After having entered the service of France, you returned to see your relations: you found the tyrants vanquished, the national 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; far from that, you looked with nothing but pity on the nonsensical stuff about country, liberty, independence, and constitution, which had got into the heads of our meanest peasants. Deep reflection 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 his 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 occupy 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 affairs of the island on a good footing; he had founded a university, in which, for the first time, perhaps, since the creation, the sciences which are useful for the developement of reason were taught among our mountains. He had established a foundery for cannon, powder-mills, and fortifications, which increased 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 establishments, 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 a Solon, but had been unsuccessful in his imitation. He had placed every thing in the hands of the people 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 mercenary plebeian, the man who alone, by his education, his illustrious 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 exposed it to every species of suffering.
You succeeded to your wish. M. Paoli, constantly surrounded by enthusiastic and hot-headed persons, never imagined that there could be any other passion than the devotion to liberty and independence. Finding that you had some knowledge of France, he did not trouble himself to do more than take your own word for your moral principles. He got you appointed to treat at Versailles respecting the accommodation which was negotiating under the mediation of the cabinet. M. de Choiseul saw you, and knew you; minds of a certain stamp are speedily appreciated. In a short time, in place of being the representative of a free people, you transformed yourself into the clerk of a minister; you communicated to him the instructions, the plans, the secrets of the Cabinet of Corsica.
This conduct, which is considered here as base and atrocious, appears to me quite natural; but this is because, in all sorts of affairs, we should understand one another, and reason with coolness.
The prude censures the coquette, and is laughed at by her in return; this, in a few words, is your history. The man of principle judges you harshly, but you do not believe that there is a man of principle. The common people, who are always led away by virtuous demagogues, 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 conduct but what is very simple. This brings us back, then, to what we have already said, 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, for you do not aspire to the reputation of a Cato or a Catinat. It is sufficient for you to resemble a certain class; and, among this certain class, it is agreed that he who may get money, and does not profit 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 Compiégne being concluded, M. de Chauvelin and twenty-four battalions landed on our shores. M. de Choiseul, to whom the celerity of the expedition was most important, had uneasiness on the subject, which, in his confidential communications, he could not disguise from you. You suggested that he should send you 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 yourself 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 certainly shaken, but they were terrified by the horrible idea of mangling the bosom of their country. They thought they saw their fathers, their brothers, their friends, who perished in defending 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 promises, you proposed that the Royal Corsican regiment should be bought. You hoped that its example would enlighten our too simple and honest peasants, and accustom them to things to which they felt so much repugnance. But what happened? Did not Rossi, Marengo, and some other madmen, inflame the minds of 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 example 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[660] 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.