4. But Evil was his Good,
For all too long in blood had he been nursed,
And ne’er was earth with verier tyrant cursed.
Bold man and bad,
Remorseless, godless, full of fraud and lies,
And black with murders and with perjuries,
Himself in Hell’s whole panoply he clad;
No law but his own headstrong will he knew,
No counsellor but his own wicked heart.
From evil thus portentous strength he drew,
And trampled under foot all human ties,
All holy laws, all natural charities.
5. O France! beneath this fierce Barbarian’s sway
Disgraced thou art to all succeeding times;
Rapine, and blood, and fire have marked thy way,
All loathsome, all unutterable crimes.
A curse is on thee, France! From far and wide
It hath gone up to Heaven; all lands have cried
For vengeance upon thy detested head;
All nations curse thee, France! for wheresoe’er
In peace or war thy banner hath been spread,
All forms of human woe have followed there:
The Living and the Dead
Cry out alike against thee! They who bear,
Crouching beneath its weight, thine iron yoke,
Join in the bitterness of secret prayer
The voice of that innumerable throng
Whose slaughtered spirits day and night invoke
The everlasting Judge of right and wrong,
How long, O Lord! Holy and Just, how long!
6. A merciless oppressor hast thou been,
Thyself remorselessly oppressed meantime;
Greedy of war, when all that thou couldst gain
Was but to dye thy soul with deeper crime,
And rivet faster round thyself the chain.
O blind to honour, and to int’rest blind,
When thus in abject servitude resigned
To this barbarian upstart, thou couldst brave
God’s justice, and the heart of humankind!
Madly thou thoughtest to enslave the world,
Thyself the while a miserable slave;
Behold the flag of vengeance is unfurl’d!
The dreadful armies of the North advance;
While England, Portugal, and Spain combined
Give their triumphant banners to the wind,
And stand victorious in the fields of France.
7. One man hath been for ten long wretched years
The cause of all this blood and all these tears;
One man in this most awful point of time
Draws on thy danger, as he caused thy crime.
Wait not too long the event,
For now whole Europe comes against thee bent;
His wiles and their own strength the nations know;
Wise from past wrongs, on future peace intent,
The People and the Princes, with one mind,
From all parts move against the general foe:
One act of justice, one atoning blow,
One execrable head laid low,
Even yet, O France! averts thy punishment:
Open thine eyes! too long hast thou been blind;
Take vengeance for thyself, and for mankind!
8. France! if thou lov’st thine ancient fame,
Revenge thy sufferings and thy shame!
By the bones that bleach on Jaffa’s beach;
By the blood which on Domingo’s shore
Hath clogg’d the carrion-birds with gore;
By the flesh that gorged the wolves of Spain,
Or stiffened on the snowy plain
Of frozen Muscovy;
By the bodies that lie all open to the sky,
Tracking from Elbe to Rhine the Tyrant’s flight;
By the widow’s and the orphan’s cry,
By the childless parent’s misery,
By the lives which he hath shed,
By the ruin he hath spread,
By the prayers that rise for curses on his head,
Redeem, O France! thine ancient fame,
Revenge thy sufferings and thy shame;
Open thine eyes! Too long hast thou been blind;
Take vengeance for thyself, and for mankind!
9. By those horrors which the night
Witnessed, when the torches’ light
To the assembled murderers showed
Where the blood of Condé flowed;
By thy murdered Pichegru’s fame;
By murdered Wright (an English name);
By murdered Palm’s atrocious doom;
By murdered Hofer’s martyrdom;
Oh! by the virtuous blood thus vilely spilt,
The Villain’s own peculiar private guilt,
Open thine eyes! too long hast thou been blind!
Take vengeance for thyself and for mankind!
MAJOR VIVIAN’S INTERVIEW WITH NAPOLEON IN ELBA (JANUARY, 1815).
Source.—J. H. Rose: Pitt and Napoleon. G. Bell and Sons, 1912. Pp. 170-172, and 173, 174.
His next subject was politics;—he asked me how Congress went on. I told him that there were plenty of fêtes, but that little progress was said to be made in business; and I mentioned to him the bon mot of the Prince de Ligne, who said—“Le Congrès danse, mais ne marche pas,” at which he smiled. I added, that Poland was understood to be a stumbling-block; that it was said the Emperor of Russia wanted to form a kingdom of it, but that the other Powers, it was supposed, feared Russia’s becoming too formidable. He remarked that it was a power that went on increasing; a very rising power. He then said that the treaty of peace between himself and the Allies should have been signed at Frankfort; separating Germany entirely from France, and taking Holland, Italy, and Spain from him; but that he never could have consented to leave France less in territory, than it was when he ascended the throne. I asked him why he did not make peace at Dresden, when those terms were offered to him: He said that the Allies were not sincere, and that besides les choses at that time were different; that had peace been then made, England would have been saved some thousands of men and much money; that he considered it very bad policy of England to appropriate Belgium to herself;[17] that it would probably draw her into a war; for that any other Continental Power would be sure of France as an ally, by offering Belgium as a bribe. “Supposing,” said he, “for instance, Russia were to say to France, ‘Do you take Belgium, and let me have Poland.’—In short,” added he, “England cannot maintain herself as a Power of the first rank on the Continent; Belgium must be lost on the first coup de canon. The English Government should have covered and fortified Belgium, but Antwerp is the object; for a battle fought and lost before Brussels, which is close to the gates of Paris, would open the road to Holland. England, with her immense colonies, instead of being obliged to keep up a large army to cover Belgium, should withdraw within her Island, and act when and where she chose.” He spoke of the Dutch troops, and appeared to have but a poor opinion of them;—their marine, he said, was much reduced. He expressed himself with much contempt of the Austrian soldiers, who “would not fight without a belly full.”—Referring to the campaign in France, he said that he should have beaten the Allies, had he not been betrayed; for that the peasants were taking arms in their rear. I asked him by whom he had been betrayed; whether by Talleyrand, whom I had heard accused.—He answered so as to give me to understand he had been a party; but he principally blamed Marmont and Augereau.[18] The latter, he told me, had a fine army, superior to the Austrians, and was to have joined him (Bonaparte) in his last movement; but that he had made his terms with the Allies a fortnight before, and that he had narrowly escaped being massacred by his soldiers for his conduct.—I observed to him, that when I had passed through Paris, I had heard there was an opinion amongst the lower orders that he and Paris had been sold—“que l’Empereur et Paris étoient vendus.” Blücher, he said, was a brave man, but not a great general; and added, that he had lost two armies.[19] The Prussians had fought well.—Of Schwartzenberg, as an officer, he expressed himself favourably.—Upon my asking him if he did not consider the Duke of Wellington a good general, he replied, “Oui.”—I was not satisfied with this, but repeated the question in stronger terms, asking if he was not a very good—an excellent general. He answered, “Oui, oui!” with emphasis, but not another word.—Touching on the Corunna campaign, he said Moore was a good general, and had saved that army. The Spaniards, as soldiers, he held very cheap. In the mountains they had done something, their character was obstinacy (opiniâtreté)—they wanted valour. I mentioned the gallant defence they had made at Saragossa. This, he said, was opiniâtreté;—they were 50,000 men within the walls, attacked by 15,000. I observed that, at least, the Portuguese had proved themselves very good troops. This he admitted. “But then,” added he, “they were officered by British, and of this the national pride [fierté] of the Spaniards would not admit;—besides, the Spaniards are bigots in religion, and you know that you are heretics” (vous savez que vous êtes des hérétiques), said he, laughing. The French soldiers, he asserted, were peu constans; that he (Bonaparte) knew it well, and had acted upon it in the campaign in France; that the soldiers could not bear such a check (secousse). He inquired if the English soldiers, when drunk, were not ungovernable, observing that the French, at such times, were loving (doux et tendres).
... Speaking of the Americans, he said, they wanted a ten years’ war to make them a nation; that at present they had no noblesse, which they would acquire by a war; that they were now a nation of merchants (une nation de marchands), as was shown in the case of the sale of Jefferson’s library to the highest bidder; that had we (the English) made peace with them before, we should have gone to Congress with more weight; that America had carried on the war with spirit after France had fallen (après que la France eut succombée) and that the war, after all, was about nothing—a few feet more or less of lake. He then said something of a great project he had with respect to Mexico, of which I could not catch the meaning; and observed, that we should one day or other lose Canada; adding—“of what great consequence is it to England, with her numerous colonies?” He said, that when America became more powerful, she would probably rival us in our marine; that he had made the attempt to do this, but had failed. With respect to the Right of Search, which I called a droit, he said it was no droit, but a mere théorie; that when we were very strong we should exercise it, but if, on the contrary, we had Russia, Sweden, and Denmark against us, we probably should not insist on it. He gave it as his opinion, that England and France should be allied. On my signifying, by a shake of the head, the improbability of such an event, he said, “Why not?—The world is large enough—France does not want to meddle too much with commerce. There was a man, Fox, who could have effected it, but unfortunately he is dead.” (Mais pourquoi pas? le monde est assez grand—la France n’a pas besoin de se mêler trop du commerce. Il y avoit un homme, Fox, qui auroit pu le faire, mais malheureusement il est mort.) He then asked where we were going from Elba, and on my answering, “To Rome and Naples,” he replied, “Ah! then you will see there a magnificent Lazzarone,”[20] adding, “From Naples, I suppose, you return to England by sea?” Upon my saying that it was my intention to return by Italy and the Mont Cenis, as I had seen all the other Passes of the Alps, having come from Vienna by the Tyrol, he observed, “No, there is still that over the Julian Alps.” On saying this he made us a low bow, wished us a très bon voyage, and retired.