CORSICA.—REMARK MADE BY PAOLI.—MAGNANIMOUS CONDUCT OF MADAME MÉRE.—LUCIEN INTENDED TO BE GOVERNOR-GENERAL OF CORSICA.—THE FIRST CONSUL’S COURT.—MADAME DE CHEVREUSE.—THE EMPEROR RECEIVES A LETTER FROM HIS MOTHER.
29th.—For some time past, at our urgent solicitation, the Emperor every evening made a promise that he would ride on horseback early on the following morning; but whenever the appointed hour arrived he invariably changed his determination. This morning, he was in the garden by half-past eight o’clock, and he sent for me. The conversation turned on Corsica, and was maintained for upwards of an hour.
"One’s native country," said he, “is always dear. Even St. Helena may have charms to those who were born here.” To the Emperor, therefore, Corsica presented a thousand attractions. He described the grand scenery of the country, and remarked that islanders always display originality of character, because their situation tends to protect them against invasion, and precludes that perpetual intercourse with foreigners which is experienced in continental states. The inhabitants of mountainous regions, he said, always possess a degree of energy, and a turn of mind peculiar to themselves. He dwelt much on the charms of his native country, which, from his early recollections, was to him superior to any other spot in the world. He thought that the very smell of the earth would enable him to distinguish his native land, even were he conducted blindfold to her shores; there was in it something peculiar, which he had never perceived elsewhere. Corsica was the scene of all his early attachments; he had there passed the happy years of his childhood, freely roaming among the hills and valleys, enjoying the honours and pleasures of hospitality. He traced different lines of family connections, who, he said, extended the spirit of animosity and revenge, even to the seventh degree; and he observed that a young woman in Corsica thought she enhanced the value of her dowry by enumerating the list of her cousins. He recollected with pride that, when only twenty years of age, he had accompanied Paoli on a grand excursion to Porte di Nuovo. Paoli’s retinue was numerous; he was escorted by upwards of 500 of his followers on horseback. Napoleon rode by his side, and, as they went along, Paoli pointed out to him the different positions and the places which had been the scenes of resistance or triumph during the war for Corsican liberty. He related to him all the particulars of that glorious conflict; and, on hearing the remarks and opinions which fell from his young companion, he said, "Oh Napoleon! there is nothing modern in your character! you are formed entirely on Plutarch’s model."
When Paoli manifested his determination to surrender the island to the English, the Bonaparte family continued to head the French party, and had the fatal honour of being the object of a march of the inhabitants of the island, that is to say, they were attacked by a levy in mass: 12 or 15,000 peasants made a descent from the mountains on Ajaccio. The house occupied by Napoleon’s family was pillaged and burnt, and the vines and flocks were destroyed. Madame, surrounded by a few faithful friends, wandered for some time on the sea-shore, and was at length obliged to fly to France. The Bonaparte family had always been much attached to Paoli, and he in his turn had professed particular respect towards Madame. It is, however, but just to remark that he employed persuasion before he resorted to force. “Renounce this opposition,” said he, “it will prove the ruin of yourself, your family, and your fortune; you will bring irreparable misery on yourself.” The Emperor, indeed, affirmed that, but for the chance of the revolution, the family could never have recovered from their misfortunes. Madame, like another Cornelia, heroically replied, “that she, her children, and her relatives would only obey two laws, namely, those of duty and honour. Had old Archdeacon Lucien been living at that time, his heart would have bled at the idea of the danger of his sheep, goats, and cattle, and his prudence would not have failed to allay the storm.”
Madame Bonaparte, the victim of her patriotism and her attachment to France, expected to be received at Marseilles as an emigrant of distinction; but there she scarcely found herself in safety; and, to her astonishment, discovered that the spirit of patriotism existed only among the very lowest classes of the people.
Napoleon, in his youth wrote a history of Corsica, which he dedicated to the Abbé Raynal. This production gained for him some flattering compliments and letters from the Abbé, who was the fashionable author of the day. This history has been lost.
The Emperor remarked that, during the war in Corsica, all the French who came to the island formed some decided opinion on the character of the mountaineers. Some said that they were full of enthusiasm, others regarded them as mere banditti.
It was said in the Senate at Paris, that France had chosen a ruler from among a people whom the Romans would not take for their slaves. “The Senator intended this remark as an insult to me,” said the Emperor; “but he forgot how high a compliment he was thus paying to the Corsicans. He spoke truly: the Romans never purchased Corsican slaves: they knew that it was impossible to reduce the Corsicans under the yoke of slavery.”
During the war for liberty in Corsica, some one proposed the singular plan of cutting down and burning all the chesnut-trees, the fruit of which furnishes sustenance to the mountaineers. By this means it was hoped they would be compelled to descend to the plains to sue for food and peace. Happily, said the Emperor, this was one of those impracticable plans which can be realized only on paper. From very different motives, Napoleon, during the early period of his life, had constantly declaimed against the goats, which are very numerous in the island, and commit great ravages among the trees. He wished them to be entirely extirpated. On this subject he had some terrible disputes with his uncle, Archdeacon Lucien, who possessed numerous herds of goats, and who defended them like a patriarch. In his rage, he reproached his nephew with being an innovator, and inveighed against philosophic ideas, as the cause of the danger with which his goats were threatened.
Paoli died in London at a very old age: he lived to see Napoleon First Consul and Emperor. The Emperor expressed his regret at not having recalled him. “That,” said he, “would have been highly gratifying to me. Such an act would have been a real trophy of honour. But my mind was absorbed in important affairs; I rarely had time to indulge my personal feelings.”
After the Emperor’s return in 1815, when Lucien arrived in Paris, Joseph advised the Emperor to appoint him Governor General of Corsica. This measure was even determined on; the importance and hurry of passing events alone prevented its execution. “If Lucien had gone to Corsica,” said the Emperor, “he would still have remained master of the Island, and what resources would it not have presented to our persecuted patriots?—To how many unfortunate families would not Corsica have afforded an asylum? He repeated that he had perhaps committed a fault, at the time of his abdication, in not reserving to himself the sovereignty of Corsica, together with the possession of some millions of the civil list; and in not having conveyed all his valuables to Toulon, whence nothing could have impeded his passage. In Corsica, he would have found himself at home; the whole population would have been, as it were, his own family. He might have disposed of every arm and every heart. Thirty thousand or even 50,000 allied troops could not have subdued him.” No sovereign in Europe would have undertaken such a task. But it was precisely the happy security of the situation that deterred him from availing himself of it. He would not have it said that, amidst the wreck of the French people, which he plainly foresaw, he alone had been artful enough to gain the port.
Some one here observed that, according to the general opinion, he might, in 1814, have secured the possession of Corsica instead of the Island of Elba. “Certainly I might,” replied the Emperor, “and those who are well acquainted with the affairs of Fontainebleau will be surprised that I did not. I might then have reserved to myself whatever I pleased. The humour of the moment led me to decide in favour of Elba. Had I possessed Corsica, it is probable that my return in 1815 would never have been thought of. Even at Elba, those whose interest it was to keep me there decreed my return by their own misgovernment and the non-fulfilment of the engagements which they had entered into with me.”
We now reminded the Emperor of his intention of riding on horseback; but he said that he would rather walk and chat. He ordered his breakfast, after which we conversed for some time on the old Court, the nobility who composed it, their pretensions, the King’s equipages, &c.; and all this was compared with what the Emperor had himself introduced.
The Emperor then reverted to the period of his Consulship, and described the difficulties which he had experienced in forming the kind of Court which was then kept up at the Tuileries. On his arrival there, he was resolved to obliterate the recollection of the manners and conflicts of the period to which he had just succeeded. But he had hitherto passed his life in camps: he had just returned from Egypt, and had quitted France when young and inexperienced. He was a stranger to every one, and he at first found this a source of great embarrassment. Lebrun acted as his guide during the first years of his Consulship. Bankers and money-speculators were at that time persons of the first consequence. No sooner did the Consul enter upon his functions, than a host of these individuals crowded round him, and eagerly offered to advance him considerable sums of money. This conduct, though seemingly dictated only by generosity, was not however without interested views. They were for the most part men of bad character; and their offers were rejected. The First Consul had a natural dislike of men of this profession. He said that he had taken the firm determination to act upon different principles from those of Scherer, Barras, and the Directory. He was anxious that probity should become the main spring and feature of his new government. The Consul was also immediately surrounded by the wives of these money-lenders, who were all beautiful and elegant women. Indeed a money-lender at that time seemed to regard it as indispensably necessary that his wife should be a woman of fascinating manners: it was a circumstance that tended materially to assist his speculations. But the prudent Lebrun was at hand to direct the young Telemachus. He resolved to exclude this sort of society from the Tuileries. It was, however, no such easy matter to assemble a suitable circle around the Consul: nobles were rejected, in order to avoid giving offence to public opinion; and contractors were excluded, with the view of purifying the morals of the new era. These two classes being thus shut out, of course no very distinguished society remained; and the Tuileries for some time presented a sort of magic-lantern, very varied and changeable.
At Moscow, the Viceroy happened to meet with some letters written by Princess Dolgoruki, who had been at Paris at the period here alluded to. This correspondence gave a very favourable picture of the Tuileries. The Princess observed that it was not precisely a Court, nor yet exactly a camp; but something perfectly new in its kind. She added that the First Consul did not carry his hat under his arm, nor wear a dress-sword by his side; but that he was nevertheless a swordsman. “However,” continued the Emperor, “such is the effect of evil report that, owing to some such expressions as these having been misrepresented to me, Princess Dolgoruki was very unjustly treated. I ordered her, at that time, to quit France. We thought her hostile to the principles of our government; but we were, as it may be seen, mistaken. Madame G...., the mistress of M. de T...., for he had not yet made her his wife, greatly contributed to alienate from us the regard of the Russians.”
The Emperor observed that, on his return from Elba, he had experienced far less embarrassment in composing his Court. “It was, indeed,” said he, “all ready formed, by the ladies whom I termed my widows. These were Madame Duroc, the Duchess of Istria, Mesdames Regnier, Lagrand, and all the other widows of my first generals. I told the Princesses, who consulted me on the method of recomposing their Courts, to follow my example. Nothing was more natural and proper. These ladies, though still young, were already experienced in the world; and among them were several beautiful and fascinating women. Most of them have now lost their fortunes; some, I have been told, are re-married, and have changed their names;[[17]] so that, of all the wealth and rank founded by me, no traces will perhaps remain; even names will disappear. If this should really be the case, will it not afford ground for saying that, after all, there must have been a radical error in the selections I made. But it will be the worse for the parties themselves; they will by this means only furnish a triumph and a ground of insolence to the old aristocracy.”
We again reminded the Emperor of his intended ride on horseback: we urged him not to neglect it, because we knew it to be absolutely necessary for his health. But we could not prevail on him to leave the garden. “We are very well here,” said he; “we will have some tents pitched on this spot.” We began to talk about the Faubourg St. Germain, and the Hotel de Luynes, which the Emperor termed its metropolis. He described to us the cause of the banishment of Madame de Chevreuse. He said, he had frequently threatened to visit her with this punishment, and for conduct of the most mischievous and insolent nature. One day, when urged to the utmost extremity, he addressed her as follows:—"Madam, according to the feudal notions and doctrines, entertained by you and your friends, you pretend to be the sovereigns of your estates! Now, on the same principles, I may style myself the Sovereign Lord of France. I may claim Paris as my village, and may banish from it every individual who is obnoxious to me. I judge you by your own laws. Begone! and never venture to return!" On decreeing her exile, the Emperor was firmly resolved never to be prevailed on to recal her; because, he said, he had endured much before he had decreed her punishment, and he found himself compelled to set an example of severity to spare the necessity of repeating it on others. This was one of his grand principles.
I told the Emperor that I had frequently visited the Hotel de Luynes, and that I had been well acquainted with Madame de Chevreuse and her mother-in-law, for whom I had always entertained a great regard. The latter had evinced singular and constant affection for her daughter-in-law, having shared her exile, and accompanied her in her different journeys from place to place. When proceeding on my mission to Illyria, I one night met them both in an inn at the foot of the Simplon. To be thus able to procure in the desert the most trivial details relating to Paris and the Court, was to them a source of unfeigned joy, and a most unexpected instance of good fortune. They listened to me with no less eagerness than that evinced by Fouquet on hearing the accounts of Lauzun. Their banishment from the capital had been to them an absolute sentence of death; it had overwhelmed them with despair!
Finally, I assured the Emperor that, for a considerable period, I had observed the Hotel de Luynes, if not subdued, at least calmed and reduced to something less than indifference; but our unexpected disasters had revived its former spirit.
As to Madame de Chevreuse, who was a handsome, intelligent, and amiable woman, with a somewhat romantic turn of mind, she had doubtless been seduced by the charms of notoriety, or urged on by her numerous flatterers and admirers, some of whom were very unworthy of her regard. “I know it,” observed the Emperor; “she hoped to recommence the Fronde; but I was not a minor Sovereign.”
The Musquito brig which left England on the 23rd of March, arrived with files of the Journal des Debats down to the 5th of March, and London papers to the 21st. On retiring to his closet, the Emperor desired me to follow him. He began to peruse the Journal des Debats; and, meanwhile, a letter was delivered to me from the Grand Marshal. It had just arrived from Europe, and was addressed to the Emperor. I handed it to him. He read it over once and sighed; and, then, having read it a second time, he tore it, and threw the fragments beneath the table. This letter was delivered open! The Emperor then resumed his perusal of the Journals, and, suddenly stopping, he said, after a few moments’ silence:—"That letter was from poor Madame: she is well, and wishes to come to reside with me at St. Helena!" After this he continued his reading. This, which was the first letter that the Emperor had received from any individual of his family, was in the handwriting of Cardinal Fesch. The Emperor was evidently much hurt by its having been delivered to him open.