But you, who are induced, by the error of the moment, or perhaps temporary abuses, to oppose any fresh changes, will you tolerate a traitor? a man who, under the cool exterior of a man of sense, conceals the avidity of a lacquey? I cannot imagine it. You will be the first to drive him away with ignominy, as soon as you are aware of the string of atrocities of which he has been the author.
I have the honour, &c.Buonaparte.
From my closet at Milleli,23d January, 1790
No. III
THE SUPPER OF BEAUCAIRE.July 29, 1793
[See p. 14.]
I happened to be at Beaucaire on the last day of the fair, and by chance had for my companions at supper two merchants from Marseilles, a citizen of Nimes, and a manufacturer from Montpelier.
After the first few minutes of mutual survey, they discovered that I came from Avignon, and was in the army. The attention of my companions, which, all the week, had been fixed on the details of that traffic which is the parent of wealth, was at this moment turned to the issue of those passing events, upon which the security of all wealth so much depends. They endeavoured to come at my opinion, in order that, by comparing it with their own, they might be enabled to form probable conjectures respecting that future, which affected us so differently. The two citizens of Marseilles, in particular, appeared to be perplexed in spirit. The evacuation of Avignon had taught them to doubt of every thing. They manifested but one great solicitude as to their future fate. Confidence soon made us talkative, and our conversation ran in nearly the following terms: —
Nimois.– Is Cartaux's army strong? It is said to have lost a great many men in the attack; but if it be true that it has been repulsed, why have the Marseillese evacuated Avignon?
Militaire.– The army was four thousand strong when it assaulted Avignon; it now amounts to six thousand, and within four days will reach ten thousand men. It lost five men killed and eleven wounded. It has never been repulsed, since it never made a formal attack; the troops only manœuvred about the place, in order to ascertain where an attempt to force the gates, by means of petards, might be made to the best advantage; a few cannon were fired, to try the courage of the garrison, and it was then necessary to draw back to the camp, to combine the attack for the following night. The Marseillese were three thousand six hundred men; they had a heavier and more numerous artillery, and yet they have been obliged to recross the Durance. This surprises you; but it is only veteran troops who can endure the uncertain events of a siege. We were masters of the Rhone, of Villeneuve, and of the open country; we had intercepted all their communications. They were under the necessity of evacuating the town, were pursued by our cavalry, and lost many prisoners, with two guns.
Marseillese.– This is a very different story from what we have been told. I do not dispute what you say, since you were present; but you must confess, that, after all this, they can do you no good. Our army is at Aix. Three good generals are come in place of the former ones: at Marseilles they are raising fresh battalions; we have a new train of artillery, several twenty-four pounders; in a few days, we shall be in a position to retake Avignon, or at worst we shall remain masters of the Durance.
Militaire.– Such is the story you have been told, to entice you to the brink of the abyss, which is deepening every moment, and which perhaps will engulf the finest town of France – the one which has deserved most of the patriots. But you were also told, that you should traverse France – that you should give the ton to the Republic – and yet your very first steps have been checks. You were told that Avignon could resist for a long time a force of twenty thousand men – and yet a single column, without a battering train, gained possession of it in four-and-twenty hours. You were told that the south had risen – and you found yourselves alone! You were told that the Nimes cavalry were about to crush the Allobroges – and yet the Allobroges were already at Saint-Esprit, and at Villeneuve. You were told that four thousand Lyonese were marching to your assistance – and yet the Lyonese were negotiating an accommodation for themselves. Acknowledge, then, that you have been deceived – open your eyes to the want of skill among your leaders, and put no faith in their calculations. Of all counsellors, self-love is the most dangerous. You are naturally impetuous: they are leading you to your destruction, by the self-same means which have ruined so many nations – by inflaming your vanity. You possess considerable wealth, and a large population – these they exaggerate. You have rendered signal services to the cause of liberty – of these they remind you, without, at the same time, pointing out to you, that the genius of the republic was at that time with you, that it has now abandoned you.
Your army, you say, is at Aix with a large train of artillery, and skilful generals; well, do what it may, I tell you it will be beaten. You had three thousand six hundred men – a full half is dispersed. Marseilles, and a few refugees from the department, may offer you four thousand: that is the utmost. You will then have between five and six thousand troops, without unity, without order, without discipline.
You have, you say, good generals. I do not know them, and shall not, therefore, dispute their abilities; but they will be absorbed in details, they will not be seconded by the subalterns, they will be unable to do any thing to maintain the reputation they may possess; for it would require at least two months to get their army into tolerable discipline; and in four days Cartaux will have passed the Durance – and with what soldiers? Why, with the excellent light troop of the Allobroges, the old regiment of Burgundy, and the brave battalion of the Cote d'Or (which has been a hundred times victorious in battle,) and six or seven other corps, all disciplined soldiers, encouraged by their successes on the frontiers, and against your army! You have some twenty-four pounders, and eighteen pounders, and you fancy yourselves impregnable. In this you but follow the vulgar opinion; but military men will tell you, and fatal experience is about to convince you, that good four-pounders and eight-pounders are preferable on many accounts to pieces of heavy calibre! You have cannoneers of the new levy – your adversaries have gunners from regiments of the line, the best masters of their art in all Europe!
What will your army do if it concentrates itself at Aix? It is lost. It is an axiom in the military art, that the army which remains in its intrenchments is beaten: experience and theory agree upon this point; and the walls of Aix are not equal to the worst field-intrenchment, especially if you bear in mind their extent, and the houses which skirt them on the exterior within pistol-shot. Be you well assured then that this course, which to you appears the best, is the very worst. Besides, what means will you possess of supplying the town, in so short a time, with every kind of provisions? Will your army offer battle? Why, it is the weaker in numbers – it has no cavalry – its artillery is less adapted for the field – it would be broken, and from that moment defeated without resource, for the cavalry would prevent it from rallying.
Expect, then, to see the war carried into the Marseilles territory. There a tolerably powerful party is for the Republic; this will be the moment for the struggle; the junction will be made; and your city, the centre of the commerce of the Levant, the entrepôt of the south of Europe, is lost! Recollect the recent example of Lisle,661 and the barbarous laws of war.
What infatuation has all at once possessed your townsmen? What fatal blindness is leading them to their ruin? How can they fancy themselves powerful enough to oppose the whole Republic? Even should they compel this army to fall back upon Avignon, can they doubt that, in a few days, fresh troops would come to supply the place of the former? The Republic, which gives the law to Europe, will she receive it from Marseilles?
United with Bourdeaux, Lyons, Montpellier, Nimes, Grenoble, the Jura, the Eure, the Calvados, you undertook a revolution. You had a probability of success: those who spurred you on might be ill-intentioned men; but you were an imposing mass of strength. On the contrary, now that Lyons, Nimes, Montpellier, Bourdeaux, the Jura, the Eure, Grenoble, Caen, have accepted the constitution; – now that Avignon, Tarascon, Arles, have submitted, acknowledge that in obstinacy there is folly. The fact is, that you are under the influence of individuals who, having no property of their own to look after, are involving you in their ruin.
Your army will be composed of the best-conditioned, the richest portion of your city; for the Sans-Culottes could but be too easily turned against you. You are about, then, to risk the élite of your youthful population, young men accustomed to hold the commercial balance of the Mediterranean, and enrich you by their economy and their speculations, against veteran soldiers a hundred times stained with the blood of the desperate aristocrat or the ferocious Prussian.
Let poor countries fight to the last extremity. The inhabitant of the Vivarais, of the Cevennes, of Corsica, exposes himself without fear to the issue of a battle; if he gains it, he has obtained his object; if he is beaten, he finds himself as before, in the condition to make peace, and in the same position. But you! – lose but a battle, and the fruits of a thousand years of industry, of economy, of prosperity, become the prey of the soldier.
Marseillese.– You get on a great rate, and you alarm me. I agree with you that our situation is critical. It is perhaps true, that we do not sufficiently consider the position in which we now stand; but you cannot but acknowledge that we have still immense resources to oppose you. You have persuaded me that we could not resist at Aix: your observation as to the want of subsistence is perhaps unanswerable, as applied to a siege of long duration; but do you imagine that all Provence can, for a long period, witness with indifference the blockade of Aix? It will rise spontaneously; and your army, hemmed in on all sides, will be but too happy to repass the Durance.
Militaire.– Ah! how little you know of the spirit of men, and of the times, to talk thus! Everywhere there are two parties. The moment you are besieged, the Sectionary party will be put down in all the country places. The example of Tarascon, Saint-Remy, Organ, Arles, should convince you of this; a score of dragoons have sufficed to restore the old authorities, and put the new ones to flight.
Henceforward, in your department, any powerful movement in your favour is impossible. It might have taken place when the army was on the other side the Durance, and you were unbroken. At Toulon, the active spirits are much divided; and there the Sectionaries have not the same superiority as at Marseilles; they must therefore remain in the city to keep down their adversary. As for the department of the Lower Alps, nearly the whole of it, as you know, has accepted the constitution.
Marseillese.– We shall attack Cartaux in our mountains, where his cavalry will be of no service to him.
Militaire.– As if an army engaged in protecting a town could choose the point of attack. Besides, it is a fallacy to suppose there are any mountains near Marseilles sufficiently inaccessible to render cavalry ineffective: your hills are just steep enough to render the use of artillery more difficult, and to give a great advantage to your enemy; for it is in a country intersected by rivers that the skilful artilleryman, by the rapidity of his movements, the exactness in serving his pieces, and the accuracy of his elevations, is the most sure of having the superiority.
Marseillese.– You fancy us, then, to be without resources: Is it then possible, that it can be the destiny of a town who resisted the Romans, and preserved a portion of its laws under the despots who succeeded them, to become the prey of a handful of brigands? What! the Allobroge, laden with the spoils of Lisle, shall he give law to Marseilles? What! Dubois du Crancé, and Albitte, shall they rule over us uncontrolled? Those men, steeped in blood, whom the miseries of the times have placed at the head of affairs, shall they be our absolute masters? Sad, indeed, is the prospect you set before us! Our property, under different pretences, would be invaded; at every instant we should be the victims of a soldiery, whom plunder unites under the same banner: our best citizens would be imprisoned, and perish by violence. The Club would again rear its monstrous head to execute its infernal projects! Nothing can be worse than this; better to expose ourselves to the chance of warfare, than become victims without alternative!
Militaire.– Such is civil war! men revile one another – detest one another – kill one another, without knowing one another! The Allobroges! what do you suppose them to be? Africans? inhabitants of Siberia? Oh, not at all! They are your countrymen, – the men of Provence, of Dauphiny, of Savoy. Some people fancy them to be barbarians, because the name they have taken sounds oddly. If your own troops were to be called the Phocœan phalanx, every species of fable would be accredited respecting them.
You have reminded me of one fact, the assault of Lisle. I do not justify it, but will explain to you how it happened. The inhabitants killed the trumpeter who was sent to them; they resisted without the slightest chance of success; the town was taken by assault; the soldiers entered it amidst fire and slaughter: it was impossible to restrain them, and fury did the rest.
Those soldiers whom you call brigands, are our best troops, and most disciplined battalions: their reputation is above calumny.
Dubois-Crancé and Albitte, constant friends of the people, have never deviated from the right line. Certainly they are "wicked men" in the eyes of the bad: but Condorcet, Brissot, Barbaroux, were also "wicked men," so long as they remained uncontaminated. It will ever be the fate of the good to be ill-spoken of by the worthless. You imagine they show you no mercy; on the contrary, they are treating you like wayward children. Do you think, if they had been otherwise disposed, that the merchants of Marseilles would have been suffered to withdraw the goods which they had at Beaucaire? They could have sequestered them till the war was over. They were unwilling to do so; and, thanks to them, you can now return quietly to your homes.
You call Cartaux an assassin. Well! let me tell you, that that general takes the greatest pains to preserve order and discipline; witness his conduct at St. Esprit and at Avignon. He ordered a sergeant to prison because he had violated the asylum of a citizen who concealed one of your soldiers. In the eyes of the general, this sergeant was culpable for having entered, without direct orders, a private dwelling. Some people of Avignon were punished for pointing out a house as belonging to an aristocrat. A prosecution is now going on against a soldier, on a charge of theft. On the contrary, your army killed, assassinated more than thirty persons, violated the asylums of families, and filled the prisons with citizens, on the vague pretence that they were brigands.
Do not be in alarm about the army. It esteems Marseilles, because it knows that no town has made so many sacrifices for the public good. You have eighteen thousand men on the frontier; and you have not spared yourselves under any circumstances. Shake off, then, the yoke of the few aristocrats who govern you; return to sounder principles, and you will have no truer friend than the army.
Marseillese.– Ah! your army! It has greatly degenerated from the army of 1789. That army would not take up arms against the nation. Yours should imitate so worthy an example, and not turn their arms against their fellow-citizens.
Militaire.– With such principles, La Vendée would now have planted the white flag on the again reared walls of the Bastile, and the Camp of Jalès been dominant at Marseilles.
Marseillese.– La Vendée is anxious for a king – a counter-revolution: the war of La Vendée, of the camp of Jalès, is that of fanaticism, of despotism. Ours, on the contrary, is that of true Republicans, friends of the laws, of order; enemies of anarchy and of bad men. Is not ours the tri-coloured flag? and what interest could we have in wishing for slavery?
Militaire.– I well know that the people of Marseilles differ widely from those of La Vendée as to the subject of counter-revolution. The people of La Vendée are robust and healthy: the people of Marseilles weak and sickly. They stand in need of honey, to induce them to swallow the pill: to establish among them the new doctrine, they must be deceived. But after four years of revolution, after so many plots, and counterplots, and conspiracies, all the perversity of human nature has been developed under all its different aspects, and bad men have perfected their subtlety. You have, you say, the tri-coloured flag? Paoli also hoisted it in Corsica to have time to deceive the people, to crush the true friends of liberty, to entice his countrymen to join him in his ambitious and criminal projects; he hoisted the tri-coloured flag, and he nevertheless fired upon the vessels of the Republic, and drove our troops from the fortresses; he disarmed all the detachments he could surprise; he collected forces to drive the garrison from the island; he plundered the magazines, selling at a low price every thing found within them, to secure money to carry on his revolt; he confiscated the property of the wealthiest families, because they were attached to the unity of the Republic; he got himself appointed generalissimo, and he declared all those who should continue in our armies enemies of their country. Before this, he had caused the failure of the expedition to Sardinia; and yet he had the shamelessness to call himself the friend of France and a good Republican; and he deceived the Convention still, after all. He acted, in short, in such a way, that when at length he was unmasked by his own letters found at Calvi, – it was too late, – the fleets of our enemies intercepted all intercourse with the island.
It is no longer to words that we must trust. We must analyse deeds; and in appreciating yours, it is easy, you must acknowledge, to show you to be counter-revolutionary. Take my advice, people of Marseilles: shake off the yoke of the handful of wretches who are leading you to a counter-revolution; restore your constituted authorities; accept the constitution; liberate the representatives; let them go to Paris and intercede for you: you have been misled – it is no new thing for the people to be so – by a few conspirators and intriguers. In all ages, the flexibility and ignorance of the multitude have been the causes of most civil wars.
Marseillese.– Ah! sir, who is to bring the good about? Can it be the refugees who arrive on all sides from the department? They are interested in acting with desperation. Can it be those who at this moment govern us? Are not they in the same situation? Can it be the people? One portion of them knows nothing of its real position; it is blinded and fanaticized; the other portion is disarmed, suspected, humbled. I see, therefore, with deep affliction, miseries without remedy.
Militaire.– At last you are brought to reason. Why should not a like change be effected in the minds of a large portion of your fellow-citizens, who are deluded and sincere? In that case, Albitte, who can have no other wish than to spare French blood, will send you some honest and able man; matters will be arranged; and without a moment's delay, the army will march under the walls of Perpignan, to make the Spaniard dance the Carmagnole; and Marseilles will continue to be the centre of gravity to liberty. The only thing necessary will be to tear a few leaves out of its history.
This happy prognostic put us all in excellent humour. The citizens of Marseilles, with great readiness, treated us to some bottles of champagne, which dispelled all our doubts and anxieties. We retired to rest at two in the morning, having agreed to meet again at breakfast; where my new acquaintance had still many doubts to suggest, and I many interesting truths to impart.
July 29, 1793.
No. IV
LETTERS OF NAPOLEON TO JOSEPHINE
[See p. 166.]
[In the first Edition of this Work, Sir Walter Scott introduced, by way of foot notes, a few translations from the Letters of Napoleon and Josephine during the campaign of 1796, published in 1824 by Mr. Tennant. But the larger collection of those letters, edited by Josephine's daughter, the Duchess of St. Leu, had not then appeared. We now reprint the versions which Sir Walter thought fit to give; and append to them some specimens of the native style and orthography of the correspondence.]
(1.)
NAPOLEON TO JOSEPHINE
(Translation.)
"Port Maurice, the 14th Germinal,(April 4,) 1796.
"I have received all thy letters: but not one of them has affected me so much as thy last. Dost thou think, my adorable love, of writing to me in such terms? Dost thou imagine, then, that my position is not already cruel enough, without an increase of my sorrows, and an overthrow of my soul? What a style! what sentiments dost thou describe. They are of fire – they burn my poor heart. My only Josephine! – far from thee there is no joy; – far from thee the world is a desert, where I remain an isolated being, without enjoying the sweets of confidence. Thou hast deprived me of more than my soul; thou art the only thought of my life. If I am tired of the troubles of business – if I dread the result – if mankind disgust me – if I am ready to curse this life – I place my hand upon my heart – there thy portrait beats – I look at it, and love becomes to me absolute happiness; all is smiling, save the time when I am separated from my beloved.
"By what is it that thou hast been able to captivate all my faculties, and to concentrate in thyself my moral existence? It is a magic, my sweet love, which will finish only with my life. To live for Josephine – there is the history of my life. I am trying to reach thee – I am dying to be near thee. Fool that I am, I do not perceive that I increase the distance between us. What lands, what countries separate us! What a time before you read these weak expressions of a troubled soul in which you reign! Ah! my adorable wife! I know not what fate awaits me, but if it keep me much longer from thee, it will be insupportable – my courage will not go so far. There was a time when I was proud of my courage; and sometimes, when contemplating on the ills that man could do me, on the fate which destiny could reserve for me, I fixed my eyes steadfastly on the most unheard-of misfortunes without a frown, without alarm. But now, the idea that my Josephine may be unwell, the idea that she may be ill, and, above all, the cruel, the fatal thought, that she may love me less, withers my soul, stops my blood, renders me sad, cast down, and leaves me not even the courage of fury and despair. Formerly I used often to say to myself, men cannot hurt him who can die without regret; but now, to die without being loved by thee, to die without that certainty, is the torment of hell; it is the lively and striking image of absolute annihilation – I feel as if I were stifled. My incomparable companion, thou whom fate has destined to make along with me the painful journey of life, the day on which I shall cease to possess thy heart will be the day on which parched nature will be to me without warmth or vegetation.
"I stop, my sweet love, my soul is sad – my body is fatigued – my head is giddy – men disgust me – I ought to hate them – they separate me from my beloved.
"I am at Port Maurice, near Oneille; to-morrow I shall be at Albenga; the two armies are in motion – We are endeavouring to deceive each other – Victory to the most skilful! I am pretty well satisfied with Beaulieu – If he alarm me much, he is a better man than his predecessor. I shall beat him I hope in good style. Do not be uneasy – love me as your eyes – but that is not enough – as yourself, more than yourself, than your thought, your mind, your sight, your all. Sweet love, forgive me – I am sinking. Nature is weak for him who feels strongly, for him whom you love!!"
(2.)
"Albenga, 16th Germinal, (April 6.)
"[It is one hour after midnight. They have just brought me a letter. It is sad – my soul is affected by it: It is the death of Chauvet. He was commissary-in-chief of the army. You have seen him sometimes with Barras. My love, I feel the want of consolation that is to be obtained by writing to thee – to thee alone! – Chauvet is dead! He was attached to me. He has rendered essential services to his country. His last words were, that he was setting off to join me. Soul of my existence! write to me by every courier, otherwise I cannot live. I am here very much occupied; Beaulieu moves his army. We are in sight. I am a little fatigued; I am every day on horseback. Adieu, adieu, adieu. I am going to sleep. Sleep consoles me – it places me at thy side. But alas! on waking, I find myself three hundred leagues from thee!"
(3.)
"Albenga, 18 Germinal, (April 8.)
"My brother [Joseph] is here. He has heard of my marriage with pleasure. He is most anxious to know thee. I am trying to decide him to go to Paris. His wife has been brought to bed of a girl. He sends you a present of a box of Genoese sugar-plums. You will receive some oranges, perfumes, and orange-flower water, which I send you. Junot and Murat present you their respects."]
(4.)
"Headquarters, Carru, April 24.
"To my Sweet Love,
"My brother [Joseph] will give you this letter. I have the warmest regard for him. I hope he will obtain yours. He merits it. Nature has endowed him with a character, gentle, equal, and unchangeably good. He is made up of good qualities. I have written to Barras, that he may be appointed consul in some part of Italy. He wishes to live with his little wife, far away from the great whirlwind, and from great affairs. I recommend him to thee.
"Junot carries to Paris twenty-two standards. You must return with him. Should he come without thee – misfortune without remedy, grief without consolation, endless sufferings! – My adorable love, he will see thee – he will breathe in thy temple – perhaps even thou wilt accord him the rare and invaluable favour of a kiss on thy cheek. And I – I shall be alone, and far, very far away. But thou art coming, art thou not? Take wings! – come! come! but travel gently – the road is long, bad, fatiguing. If you were to be overturned, or to be taken ill! If the fatigue * * *. Go gently, my adorable love: but be often and rapidly with me in your thoughts.
"I have received a letter from Hortense. She is altogether lovely. I am going to write to her. I love her dearly, and I will soon send her the perfumes she wishes to have.
"I do not know whether you want money, for you have never spoken to me of these matters. If you do, speak to my brother, who has 200 Louis of mine. – N. B."
(5.)
tortone midi le 27 prarial.
A Josephine
Ma vie est un cochemar perpetuel un presentiment funeste m empeche de respirer. je ne vis plus j'ai perdu plus que la vie plus que le bonheur plus que le repos je suis presque sans espoir. je t expedie un courrier. il ne restera que 4 heure a paris et puis m aportera ta reponse – ecris moi 10 pages cela seul peut me consoler un peu – tu es malade, tu m aime, je t ai affligé, tu es grosse et je te ne vois pas! cett idée me confond. j'ai tant de tord avec toi que je ne sais comment les expier je t accuse de rester a paris et tu y etois malade – pardonne moi ma bonne amie l amour que tu m a inspiré m a ote la raison je ne la retrouverai jamais l'on ne guerit pas de ce mal la. mes presentimens sont si funestes que je me bornerois a te voir te presser 2 heures contre mon cœur et mourir ensemble! qu est ce qui a soin de toi. j'imagine que tu a fait appeller hortense j aime mille fois plus cet aimable enfant depuis que je pense qu'elle peut te consoler un peu quand a moi point de consolation point de repos, point d espoir jusqu 'a ce que j' ai reçu le courrier que je t expedie et que par une longue lettre tu m explique ce que c est que maladie et jusqu' a quel point elle doit etre serieuse – si elle est dangereuse, je t en previens je pars de suite pour paris. mon arrivé vaudra ta maladie. J'ai ete toujours heureux. jamais mon sort n a resiste a ma volonte et aujourdhui je suis frappe dans ce qui me touche uniquement. Josephine comment peut tu rester tant de tems sans m ecrire – ta derniere lettre laconique est du 3 du mois encore est elle affligante pour moi je l ai cependant toujours dans ma poche – ton portrait et tes lettres sont sans cesse devant mes yeux.
je ne suis rien sans toi je concois a peine comment j ai existe sans te connoitre ah! Josephine si tu eusse connu mon cœur serois tu rester depuis le 29 au 16 pour partir? aurois tu prete l oreil a des amis perfides qui vouloient peutetre te tenir eloignée de moi? je l avoue* tout le monde, j en veux a tout ce qui t entourre je te calculois partie depuis le 5 et le 15 arrivé a Milan.
josephine si tu m 'aime si tu crois que tout depend de ta conservation, ménage toi, je n ose pas te dire de ne pas entreprendre un voyage si long et dans les chaleurs a moins si tu es dans le cas de fair la route va a petites journées ecris moi a toutes les couchés et expedie moi d avance tes lettres.
toutes mes pensées sont concentrées dans ton alcove dans ton lit sur ton cœur ta maladie voyla ce qui m occupe la nuit et le jour – sans apetit, sans someil, sans interet pour l amitie, pour la gloire, pour la patrie, toi, toi et le reste du monde n existe pas plus pour moi que s il etoit anneanti je tiens a l honneur puisque tu y tiens, a la victoire puisque cela te fait plaisir sans quoi j aurois tout quitte pour me rendre a tes pieds.