; also by both flanks being thrown back on the fo- rest of Soignies. That our retreat in case of a reverse, was sufficiently pro- vided for, we trust, notwithstanding the criticism above no- ticed, to establish in a satisfactory manner. Our position was sufficiently in advance of the entrance of the chauss^e into the forest, to give a free approach from every part of the field to that point ; which the unenclosed state of the country af- forded the troops every means of profiting bv. Had our first position been forced, the village of Mont St. Jean, atthejunc- tion of the two chaussees, afforded an excellent centre of sup- port for a second, which the enemy would have had equal difficulty in carrying ; — besides which there is another farm house and wood immediately behind Mont St. Jean, and in front of the entrance of the forest ; which would have ena- bled us to keep open that entrance. By occupying these points, we might have at any time effected a retreat ; and with suffi- cient leisure to have allowed all the guns, that were in a state to be moved, to file off into the forest. Undoubtedly, had our centre been broken by the last attack of the enemy [about half-past seven,} a considerable part of our artillery must have been left benind, a number of guns disabled, and many men and horses killed and wounded ; these must have fallen into the enemy's hands; also the brigades at the points at- tacked, which were placed rather in front of the infantry, and remained until the last, tiring grape-shot into the enemy's co- lumns. The men and horses would have saved themselves with the infantry, and soon found a fresh equipment in the fortresses. The troops at Hougomont would have been cut off had that attack succeeded, but their retreat was open, either upon the corps of 16,000 men left at Halle to cover Brussels, or upon Braine la Leude, which was occupied by a bri.tjade of iTifantry, who had strengthened their post ; between which and our right flank a brigade of cavalry kept a communi- cation open. From Braine la Leude there is a very good road through the forest by Aleniberg to Brussels, by which the troops and artillery of our right fiank could have effected their retreat. If we now suppose, that the enemy, instead of our right centre, had broken our left centre by the great attack made on it at three o'clock, Ohain afforded neasJy the same ad- vantage to the left of our army, that Braine la Leude would have done on the right. A road leads from it through the forest to Brussels ; or that wing might have retired on the Prus- sians at Wavre ; so that, had either of these two grand attacks succeeded, the retreat into the defiles of the forest need not have been jirecipitated. It is no fault of our troops to take alarm and lose confidence, because they find themselves turned or partially beaten. Of this many instances might be given. The best proof, however, is, that the enemy can scarce- ly claim having made a few hundred prisoners during the whole of the last war. No success on the pait of the enemy, which fhey had a right to calculate on, could have then pre- ci]iitated us into the forest in total disorder. The attacks we sustained to the last on the 18tli, were as determined and se- vere as can be conceived. Still, to the last, a part of the re- serve and the cavalry had not suffered much ; whereas the French cavalry (heavy) had all been engaged before five ' See Liv. ix., p. 196. " Ainsi a cinq heures apres midi, tarmee se trouva sans avoir one reserve de cavaleric. Si, a huit heures et demi, cette reserve eut e.xistee," &e. &c. It is singular how great soldiers, in reporting military actions, will contradict each other. Napoleon ascribes the loss of the battle in great measure to hiscavalry being so soon and gene- rally engaged, that he had not a reserve left to protect his re- treat, (jeneral Foy, on the contrary, affirms, tnat it was not the French, but the British cavalry, which was annihilated at Waterloo. — Guerre de la Peniiuule, p. 116, Note. 2 On the 16th, at Quatre-Bras, the a3d regiment (British,) and afterwards two battalions of the Guards, when obliged to qive w.i) loan attack of the enemy, and pursued by the French o'clock, and were not in a state, from the severe losses they had sustained, to take advantage of a victory.' But suppose we had been driven into the wood in a state ot deroute, simil.ar to what the French were, the forest did not keep us hermetically sealed up, as an impenetrable marsh did the defeated troops at Austerlitz. The remains of our shat- tered battalions would have gained the forest, and found themselvcsin security. It consists of tall trees without under- wood, passable almost any where for men and horses. The troops could, therefore, have gained the chaussee through it. and when we at last came to confine ourselves to the de- fence of the entrance to the forest, every person, the least ex- perienced in war, knows the extreme difficulty in forcing in- fantry from a wood which cannot be turned A few regiments, with or without artillery, would have kept the whole French army in check, even if they had been as fresh as the day they crossed the frontiers. 2 Indeed, the forest in our rear gave us so evident an advantage, that it is difficult to believe that an observation to the contrary was made by Napoleon. Could he quite forget hisown retreat? It little availed him to have two fine chaussees, and an open country in his rear ; his ma- teriel was all abandoned, and not even a single battalion kept together. The two farms in front of the position of Mont St. Jean, gave its principal strength. That of Hougomont, with its gar- dens and enclosures, could contain a force sufficient to make it a most important post. La Haye Sainte was too small for that i)urpose ; otherwise its situation in the Genappe chaussee, in the centre of the position, rendered it better adapted for that purpose. These farms lay on the slojie of the valley, about 1500 yards apart, in front of our line ; so that no co- lumn of the enemy could j)ass between them, without being exposed to a flank fire. Indeed, without these posts, the ground gave us little advantage over our enemy, except the loss he must be necessarily exposed to in advancing in column upon a line already fixed. From these observations it will appear that our retreat was well secured, and that the advantages of the position for a field of battle were very considerable ; so that there was little risk but that it would have been successfully defended, even if the Prussians had by " some fatality " been prevented from form- ing a junction. The difficulties of the roads, from the severe rains, detained them from joining us at lea; The cavalry came up to one of the squares at a trot, and appeared to be hanging back, as if expecting our fire ; they closed round two sides of it, having a front of seventy or eighty men, and came so close to one angle, that they appeared to try to reach over the bavonets with their swords. The squarcf were generally formed four deei), rounded at the angles : on the approach of the cavalrv, two files fired, the others reset • ving their fire ; the cavalrv then turned, and it is not easy to believe how few fell,— only'oneotficer and two men ; no doubt many were wounded, but did not fall from their horses. Many squares fired at the distance of thirty p.ices, with no other effect. In fact, our troops fired loo fiigh, which must have been noticed by the most casual observer- 7 It has been said, that if the enemy had brought up infan- try and light artillery, our squares must have given way. This would no doubt have been preferable: but then our reserve and cavalry would have been moved forward to check the cavalry, and the squares would have probably repelled tht attack of the infantry. The enemy had tried to bring gum with the attacking co'lumns, on our left, early in the dav ; tli» 858 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. position was preventing the fire of our puns on the columns wliich afterwards formed near La Belle Alliance, in order to debouche for a new attack. The sailing tire of the infantry, however, forcing the French cavalry at length to retire into the hollow ground, to cover themselves, the artillerymen were again at their guns, and, being in advance of the squares, saw completely into the valley, and by their well-directed fire, Beemcd to make gaps in them as they re-formed to repeat this useless expenditure of lives. Had Buonaparte been nearer the front, he surely would have prevented this useless sacrifice of his best troops. Indeed, the attack of cavalry at this pe- riod, is only to he accounted for by supposing the British army to be in retreat. He had had no time to avail himself of his powerful artillery to make an impression on that part of the line he meant to attack, as had always been his custom, other- wise it was not availing himself of the su])eriority lie pos- sessed ; and it was treating his enemy with a contempt, which, from what he had experienced at Quatre Bras, could not be juatiticd.i He allows, in Liv. ix., p. 156, that this charge was made too soon, 2 but that it was necessary to support it, and that the cuirassiers of Kellerman, .3(i . . . 32,000 50,850 Engaged at Waterloo, .... 71,150 This number, however, is certainly underrated ; and there is little doubt but Buonaparte had upwards of 75,> Liv. ix., p. 175. Buonaparte says it was seven o'clock when Lobau repulsed them. 7 Of these, about 12,7(M) were cavalry. 8 Liv. ix., p. 193. This force is stated "4 a .5000 hommes." 9 Muffling, p. 58, mentions, tliat Buonaparte stated to some general ofticer on the morning of the IHth, that he had 75,( (K) men, and the English only 50,000. Liv. ix., p. 193, by taking Buonaparte's own account in this part of the book, upon cal- culation it will be seen that he there allowi> that he had upwards of 74,000. APPENDIX TO THE LIFE OF BUONAPARTE. 859 oiiioli delayed by 3 fire which happened at Wavrc. and by the bad state of the roads ; so that they had grtat difficultv iii brinKing up the numerous artillery tliey carried with this cnrjis, whicli prevented tliera from attacking the enemy before half- past four o'clock. 1 The 2d Prussian corps marched upon Chapelle-Lambcrt and Lasne ; and at a later iieriod of the day 2 the 1st corjia moved in the direction of Ohain. The 3d corps was also to have 8upi>orted the 4th and 2d corps. Blucher was not aware of the large force under Grouchy, who attacked the 3d corps as it was preparing to leave Wavre, and obliged it to take up a position on the Dyle, between Liniale and Wavre, wliere he afterwards ordered it to maintain itself as well as it could. The British army, at this eventful period of the day, amount- ed to about 34,(llH» men (allowing Kt.lKMI killed and wounded, and l(t,(J(lO more who had left the field,) 18,(KI() of whom were English.— [Muffling, p. 32.]— The enemy may have had about 45,0irits of his troops, even of his guards, who had not yet been engaged, by sending his aide-de-camp Lab^doyfereto inform them, as they were about to advance,* that Grouchy had joined their right flank, and even deceived Ney himself by this false intelligence. The above detail has been entered into for the ))urpose of showing the state of the armies towards the close of the day. Buonaparte was now aware of the powerful diversion the Prussians were about to make, but at the same time seems to have imagined that Grouchy would be able to paralyse their movements. He therefore resolved to make a last des- perate efibrt to break the centre of the British army, and carry their position before the attack of the Prussians could take effect. The imperial guard had been kept In reserve, and had been for some time formed on the heights extending from La Belle Alliance, towards Hougomont, which supported their left flank. They had not yet been engaged. About seven o'clock they advanced in two columns,^ leav- ing four battalions in reserve. They were commanded by Ney, who led them on. At the same time, they pushed on some light troops in the direction of La Haye. The advance of these columns of the guards was su)iported by a heavy fire jf artillery. Our infantry, who had been posted on the re- verse of the hill, to be sheltered from the fire of the gun.s, were instantly moved forward by Lord Wellington. General Maitland's brigade of guards, and General Adam's brigade (.52d and 71st regiments, and 95th rifles,) met this formidable attack. They were flanked by two brigades of artillery, who kept up a destructive fire on the advancing columns. Our troops waited for their approach with their characteristic cool- ness, until they were within a short distance of our line, when they opened a well-directed fire upon them. The line was formed four deep. The men fired independently, retiring a few paces to load, and then advanced and fired, so that their fire never ceased for a moment. The French, headed by their gallant leader, still advanced, rotwithstanditig the severe loss they sustained by this fire, which apparently seemed to check their movement. They were now within about fifty yards of our line, when they attempted to deploy, in order to return the fire. Our line appeared to be closing round them. They could not, however, deploy under such a fire ; and from the moment they ceased to advance, their chance of success was over. They now formed a confused mass, and at last gave way, retiring in the utmost confusion. They were immediately pursued by the light troops of General Adam's brigade. This decided the battle. The enemy had now exhausted his means of attack. He had still, however, the four battalions of the old guard in reserve. Lord Wellington immediately ordered the whole line to advance to attack their position. The enemy were already attempting a retreat. These battalions formed a square to cover the retreat of the flying columns, flanked by a few guns, and supported by some light cavalry (red lancers.) The first Prussian corps had now joined our extreme left. ' See Muffling, pp. 22, 31, 62. Gourgaud, pp. 98 and <«, says it was halt-))ast four when General Dumont informed Buona- parte of their arrival. 2 Liv. ix., pp. 16!1, 169, Buonaparte makes Bulow's attack after sunset. 3 Muffling, p. 62, says, it was hoped the Prussian army could have .ittacked at two o'clock, but that it was half-past four be- fore a cannon w:i5 fired by them. * Lit. ix., p. 167, Ncj's letter. They had obtained possession of the village of La Haye, driv- ing out the French light troops who occupied it. Bulow, witb the fourth corps, had some time previous to this made an unsuccessful attack upon the village of Planclienot, in tho rear of the enemy's right wing, and being joined by the second corjis, (Pirch's) was again advancing to attack it."" In the meantime, the square of the Old Guard maintained itself, tlie guns on its flank firing upon our light cavalry, who now ad- vanced, and threatened to turn their flank. Our light troops were close on their front, and our whole line advancing, when this body, the " «51itc," and imw the only hope of the enemy to cover their retreat, and save their army, gave way, and mixed in the general confusion and rout, abandoning their cannon and all their materiel. It was now nearly dark. Bulow, upon being joined by Pirch's corps, again attacked Planchenot, which he turned ; and then the enemy abandoned it. He immediately advanced towards the Genappe chausee, and closed round the right of the French-[Liv ix., p. \liu] -^driving the enemy before him, and augmenting their confu- sion. His troops came into the high-road, or chaus(!'e, near Maison du Roi, and Bluchi-r and Wellington having met about the same time near La Belle Alliance, it was resolved to pursnc the enemy, and give him no time to rally. The loss of the Prussians on the Ulth did not exceed 8(K) men. The brunt of the action was chiefly sustained by the troops of the British and King's German Legion, as their loss will show. In stating this, it must be allowed, that much support was afforded by the other contingents ; but they were chiefly raw levies, newly raised, who could not be depended upon in a situation of imiiortance. Some behaved ill, us is publicly known. None were in the first line, except the Nassau troops at Hougomont, and some on our extreme left. They were placed in the second line, and in the valley behind the first line, and on the right, at Braine la Leude. They had gene- rally been formed with the British brigades of the different divisions (in the manner Lord Wellington found so advan- tageous with the Portuguese troops,) but these arrangements had just been made. T'he diflTerent brigades in a division had not any knowledge of, or confidence in, each other. Many battalions, particularly some Belgian troops, in the rear of the first line, stood with firmness against the French cavalry, and drove them back. They suffered more severely, perhaps, than the first line, from the fire of the enemy's artillery, and at the close of the action, advanced in support of the first line with great steadiness and regularity. The Prussians, who had made only a short march during the day, pursued the enemy with such vigour, that they were unable to rally a single battalion. The British army nalted on the field of battle. They once attempted to make a show of resistance at Genappe, where, perhai)s, if they had had a chief to direct them, they might have maintained themselves until daylight, the situation of the village being strong; this might have given them the means of saving at least the sem- blance of an army. The second Prussian corps was after- wards detached to intercept Grouchy, who was not aware of the result of the battle until twelve o'clock next day. He had succeeded in obtaining some advantage over General Thielman, and got possession of Wavre. He immediately re- treated towards Namur, where his rear-guard maintained themselves against all the efforts of the Prussians, who suf- fered severely in their attempt to take the place. This served to cover his retreat, which he executed with great ability, keeping in a parallel line to Blucher, and having rallied many of tne fugitives, he brought his army without loss to Paris. He had been considered as lost, and his army made prison- ers ; this belief was a great cause of the resignation of Buo- naparte ; otherwise, with this army he could have mustered 70,0(10 or 00,000 men ; with the fortifications and resources of Paris, which was sufticiently secure against a coup-de-main, it is not likely be would have so easily submitted without an- other struggle, after the brilliant defensive campaign he had made the preceding year. The great central depots of Paris and Lyons gave him great advantages, as is well shown in the introductory chapter, Liv. ix., p. 181. There are always some turns of fortune in the events of war; he might at least have made terms. The southern and eastern parts of France were certainly in his favour; he and his army bad been well re- ceived there only a few weeks before. That army, and a great part of the population, would still have been glad to make sacrifices to endeavour to re-establish the sullied lustre of his arms. At least the honour of falling sword in hand was iu bis power. The time of the arrival and co-operation of the Prussians has been variously stated. 7 The above .iccount is perhaps as near the truth as can be. The French writers make it at an early hear, to account more satisfactorily for their defeat. The * See Lord Wellington's dispatches. « Gneisnau says, it was half-past seven o'clock before Pirch'8 corps arrived.— See Blucher's dispatches. 7 Liv. ix. says it was eleven o'clock when the Prussians joined. Gourgaud and Montholon cojiy this. The letter fron> Soult to Grouchy, dated half- past one o'clock, stating that they were informed by a prisoner of Bulow's march, and that they thought they discovered his advanced posts at that hour completeU contradicts thia. — Liv. ix. 800 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. Prussians a so make it some what earlier than was actually the case, in order to participate more hirpely in the honours of the dav. Their powerful assistance has been acknowledged to its full extent. They completed the destruction of the French army, after they had failed in all their attacks against the British, which continued upwards of seven hours, after their cavalry had been destroyed, their Imperial Guards driven back, and eagles and prisoners taken, and when their means of further attack maybe considered as exhausted. The British army had suffered severely, and was not in a state to have taken great advantage of the retreat of the French. But its safety was never for a moment compromised, and no cal- culation could justify the idea, that we would have been so easily defeated and driven from our position, but that the enemy would have been so much crippled, that he could not have taken much advantage of our reverses. Even in such a case, the arrival of the Prussians must have obliged liim to have retired. Muffling has observed, that the bold movement of Blucher on the 18th has not been sufticiently appreciated.' It was bold and masterly. Even when he was told that Grouchy was in his rear with a large force, his plans were not shaken, though this might have somewhat retarded his movements. The skilful veteran knew that it was on the field of Waterloo where the fate of the day was to be decided, and if even Grouchy had attacked Bulow's corps, there was nothing to prevent the iirst and second corps from joining the British army by Ohain. Grouchy could only, at farthest, have checked the third and fourth corps. There cannot be a mo- ment's doubt of the anxiety and exertions of the Prussians to assist on the 18th. The cordiality and friendship of the Prus- sians have been felt and acknowledged by every ofhcer who lias had occasion to visit Prussia subsequently ; — this has been jiarticularly the case with the military. This short campaign of " Hours" wasa joint operation. The honours must be shared. On the llith, the Prussians fought at Ligny under the promise of our co-operation, which could not. however, be given to the extent it was wished or hoped. On the 18th, Lord Wellington fought at Waterloo, on the i)ro- mise of the early assistance of the Prussians, which, though unavoidably delayed, was at last given with an effect, which perliaps had never before been witnessed. Tlie finest army France ever saw, commanded by the greatest and ablest of her chiefs, ceased to exist, and in a moment the destiny of Eu- rope was changed No. XIV.— P. 779. Buonaparte's protest. " 1 HEREBY solemnly protest, in the face of Heaven and of men, against the violence done me, and against the violation of my most sacred rights^ in forcibly disposing of my person and my liberty. " I came voluntarily on board of the Bellerophon ; I am not a prisoner— I am the guest of England. I came on board even at the instigation of the captain, who told me he had orders from the Government to receive me and my suite, and conduct me to England, if agreeable to me. I presented myself with good faith, to put myself under the protection of the English laws. As soon as I was on board the Bellerophon, I was under slieltcr of the British people. If the Government, in giving orders to the captain of the Bellerophon to receive me as well as my suite, only intended to lay a snare for me, it has forfeited its honour, and disgraced its flag. If this act be consummated, the English will in vain boast to Europe, their integrity, their laws, and their liberty. British good faith will be lost in the hospitality of the Bellerophon. I appeal to history ; it will say that an enemy, who for twenty years waged war against the English people, came voluntarily, in his misfortunes, to seek an asylum under their laws. What more brilliant proof could he give of his esteem and his confidence? But what return did England make for so much magnanimity? — They feigned to stretch forth a friendly hand to that enemy ; and when he delivered himself up in good faith, they sacrificed him. (Signed) " Napoleon. " On hoard (he Bellerophon, 4th August, 1815." We have already, in the text, completely refuted the pre- tence, that Buonaparte was ensnared on board the Bellero- phon. Every expression of Captain Maitland went to disown any authority to treat with Napoleon, or grant him conditions of any kind ; nor could he say more when his private opinion was demanded, than that he had no reason to suppose that Napoleon would be ill received in England. This was in pre- Bence of Captain Partorius and Captain Gambler, both of whom Captain Maitland appealed to in support of his statement. We do not, however, feel it too much, on the present occasion, to copy the letters which passed betwixt Lord Keith, on the one hand, and Captain Maitland, Captain Sartorius, and Captain Gambler, on the other. ' Muffling, p. 61. " II ne s'agit jias de savoir ce qu'un B^n^ral ordinaire auroit fait ; mais one nouvelle de cette na- ture auroit im tntrainer le gcndral le plus distingue a prendre " Tonnanl, at anchor inxicr Berryhead, 7lh August, 1815. " Sir,— Count Las Cases having this morning stated to me, that he understood from you, when he was on board the Bel- lerophon in Basque roads, on a mission from General Buona- parte, that you were authorised to receive the General and his suite on board the ship you command, for conveyance to Eng- land ; and that you assured him, at the same time, that both the General and his suite would be well received there ; you are to report, for my information, such observations as you may consider it necessary to make upon these assertions. I am. Sir, &c. " Keith, Admiral. " Captain Maitland, Bellerophon. " H. M. S. BfUcrophon, Pli/movth Sound, 8th August, 1815. "My Lord, — I have to acknowledge the receipt of jour lordship's letter of yesterday's date, informing me that Count Las Cases had stated to you, that he had understood from me, wlien he was on board the Bellerophon in Basque roads, on a mission from General Buonaparte, that I was authorised to receive the General and his suite on board the ship I com- mand, for a conveyance to England ; and that I assured him. at the same time, that both the General and his suite would be well received there ; and directing me to report, for your lordship's information, such observations as I may consider it necessary to make upon these assertions. I shall, in conse- quence, state, to the best of ray recollection, the whole of the transaction that took place between Count Las Cases and me, on the 14th of July, respecting the embarkation of Napoleon Buonaparte, for the veracity of which I beg to refer your lord- ship to Captain Sartorius as to what was said in the morning, and to that officer and Captain Gambler (the Myrmidon hav- ing joined me in the afternoon) as to what passed in the even- ing. " Your lordship being informed already of the flag of truce that came out to me on the 10th of July, as well as of every thing that occurred on that occasion, I shall confine myself to the transactions of the 14th of the same month. " Early in the morning of that day, the officer of the watch informed me, a schooner, bearing a flag of truce, was ap- proaching. On her joining the ship, about seven A.M., the Count Las Cases and General Lallemand came on board ; when, on being shown into the cabin. Las Cases asked me if any answer had been returned to the letter sent by me to Sir Henry Hotham, respecting Napoleon Buonaparte being allowed to pass for America, either in the frigates or in a neutral vessel. I informed him no answer had been returned, though I hourly expected, in consequence of those despatches. Sir Henry Hotham would arrive ; and, as I had told Monsieur Las Cases, when last on board, that I should send my boat in when the answer came, it was quite unnecessary to have sent out a flag of truce on that account ;— there, for the time, the conversation terminated. On their coming on board, I had made the signal for the captain of the Slaney, being desirous of having a witness to all that might pass. " After breakfast (during which Captain Sartorius came on board) we retired to the after-cabin, when M. Las Cases began on the same sulijecf, and said, ' The Emperor was so anxious to stop the fjirther effusion of blood, that he would go to Ame- rica in any way the English Government would sanction, either in a neutral, a disarmed frigate, or an English ship of war.' To which I replied, ' I have noauthority to permit any of those measures', but if he chooses to come on board the ship I command, I think, under the orders J am acting with, I may venture to receive him, and carry him to England ; but if I do so, I can in no way be answerable for the reception he may meet with' — (this I repeated several times) — when Las Cases said, ' 1 have little doubt, under those circumstances, that you will see the Emperor on board the Bellerophon.* After some more general conversation, and the above being frequently re- peated, M. Las Cases and General Lallemand took their leave ; and I assure your lordship, that I never in any way entered into conditions with respect to the reception General Buona- jiarte was to meet with; nor was it at that time finally ar- ranged that he was to come on board the Bellerophon. In the course of conversation. Las Cases asked me, whether I thought Buonaparte would be well received in England? to which I give the only answer I could do in my situation — 'That I did not at all know what was the intention of the British Government ; but I had no reason to suppose he would not be well received.' It is here worthy of remark, that when Las Cases came on board, he assured me that Buonaparte was then at Rochefort, and that it would be necessary for him to go there to report the conversation that had passed between us (this I can prove by the testimony of Cajitain Sartorius, and the first lieutenant of this ship, to whom 1 sjioke of it at the time,) which statement was not fact ; Buonaparte never having quitted isle d'Aix, or the frigates, after the .'id. " I was therefore much surprised at seeing M. Las Cases on board again before seven o'clock the same evening ; and one of the first questions I put to him was, whether he had been des precautions, ou la resolution de changer I'offsnsive vigou- reuse en simple demonstration." APPENDIX TO THE LIFE OF BUONAPARTE. SGi tt Rochcfort? ITc answered, that, on returning to isle d'Aix, he found that Napoleon had arrived tliere. " M. Las Cases then presented to me the letter Count Ber- trand wrote concerning Buonaparte's intention to come on board the sliip (a copy of which has been transmitted to your lordship by Sir Henry Hotham.) and it was not til! then agreed upon that I should receive him ; when either M. Las Cases or General Gonrgaud (I am not positive which, as I was cm- ployed writing my own disjiatches) wrote to Bertrand to in- form him of it. While paper was preparing to write the let- ter, I said again to M. Las Cases, ' You will recollect I have no authority for making conditions of anysort." Nor has M. Las Cases ever started such an idea till the day before yes- terday. That it was not the feeling of Buonaparte, or the rest of his people, I will give strong proof, drawn from theconver- ■aiions they have held with me. " As I never licard the suljject mentioned till two days ago, I ihall not detail every conversation that has passed, but con- fine myself to that period. The night that the squadron an- chored at the back of Berryhead, Buonaparte sent for me about ten p.m., and said he was informed by Bertrand that I had received orders to remove him to the Northumberland, and wished to know if that was the case ; on being told that it was, he requested that I would write a letter to Bertrand, stating 1 had such orders, that it might not ajipear he went of his own accord, but that he had been forced to do so. I told him I could have no objection, and wrote a letter to that eifect, which your lordship afterwards sanctioned, and desired me, if he required it, to give him a copy of the order. " After having arranged that matter, I was going to with- draw, when he requested me to remain, as he had something more to say. He then began complaining of his treatment in being forced to go to St. Helena; among other things he observed, ' They say I made no conditions— certainly I made no conditions ; how could a private man {uu particuiier) make conditions with a nation ? I wanted nothing from them but hospitality, or (as the ancients would express it) air and water. 1 threw myself on the generosity of the English nation : I claimed a place siir h'urs foijers, and my only wish was to l)urchase a small estate, and end my life in tranquillity.' After more of the same sort of conversation, 1 left him for the night. "On the morning he removed from the Bellerophon to the Northumberland, he sent for me again, and said, ' I have sent for you to express mv gratitude for your conduct to me, while I have been on board the ship you command. My reception in England has been very different from what I expected ; but you throughout have behaved like a man of honour; and I request you will accept my thanks, as well as convey them to the officers and ship's company of the Bellerophon.' Soon afterwards, Montholon came to me from Buonaparte; but, to understand what passed between him and me, I must revert to a conversation that I had with Madame Bertrand on the passage from Rochefort. " It is not necessary to state how the conversation com- menced, as it does not apjily to the present transaction ; but she informed me that it was Buonaparte's intention to present me with a box containing his jiicture set with diamonds. 1 answered, ' I hope not, for I cannot receive it.' — ' Then you will offend him very much,' she said. — ' If that is the case,' I replied, ' 1 request you will take measures to prevent its being offered, as it is absolutely impossible I can accept of it ; and I wish to spare him the mortification, and myself the pain, of a refusal.' There the matter dropped, and I heard no more of it, till about half an hour before Buonaparte quit- ted the Bellerophon, when Montholon came to me, and said he was desired by Buonaparte to express the high sense he entertained of my conduct throughout the whole of the tran- sactioi; , — that it had been his intention to. present me with a box containing his portrait, but that he understood I was determined not to accejit it. I said, ' Placed as I was, I felt it impossible to receive a present from him, though I was liighly flattered at the testimony he had borne to the upright- ness of my conduct throughout.' Montholon added, ' One of the greatest causes of chagrin he feels in not being admitted to an interview with the Prince Kegent is, that he had deter- mined to ask as a favour, your being promoted to the rank of rear-admiral." To which I replied, ' That would have been quite impossible, but I do not tne less feel the kindness of the intention.' I then said, ' I am hurt that Las Cases should say I held forth any assurances- as to the reception Buonaparte was to meet w-'th in England.' — ' Oh I' said he, ' Las Cases is disappointed in his expectations; and as he negotiated the affair, he attributes the Empeior's situation to himself: but 1 can a.'^sure you that he (Buonaparte) feels convinced you have acted like a man of honour throughout.' "As your lordship overheard part of a conversation wliich took place between Las Cases and me on the quarterdeck of the Bel'erophon, I shall not detail it; but on that occasion, I positively denied having promised any thing as to the recep- tion of Buonaparte and his suite ; and I believe your lordship was of opinion he could not make out the statement to you. It is extremely unpleasant for me to be under the necessity of entering into a detail of this sort; but the unhandsome re- presentation Las Cases has made to your lordship of my con- duct, has obliged me to produce proofs of the light in which the transaction vas viewed by Buonaparte as well aa his at- toudantft. " I again repeat that Captains Gambler and Sartorisa can verify the principal p.irt of what I have stated, as far as con- cerns the ctiarge made against me by Count Las Cases.— 1 have the honour to be your lordship's, &c. " Frederick L. Maitland. " To the Right Hon. Viscount Keith, G.C.B., &c. &c." " Slanni, in Pbjmoiilh Souuil, \5th Aiifttist, 1(115. " My Lord, — 1 have read Captain Maitland's letter to your lordship, of the 8th instant, containing his observations upon the assertions made on the preceding day by Count Las Cases ; and I most fully attest the correctness of the statement he has made, so far as relates to the conversations that took place in my presence. — 1 have the honour to be your lord- ship's, &c. " G. R. Sartorius, Capt. of H. M. S. Slaney. " To the Right Hon. Viscount Keith, G.C.B., &c. &o." It happened that Captain Gambler's attestation to the above statement was not in Captain Maitland's iiossession ; but hav- ing obtained a copy of it from the kindness of Mr. Meike, secretary to Lord Keith, we can supply this additional piece of evidence to a proof already so distinct in itself. " I have read the preceding letter" [that of Captain Mait- land,] "and most fully attest the correctness of what Captain Maitland has said, so far as relates to what occurred in my presence on the evening of the 14th of July. (Signed) " Robk'rt Gambier, "Captain of H.M. Ship Myrmidon. No. XV.— P. 783. States of Thermometer, as taken at Deadwnnd, island of Ft. Helena, daring twelve calendar months, viz. from 1st Sept. 182(1, to 31st Aug. 1821, inclusive. — This condensed view of the different states of the Thermometer was kept at Dead- wood, which is just one short mile from Longwood, and therefore expresses the exact temperature of the climate in which he lived^milder, and more equable, certainly, than most in the known world. In point of moisture. Dr. Shortt is not of opinion that St. Helena differs materially from any other tropical island of the 8am« extent. His account of the general state of health among the troops has been al- ready referred to. Months. Thermometer. Remarks. i I E g B ^ i 1 S |5 Sept. 1820, 66 64 S2 Wind blowing from S.E. Oct. do. 68 65 62 Do. Do. Nov. do. 72 66 61 Generally S.E. 6 days from N.W. Dec. do. 72 66 61 Wind from S.f. Jan. 1821, 76 70 (;8 Do. Do. Feb. do. 76 70 67 Do. Do. March do. 76 71 67 Do. Do. April do. 74 70 66 Do. Do. May do. ~i 68 64 Do. Do. June do. 70 Ho 57 Generally S.E. 1 day westerly. July do. 71 66 57 Do. Do. Aug. do. 68 64 62 Wind from S.E. (Certified) by Thomas Shortt, Physician to H.M. Forces, and Principal Medical Officer at-St. Helena. No. XVI.— P. 810. INTERvrEW BETWIXT NAPOLEON BBO.SAPARTK AND HENRY ELLIS, ESQ., THIRD COMMISSIO.NER OF LORD AMIIEKKT'S E.MBASSY TO CHI.VA. ALTHorOH, like others, I w.is familiar with the details of Buonaparte's present situation, and might, therefore, be su|>- posed to have become saturated with those sentiments of sur- prise, which such an extraordinary reverse of fortune was cal- culated to excite— I must confess that 1 could boast but little self-possession on entering the presence of a man, who h.id been at once the terror and wonder of the civilized world. The absence of attendants, and the other circumstances of high station, did not seem to me to have affected his iniliri- dual greatness; however elevated his rank h.ul been, his ac- tions had been still beyond it. Even the mightv weapons vcMcIt 802 SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. he had wielded were light to his cigantic strength ; the spicn- AoUT of a court, the pomp, discipline, and number of his ar- mies, sufficient to have constituted the personal greatness of an hereditary monarch, scarcely added to tlie effect produced bv the tremendous, but unfortunately ill-directed, energies of his mind. Their absence, therefore, did not diminish the in- fluence of his individuality. I do not know that I ever be- fore felt myself in the presence of a mind differing from mine, not in degree, but in nature ; and could have had but little disposition to gratify curiosity by inquiries into the motives wliich had guided his conduct in the eventful transactions of his life. 1 came prepared to listen and recollect, not to ques- tion or speculate. Lord Amiierst having presented me, Na- poleon began by saying, that my name was not unknown to nim ; that he understood I had been at Constantinople, and had a faint recollection of some person of my name liaving been employed in Russia. I, in reply, said that I had been at Constantinople in my way to Persia. " Yes," says lie, " it was I who showed you the way to that country? Eh hien, comment se parte mun ami le Stiah ? What have the Russians been doing lately in that quarter?" On my informing him that the result of the last war had been the cession of all the territory in the military occupation of their troops— he said, " Yes, Russia is the power now most to be dreaded ; Alexan- der may have whatever army he pleases. Unlike the French and English, the subjects of the Russian empire imiirove their condition by becoming soldiers. If I called on a Frenchman to quit his country, I required him to abandon his happiness. The Russian, on the contrary, is a slave ijvhile a peasant, and becomes free and respectable when a soldier. A Frenchman, leaving his country, always clianges for the worse, while Ger- many, France, and Italy, are all superior to the native coun- try of the Russians. Their immense bodies of Cossacks are also formidable ; their mode of travelling resembles the Be- douins of the desert. They advance with confidence into the most unknown regions." He then related the following in- stance of the extraordinary powers of vision possessed by the Arabs. When in Kgypt, he took up his glass to examine an Arab, who was still at some distance. Before Buonaparte had, with the assistance of the instrument, ascertained his appearance, a Bedouin standinj» near him, had so comjiletely made him out, as to distinguish the dress of the tribe to whicli he belonged. " Russia," continued he, " has still her designs upon Con- stantinople. To obtain my consent to his projects upon Tur- key, was the great wish of the Fmperor Alexander, but in vain; I told him I never would allow the Greek cross to be added to the crown of the Czars. Austria would unite with Russia against Turkey, on condition of being allowed to retain the provinces contiguous to her frontier. France and Kng- land are the only powers interested in opposing their schemes ; I always felt this, and always sujiported the Turks, althougli I hated tliem as barbarians. If Russia," he added, "organises Poland, she will be irresistible." Napoleon here took a rapid view of the military character of the nations of Europe, and, without reference to what he had just said respecting the Rus- sians, declared the French and English were the only troops deserving notice for their discipline and moral qualities. " The Austrian and Prussian," he said, " were much inferior : in fact, real strength and efficiency were confined to the Eng- lish and French." The remainder of his harangue (for his habit of not waiting for, or indeed listening to replies, renders conversation an inap])licable term) was employed upon the present state of England, which he considered was most ca- lamitous, and as produced by the inii)olicy of mixing with continental affairs. The dominion of the seas, and the main- tenance of a monopoly of commerce, he considered as the only true foundation of our national prosperity. " Whatever might be the bravery of our troops, their limited number would for ever prevent us from becoming a great military power. Volts avez tovjours rotre bravoiire des sieclcs, tuais avec quaraute cinq miUe, vous ne serez jamais, puissance mili- iiiire. In sacrificing maritime affairs, vm were acting like Francis I. at the battle of Pavia, whose general had made an excellent disposition of his army, and had placed forty-five pieces of cannon (an unheard of battery at that time) in a situation that must have secured the victory : Francis, how- ever, his grand sabre a la main, placed himself at the head of his gendarmerie and household troops, between the battery and tlie enemy, and thereby lost the advantage his superiority of artillery gave him ; thus," said he, " seduced by a temporary success, you are masking the only battery you possess, your naval pre-eminence. While that remains, you may blockade all Europe. I well know the effect of blockade. With two small wooden machines, you distress a line of coast, and place a country in the situation of a body rubbed over with oil, and thus deprived of the natural perspiration. I," says he, " am now suffering in my face from this obstruction to perspiration, and blockade has the same effect upon a nation. What have you gained by the war? You have gained pa-isession of my person, and had an opportunity of exhibiting an examjile of ungenerousness. By placing the Bourbons on the throne, you have disturbed the legitimacy of kings, for I am the na- tural sovereign of France. You conceived that none but Na- poleon could shut the ports of Europe against you, but now every petty sovereign insults you with prohibitory regulations upon your comnieTcc— L'Anplcterre est diehue depuis qu'elle ''est mel^c des affaires dii continent.— Yo\x should have been aware of the advance I had made towards the improvflmcnt of manufacture throughout my empire, and secured the repay- ment of your expenses during the war, by a forced extension of your trade. Who placed the King of Portugal on his throne? Was it not England? Had you not, therefore, a rif;ht to b« reimbursed ? and that reimbursement might have been found in the exclusive trade to the Brazils for five years. This de- mand wa-s reasonable, and could not, therefore, have been re- fused." 1 observed, that such a proceeding would not hare been consonant with our political system, and that the King of Portugal, aware of this, would have resisted, the more es- pecially as, when placed on the throne, he no longer wanted our assistance. " The demand should have been made in the first instance," said he, " when you might have asked any thing; but it is now too late ; and you have only to blame your ministers, who have totally neglected the interests of England. Russia, Austria, Prussia, have all been gainers ; England alone has been a loser. You have even neglected that po( r kingdom of Hanover. Why not have added three or four mil- lions to its population ? Lord Castlereagh got among the mo- narchs, became a courtier, and thought more of their aggran- disement, than of the claims of his country. Your good for- tunes, et mes faiites, tiies imiinuhncis, have brought about a state of things which even Pitt never dared to dream of; and what is the result ? your people are starving, and yonr coun- try is convulsed with riots. The situation of England is most curious. She has gained all, and yet she is ruined. Believe the opinion of a man accustomed to consider po'itical suli- jects ; England should look wholly to commerce, and naval aftairs ; she never can be a continental power, and in the at- tempt must be ruined. Maintain the empire of the seas, and you may send your ambassadors to the courts of Europe, and ask what you please. The sovereigns are aware of your pre- sent distressed situation, and insult you." He repeated, " For- ty-five thousand men will never make you a military power ; it is not in the genius of your nation. None but the very dregs of the nation enlist in your army ; the profession is not liked." He would not listen to an observation respecting the great channel of supply from the militia to the line, which he seem- ed to confound with the volunteeis. Napoleon continued his observations by saying, "The sus- pension of the habeas corpus would not prove a remedy for the riots ; people must have food ; the stagnation of commerce diminishes your exports, and your manufacturers are starving. It is absurd to describe the evils as temporary. Wellesley is right in that, the distress is general, and must be lasting. Stopping the evils by suspending the habeas corpus, is apply- ing topical remedies when the disease is in the system ; topical remedies will only remove topical eruption ; the complaint ex- tends over the whole body. — There is not a man of ability in thu cabinet. Lord Chatham understood the true interests of Eng- land, when he said, ' If we are just for twenty-four hours, we must be ruined.' Immense extension of commerce, combined with reductions and reforms, could alone have prevented the present crisis in England. For his part, he wished th.it all was tranquil and settled, as that was his only chance of being released. A large army," he remarked, " was moreover in- consistent with our free constitution, to which we were, with reason, so much attached." I remarked, that the superior importance to England of maritime concerns was fully acknow- ledged by our ministers, and that they would heartily rejoice in lieing enabled to withdraw the British contingent in France (to which he seemed to have alluded) ; that the actual dis- tress in England arose from the system of public credit, by which the war had been su]iported, and the consequences ot which were in their nature lasting ; that these consequences had been anticipated, and were not, it was to be hoped, irre- mediable. " Yes," said Napoleon, " your resources are great ; but your ruin, from persisting in your present policy, is certain. Your ministers have affected generosity, and have ruined the country. In this generosity you have departed from the sys- tem of your ancestors, who never concluded a peace without gaining, or attempting to gain, some advantage ; they were steady merchants, who filled their purses; b\it you have set up for gentlemen, and are ruined. Although the peace, on the termination of the American war, was honourable to France, for she compelled England to acknowledge the independence of Amtrica, the treaty in I7f!3 was fatal to French commerce ; and how do you suppose that came to be concluded ? The French ministers were fully aware of its injurious conse- quences, but England threatened war, and they had no mo- ney to defray the expenses." I understood Buonaparte to say, that this account was supported by memoirs in the Bu- reau des Affaires Etrangeres. During the conversation, which, notwithstanding the vari- ety of topics started, if not discussed, did not occupy mora than half an hour, there were frequent repetitions of particu- lar expressions, such as " L' Angleterre est ddchiie ; «wt:45,(l(K> )ion)mcs iviis ne scrcz jamais puissance continentale." Buona- parte never listened toany reply naturally arising from his ob- servations, but continued his own view of the subject he was discussing; he seemed little studious in arrangement, but poured out his ideas with a rapidity of language almost equal to the rapidity of their succession in the mind. His style ujiou political subjects is so epigrammatic and tranchant, that in a man whose actions had not been correspondent, it would look likecharlatanerie. Buonaparte must be allowed to be elo- quent, and possesses that species of oratory well aaapted foi APPENDIX TO THE LIFE OF BUONAPAPvTE. 8C3 ft jinpular assembly, or for influcncinf; persons already pre- pared to look up to him. Upon the fijrmer, his point would produce imi)ression ; and a sort of oracular confidence, in which he abounds, would command the conviction of the lat- ter. His manner, on the whole, was pleasing, and had a mixture of simplicity and conscious superiority wliich I never before witnessed. The expression of his countenance is more intellectual than commanding ; and his person, so far from being overgrown with cor])ulency, seems fullv equal to the en- durance of the greatest exertion. I should say that he was ,i3 fit as ever to go through a campaign, and that, considering his ape, he was not unusually corpulent. I have omitted to mention an illustration made use of by Buonaparte, in speak- ing of the conduct of the English ministers at the Congress. " ifou were," said he, " like the dog in the fable, who dropt the piece of meat in the water, while looking at his own image. You had the commerce of the world, and you took no precautions to retain it. Nothing but a great extension of commerce could have enabled you to bear your immense taxes, and you made no effort to obtain it." Buonaparte miscalls English names and words more than any foreigner I ever be- fore heard, who had pretensions to a knowledge of the lan- guage ; and notwithstanding his reading, and the attention he lias probably paid to the subject, he seems little acquainted with the nature of our domestic policy. His plans, like his practice, are all despotic, and arc formed without adverting to constitutional restrictions. In his conversation with Lord Amherst, he dwelt much u])on his present situation, and expressed himself with great and unjustifiable bitterness respecting Sir H. Lowe. Lord Bat- hurst's speech had evidently annoyed him, and he expressed disappointment at the countenance such language and treat- ment received from Lords Sidmouth and Liverpool, with whom he affected to consider himself as having been formerly on terms of amicable intercourse. He said such a man as Lord Cornwallis ought to have been placed in Sir H. Lowe's situation. It is difficult to conceive any complaints more un- reasonable than those made by Buonaparte of Sir H. Lowe's conduct. There perhaps never was a prisoner so much re- quiring to be watched and guarded, to whom so much liberty and range for exercise was allowed. With an officer he may go over any part of the island; wholly unobserved, his limits extend four miles — partially observed, eight — and overlooked, twelve. At night, tlie sentinels certainly close round Long- wood itself. The house is small, but well furnished ; and al- together as commodious as the circumstances under which it was procured would admit. I can only account for his petu- lance and unfounded complaints, from one of two motives^ either he wishes by their means to keep alive interest in Eu- rope, and more especially in England, where he flatters himself he has a party ; or his troubled mind finds an occupation in the tracasseries which his present conduct gives to tlie gover- nor. If the latter be the case, it is in vain for any governor to unite being on good terms with him to the performance of his duty. Buonaparte, in concluding the observations which he thought proper to address to me, made a motion with his hand to Lord Amherst for the introduction of Captain Maxwell and the gentlemen of the embassy. They entered, accompanied by Generals Bertrand, Montholon, and Gourgaud. A circle under the direction of the grand marshal was formed, and Lord Amherst having presented Captain Maxwell, Buona- paite said, " I have heard of you before — you took one of my frigates, the Pauline ; vouseles iin michant ; well, your govern- ment can say nothing about your losing the ship, for you have taken one for them before." He observed of Lord Amherst's son, that he must resemble his mother, and good-humouredly asked him what he had brought from China, whether a bon- net or a mandarin? He inquired of Mr. M'Leod, the surgeon of the Alceste, how long he had served, and if he had been wounded? repeating the question in English. On Mr. Abel being introduced as naturalist, he inquired if he knew Sir Joseph Banks, saying that his name had always been a pass- port, and that, even during the war, his requests had always neen attended to. He wished to know if Mr. Abel was a mem- ber of the Royal Society, or was a candidate for that honour. Buonaparte appeared to be under some erroneous impression respecting a son of Sir J. Banks having gone on an expedition 15 the coast of Africa. Mr. Cook's name led him naturally to inquire whether he was a descendant of the celebrated Cook, the navigator, adding, " he was indeed a great man." Dr. Lynn having been jiresented as a physician, was asked at what university he had studied ? " At Edinburgh," being the reply. — "Ah! you are a Brunonian in practice ; and do you bleed and give as much mercury as our St. Helena doctors? " To Mr. Griiliths, the chaplain, (whom he called Aumo)iier,) he put some questions respecting the state of religion in China; ne was answered, a kind of Polytheism. Not seeming to un- derstand this word spoken in English, Bertrand explained, PluratiU dc Dic'ix. "Ah, Pluralili ilc Uiiux ! Do the^ be- lieve," he resumed, "in the immortality of thesoul?" — " I'hey seem to have some idea of a future state," was the rejilv. He then asked to what university he belonged '! and jokingly said to Lord Amherst, " you must get him a good living when you go home;" adding, "1 wish you mav be a prebenifary." He then inquired of Mr. Hayne, how anu where he had been edu- eated ? On being told that he had been educated at home by his father, he immediately turned away; and having now laid something to each, he dismissed us. No. XVIL— P. 812. MEMORANDt'M OF THE ESTABLISHMENT AT U)JJO\VOOI>. Ge.neral Buo.naparte, .... l Followers. General and Madame Bertrand, . 2 Children of ditto, 3 General and Madame Montholon, ... 2 Children of ditto, 2 General Gourgaud, 1 Count Las Caves, 1 Monsieur Las Cases, his son, .... 1 Captain Prowtowski, 1 Foreign Servants to General Buonaparte, . . 12 Marchand, Novcrraz, Santini, Pierron, Lepage, Archambaud, 1, Aby, Archambaud, 2, Cipriani, Gentilini, Rosseau, 1 female cook, Bernard, wife, and son, foreign servants to General Bertrand, 3 1 French female servant to General Montholon, 1 Rnglish Attendants. 1 English gardener, 1 English soldiers (servants,) .... 12 1 boy, a soldier's son | 1 English maid-servant to General Bertrand, . 1 2 English female servants to General Montholon, 2 Black servants, 3 50 British Officers altaclied to the EstahlisJiment. Captain Poppleton, captain of the guard, . 1 Dr. O'Meara, surgeon, I Servants, 3 Total, . 55 29th August, 1816. Of these persons. General Gourgaud, Madame Montholon and her children. Count Las Cases and his son, Prowtowski and Santini, returned to Europe at different periods. Cipriani, the maitre d'hotel, died on the island. The Abb6 Bonavita, surgeon Antonimarchi, the priest, Vig- nali, and two cooks, were sent out to St. Helena in 181!l. Theabb6 returned to Europe in liKl, having left St. Helena in the month of March of that year. Something happened to three of the servants, Pierron, Abv, and Archambaud, which cannot be now jirecisely ascertained.^ It is thought, however, that Pierron was sent away in conse- quence of some quarrel about a female servant ; Aby (proba- bly) died, and one of the Archam bauds went to America. General Bertrand's family in France, and the relations of his wife in England (the Jeniinghanis,) were employed to send them out several servants, whose names cannot be as- certained. EXTRAIT DU JOTJRNAL JIANl'SCRIT DE M. DE LAS CASES. Dec. 1815. — Depuis notre depart de Plymouth, depuis nft- tre d^barqueraent dans I'ile, jusqu'a notre translation a Long- wood, la maison de I'Empereur, bieii que composee de onze personnes, avait cessee d'exister. Personnes composant le Service de l' Empereur :— Marchand \ ( Prem. valet de chambre. St. Denis Ichambre^ ,V'*=' '''-" '-'hambre. Noverraz i 1 Id. Santini J (.Huissier. Cipriani \ / Maitre d'hdtel. Pierron f „_„ „. _ J Officier. Lepage f B"" '"e i Cusinier. Rosseau ) (.Argentier. Archambault, aine ■» < Piqueur. Archambault, cadet > LivrC-e < Id. Gentilini ) ( Valet de pied. Des que nous fumes tons r^unis k Longwood, I'Fmperenr voulut ri-gulariser tout ce qui (jtoit aiitour de lui, et clierclu* k employer chacun de nous suivant la jieritede son esprit, con- servant au grand mareehal le coinmaiKkiiuiit et la surveil- lance de tout en grand. 11 coiitia a M. de iMoiitholon touii les details domestiques. II donna k Mon.sieur Gourgaud la direction de I'ecurie, et me reserva le di'tail des mcubles, avec la rt^'gularisation des obiets qui nous seroient fournis. Cette derni6re partie me semtloit tellement en contraste avec les dt'tails domestiques, et je trouvois que I'unitd sur cc point devoit etrc si avantageux au bicn cominun, que je me prdai le plus que Je pus k m'cu faire d^poaillcr ; ce qui ne fut pas diiticilc. 8Gt SCOTT'S MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. No. XVIII.— P. S24. INTERVIEW BETWEEN BUONAPARTE AND THE WIDOW OF THEOBALD WOLFE TONE. In vindication of what we have said in the text respecting the ready access afforded by Napoleon, when fimperor, wc mav refer to the following! interesting extract from the Me- moirs of Theobald Wolfe Tone, already quoted. It is the ac- count given by his widow of an interview with the Emperor ; and it is only necessary to add, by way of introduction, that Mrs. Tone, having received a pension from the French govern- ment after her husband's catastrophe, became desirous, in addition, to have her son admitted into the military school at St. Cyr. Being discountenanced in her pretensions by the mi- nister-at-war, she was advised to present her memorial to the Kraperor himself. The following is a very pleasing account of the scene that took place betwi.xt them, in which we give Napoleon full credit for acting from his feelings of generosity towards the widow and orphan of a man who had died in his service : — " Very soon the carriage with the Emperor and Empress drove into the circle ; the horses were changed as quick as thought, but I slept up and presented the book and memo- rial. He took them, and handing the book to his ^ci/urr, opened the paper. I have said it commenced by recalling Tone to his memory. When he began, he said ' Tone!' with an expressive accent — ' I remember well,' {Je m'en souru'iiS bien. ) He read it all through, and two or three times stopped, looked at me, and bowed in reading it. When he had finished, he said to me, 'Now, speak to me of yourself,'(.l/((//(- tenant, parlez moi de I'otis.) I hesitated, for I was not prepa- red for that question, and took small interest in the subject. He proceeded. ' Have you a pension?' I said I had. ' Is it sufficient? Do you want any extraordinary succour?' Bytliis time I had recovered myself, and said, ' That his Majesty's poodness left me no personal want ; that all my cares, all my interest in life, were centered in my child, whom I now gave up to his Majesty's service.' He answered, ' Be tranquil then on his account— be perfectly tranquil concerning him,' {Si\>/i'S done tranquille sur son compte — sotjez jiar/ailement tranquille turliii.) I perceived a little half smile when I said 'my child' Onon Sii/iint.) I should have said ' my son.' I knew it, but forgot. — He had stopped so long, that a crowd had gathered, and were crushing on, crying f^ire I'Empcreur! They drove in the guard, and there came a horse very close to me. I was frightened, and retiring; but he called to stay where I was— • Beshz, restfz la.' Wliether it was for my safety, or that he wanted to say more, I cannot tell ; but more it was impossi- ble to say, for the noise. I was close to the carriage door, and Ihe guards on horseback close behind me, and indeed I was trembling. He saluted the people, and directed that two Na- poleons apiece should be given to the old women, and women with little children, who were holding out their hands. He then drove on, and, in going, nodded to me two or three times with affectionate familiarity, saving, ' Your child shall be well naturalized,' ( Cotreev/ard sera hien )iaturalis^,) with a playful emi)hasis on the words voire enfant." The youth was admitted to the cavalry school of St. Cyr, and the following is an account of Napoleon visiting that semi- nary : — " The Emperor frequently visited the school of infantry at St, Cyr, reviewed the cadets, and gave them cold collations in the park. But he had never visited the school of cavalry since its establishment, of which we were very jealous, and did all in our power to attract him. Whenever he hunted, the ca- dets were in grand parade on the parterre, crying, ' f^ive I'Km- pe)V'«r,' with all their young energies; he held his hat raised as he passed them ; but that was all we could gain. Wise people whispered that he never would go whilst they were so evidently expecting him ; that he liked to keep them always on the alert ; it was good for discipline. The general took an- other plan, and once allowed no sign of life about the castle when the Emperorpassed— it was like a deserted place. But it did not take neitner; he i)assed, as if there was no castle there, it wtis d^sesperant. When, lo! the next day but one after I had spoken to him, he suddenly gallopped into the court of the castle, and the cry of the sentinel, L'Empe- rear.' ' was the first notice they had of it. He examined into every thing. All were in undress, all at work, and this was what he wanted. In the military schools, the cadets got am- munition-bread, and lived like well fed soldiers ; but there was great outcry in the circles of Paris against the bread of the school of St. Germains. Ladies complained that their sons were poisoned by it ; the Emperor thought it was all nicety, and said no man was fit to be an officer who could not eat am- munition-bread. However, being there, he asked for a loaf, which was brought, and he saw it was villanous trash, com- posed of pease, beans, rye, potatoes, and every thing that would make flour or meal, instead of good brown wheaten flour. He tore the loaf in two in a rage, and dashed it acainst the wall, and there it stuck like a piece of mortar, to the great annoyance of those whose duty it was to have attended to this. He ordered the baker to be called, and made him look at it Itickhirj. The man was in great terror first at the Emperor's anger; but, taking heart, he begged his Majesty not to take ni£ contract from him, and. he would give good bread in fu- ture; at which the Emperor broke into a roval and imperial passion, and threatened to send him to the galleys; hut, suddenly turning round, he said, ' Yes, he would allow him to keep his contract, on condition that, as long as it lasted, h« should furnish the school with good white household bread, ( pnin de ni^nage,) such as was sold in the baker's shops in Pa- ris ;— that he might choose that, or lose his contract ; ' and tha baker thankfully jjromised to furnish good white bread in fu- ture, at the same price." No. XIX.— P. 827. Buonaparte's last will and testament. Napolkon. r/(/.s LVh April. 1,S21, at Longwond, Island of St. Ifclena 'J'liis is my Testament, or Act of my last fFdl. I. 1. I die in the apostolical Roman religion, in the bosom of which I was born, more than fifty years since. 2. It is my wish that my ashes mav repose on the banks of the Seine, in the midst of the French people, whom I have loved so well. ;!. I have always had reason to be piefused with my dearest wife, Marie Louise. I retain for her, to my last moment, the most tender sentiments— I beseech her to watch, in order to preserve my son from the snares which yet environ his infan- cy. 4. I recommend to my son never to forget that he was born a French prince, and never to allow himself to become an instrument in the hands of the triumvirs who oppress the nations of Europe; he ought never to tight against France, or to injure her in any manner; he onglit to adopt my motto — " Every thi/i/j for the French people." 5. I die prematurely, assassinated by the English oligarchy and its * * *. The Eng- lish nation will not be slow in avenging me. 6. The two un- fortunate results of the invasions of France, when she had still so many resources, are to be attributed to the treason of Jlar- mont, Augercau, "Talleyrand, and La Fayette. I forgive them —may the posterity of France forgive them like me ! 7. I thanlc my good and most excellent mother- the Cardinal — my brothers Joseph, Lucien, Jerome— Pauline, Caroline, Ju- lie, Hortense, Catarine, Eugene, for the interest which they have continued to fee] for me. I pardon Louis for the libel which he published in 182ii: It is replete with false assertions and falsified dncuments. 8. I disavow the " Manuscript of St. Helena,"and other works, under tlic title of Maxims, Sayings, &c., which persons have been pleased to publish for the last six years. 'These are not the rules which have guided my life. I caused the Due d'Enghien to be arrested and tried, because that step was essential to the safety, interest, and honour of the French people, when the Count d'Artois was maintaining, by his confession, sixty assassins at Paris. Under similar circumstances, I would act in the same way. n. 1. I bequeath to my son, the boxes, orders, and other arti- cles ; such as my plate, field-bed, saddles, spurs, chapel plate, books, linen, which I have been accustomed to wear and use, according to the list annexed (a.) It is my wish that thii slight bequest maybe dear to him, a.s recalling the memoi-yof a father, of whom the universe will discourse to him. 2. I be- queath to Lady Holland the antique cameo which Pope Pius VI. gave me at Tolentino. 3. I bequeath to Count Montho- lon two millions of francs, as a proof of my satisfaction with the filial attentions which he has paid to me during six years, and as an indemnity for the losses which his residence at St. Helena has occasioned. 4. I bequeath to Count Bertrand five hundred thousand francs. 5. I bequeath to Marchand, my first valet-de-chambre, four hundred thousand francs. The services which he has rendered to me a'^e those of a friend ; it is my wish that he should marry the widow, sister, or daugh- ter of an ofhcer of my old guard. 6. Item, To St. Denis, one hundred thousand francs. 7- Item, To Novarre, one hundred thousand francs. 8. Item, To Pieron, one hundred thousand francs. 9. Item, To Archamb.aud, fifty thousand francs. 10. Item, To Cursor, twenty-five thousand francs. 11. Item, to Chandellier, item. 12. Item, to the Abbe Vignali, one hundred thousand francs. It is my wish that he should build his house near the Ponte nuovo di Costino. 13. Item, 'To Count Las Cases, one hundred thousand francs. 14. Item To Count La- valette, one hundred thousand francs. 15. Item, To Larrey, surgeon-in-chief, one hundred thousand francs. — He is the most virtuous man I have known. 16. Item, To General Brav- her, one hundred thousand francs. 17. Item, To General Le Fevre DesnoOettes, one hundred thousand francs. 18. Item, To General Drouot, one hundred thousand francs. 19. Item, To General Cambrone, one hundred thousand francs. 2(1. Item, 'To the children of General Mouton Duvernet, one hundred thousand francs. 21. Item, To the children of the brave Labedoyire, one hundred thousand francs. 22. Item, To the children of General Girard, killed at Ligny. one hundred thousand francs. 23. Item, To the cliildren of General .Mar- chand, on(i hundred thousand francs. 24. Item, To the chil- dren of the virtuous General Travost, one hundred thousand francs. 25. Item, To General Lallemand the elder, one huii. dred thousand francs. 26. Item, To Count Keal.one hundred thousand francs. 27. ItTm, To Costa de Basilica, in Corsica, one hundred thousand francs. 28. Item, To General Clauael, APPENDIX TO THE LIFE OF BUON.\PARTE. 865 OBe hundred thousand francs. 29. Item, To Baron de Me- neTalle, one hundred thousand francs. 30. Item, To Arnault, the author of Marius, one hundred thousand francs. 31. Item, To Colonel Jfarbot, one hundred thousand francs. — I engage him to continue to write in defence of the glory of the French armies, and to confound their calumniators and apostates. 32. Item, To Baron Bignon, one hundred thousand francs. — I en- gage him to write the history of French diplomacy, from 1792 to 1815. 33. Item, To Poggi di Talavo, one hundred thousand francs. 34. Item, To surgeon Emmery, one hundred tliousand francs. 35. These sums will be raised from the six million* which I deposited on leaving Paris in 1815 ; and from the inte- rest, at the rate of five percent., since July IKI.i. The account will be settled with the banker by Counts iluntholon, Ber- trand, and Marchand. 36. Whatever that deposit may pro- duce beyond the sum of five million six hundred thousand francs, which have been above disposed of, shall be distribut- ed as a gratuity amongst the wounded at the battle of Water- loo, and amongst the officers and soldiers of the iDattalion of the Isle of Elba, according to a scale to be determined upon by Montholon, Bertrand, Drouot, Cambrone, and the surgeon Larrey. 37. These legacies, in case of death, shall he paid to the widows and children, and in default of such, sliall revert to the bulk of my property. III. 1. My private domain being my property, of which no French law depriics me, that I am aware of, an account of it will be required from the Baron de la Bouillerie, the treasurer there- of; it ought to amount to more than 200,000,0(10 of francs ; namely, 1. The portfolio containing the savings which I made during fourteen years out of my civil list, which amounted to more than 12,0()o,000 per annum, if my memory be good. 2. The produce of this portfolio. 3. The furniture of my palaces, Buch as it was in 1H14, including the palaces of Rome, Flo- rence, and Turin. All this furniture was purchased with mo- neys accruing from the civil list. 4. The proceeds of my houses in the kingdom of Italy, such as money, plate, jewels, furniture, equipages ; the accounts will be rendered by Prince Eugene, and the steward of the crown, Campagnoni. Napoleon. 2. I bequeath my private domain, one half to the surviving officers and soldiers of the French army who have fought since 1792 to 1815, for the glory and the independence of the nation. The distribution shall be made in proportion to their appoint- ments upon active service. One half to the towns and districts of Alsace, of Lorraine, of FrancheCompt^, of Burgundy, of the isle of France, of Chamjiagne Forest, Dauphin^, which may have suffered by either of the invasions. There shall be pre- viously deducted from this sum, one million for the town of Brienne, and one million for that of Meri I appoint Counts Montholon, Bertrand, and Marchand, the executors of my will. This present will, wholly written with my own hand, is signed, and sealed with my own arms. {Ia. s.) Napoleon. List (A.) Affixed to my Wili,. Longwood, Island of St. Helena, this 15th April, 1821. I. '1. The consecrated vessels which have been in use at my chapel at Longwood. 2. I enjoin the Abb6 Vignali to preserve ihem, and to deliver them to my son, when he shall reach the age of sixteen years, II. I. My arms, that is to say, my sword, that which I wore at Austeriitz, the sabre of Sobieski, my dagger, my broad sword, my hanger, my two pair of Versailles pistols. 2. My gold tra- velling; box, that of which I made use on the morning of Ulm wnd of Austeriitz, of Jena, of Eylau, of Friedland, of the island cf Lobau, of Moscow, of Monmirail. In this point of view, it is my wish that it may be precious in the eyes of my sou. (It has been deposited with Count Bertrand since 1814.) 3. I charge Count Bertrand with the care of preserving these ob- jects, and of conveying them to my son, when he shall attain the age of sixteen years. III. 1. Three small mahogany boxes, containing, the first, thirty- three snuff-boxes, or comfit-boxes; the second, twelve boxes, with the Imperial arms, two small eye-glasses, and four boxes found on the table of Louis XVIIl., in the Tuileries, on the 80th of March, 1815 ; the third, three snuff-boxes, ornamented with silver medals, according to the custom of the Emperor ; and sundry articles for the use of the toilet, according to the lists numbered I., II., III. 2. My field-beds, which I used in ■11 my campaigns. 3. My field telescope. 4. My dressing-box, one of each of my uniforms, a dozen of shirts, and a complete »et of each of my dresses, and generally of every thing used iu my toilet. 5. My wash-hand stand. 6. A small clock which is in my chamber at Longwood. 7. My two watches, and the VOL. II. 865 chain of the Empress's hair. 8. I clvarge Marchand, my prin- cipal valet-de-chambre, to take care of these articles, and to convey them to my son, when he shall attain the age of sixteen years. IV. 1. My cabinet of medals. 2. My plate, and my Sevres china, which I used at St. Helena. (List Band C.I 3. 1 charge Count Montholon to take care of these articles, and to convey them to my son, when he shall attain the age of sixteen years. V. 1. My three saddles and bridles, my spurs, which I used at St. Helena. 2. My fowling-pieces, to the number of five. 3. 1 charge my huntsman, Novarre, to take care of these articles, and to convey them to my son, when he shall attain the age of sixteen years. VI. 1. Four hundred volumes, selected from those in ray library, which I have been accustomed to use the most. 2. I charge St. Denis to take care of them, and to convey them to my son, when he shall attain the age of sixteen years. List (A.) 1. None of the articles which have been used by me shall be sold : the residue shall be divided amongst the executors of my will and my brothers. 2. Marchand shall preserve my hair, and cause a bracelet to be made of it, with a gold clasp, to be sent to the Empress Marie Louise, to my mother, and to each of my brothers, sisters, nephews, nieces, the cardinal, and one of larger size for my son. 3. Marchand will send one pair of my gold shoe-buckles to Prince Joseph. 4. A small pair of gold knee-buckles to Prince Lucien. 5. A gold coUar- clasp to Prince Jerome. List (A.) Inventory of my Effects, which Marchand will take care of, and convey to my Son. I. My silver dressing-box, that which is on my table, fur- nished with all its utensils, razors, &c. 2. My alarm-clock: it is the alarm-clock of Frederick II. which I took at Pots- dam (in box No. III.) 3. My two watches, with the chain of the Empress's hair, and a chain of my own hair for the other watch : Marchand will get it made at Paris. 4. My two seals (one French,) contained in box No. III. 5. The small gold clock which is now in my bed-chamber. 6. My wash- stand, its water-jug and foot-bath, &c. 7. My night-table, that which I used in France, and my silver-gilt bidet. 8. My two iron bedsteads, my mattresses, and my coverlets if thev can be preserved. 9. My three silver decanters, which held my eau de vie, which my chasseurs carried in the field. 10. My French telescope. 11. My spurs, two pair. 12. Three mahogany boxes. No. I., II., III., containing my snuff-boxes, and other articles. 13. A silver-gilt perfuming-pan. Body Linen. 6 shirts, 6 handkerchiefs, 6 cravats, 6 napkins, 6 pair of silk stockings, 6 black stocks, 6 pair of under stockings, 2 pair of cambric sheets, 2 pillow cases, 2 dressing gowns, 2 pair of night drawers, 1 pair of braces, 4 pair of white kerseymere breeches and vests, 6 madras, 6 flannel waistcoats, 6 pair of drawers, 6 pair of gaiters, 1 small box filled with my snuff, [1 gold neck-buckle, 1 pair gold knee-buckles, 1 pair gold shoe- buckles, contained in the little box. No. III.] Clothes. I uniform of the chasseurs, 1 ditto grenadiers, 1 ditto national guards, 2 hats, 1 green-and-grey great coat, 1 blue cloak (that which I had at Marengo,) 1 sable green pelisse, 2 pairof shoes, 2 pair of boots, 2 pair of slippers, belts. Napoueo.v. List (B.) Inventory of the Effects which Heft in possession of Monsieur the Count de Turenne. 1. Sabre of Sobieski. It is by mistake inserted in List A. It is the sabre which the Emperor wore at Aboukir, which is in the hands of the Count Bertrand. 1 grand collar of the legion of honour, 1 sword, of silver gilt, 1 consular sword, 1 sword, of steel, 1 velvet telt, 1 collar of the golden fleece, 1 small travelling box of steel, 1 ditto of silver, 1 handle of an antique sabre, 1 hat of Henry IV., and a caj), the lace of the Emperor, 1 small cabinet of medals, 2 turkey carpets, 2 man- tles, of crimson velvet, embroidered, with vests and small- clothes. I give to my son the sabre of Sobieski. Do. the collar of the legion of honour. Do. the sword, silver gilt. Do. the consular sword. Do. the steel sword. Do. the collar of the golden fleece. Do. the hat of Henry IV. and the cap. Do. the golden drcssmg-box for the teeth, which 18 in the hands of the dentist. .SK 866 SCOTTS MISCELLANEOUS PROSE WORKS. To the Empress Marie Louise, my lace. To Madame, the silver night-lamp. To the Cardinal, the small steel travelling-box. To Prince Eugene, the wax candlestick, silver gilt. To the Princess Pauline, the small travelling-box. To the Queen of Naples, a small Turkey carpet. To the Queen Hortense, a small Turkey carpet. To Prince Jerome, the handle of the antique sabre. To Prince Joseph, an embroidered mantle, vest, and small- clothes. To Prince Lucien, an embroidered mantle, vest, and small- clothes. April l6th,iS2J. Longioood. This is a Codicil to my fVill. 1. It is my wish that my ashes may repose on the banks of the Seine, in the midst of tlie French people, whom I loved so well. 2. I bequeath to Counts Bertrand, Montholon, and to Marchand, the money, jewels, plate, china, furniture, books, arms, and generally every thing that belongs to me in the island of St. Helena. This codicil, entirely written with my own hand, is signed, and sealed with my own arms. (I/. 6.) Napoleon. This 2ilh April, 1821. Longwood. This is my Codicil or Note of my last fyili. Out of the settlement of my civil list of Italy, such as money, jewels, plate, linen, equipages, of which the Viceroy is the de- positary, and which belonged to me, I dispose of two millions, which I bequeath to my most faithful servants. I hope that, without acting upon the credit of any account, my son, Eu- gene Napoleon, will pay them faithfully. He cannot forget the forty millions which I gave him in Italy, and in the distri- bution of the inheritance of his mother. 1. Out of these two millions. I bequeath to Count Bertrand, 300,000 francs, of which he will deposit 100,000 in the treasu- rer's chest, to be disposed of according to my dispositions, in payment of legacies of conscience. 2. To Count Montholon, 200,000 francs, of which he will deposit 100,000 in the chest, for the same purpose as above mentioned. 3. To Count Las Cases, 200,000, of which he will deposit 100,000 in the chest, for the same purpose as above mentioned. 4. To Marchand, 100,0(10, of which he will deposit 50,00t) in the chest, for the same pur- pose as above mentioned. 5. To Count Lavalette, 100,000. 6. To General Hogendorf, of Holland, my aide-de-camp, who has retired to the Brazils, 100,000. 7. To my aide-de-camp, Corbineau, 50,000. 8. To my aide-de-camp. General Caffarelli, 50,000 francs. 9. To mv aide-de-camp, Dejeau, 50,000. 10. To Percy, surgeon-in-chief at Waterloo, 50,(KiO. 11. 50,000, that is to say, 10,000 to Pieron, my maitre d'hotel ; 10,000 to St. Denis, my head chasseur; lO.OiXl to Novarre ; 10,000 to Cur- sor, my clerk of the kitchen ; 1(1,000 to Archambaud, my over- seer. 12. To Baron Mainevalle, 5li,000. 13. To the Duke d'ls- tria, son of Bessidres, 50,(i00 francs. 14. To the daughter of Duroc, 50,000 francs. 15. To the children of Labddoyere, 50,000. 16. To the children of Mouton Duvernet, 50,(JOO. 17. To the children of the brave and virtuous General Travost, 50,000. 18. To the children of Chartrand, 5i),00O. 19. To General Cam- hrone, 50,(J0ii. 20. To General Lefevre Desnouettes, 50,000. 21. To be distributed amongst such proscribed persons as wander in foreign countries, whether tney may be French, or Italian, or Belgians, or Dutch, or Spanish, or inhabitants of the departments of the Rhine, at the disposal of my execu- tors, 100,000. 22. To be distributed amongst those who suf- fered amputation, or were severely wounded at Ligny, or Waterloo, who may be still living, according to lists drawn up by my executors, to whom shall be added, Cambrone, Lar- rey, Percy, and Emmery. The guard shall be paid double; those of the island of Elba, quadruple ; 200,000 francs. This codicil is written entirely with my own hand, signed, and sealed with my arms. Napoleon. TJiis 2ith of April, 1821, at Longwood. This is a third Codicil to my IVill of the 16th qf April. I. Amongst the diamonds of the crown which were delivered up in 1814, there were some to the value of iive or six hundred thousand francs, not belonging to it, but which formed part of my private property; repossession shall be obtained of them, in order to discharge my legacies. 2. I had in the hands of the banker Torlonia, at Rome, bills of exchange to the amount of two or three hundred thousand francs, the produce of my revenues of the island of Elba, since 1815. The Sicur Do La Perouse, although no longer my treasurer, and not in- vested ^vith any character, possessed himself of this sum. He shall be compelled to restore it. 3. I bequeath to the Duke of Istria three hundred thousand francs, of which only one hundred thousand francs shall be reversible to his widow, should the duke be dead at the payment of the legacy. It is my wish, should there be no inconvenience in it, that the duke may marry Duroc's daughter. 4. I bequeath to the Dcuhcss of Frioul, the daughter of Duroc, two hundred thou- 866 sand francs: should she be dead at the payment of this ie. gacy, none of it shall be given to the mother. 5. I bequeath to General Rigaud (to him who was proscribed,) one hundred thousand francs. 6. I bequeath to Boisnod, the intendant commissary, one hundred thousand francs. 7- I bequeath to the children of General Letort, who was killed in the campaign of 1815, one hundred thousand francs. 8. These eight hun- dred thousand francs of legacies shall be considered as if in- serted at the end of Article xxxvi. of my testamt-nt, which will make the legacies which I have disposed of, by my will, amount to the sum of six million four hundred thousand francs, without comprising the donations which I have made by my second codicil. This is written with my own hand, signed, and sealed with my arms. (L. s.) Napoleon. [On the outside, nearly at the centre, is written :] This is my third codicil to my will, entirely written with my own handi signed, and sealed with my arms. [The words are intermixed with the signatures of Ber- trand, Montholon, Marchand, Vignali, with their re- spective seals, and a piece of green silk runs through the centre. On the upper left corner are the following directions :] To be opened the same day, and immediately after the open- ing of my will. Napoleo.v. [With some fragments of the signatures of the above-named witnesses.] This 2Uh April, 1821. Longwood. Tins is a fourth Codicil to my Testament. By the dispositions which we have heretofore made, we have not fulfilled all our obligations ; which has decided us to make this fourth codicil. 1. We bequeath to the son or grandson of Baron Dutheil, lieutenant-general of artillery, and formerly lord of St. An- dre, who commanded the school of Auxonne before the Re- volution, the sura of one hundred thousand francs, as a me- mento of gratitude for the care which that brave general took of us when we were lieutenant and captain under his orders. 2. Item. To the son or grandson of General Dugomier, who commanded in chief the army of Toulon, the sum of one hun- dred thousand francs. We under his orders directed that siege, and commanded the artillery ; it is a testimonial of re- membrance for the marks of esteem, of affection, and of friendship, which that brave and intrepid general gave us. 3. Item. We bequeath one hundred thousand francs to the son or grandson of the deputy of the Convention, Gasparin, representative of the people at the army of Toulon, for having protected and sanctioned with his authority, the plan which we had given, which procured the capture of that city, and which was contrary to that sent by the Committee of Public Safety. Gasparin placed us, by his protection, under shelter from the persecution and ignorance of thegeneral ofhcers who commanded the army before the arrival of my friend Dugo- mier. 4. Item. We bequeath one hundred thousand francs to the widow, son, or grandson, of our aide-de-camp, Muiron, killed at our side at Areola, covering us with his body. 5. Item. Ten thousand francs to the subaltern officer Can- tillon, who has undergone a trial, upon the charge of having endeavoured to assassinate Lord Wellington, of which he was pronounced innocent. Cantillon had as much right to assas- sinate that o//^a?rA/rf, as the latter had to send me to perish ujion the rock of St. Helena. Wellington, who proposed this outrage, attempted to justify himself by pleading the interest of Great Britain. Cantillon, if he had really assassinated that lord, would have excused himself, and have been justified by the same motives, the interest of France, to get rid of a gene- ral, who, moreover, had violated the capitulation of Paris, and by that had rendered himself responsible for the blood of the martyrs Ney, Labedoyere, &c. ; and for the crime of having piUiiged the museums, contrary to the text of the treaties. 6. These four hundred thousand francs shall be added to the six million four hundred thousand of which we have dis- {)osed, and will make our legacies amount to six million eight lundred and ten thousand francs ; these four hundred and ten thousand are to be considered as forming part of our testa- ment, article 36 ; and to follow in every thing the same course as the other legacies. 7. The nine thousand pounds sterling which we gave to Count and Countess Montholon, should, if they have been paid, be deducted and carried to the account of the legacies which we have given to him by our testament. If they have not been paid, our notes of hand shall be annulled. 8. In consideration of the legacy given by our will to Count Montholon, the pension of twenty thousand francs granted to his wife, is annulled. Count Montholon is charged to pay it to her. 9. The administration of such an inheritance, until its final liquidation, requiring expenses of offices, of journeys, of mis- sions, of consultations, and of law-suits, we expect that out testamentary executors shall retain three per cent upon al' APPENDIX TO THE LIPE OF BUONAPARTE. 8G7 the legacies, as well upon the six million eight hundred thou- sand francs, as upon the sums contained in the codicils, and upon the two millions of the private domain. 10. The amount of the same tlius retained, shall be depo- sited in the hands of a treasurer, and disbursed by drafts from our testamentary executors. 11. If the sums arising from the aforesaid deductions be not Bufficient to defray the expenses, provision shall be made to tliat effect, at the expense of the three testamentary execu- tors and the treasurer, each in proportion to the legacy which we have bequeathed to them in our will aud codicils 12. Should the sums arising from the before-mentioned sub- tractions be more than necessary, the surplus shall be divided amongst our three testamentary executors and the treasurer, in the proportion of their respective legacies. 13. We nominate Count Las Cases, and in default of him, his son, and in default of the latter. General Drouot, to be treasurer. This present codicil is entirely written with our hand, signed, and sealed with our arms. Napoleon. This 24/A qf April, 1821. Longwood. TTiis is my Codicil or Act of my last IVill. Upon the funds remitted in gold to the Empress Maria Louise, my very dear and well-beloved spouse, at Orleans, in 1814, she remains in my debt two millions, of which I dispose by the present codicil, for the purpose of recompensing my most faithful servants, whom moreover I recommend to the protection of my dear Marie Louise. I recommend to the empress to cause the income of thirty thousand francs, which Count Bertrand possessed in the duchy of Parma, and upon the Mont Napoleon at Milan, to be restored to him. as well as the arrears due. 2. I make the same recommendation to her with regard to the Duke of Istria, Duroc's daughter, and others of my ser- vants who have continued faithful to me, and who are always dear to me. She knows them. 3. Out of the above-mentioned two millions, I bequeath three hundred thousand francs to Count Bertrand, of which he will lodge one hundred thousand in the treasurer's chest, to be employed in legacies of conscience, according to my dis- positions. 4. I bequeath two hundred thousand to Count Montholon, of which he will lodge one hundred thousand in the treasu- rer's chest, for the same purpose as above-mentioned. 5. Item, Two hundred thousand to Count Las Cases, of which he will lodce one hundred thousand in the treasurer's chest, for the same purpose as above-mentioned. 6. Item, To Alarchand, one hundred thousand, of ighich he will place fifty thousand in the treasurer's chest, for the same purpose as above-mentioned. 7. To Jean Jerome Levie, the mayor of Ajaceio at the com- mencement of the Revolution, or to his widow, children, or grand-children, one hundred thousand francs. 8. To Duroc's daughter, one hundred thousand. 9. To the son of Bessieres, Duke of Istria, one hundred thousand. 10. To General Drouot, one hundred thousand. 11. To Count Lavalette, one hundred thousand. 12. Item, One hundred thousand ; that is to say, twenty- five thousand to Pieron, my maitred'hotel ; twenty-five thou- sand to Novarre, my huntsman ; twenty-five thousand to St. Denis, the keeper of my books ; twenty-five thousand to San- tini. my former door-keeper. la Item, One hundred thousand ; that is to sav, forty thou- 867 sand to Planfa, my orderly officer ; twenty thousand to H* bert, lately housekeeper of Rambouillet, and who belonged to my chamber in Egypt ; twenty thousand to Lavign^, who was lately keeper ofone of my stables, and who was my jockey in Egypt ; twenty thousand to Jeanet Dervieux, who was over- seer of the stables, and served in Egypt with me. 14. Two hundred thousand francs shall be distributed in alms to the Inhabitants of Brienne-leChateau, who have suf- fered most. 15. The three hundred thousand francs remaining, shall be distributed to the officers and soldiers of my guard at the is- land of Elba, who may be now alive, or to their widows oi children, in proportion to their appointments ; and according to an estimate which shall be fixed by my testamentary exe- cutors. Those who have suffered amputation, or have been severely wounded, shall receive double : The estimate of it to be fixed by Larrey and Emmery. This codicil is written entirely with my own hand, signed, and sealed with my arms. Napoleo.v. [On the back of the codicil is written :] This is my codicil, or act of my last will— the execution of which I recommend to my dearest wife, the Empress Marie Louise. (L. s.) Napoleow. [Attested by the following witnesses, whose seals are re- spectively affixed :] Montholon, "\ KTn°o, ^Apiece of green silk. ViGNALI. J 6th Codicil. Monsieur Lafitte, I remitted to you, in 1815, at the moment of my departure from Paris, a sum of near six millions, for which you have given me a receipt and duplicate. I have cancelled one of the receipts, and I charge Count Montholon to present you with the other receipt, in order that you may pay to him, after my death, the said sum, with interest at the rate of five per cent, from the 1st of July, 1815, deducting the payments which you have been instructed to make by virtue of my orders. It IS my wish that the settlement of your account may be agreed upon between you. Count Montholon, Count Bertrand, and the Sieur Marchand ; and this settlement being made, I give you, by these presents, a complete and absolute discharge from the said sum. I also, at that time, placed in your hands a box, containing my cabinet of medals. I beg you will give it to Count Mon- tholon. This letter having no other object, I pray God, Monsieur La- fitte, to have you in his holy and good keeping. Napoleon. Lonywood, Island of St. Helena, the 25th April, 1821. Tth Codicil. Monsienr le Baron Labouillerie, treasurer of ray private do- main, I beg you to deliver the account and the balance, after my death, to Count Montholon, whom I have charged with the execution of my will. This letter having no other object, I pray God, Monsieur le Baron Labouillerie, to have you in his holy and good keeping Napoleom. Long'.rood, Island of St. Helena, (he ibth April, 1821. END OF TOLUllE SECOND. 1,.'' University of California SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACILITY 305 De Neve Drive - Parking Lot 17 • Box 951388 LOS ANGELES, CALIFORNIA 90095-1388 Return thiis material to the library from which it was borrowed. IP 1 20tii OCT 6 2008 Series 9482 '« Si m