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.”