The Tragedy of St. Helena - BestLightNovel.com
You’re reading novel The Tragedy of St. Helena Part 6 online at BestLightNovel.com. Please use the follow button to get notification about the latest chapter next time when you visit BestLightNovel.com. Use F11 button to read novel in full-screen(PC only). Drop by anytime you want to read free – fast – latest novel. It’s great if you could leave a comment, share your opinion about the new chapters, new novel with others on the internet. We’ll do our best to bring you the finest, latest novel everyday. Enjoy
Helena, has been generous enough to say many kind things of him in her memoirs. One of her references to him is to this effect:--"All I know of him" (and she knew him well from childhood) "proves that he possessed a great soul which quickly forgets and forgives." She is very fond of repeating in her memoirs that Napoleon proposed marriage to her mother, Madame Permon, who was herself a Corsican and knew the Bonaparte family well.
Madame Junot relates another story which is characteristic of Bonaparte. Such was the enthusiasm of the people on his march towards Paris after landing from Elba, that when he was holding a review of the National Guard at Gren.o.ble, the people shouldered him, and a young girl with a laurel branch in her hand approached him reciting some verses. "What can I do for you, my pretty girl?" said the Emperor. The girl blushed, then lifting her eyes to him replied, "I have nothing to ask of your Majesty; but you would render me very happy by embracing me." Napoleon kissed her, and turning his head to either side, said aloud, with a fascinating smile, "I embrace in you all the ladies of Gren.o.ble."
That Napoleon made mistakes no one will dispute; indeed, he saw clearly, and admitted freely, in his solitude, that he had made many.
His minor fault (if it be right to characterise it as such) was in extending clemency to the many rascals that were plotting his ruin and carrying on a system of peculation that was an abhorrence to him.
Talleyrand, Fouche, and Bourrienne frequently came under his displeasure and were removed from his service, but were taken back after his wrath had pa.s.sed.
Miot de Melito speaks of them as "Bourrienne and other subordinate scoundrels," and, indeed, Miot de Melito does not exaggerate in his estimate of them. Fouche says that Bourrienne kept him advised of all Napoleon's movements for 25,000 francs per month, besides being both partner and patron in the house of Coulon Brothers, cavalry equipment providers, who failed for 120,000.
In 1805, Bourrienne was appointed Minister Plenipotentiary at Hamburg, and during his stay there he made 290,000 by delivering permits and making what is known as "arbitrary stoppages," and besides betraying Bonaparte to the Bourbons, this vile traitor wrote to Talleyrand, a few days after the abdication at Fontainebleau: "I always desired the return of that excellent Prince, Louis XVIII., and his august family."
But these things are mere shadows of the incomparable villainy of this thievish human jackdaw.
His memoirs are said to have been written by an impecunious and mediocre penman called Villemarest, who also wrote "Memoires de Constant" (the Emperor's valet), and both books have been very extensively read and believed. Men have got up terrific lectures from them, authors have quoted from them whenever they desired an authority to prove that which they wished themselves and their readers to believe of trumped-up stories of Napoleon's despotism and evildoings.
Certainly, Bourrienne is the last and most unreliable of all the chroniclers that may be quoted when writing a history of the Emperor.
Neither his character nor any of his personal qualities imbues the impartial reader with confidence in either his criticisms or historical statements.
Men like Fouche, Talleyrand, and Bourrienne, and political women like Madame de Remusat and Madame de Stael, all of whom were brought under the Emperor's displeasure by their zealous apt.i.tude in one way and another for intrigue, disloyalty, and, so far as the men are concerned, glaring dishonesty in money matters, have a.s.siduously chronicled their own virtues and declaimed against Napoleon's incalculable vices, and this course was no doubt chosen in order to avert the public gaze from too close a scrutiny into their own perfidy. Their plan is not an unusual one under such circ.u.mstances; rascals never scruple to multiply offences more wicked than those already committed in order to prove that they are acting from a pure sense of public morality and historical truth. If the object of their attack be a benefactor, and one who has been obliged to rebuke or dismiss them for misdeeds, great or small, then they a.s.sail him with unqualified hostility.
This unquestionably was the penalty paid by Napoleon for extending clemency to men who, if they had been in the service of any other monarch in Europe, would have been shut up in a fortress, or shot, the moment their perfidies had been discovered. The pity is that so much of this declamatory stuff has been so willingly believed and made use of in order to defame the name of a sovereign whose besetting fault was in relaxing just punishment bestowed on those who, he could never altogether forget, were his companions in other days.
FOOTNOTES:
[12] Montholon wished to have the following simple inscription: "Napoleon, ne a Ajaccio, le 15 Aout, 1769, mort a St. Helena, le 5 Mai, 1821."
[13] Horne's "History of Napoleon," vol. ii.
[14] Horne's "History of Napoleon," vol. ii.
[15] "Correspondence of Napoleon I."
[16] Ibid.
[17] Madame Walewska bore him two children. This caused him to develop the idea of having an heir.
CHAPTER III
THREE GENERATIONS: MADAME LA MeRE, MARIE LOUISE, AND THE KING OF ROME
It seems as though h.e.l.l had been let loose on this great man and his family. The crowned heads of Europe and the plutocrats stopped at nothing in order that they might make his ruin complete. They dare not run the risk of putting him to death outright, but they engineered, by means of willing tools, a plan that was unheard-of in its atrocious character. They poured stories of unfaithfulness into the ears of a faithless woman whose name will go down to posterity as an ign.o.ble wife and callous mother. She took with her into Austria the King of Rome, a beautiful child who was put under the care of Austrian tutors.
He was watched as though he held the destinies of empires in the hollow of his hand. His father's name was not allowed to fall on his youthful ears, and more than one tutor was dismissed because he secretly told him something of his father's fame. Treated as a prisoner, spied upon by Metternich's satellites, not allowed to have any visitors without this immortal Chancellor's permission, not allowed to communicate with his father's family or with Frenchmen, this pathetic figure, stuffed with Austrian views, is seized with a growing desire to learn the history of his father, who declared in a letter to his brother Joseph in 1814 that he would rather see his son strangled than see him brought up in Vienna as an Austrian prince.[18]
Prince Napoleon in his excellent book--"Napoleon and His Detractors"--refers to the young Prince playing a game of billiards with Marmont and Don Miguel, the former having been one of his father's most important generals. He it was who betrayed him, and now he is become the Duke's confidant and instructor. The Prince says that his cousin asked to be told about the deeds that his father had done, his fall, and exile. There does not appear to be any record in existence as to what Marmont conveyed or withheld from the son of Marie Louise, but there is much evidence to show that the young man was not only an eager student of his father's career, but fully realised his own importance and influence on European politics.
It has been stated that until 1830 he really knew nothing of pa.s.sing events in the land of his birth. Obenaus, his tutor, states in his diary, January 18, 1825: "During the afternoon walk, the political relations of the Prince to the Imperial family and to the rest of the world were discussed." Count Neipperg advised him to study the French language, and his reply was: "This advice has not fallen on an unfruitful or an ungrateful soil. Every imaginable motive inspires me with the desire to perfect myself in, and to overcome the difficulties of, a language which at the present moment forms the most essential part of my studies. It is the language in which my father gave the word of command in all his battles, in which his name was covered with glory, and in which he has left us unparalleled memoirs of the art of war; while to the last he expressed the wish that I should never repudiate the nation into which I was born."[19] He further adds, "The _chief_ aim of my life must be not to remain unworthy of my father's fame."
His grandfather, the Emperor Francis--who was reputed to be quite devoted to him--said, "I wish that the Duke should revere the memory of his father." "Do not suppress the truth," says he to Metternich (the disloyal friend of Napoleon). "Teach him above all to honour his father's memory." The Chancellor replies, "I will speak to the Duke about his father as I should wish myself to be spoken of to my own son." What irony! Whatever attempts were made at any time to depreciate the Emperor, his son's loyalty to him never flinched. He regarded his father in the light of a hero whose glorious traditions were unequalled by any warrior or ruler of men. He drank in every particle of information he could discover about his father's life, and was by no means ignorant of what would be his own great destiny should he be permitted to live.
A strong party in France longed to have the son of their Emperor on the throne of France. A section of the Poles clamoured to have him proclaimed King of Poland after the Polish revolution, and the Greeks claimed him as their future King. All existing records dealing with the Prince's view concerning his position indicate quite clearly that he never under-estimated his importance. He was fully alive to and appreciated the growing devotion to himself, his cause, and to the great name he bore. We learn from Marshal Marmont that the Prince received him with marked cordiality when the Emperor Francis gave him permission to relate to him his father's history. Marmont, like all traitors, never neglected to put forth his popularity with the Emperor Napoleon. This is a habit with people who do great injury to their friends. They always make it appear that the injured person is afflicted with growing love for them--they never realise how much they are loathed and mistrusted.
The Prince at first received him with suspicion, then he tolerated him coldly, and it was not until Marmont fascinated him with stories of the genius and unparalleled greatness of his father's history that the young man subdued his prejudices and encouraged the Marshal in his visits to his apartments, in order that he might learn all that Marmont could tell him of his father's qualities and accomplishments.
The young Napoleon caused the General to marvel at the quick intelligence he displayed in the pointed comments made on his father's career. In recognition of his services Marmont was presented with a portrait of the Prince.[20]
His cousin, Prince Napoleon, son of King Jerome, in his book "Napoleon and His Detractors," obviously desires to convey the impression that all questions, important or unimportant, relating to the Emperor, were studiously kept from his son, and until he arrived at a certain age there can be little doubt that undue and unnatural precautions were taken to prevent the Emperor's name being spoken, but the means used for this purpose must have proved abortive, as everything points to him having been well informed. He appears to have had an instinctive knowledge that nullified the precautions of the Court of Vienna, and especially its culpable Chancellor, Metternich, whose clumsy and heartless treatment is so apparent to all students of history.
Probably this is the policy that prevailed up to 1830 which Prince Napoleon complains of. Be that as it may, we are persuaded that the Duke was not only well informed, but took a keen interest in the events of his own and of his father's life, long before the advent of Marmont as his tutor. For instance, on one occasion his friend, Count Prokesch, dined with his grandfather in 1830, and at table the Prince was afforded great pleasure in having the opportunity of conversing with this distinguished man. The young Duke knew that Prokesch had broken a lance in 1818 in defence of his father, and he eagerly availed himself of the chance of saying some very complimentary things to the Count. He informs him that he has "known him a long while, and loved him because he defended his father's honour at a time when all the world vied with each other to slander his name"; and then he continues: "I have read your 'Battle of Waterloo,' and in order to impress every line of it on my memory I translated it twice in French and Italian."[21] Obviously this young man was neither a dunce nor indolent when his father's fame and his own interests were in question.
One of the most remarkable features of this pathetic young life is the intense interest his mother's husband began to take in him, and he probably owed a great deal to the fact that Count Neipperg urged him to make himself familiar with the glory of the Empire and his father's deeds. Strange though it may appear, the son of the Great Napoleon and the morganatic husband of his mother were attached to each other in the most intimate way. If he perceived the immoral relations between Neipperg and Marie Louise, the Duke never seems to have divulged it; but taking into account the pa.s.sionate love and devotion he had for his father's memory, it is barely likely that he knew either of the amorous connection or marriage having taken place between the Count and his mother, otherwise he would have had something to say about it, not only to Neipperg himself, but certainly to his friends Prokesch, Baron Obenaus, and Count Dietrichstein, and very naturally his grandfather. It may be that the circ.u.mstances of his life made him cautious, and even cunning, in keeping to himself an affair that was generally approved by the most interested parties, but it is hardly likely that the spirit of natural feeling had been so far crushed out of him as to forbid his openly resenting a further monstrous wrong being done to his Imperial father.
The young Prince was the centre of great political interest, and the object of ungrudging sympathy and devotion of a large public in Europe, and especially in France, and had his life been preserved a few more years he would, in spite of obstacles and prejudices, have been put on the throne of the land of his birth.
Metternich, the inveterate trickster, does not appear to have had any serious thought of encouraging the project of making the Duke Emperor of the French. His subtle game was to use him as a terror to Louis Philippe when that monarch became refractory or showed signs of covetousness.
The Prince carried himself high above sordid party methods. He was proud of being heir to a throne that his father had made immortal and he was determined not to soil it. If it was to be reclaimed, all obstacles must be removed ere he would lend his countenance to it.
There must be a clear, uninterrupted pa.s.sage. Thirty-four million souls, it was claimed, were anxious for his restoration to France.
Amongst the leaders were to be found some of his father's old companions in arms and in exile, amongst whom none were more enthusiastic than the loyal and devoted Count Montholon, Bertrand, the petulant and penitent Gourgaud, and Savary, Duke of Rovigo. These were joined to thousands of other brave men who would have considered it an honour to shed their last drop of blood for the cause, and in memory of him whom they had loved so well. The two first-named were executors to his father's will, in which Napoleon enjoins his son not to attempt to avenge his death but to profit by it. He reminds him that things have changed. He was obliged to daunt Europe by his arms, but now the way is to convince her. His son is urged not to mount the throne by the aid of foreign influence, and he is charged to deserve the approbation of posterity. He is reminded that "MERIT may be pardoned, but not intrigue," and that he is to "propagate in all uncivilised and barbarous countries the benefits of Christianity and civilisation.
Religious ideas have more influence than certain narrow-minded philosophers are willing to believe. They are capable of rendering great services to humanity."
These are only a few of the excellent thoughts transmitted to the young man from the tragic rock whose memories will ever defame the name of those who combined to commit a crime unequalled in political history.
It is none the less a phenomenon that this "abode of darkness," so monstrous in the history of its perfidy, should be illumined by the great figure that stamped its fame for evermore with his personality.
One of the last and finest works of genius he did there was to draw up a const.i.tution for his son. It is doubtful whether Montholon ever succeeded in conveying it to the Prince, who pa.s.sed on before the legitimate call to put it into practice came.
The Powers that made holy war for the last time on the great soldier with 900,000 men against his 128,000 arrogated the right to outlaw and brand him as the disturber of public peace. I have already said this was their ostensible plea, but the real reason was his determination to exterminate feudalism and establish democratic inst.i.tutions as soon as he could bring the different factions into harmony. He failed, but the colossal cost of his failure in men and money is unthinkable. His subjugation left Great Britain alone with a debt, as already stated, of eight hundred millions, and then there was no peace.
The const.i.tution intended for his son could have been very beneficially applied to some of the nations represented at the Congress of Aix-la-Chapelle by the allied sovereigns who declared him an outlaw, and spent their time in allocating slices of other people's territory to each other. The only nation that came badly out of the Congress was Great Britain.
This terrible despot, who was beloved by the common people and hated by the oligarchy, left behind him a const.i.tution that might well be adopted by the most democratic countries.
The first article--composed of six words: "The sovereignty dwells in the nation"--stamps the purpose of it with real democracy. It might do no harm to embody some of its clauses into our own const.i.tution at the present time. We very tardily adopted some of its laws long after his death, and we might go on copying to our advantage. He was a real progressor, but his team was difficult to guide. Had he been conciliated and allowed to remain at peace, he would have democratised the whole of Europe, but the fear of that, or the legitimacy idea, was undoubtedly the great underlying cause of much of the trouble. The mistrust and animus against the father was reflected upon the son, who was practically a State prisoner.
During childhood the Prince was strong and healthy, and his robust physique caused favourable comment. It was not until 1819 that his health became affected by an attack of spotted fever. This pa.s.sed away in a few weeks, but the decline of his health, which was attributed to his rapid growth, dates from that period. He died prematurely on July 22, 1832, at Schonbrunn, and the accounts which may be relied upon indicate either wilfully careless or incompetent medical treatment. It is even a.s.serted that this heir to the throne of France, ushered in twenty-one years before as the herald of Peace, was to be regarded as a source of infinite danger, and for that barbaric reason his health was allowed to be slowly and surely undermined until death took him from the restraining influences and crimeful policy of the Courts of Europe. Great efforts have been made to convince a sceptical public that his early death was the result of youthful indiscretions, but this is stoutly denied by Prokesch, who declares that he was a strictly moral youth, and Baron Obenaus, in his diary, justifies this opinion, if there was nothing else to support it. Moreover the same Anton, Count Prokesch was asked by Napoleon III. to tell him the truth as to the alleged love affairs, and he averred that the rumours were without foundation.
The King of Rome died at Schonbrunn in the same room that his father had occupied in 1809. In Paris a report was put about that he had been poisoned by the Court of Vienna. This opinion has been handed down, and there are many persons to-day who have a firm belief in its possibility.
Another common rumour, current in 1842, was that Metternich sent a poisoned lemon by Prokesch, which had done its work, and even this highly improbable story is not without reason believed, because Metternich was known to be the most heartless cunning Judas in politics at that time. He had betrayed the father of the Prince while he was declaring the most loyal friends.h.i.+p. He admits this, nay, even boasts of it, in his memoirs, and his shameful conduct has its reward by having won for him the stigma of wis.h.i.+ng for, and hastening on, the death of an unfortunate young man for whom ordinary manliness should have claimed compa.s.sion. This moral a.s.sa.s.sin of father and son declared that he had "used all the means in his power to second the hand of G.o.d" by trapping Napoleon into the clutches of the combined moralists of Europe. The Usurper was to be ruined, then peace proclaimed for evermore. That was their pretence, though it could not have been their conviction. If it was, they were soon disillusioned.
I made a long journey in company with a Danish statesman a few years ago, and amongst other things that we conversed about was the reign and fall of Napoleon. This gentleman held up his hands and said to me, "Oh! what a blunder the criminal affair was. Had the Powers beheld the mission of this man aright, what a blessing it would have been to the world!"--and there is not much difficulty in supporting the view of this Danish gentleman. The more one probes into the history of the period, the more vivid the blunder appears.
Metternich has the distinction of being eulogised by M. Taine, who was neither fair nor accurate, and there is not much glory in being championed by a man whose book is made up of libels. Metternich may here be dismissed as being only one of many whose highest ambition was to destroy the man whom the French nation had made their monarch.
Their aim was accomplished, but the spirit that evolved from the wreck of the Revolution still lives on, and may rise again to be avenged for the great crime that was committed.
Whether the gifted and amiable son of the Emperor Napoleon was despatched by the cruellest of all a.s.sa.s.sinations or came by his premature death by neglect, or by natural and const.i.tutional causes, is a matter that may never be cleared up, though the actions of the high commissioners in the nauseous drama cause lingering doubts to prevail as to their innocence. It is certain that several determined attempts were made to take the Prince's life, and large sums were offered to desperadoes to carry out this murderous deed. Then the Court of Vienna were in constant fear of his abduction. His invitations to come to France were perpetual.
A lady cousin--the Countess Napoleone Camerata, daughter of Elisa Bacciochi, a sister of the Emperor, easily obtained a pa.s.sport from the Pope's Secretary of State, and coquetted so successfully with the Austrian Amba.s.sador, that he gave it a double guarantee of good faith by signing it. This impetuous and eccentric female made her way uninterruptedly to Vienna, found her cousin on the doorstep, made a rush for him and seized his hand, then shouted, "Who can prevent my kissing my sovereign's hand?" She also found means to convey letters to him. There is not much said about this Napoleonic dash, but from the records that are available the incident set the heroes--comprising the allied Courts (including France)--into a flutter of excitement.
The fuss created by the enterprise of the pretty little Countess gives a lurid insight into the wave of comic derangement which must have taken possession of men's minds.