THE MONITEUR AND LIBERTY OF THE PRESS.
June 13th.—The Emperor had just run over a great many numbers of the Moniteur. “These Moniteurs,” said he, “so terrible and dangerous to so many reputations, are uniformly useful and favourable to me alone. It is with official documents that men of sense and real talents will write history; now, these documents are full of the spirit of my government, and to them I make an earnest and solemn appeal.” He added, that he had made the Moniteur the soul and life-blood of his government, and that it was the intermediate instrument of his communications with public opinion, both abroad and at home. Every government had since followed his example more or less in that respect.
“Whatever serious fault might be committed by any of the high functionaries employed in the interior, immediately,” said the Emperor, "an enquiry was set on foot by three Councillors of State. They made their report to me, confirmed the facts and discussed the principles. For my own part, I had nothing more to do than to write at the bottom—‘Dispatched for execution according to the laws of the republic, or of the empire.’ My interference was at an end, the public result accomplished, and popular opinion did justice to the transaction. It was the most formidable and dreadful of my tribunals. Did any question arise abroad respecting certain grand political combinations or some delicate points of diplomacy? The objects were indirectly hinted at in the Moniteur. They instantly attracted universal attention and became the topics of general investigation. This conduct was at once the orderly signal for the adherents of the throne, and at the same time an appeal to the opinion of all. The Moniteur has been reproached for the acrimony and virulence of its notes against the enemy. But before we condemn them, we are bound to take into consideration the benefits they may have produced, the anxiety with which they occasionally gave the enemy, the terror with which they struck a hesitating cabinet, the stimulus which they imparted to our allies, the confidence and audacity with which they inspired our troops," &c.
The conversation next turned upon the liberty of the press, and the Emperor asked our opinions. We talked for a long time very idly on the subject, and threw out a great number of common-place ideas. Some were hostile to it. “Nothing,” said they, “can resist the liberty of the press. It is capable of overthrowing every government, of agitating every society, of destroying every reputation.” “It is only,” observed others, “its prohibition that is dangerous. If it be restricted, it becomes a mine that must explode, but if left to itself it is merely an unbent bow, that can inflict no wound.” Here the Emperor observed, that he was far from being convinced with regard to that point, but that it was no longer the question for consideration; that there were institutions at present, and the liberty of the press was among the number, on the excellence of which we were no longer called upon to decide, but solely to determine the possibility of withholding them from the overbearing influence of popular opinion. He declared, that the prohibition under a representative government was a gross anachronism, a downright absurdity. He had, therefore, on his return from the Isle of Elba, abandoned the press to all its excesses, and he was well assured, that they had, in no respect, contributed to his recent downfall. When it was proposed in council, in his presence, to discuss the means of sheltering the authority of the State from its attacks, he jocosely remarked, “Gentlemen, it is probably yourselves you wish to protect, for, with respect to me, I shall henceforth continue a stranger to all such proceedings. The press has exhausted itself upon me during my absence, and I now defy it to produce any thing new or provoking against me.”
THE WAR, AND ROYAL FAMILY OF SPAIN.—FERDINAND AT VALENCEY.—ERRORS IN THE AFFAIRS OF SPAIN.—HISTORICAL SKETCH OF THESE EVENTS, &C.—NAPOLEON’S ADMIRABLE LETTER TO MURAT.
June 14th.—The Emperor had been ill the whole of the night, and continued so during the day; he had a foot-bath, and was not inclined to go out; he dined alone in his apartment, and sent for me towards the evening.
The Emperor began the conversation, of which the constant subject was the Spanish war. It has been seen in the notice which I have already taken of it, that the Emperor took upon himself the whole blame of the measure. I wish to avoid repetitions as much as possible, and shall, therefore, allude to those topics only which appeared new to me.
“The old King and Queen,” said the Emperor, "at the moment of the event, were the objects of the hatred and contempt of their subjects. The Prince of Asturias conspired against them, forced them to abdicate, and at once united in his own person the love and hopes of the nation. That nation was, however, ripe for great changes and demanded them with energy. I enjoyed vast popularity in the country, and it was in that state of things that all these personages met at Bayonne; the old king calling upon me for vengeance against his son, and the young prince soliciting my protection against his father, and imploring a wife at my hands. I resolved to convert this singular occasion to my advantage, with the view of delivering myself from that branch of the Bourbons, of continuing in my own dynasty the family system of Louis XIV. and of binding Spain to the destinies of France. Ferdinand was sent to Valencey, the old king to Marseilles, as he wished, and my brother Joseph went to reign at Madrid with a liberal constitution, adopted by a junta of the Spanish nation, which had come to receive it at Bayonne.
“It seems to me,” continued he, "that Europe, and even France, has never had a just idea of Ferdinand’s situation at Valencey. There is a strange misunderstanding in the world with respect to the treatment he experienced, and still more so, with respect to his wishes and personal opinions as to that situation. The fact is, that he was scarcely guarded at Valencey, and that he did not wish to escape. If any plots were contrived to favour his evasion, he was the first to make them known. An Irishman (Baron de Colli) gained access to his person, and offered, in the name of George the Third, to carry him off; but Ferdinand, so far from embracing the offer, instantly communicated it to the proper authority.
“His applications to me for a wife at my hands were incessant. He spontaneously wrote to me letters of congratulation upon every event that occurred in my favour. He had addressed proclamations to the Spaniards recommending their submission; he had recognized Joseph. All these were circumstances which might, indeed, have been considered as forced upon him; but he requested from him the insignia of his grand order; he tendered to me the services of his brother, Don Carlos, to take the command of the Spanish regiments, which were marching to Russia,—proceedings to which he was, in no respect, obliged. To sum up all, he earnestly solicited my permission to visit my court at Paris, and if I did not lend myself to a spectacle, which would have astonished Europe, by displaying the full consolidation of my power, it was because the important circumstances which called me abroad, and my frequent absence from the capital, deprived me of the proper opportunity.”