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PORTRAIT 
 
 OP 
 
 BONAPARTE? 
 
 A VIEW 
 
 HIS ADMINISTRATION. 
 
 BY F. J. DE CHATEAUBRIAND. 
 
 TOGETHER WITH 
 
 AN ODE TO NAPOLEON. 
 
 
 . NEW- YORK : 
 .PUBLISHED BY EASTBURN, KIRK & CO. AT THE LITERARY 
 ROOMS, CORNER OF WALL AND NASSAU-STREETS. 
 
 1814. 
 
PORTRAIT OF BONAPARTE. 
 
 ■£In sketching the following animated portrait of Bo- 
 naparte, M de Chateaubriand displays the hand 
 of a master. Bold and original in his conceptions, 
 fearless and intrepid in his language, terse and sen- 
 tentious in his style, he portrays, in lively but faith- 
 ful colours, the terrific sway of the late tyrant of 
 France and scourge of mankind. M. Chateaubriand 
 had acquired, previous to the appearance of this 
 work, a great and deserved celebrity by the publi- 
 cation of several distinguished W orks Mis Grfiie du 
 Christianisme, and his JHartyrs, had obtained for 
 him a place in the first ranks of French literature. 
 It ought not, therefore, to excite surprise, that the 
 production of an author so celebrated, issuing 
 from the press at a crisis so interesting and impor- 
 tant, should ha e circulated with a rapidity before 
 unknown, and to an extent unparalleled in the his- 
 tory of French publi cations. £ en thousand copies 
 of this eloquent production, says the Journal cles 
 DebatSy proving insufficient to satisfy the public 
 curiosity, the author has published a seeond edi- 
 tion, which has undergone several alterations, of 
 which the following extract from the new preface 
 will best show the spirit :] 
 
 " The battle was still raging at Mont- 
 martre, when the printer, who devoted 
 himself with me to the cause of the Bour- 
 bons, came in quest of the manuscript of 
 
this work. Bonaparte was at Fontain- 
 bleau with 50 or 60,000 men; the fate 
 of the House of Bourbon still remained 
 undecided. In case of reverse, nothing 
 but the most speedy flight could save 
 me from death. It is true that since the 
 period of the assassination of the Duke 
 D'Enghein, I had been accustomed to 
 run the chances of fortune : threatened 
 every six months with being shot, sabred, 
 or imprisoned for the remainder of my 
 life, I nevertheless persisted in doing 
 what appeared to me my duty. But un- 
 der the recent circumstances in which I 
 last wrote, it was natural that my mind 
 should not be sufficiently at ease to ob- 
 serve all the little proprieties : on the 
 field of battle a man does not deal out 
 his blows by measure ; I was entitled, 
 therefore, to some indulgence. On a 
 
subject of an interest so pressing, so ge« 
 neral, I hoped that some little errors 
 would have been overlooked, insepara- 
 ble from a work finished amidst the roar 
 of cannon, and published, so to speak, in 
 the breach. 
 
 " The Italians would wish that I had 
 not confounded Corsica with Italy ; they 
 quote to this effect an Italian proverb, 
 abusing the country of Bonaparte. It 
 is evident, however, that I have attacked 
 neither Corsica nor Italy generally : it 
 is always absurd to ascribe to nations 
 the fault of individuals : if Corsica pro- 
 duced a Bonaparte, did not France give 
 birth to a Robespierre 1 Noble and great 
 families, men remarkable for their ener- 
 gy and talents, have sprung from that 
 island, at present too famous. Was it not 
 
 to the first Marshal Ornano that Henry 
 
 1# 
 
6 
 
 IV. was partly indebted for the submis- 
 sion of Dauphine ? And at this day it is 
 one of Bonaparte's countrymen, who by 
 his patience, his firmness, his courage, 
 and his talents, has mainly contributed 
 to the restoration of the French mon- 
 archy, (M. Pozzo de Borgho.) 
 
 " As to the calamities which the 
 French have in all ages spread in Italy, 
 and the misfortunes which France has ex- 
 perienced under the government of Ita- 
 lians, these are facts attested by history ; 
 but they would not justify any sweeping 
 conclusion against the French or Ita- 
 lians." 
 
 The preface concludes thus : " I shall 
 be happy if this work have done some 
 service, and served to tear asunder the 
 veil which covered the odious tyranny. 
 The last moments of Bonaparte suffi- 
 
ciently justify rny opinion of that man* 
 I had long foreseen that he would not 
 make an honourable exit ; but I confess 
 he even exceeded my expectation of 
 him. He only retained in his humilia- 
 tion his character of player and imitator 
 — he affects to be cool and indifferent: 
 he criticises and speaks of himself as of 
 another man — of his fall as of an acci- 
 dent happening to a neighbour ; he af- 
 fects to reason about what the Bourbons 
 have to hope and fear: he affects to be 
 a Sylla, a Dioclesian, as before an Alex- 
 ander, or a Charlemagne. He wishes to 
 appear insensible to every thing, and per- 
 haps is so in reality — one expression of 
 joy has burst forth amidst his apathy : 
 one sees that he is glad to live. Let us 
 not envy him that happiness; where a man 
 is pitiable, he is no longer to be feared." 
 
1Z\TERI0R ADMINISTRATION OF FRANCE, 
 
 ON THE ACCESSION OF BONAPARTE TO THE 
 IMPERIAL THRONE. 
 
 Then commenced the grand saturnalia 
 of royalty : crimes, oppression, slavery, 
 marched with a step equal with folly. 
 All liberty expired ; every honourable 
 sentiment, every generous thought, be- 
 came conspiracies against the state. If 
 one spoke of virtue, he was suspected ; to 
 praise a good action, was an injury done 
 to the prince. Words changed their 
 meaning : a people who combated for 
 its legitimate sovereign was a rebellious 
 people : a traitor was a faithful subject ; 
 all France became an empire of false- 
 hood; journals, pamphlets, discourses, 
 prose and verse, all disguised the truth. 
 If it had rained, we were assured that 
 the day was delightful; if the tyrant bad 
 
gone into the midst of a silent people, he 
 advanced, we were told, amidst the ac- 
 clamations of the multitude. The only 
 object was the prince : morality consist- 
 ed in devoting itself to his caprices, duty 
 in praising him. It was, above all things, 
 necessary to exclaim with admiration, 
 when he was guilty of a fault or crime. 
 Men of letters were forced, by menaces, 
 to celebrate the despot. They agreed, 
 they capitulated about the degree of 
 praise ; happy when, at the price of some 
 commonplace observations upon the 
 glory of arms, they had purchased the 
 right of sending forth some sighs, of de- 
 nouncing some crimes, of recalling some 
 prescribed truths ! No book could ap- 
 pear without the approbation of Bona- 
 parte, as a mark of slavery. In the new 
 edition of ancient authors, all that was 
 
10 
 
 found against conquerors, servitude and 
 tjranny, was retrenched, as the Direc- 
 tory formerly had the design of expung- 
 ing from the same authors, all that rela- 
 ted to monarchy and kings. The alma- 
 nacs were examined with care ; and the 
 conscription formed an article of faith in 
 the catechism. In the arts there was 
 the same servitude : Bonaparte poisoned 
 his diseased soldiers at Jaffa: a picture 
 was made which represented him as do- 
 ing friendly offices, through excess of 
 courage and humanity, to these same in- 
 fectious soldiers. It was not thus that 
 St. Louis healed the sick, whom a strong 
 and religious confidence presented to his 
 royal hands. Finally, public opinion 
 must not be expressed : the maxim was, 
 that the sovereign should dispense with 
 it every morning. There was, in addi- 
 
11 
 
 tion tcr the police, brought to perfection 
 by Bonaparte, a committee charged to 
 give direction to mental faculties, and at 
 the head of this committee a director of 
 public opinion. Imposture and silence 
 were the two grand means employed to 
 keep the people in error. If your chil- 
 dren had died in the field of battle, do 
 you suppose that so much notice would 
 be taken of you as to tell you what had 
 become of them ? Events the most im- 
 portant to the country, to Europe, and the 
 whole world, were concealed. The ene- 
 my are at Meaux ; but you learn it only 
 by the flight of the countrymen ; they 
 envelop you in darkness ; they sport 
 with your inquietudes ; they laugh at 
 your griefs; they despise that which 
 you perceive and think. You wish to 
 raise your voices, an informer denounces 
 
12 
 
 you, a gendarme arrests you, a military 
 commission judges you : they take off 
 your head, and you are forgotten. 
 
 Enchaining fathers is not all ; it is ne- 
 cessary to dispose of children. We see 
 mothers run from the extremities of the 
 empire, and come to reclaim, with all 
 the eloquence of tears, the sons which 
 government has taken from them. Their 
 children are placed in schools, where 
 they learn, at the sound of the drum, irre- 
 ligion, debauchery, contempt of domestic 
 virtues, and blind obedience to the sove- 
 reign. Paternal authority, respected by 
 the most frightful tyrants of antiquity, 
 was treated by Bonaparte as error and 
 prejudice. He wished to make of our 
 sons a species of Mamelukes, without a 
 God, without a family, and without a 
 country. It appeared that this enemy 
 
13 
 
 of every thing was bent upon destroying 
 France from its foundation. He had 
 corrupted more men, and done more in- 
 jury to the human race, in the short 
 space of ten years, than all the tyrants 
 of Rome together, from the days of Nero 
 to the last persecutor of the christians. 
 The principles which served as the basis 
 of his administration, passed from his go- 
 vernment into different classes of socie- 
 ty ; because a perverse government in- 
 troduces vice among the people, as a 
 wise government does virtue. Impiety, 
 taste for all pleasures and expenses above 
 our fortune, contempt of moral ties, a 
 spirit of adventure, of violence, and of 
 power, descend from the throne into 
 families. Had France been a little 
 while longer under Bonaparte, she woulcj 
 have become a cavern of robbers. 
 
14 
 
 They have puffed the administration 
 of Bonaparte. If administration consist 
 in figures ; if to govern well, it be neces- 
 sary to know how much a province pro- 
 duces in corn, in wine, in oil ; what is the 
 last crown which can be raised, the last 
 man that can be taken, truly, Bonaparte 
 is a grand administrator : for it is impos- 
 sible better to organize evil, and more 
 completely to put order into confusion. 
 But a better administration is that which 
 leaves a people in peace, which nourishes 
 in them sentiments of justice and piety, 
 which is avaricious of the blood of men, 
 which respects the rights of citizens, 
 property and families. 
 
 And yet, what of the faults and errors 
 in his own system! An administration, 
 the most expensive, consumed a part 
 of the revenue of the state. Armies of 
 
15 
 
 custom-house officers and receivers ex- 
 pended the imposts which they were 
 charged to raise. There was no chief 
 officer, ever so insignificant, who had not 
 five or six deputies under him. Bona- 
 parte declared war against commerce. 
 If there was any branch of industry ri- 
 sing in France, he took it into his hands, 
 and it immediately declined. Tobacco, 
 salt, wool, colonial commodities, all were 
 to him objects of an odious monopoly. 
 He was the only merchant of his em- 
 pire. 
 
 Every day this restless and whimsical 
 man fatigued a people, who had no want 
 but repose, with contradictory decrees, 
 and oftentimes impossible to be execu- 
 ted. He violated in the evening the law 
 which he had made in the morning. He 
 expended in ten years, fifteen thousand 
 
16 
 
 million of imposts, which surpasses the 
 sum of the taxes levied during the seven- 
 ty-seven years of the reign of Louis 
 XIV. The plunder of the world, fifteen 
 hundred millions, did not suffice him. 
 He was occupied to accumulate trea- 
 sure by measures the most iniquitous. 
 Every prefect, every sub-prefect, every 
 mayor, had the right of augmenting the 
 duties of cities, of putting additional 
 centimes on boroughs, villages, and ham- 
 lets ; and of demanding of this and that 
 proprietor an arbitrary sum for this and 
 that pretended want. All France was 
 pillaged. Infirmities, indigence, death, 
 education, the arts, the sciences, all paid 
 a tribute to the prince. Had you a son 
 lame, crippled, incapable of service, a 
 law of the conscription obliged you to 
 give fifteen hundred francs to console 
 
17 
 
 yourself for this misfortune. Sometimes 
 the sick conscript died before having 
 had an examination by the recruiting of- 
 ficer : Do you suppose that the father 
 was then exempt from paying the 1500 
 francs ? Not at all. If the declaration 
 of sickness had been made before death, 
 and the conscript found himself living 
 at the time of the declaration, the father 
 was obliged to count the sum upon the 
 tomb of his son. Did a poor man wish 
 to give some learning to one of his chil- 
 dren — it was necessary that he should 
 pay eight hundred francs fo the Uni- 
 versity, without counting one tenth of 
 the pension given to his instructor. Did 
 a modern author quote an ancient au- 
 thor ; seeing that the works of the lat- 
 ter fell into that which they call public 
 domain — it was necessary to pay to the 
 
18 
 
 censor five sous for each line of quota- 
 tion. If you translated in quoting, you 
 would have to pay only two sous and a 
 half per line, because then the quotation 
 was a mixed domain ; a moiety appertain- 
 ing to the living translator, and the other 
 moiety to the dead author. When Bona- 
 parte caused food to be distributed to the 
 poor in the winter of 1 81 1 , it was believed 
 that he exhibited this generosity in conse- 
 quence of his economy. He levied, on that 
 occasion, the additional centimes, andgain- 
 ed four millions by the soup of the poor. 
 Finally, he took upon himself the admi- 
 nistration of funerals. It was worthy the 
 destroyer of the French to lay an impost 
 upon their carcasses. And how could 
 they employ the protection of the laws, 
 since it was he that made them? The 
 legislative body dared to speak but once* 
 
19 
 
 and it was dissolved. One article alone 
 of the new codes radically destroyed 
 property. An administrator of the do- 
 main could tell you — " your property is 
 domanial or national. I put it provision- 
 ally under sequestration ; go, go to law. 
 If the domain is in the wrong, I will re- 
 turn your property." And to whom 
 have you recourse in this case? To 
 the ordinary tribunals ? No : these causes 
 are reserved for the examination of the 
 council of state, and pleaded before the 
 emperor, who is both judge and party 
 concerned. 
 
 If property was uncertain, civil liberty 
 was less sure. What is more monstrous 
 than the commission appointed to inspect 
 prisons, and upon the report of which a 
 man could be detained, all his life, in 
 dungeons, put to torture, shot at night, 
 or strangled without trial and without 
 
20 
 
 judgment. In the midst of all this, 
 Bonaparte appointed, every year, com- 
 missioners of the liberty of the press, 
 and individual liberty ! Tiberius him- 
 self never thus sported with the human 
 race. 
 
 Finally, the conscription crowned all his 
 works of despotism. Scandinavia, called 
 by an historian the store house of the 
 human race, could not furnish sufficient 
 men for this homicidal law. The code 
 of the conscription will be an eternal 
 monument of the reign of Bonaparte. 
 In it is found united ail that which tyran- 
 ny, the most subtle and ingenious, could 
 imagine to torment and devour the peo- 
 ple ; it is truly the code of hell. The 
 generations of France have been cut 
 down as the trees of the forest ; every 
 year 80,000 young men have been de- 
 stroyed. But there was not only regular 
 
21 
 
 death: oftentimes the conscription was 
 doubled, and fortified by extraordinary 
 levies ; oftentimes it devoured, in ad- 
 vance, its future victims, as a spendthrift 
 borrows in anticipation of future income. 
 It capt the climax by taking persons with- 
 out considering their age. The quali- 
 ties requisite for dying on the field of 
 battle were no longer considered ; and the 
 law, in this respect, showed a wonderful 
 indulgence : it went back to infancy ; it 
 descended to old age: the soldier that 
 had served a certain time and left the 
 army, and he who had sent another in 
 his place, were again conscribed. A 
 son of a poor artisan, redeemed three 
 times at the price of the little fortune of 
 his father, was obliged to march. Ma- 
 ladies, infirmities, bodily defects, were of 
 no avail. Companies run through our 
 provinces, as through an enemy's coun- 
 
-2 
 
 com the ptoplt 
 children. In default of an absent bro- 
 ther, they took one that was at home — 
 The father answered for the son, the 
 wife for the husband : — responsibility 
 extended to parents distantly related, 
 and even to neighbour?. A village be- 
 came bound for the conscript who had 
 been born in it. Soldiers garrisoned 
 themselves upon the peasantry ; and for- 
 ced them to sell their beds for their 
 support, until the conscript who had fled 
 to the woods had been found. Absur- 
 dity was added to atrocity ; oftentimes 
 they demanded children of those who 
 were so happy as not to have any. 
 They employed violence to discover the 
 bearer of the name which existed only 
 on the roll of the gendarmes, or to find 
 a conscript who had served five or six 
 years. Women with child were put to 
 
23 
 
 (ui lure, that ihey might make known the 
 place where was concealed their first born. 
 Fathers brought the corpse of a son, 
 that the j might prove that they had no 
 son to give as a conscript. It still hap- 
 pened that the children of richer families 
 were redeemed — They were destined, 
 one day, to become magistrates, scholars, 
 proprietors, so useful to the social order 
 in a great country : — by a decree of the 
 guards of honour, they were destroyed 
 in the universal massacre. It had come 
 to that point of contempt of the life of 
 men, and of France, that conscripts were 
 called food for cannon. Among these 
 providers of human flesh for cannon, this 
 grand question was sometimes agitated — 
 how long will a conscript live ? Some 
 said he would live thirtv-three months, 
 others thirty-six — Bonaparte himself 
 said — I have an income of 300,000 mm. 
 2* 
 
24 
 
 Bonaparte caused to perish, in the ele- 
 ven years of his reign, more than five 
 millions of Frenchmen ! A number which 
 exceeds that which perished during the 
 civil wars of three ages, under the reigns 
 of John, Charles V., Charles VI., 
 Charles VII., Henry II., Francis II., 
 Charles IX., Henry III., and Henry IV. 
 
 In the last twelve months past, Bona- 
 parte has destroyed (without counting 
 the national guard) 1,320,000 men, ma- 
 king more than a hundred thousand men 
 per month ; and yet they tell us that he 
 has only consumed a superfluous popu- 
 lation I 
 
 But the loss of men is not the greatest 
 evil which the conscription produces : it 
 tends to replunge us and all Europe into 
 barbarism. By the conscription, trades, 
 arts and letters are inevitably destroyed. 
 The youth, who must die in the field of 
 
25 
 
 battle at sixteen, cannot devote himself 
 to any study. Neighbouring nations, 
 obliged to defend themselves, to recur 
 to the same means as we, must abandon, 
 in their turn, all the advantages of civili- 
 zation ; and all people, rushing one upon 
 another, as in the time of the Goths and 
 Vandals, would witness the evils of those 
 days. In breaking the ties of general 
 society, the conscription broke those 
 of families. Accustomed from their 
 cradle to regard themselves as victims 
 devoted to death, children, no longer 
 obedient to parents, become idlers, 
 vagabonds, and debauchees, until they 
 must march to pillage and destroy in- 
 vaded countries. What principle of re- 
 ligion and morality could have time to 
 take root in their minds ? Fathers and 
 mothers, of this class of people, no longer 
 had affection or care for children whom 
 
26 
 
 
 
 they bad prepared themselves to lose, 
 who no longer were the riches and sup- 
 port, and who became to them only a grief 
 and burden. This hardness of heart, this 
 forget fulness of every natural sentiment 
 which leads to self love, to carelesness 
 about good or evil, to indifference for the 
 country ; which extinguishes conscience 
 and remorse, and which devotes a people 
 to servitude, was only preparatory for 
 banishing a horror for vice and admira- 
 tion for virtue. 
 
 Such was the administration of Bona- 
 parte in the interior of France. 
 
 " Absurd in his administration, crimi- 
 nal in his policy, what did this stranger 
 possess to enable him thus to seduce the 
 French nation? His military glory. — 
 Well, he is spoiled of that. He was, in- 
 deed, a great gainer of battles ; but ex- 
 cept that, the least general was more 
 
27 
 
 able than he. He knew nothing of re- 
 treats or of manoeuvres. He is impatient, 
 incapable of waiting any time for a re- 
 sult, the fruit of a long military combina- 
 tion. His only talent is in advancing., 
 making points, rushing onwards, and car- 
 rying victories, to use his own expres- 
 sion, by dint of men. He sacrifices 
 every thing for success, without embar- 
 rassing himself with a reverse ; he would 
 kill half his soldiers by marches forced 
 beyond the power of human strength. 
 No matter : has he not the conscription 
 and the raw materials ? Some have be- 
 lieved that he has perfected the art of 
 war ; but it is certain that he has made 
 it retrograde towards the infancy of the 
 art. The masterpiece of the military 
 art among civilized nations, is, undoubt- 
 edly, to defend a great country with a 
 small army; to leave in repose many 
 
28 
 
 millions of men, behind sixty or eighty 
 thousand soldiers, so that the labourer 
 who cultivates his land in peace may 
 hardly know that a battle is fighting 
 a few leagues from his cottage. The 
 Roman empire was guarded by 150,000 
 men, and Caesar had only a few legions 
 at Pharsalia. Let this conqueror of the 
 world this day defend us at our firesides. 
 What ! has all his genius suddenly aban- 
 doned him ? By what enchantment has 
 this France, which Louis XIV. had sur- 
 rounded with fortresses — which Vauban 
 had enclosed like a beautiful garden, 
 been invaded on every side? Where 
 are the garrisons of his frontier places ? 
 They have none. Where are the can- 
 non of his ramparts? All are disman- 
 tled ; even the vessels of war at Brest, 
 
 at Toulon, and at Rochefort. If 
 
 Bonaparte had wished to deliver o% 
 
29 
 
 without defence, to the allied powers £ 
 if he had sold us ; if he had secretl y con- 
 spired against France, could he have 
 acted otherwise? In less than sixteen 
 months two thousand millions of money, 
 four hundred thousand men, all the ma- 
 teriel of our armies, and of our strong 
 places, have been swallowed up in the 
 woods of Germany and in the deserts of 
 Russia. At Dresden, Bonaparte com- 
 mitted fault upon fault. Forgetful that, 
 though crimes sometimes are not pu- 
 nished except in the other world, yet 
 faults always are in this. He shows 
 the most incomprehensible ignorance of 
 what was passing in the cabinets ; obsti- 
 nately remains upon the Elbe ; is beaten 
 at Leipsic, and refuses an honourable 
 peace when proposed to him. Full of 
 despair and rage, he sets out for the last 
 time from the palace of our kings ; goes 
 
30 
 
 to burn, with a spirit of injustice and in- 
 gratitude, the village where thoie same 
 kings brought him up; opposes to his 
 enemies nothing but activity without 
 plan ; experiences a last reverse ; flies 
 once more, and at last delivers the 
 capital of the civilized world from his 
 odious presence. 
 
 The pen of a Frenchman would re- 
 fuse to paint the horror of these fields of 
 battle. A wounded man was a burden 
 to Bonaparte ; it was all the better if he 
 died ; he was the sooner rid of him. 
 Heaps of mutilated soldiers, thrown pell- 
 mell in a corner, remained sometimes 
 weeks without having their wounds 
 dressed. He had not hospitals large 
 enough to contain the sick of an army 
 of 7 or 800,000 men, much less surgeons 
 enough to take care of them. No precau- 
 tion taken for them by the executioner of 
 
31 
 
 Frenchmen. No medicines, no attend* 
 ants; sometimes not even instruments 
 for the amputation of fractured limbs. In 
 the campaign of Moscow, for want of 
 lint, they dressed the wounded with 
 hay. When hay failed, they died. We 
 have seen wandering about six hundred 
 thousand warriors — the conquerors of 
 Europe — the glory of France — we have 
 seen them wandering among the snow 
 and the deserts, supporting themselves 
 upon branches of pine trees, for they 
 had not strength enough to carry their 
 arms ; and covered, instead of clothing, 
 with the bloody skins of the horses 
 which had served them for their last re- 
 past. Old captains, with their hair and 
 beard standing on end with icicles, even 
 humbled themselves to caress the com- 
 mon soldier who had still a little food re- 
 maining, that they might obtain a meager 
 
32 
 
 portion of it To such an extent did 
 they experience the torments of famine! 
 Whole squadrons, men and horses, were 
 frozen t6 death during the night ; and in 
 the morning, these phantoms were seen, 
 still standing upright in the midst of the 
 frost! 
 
 The Emperor of Russia, in the 
 spring, caused a search to be made for 
 the dead; they have counted more than 
 one hundred and sixty thousand dead 
 bodies : on a single funeral pile twenty- 
 four thousand were burned. The mili- 
 tary plague, which had disappeared 
 since the time that wars had been con- 
 ducted with a small number of men — this 
 plague has reappeared with the conscrip- 
 tion, with armies of a million of soldiers, 
 and with rivers of human blood. And 
 what was the part acted by the destroyer 
 ot our fathers, of our brothers, of our 
 
33 
 
 sons, when the flower of Prance was 
 
 thus cut off? He fled! He came to 
 
 the Thuilleries to say, while rubbing his 
 hands by the fireside — It is more com- 
 fortable here than on the banks of the 
 Berezina ! Not a word of consolation to 
 the wives, the mothers in tears, with 
 whom he was surrounded ; not a regret, 
 not an emotion of tenderness, not one 
 feeling of remorse, not a single avowal of 
 his folly escaped his lips. His infamous 
 creatures said — l the most happy circum- 
 stance attending this retreat is, that the 
 emperor wanted for nothing; he had 
 continually plenty to eat and drink; he 
 was comfortably shut up in a good warm 
 carriage ; in fine, he has suffered no- 
 thing, and that is a great consolation.' 
 And he, in the midst of his court, ap- 
 peared as gay, as triumphant, as glorious,, 
 as ever. Clothed with a royal robe, 
 
34 
 
 and wearing his hat in the style of 
 Henry IV. he displayed himself bril- 
 liantly upon a throne, and practised the 
 royal attitudes which Talma had taught 
 him. But all this pomp served only to 
 render him the more hideous; and afl 
 the diamonds of his crown could not 
 conceal the blood with which it was 
 covered. 
 
 Alas ! The horrors of the field of bat- 
 tle have approached our doors; they 
 are no more concealed in the deserts ; 
 they are raging at our own firesides, 
 even in that Paris which the Normans 
 besieged in vain, about a thousand years 
 ago, and which boasted that it had never 
 had a conqueror except that Clovis who 
 became its king. To deliver up a coun- 
 try to invasion, is it not the greatest and 
 most unpardonable crime? We have 
 seen perish under our own eyes the 
 
35 
 
 residue of our children ; we have seen 
 flocks of conscripts, of veteran sol- 
 diers, pale and disfigured, supporting 
 themselves against the posts in the 
 streets, dying in all kinds of misery, 
 hardly able to support in one hand the 
 weapon with which they had defended 
 their country, and to ask alms with the 
 other hand ; we have seen the Seine 
 covered with barks, our roads encum- 
 bered with carriages, filled with the 
 wounded, who had not even the first 
 dressing on their wounds. One of these 
 cars, which might have been followed 
 by the track of blood, was broken to 
 pieces upon the bulwark ; out of it fell 
 conscripts, without arms, without legs, 
 pierced with balls or with the spear, 
 pouring forth agonizing cries, and be- 
 seeching those who passed by to put an 
 end to their lives and their miseries. 
 
36 
 
 " These unfortunates, often taken from 
 their cottages, before they had arrived 
 at the age of manhood, dragged into the 
 field of battle with their country caps 
 and clothes ; placed, as food for pow- 
 der, in the most dangerous places to ex- 
 haust the fire of the enemy : these unfor- 
 tunates, I say, would begin to weep and 
 cry aloud, as they were falling, pierced 
 with bullets, Ah ! my mother ! my wio- 
 ther ! A heart-rending cry, which mani- 
 fested the tender age of the child, torn 
 away in the evening from domestic 
 peace ; of the child fallen, all at once, 
 from the arms of its mother into those of 
 its barbarous sovereign. And for whom, 
 so many massacres, so many griefs ? for 
 an abominable Tyrant — for a foreigner, 
 who would never have been so prodigal 
 of French blood, if he had had one drop 
 of it in his veins, • . ♦ . ♦ 
 
37 
 
 Bonaparte has shown himself too mean 
 under misfortune to permit us to be- 
 lieve that his prosperity was the work of 
 his own genius. He is only the child of 
 our power, though we believed him to 
 be the offspring of his own works. His 
 grandeur }ias only arisen from the im- 
 mense forces which we had placed in Lis 
 hands, at the time of his elevation.— 
 He inherited all the armies formed under 
 our most able generals. He found a nu- 
 merous population, aggrandized by con- 
 quests, exalted by triumphs, and by that 
 powerful impulse which revolutions al- 
 ways give. He had only to strike his 
 foot upon the fruitful soil of our country, 
 and it brought forth, lavishly to his hand, 
 treasures and soldiers. 
 
 Bonaparte is a false great man. That 
 magnanimity which characterizes heroes 
 and true kings is wanting in him. Hence 
 
3a 
 
 it appears, that in speaking of him, no 
 one quotes a single expression which an- 
 nounces Alexander and Caesar, Henry 
 IV. and Louis XIV. Nature formed 
 him destitute of the tender feelings. The 
 master traits in his character are invin- 
 cible obstinacy, and an iron will, but 
 only for injustice, for oppression, and 
 extravagant systems ; for he easily aban- 
 dons every plan which might be favoura- 
 ble to morality, order, or virtue. Imagi- 
 nation governs him ; reason has no con- 
 trol over him. His designs are not the 
 fruit of any thing profound or matured, 
 but the effect of a sudden movement, 
 and of sudden resolution. Fickle as 
 the men of his own country, he has 
 about him something of the buffoon and 
 something of the comedian. He is al- 
 ways the actor even of those passions 
 which he does not possess : he is ever 
 
39 
 
 on a theatre. At Cairo he is a rene- 
 gado, who boasts that he has destroyed 
 the ^papacy ; at Paris he is the restorer 
 of the christian religion : one while he is 
 a believer in revelation ; at another he 
 is a philosopher. His scenes are pre- 
 pared in advance. A sovereign who 
 could take lessons from Talma, that he 
 might appear in a royal attitude, is con- 
 demned for posterity. Affecting uni- 
 versality of genius, he speaks of finances 
 and of shows, of war and of fashions ; re- 
 gulates the fate of kings, and that of the 
 man committed to a bridewell : issues 
 from the Kremlin a regulation for the 
 theatres ; and on the day of battle issues 
 orders to arrest some women at Pa- 
 ris. The child of our revolution, he has 
 a striking resemblance to his mother : 
 Intemperance of language, a taste for 
 low literature, and a passion for scrib- 
 
40 
 
 hling in the newspapers. Under the 
 mask of Ca?sar and Alexander, we behold 
 a little man, and the offspring of a low- 
 born family. He has a sovereign con- 
 tempt for mankind, for he judges them 
 by himself. His maxim is, that men do 
 nothing but from interest, and that hones- 
 ty itself is merely calculation. Hence 
 the system of fusion, which is the basis 
 of his government ; employing equally 
 the rogue and the honest man, mingling, 
 designedly, vice and virtue, and always 
 taking care to place a man in opposition 
 to his principles. His great pleasure is 
 to dishonour virtue, to soil reputation. 
 He corrupts every thing he touches. 
 When he has humbled you thus, you 
 become his own man, according to his 
 expression ; you belong to him by the 
 light of civility. 
 
41 
 
 Born but to destroy, Bonaparte hm 
 a horror for the happiness of mankind. 
 He said one day — 6 There are yet some 
 happy people in France ; they are fami- 
 lies who do not know me, who live in 
 the country, in a country seat, on an in* 
 come of 30 or 40,000 Iivres, but I know 
 well how to reach them.' He kept his 
 word. He saw one day some of our 
 children engaged in play ; he said to a 
 bishop who was present — ' Mr. Bishop ? 
 do you believe that these have any 
 souls ?' Every thing marked with su- 
 periority terrifies this tyrant ; all repu- 
 tation is an inconvenience to him. He 
 is jealous of talents, of wit, of virtue ; 
 he would not even love the eclat of a 
 great crime, unless the crime was his 
 own. In a word, Bonaparte was only the 
 man of prosperity. As soon as adver- 
 sity, which only makes virtue shine more 
 3* 
 
42 
 
 brilliantly, touched this false great man, 
 the prodigy vanished : in the monarch 
 we perceive nothing but the adventurer, 
 and in the hero nothing but the man 
 who had suddenly risen to glory. 
 
 When Bonaparte drove the Direc- 
 tory from power, he addressed them in 
 these words :— 
 
 " What have you done with that 
 France which I left so brilliant in your 
 hands ? I left you in peace — I find you 
 engaged in war ; I left you victories — I 
 find only defeats ; I left you the millions 
 of Italy — I find everywhere rapacious 
 laws, and misery. What have you done 
 with the hundred thousand Frenchmen, 
 whom I once knew, with all my compa- 
 nions in glory ? They are dead. 
 
 " This state of things can last no 
 longer. Before three years it would bring 
 us under a despotism ; but we want ?i 
 
43 
 
 republic, founded on the basis of equali- 
 ty, morality, civil liberty^ and political 
 toleration," &c. 
 
 This day, man of disaster, we will 
 take you at your own words. Tell us 
 what have you done with this France so 
 brilliant ? Where are our treasures — the 
 millions of Italy — of the whole of Eu- 
 rope ? What have you done, not with 
 the hundred thousand, but with the five 
 millions of Frenchmen whom we all 
 knew, our relatives, our friends, our 
 brothers ? This state of things can last 
 no longer; it has plunged us into a fright- 
 ful despotism. You wanted a republic, 
 and you reduced us to slavery. We 
 wanted a monarchy, established on the 
 foundations of equality of rights, of mo- 
 rality, of civil liberty, of political and 
 religious toleration. — Have you given us 
 such a monarchy? What have you 
 
44 
 
 done for us ? What do we owe to your 
 reign ? Who is it that tortured Pichegru, 
 banished Moreau, loaded with chains 
 the sovereign Pontiff, stole the Princes 
 of Spain, commenced an impious 
 war ? It is you. Who is it that has 
 lost our colonies, annihilated our com- 
 merce, corrupted our manners, robbed 
 the fathers of their children, desolated 
 families, ravaged the world, burned more 
 than a thousand leagues of country, in- 
 spired the whole world with horror at the 
 name of Frenchmen ? — It is you. Who 
 is it that has exposed France to pesti- 
 lence, invasion, dismemberment, con- 
 quest ? — It is still you : Behold that 
 which you were not capable to demand 
 of the Directory, but which we this day 
 demand of you. How much more crimi- 
 nal are you than those men whom you 
 found unworthy to govern us ? A legiti- 
 
45 
 
 mate and hereditary king, who should 
 have loaded his people with but the least 
 part of the evils which you have done, 
 would have put his throne in jeopardy ; 
 and you, usurper and foreigner should not 
 you be accursed in our eyes, on account 
 of the calamities with which you have 
 overwhelmed us ? Should you stili reign 
 in the midst of our tombs ! We will enter 
 again into our rights through misfortune ; 
 we will no more worship a Moloch ; you 
 shall no more devour our children ; we 
 will have no more of your conscription, 
 of your police, of your reproaches, of 
 your midnight executions, of your tyran- 
 ny. It is not only us, it is the human 
 race which accuses you. It demands of 
 us vengeance in the name of religion, of 
 morality, and of liberty. Where have 
 you not spread desolation? In what cor- 
 ner of the world lives there an obscure 
 
46 
 
 family which has escaped your ravages I 
 The Spaniard in his mountains, the Uly- 
 rian in his valleys, the Italian in his de- 
 lightful climate, the German, the Rus- 
 sian, the Prussian from his cities in 
 ashes, demand of you their children 
 whom you have murdered, their tents, 
 their cottages, their country seats, and 
 their temples, which you have given to 
 the flames. The voice of the world de- 
 clares you the greatest criminal which 
 has ever appeared on the earth. Quit 
 at last your iron sceptre ; descend from 
 that pile of ruins on which you have 
 erected your throne. We will drive 
 you away as you drove away the Di- 
 rectory. Go ! and, for your only punish- 
 ment, be the witness of the joy which 
 your fall gives to France, and contem- 
 plate, while you pour out tears of rage, 
 the spectacle of public felicity ! 
 
AX 
 
 Conquerors had not yet been suffi- 
 ciently hated. Heaven has permitted 
 the too long successes of Bonaparte to 
 inspire us with an everlasting horror of 
 them. It has designed that this con- 
 queror should have nothing in com- 
 mon with those who have dazzled, while 
 they terrified the world. It gave him 
 military talent, but without the eclat of 
 personal bravery ; an activity wonder- 
 ful, but without an object ; a will uncon- 
 querable, but without discretion. All his 
 disasters, all the disgraces which he has 
 experienced, sprung from the same 
 causes which produced his triumphs. 
 Neither the most unheard-of favours of 
 fortune, nor the most terrible lessons of 
 adversity; neither the confidence of a 
 nation which, tormented with a fright- 
 ful anarchy, hoped to find repose in 
 him, nor the counsels of illustrious men, 
 
48 
 
 who wished to point to him the path of 
 true glory; nor yet the devotion of 
 valorous warriors— nothing was able to 
 soften the character of the Corsican sol- 
 dier, to rectify his false spirit, to elevate 
 his corrupted soul. If we are astonished 
 at his obstinacy in destroying the lives 
 of men, we are not the less confounded 
 at his obstinate love of life. 
 
 He has shown us what self love is, 
 when found in an inhuman heart. Never 
 was he able to naturalize himself among 
 Frenchmen. Was he a Frenchman — he 
 who, placed upon a throne which the 
 goodness, the grace, and the gallantry of 
 our kings had embellished, was ever in- 
 sulting women, and rallying them with 
 rudeness, upon the decline of their 
 beauty ? Was he a Frenchman — he who 
 has never given any thing but with the 
 intention of abasing the receiver? He 
 
49 
 
 who in a cowardly manner abused hk 
 power, to address, in the midst of his 
 court, ignominious abuse to a worthy- 
 administrator, to an upright judge, or to 
 a brave soldier 1 But why ask this ? He 
 insults, even in his camp, our warriors, 
 admired by all Europe. What a torrent 
 of invective in his bulletins 1 When he 
 has committed a military fault, he choo- 
 ses, hap-hazard, the name of some gene- 
 ral to reproach him with it. He invents 
 stories which are believed by no one : 
 For instance — it is the rashness of a cor- 
 poral, who, by blowing up a bridge, has 
 caused to France the greatest reverses 
 she has experienced \ 
 
 He always places his best generals 
 at the most exposed posts. Twenty 
 times he has caused his choice troops, 
 and even the mass of his army, to march 
 by impracticable roads ; in th§ severest 
 
60 
 
 seasons, and with an unpitying rapidity. 
 At such times, two or three generals re- 
 mained, charged with the defence of im- 
 portant posts, against forces horribly dis- 
 proportioned. He conceals, to dissem- 
 ble a check, their acts of the most he- 
 roic bravery, and it is often from the 
 enemy that we gain the first information 
 of them. 
 
 What a savage character in his pre- 
 tended greatness ! What a contrast with 
 the noble and touching picture which is 
 offered to our eyes by the two sove- 
 reigns who became, in one day, the allies 
 of the French people. Bonaparte wished 
 to occupy all the palaces in Europe. 
 These monarchs do not even enter into 
 the palace of the absent King of France : 
 a private apartment suffices them. Since 
 the house of Lorraine has given the ex- 
 ample of this moderation, which so well 
 
51 
 
 adorns the throne, the alliance of people 
 and of kings is become more intimate. 
 We know, now, why these sovereigns 
 are beloved: we wait with impatience 
 to see this Emperor of Austria, who has 
 so well concurred in their generous 
 views, and to soften for him, if possible, 
 the pain which our deliverance cost his 
 heart. Why should we not speak be- 
 fore these monarchs, the friends of our 
 king, that language of tove of which the 
 tyrant has made us almost lose the re- 
 collection and the habit. This is the 
 day of reunion to the great European 
 family ! By what benefits has not the 
 inexhaustible magnanimity of the Em- 
 peror Alexander signalized this day! 
 Two hundred thousand of our country- 
 men are to be restored to our embraces ! 
 Did ever sovereign make to a king, his 
 friend, a present of such magnificence? 
 
52 
 
 The same contract which is about to 
 restore us to repose, is to bring back to 
 us that liberty whose bounds we so im- 
 prudently transcended, and of which the 
 most deceitful tyrant has not left a ves- 
 tige in our institutions. Let us have 
 no guarantees with him who sported 
 with all treaties and with all promises. 
 The spirit of concord has dictated the 
 guarantees which will unite in one senti- 
 ment all the extinguished parties of our 
 country ; and we shall again see public 
 liberty flourish under the sacred shade 
 of monarchical power. 
 
THE BOURBONS* 
 
 The recollections of old France, reli- 
 gion, ancient customs, family morals, the 
 habits of our infancy, the cradle, the 
 tomb — all attach us to the sacred word 
 of King : it terrifies no one ; on the con- 
 trary, it inspires confidence. f King, ma- 
 gistrate, father — these ideas are insepara- 
 ble with every true Frenchman. There 
 will not be repose, nor honour, nor hap- 
 piness nor stability, in our laws, for- 
 tunes, opinions, until the Bourbons are 
 re-established on the throne. Surely 
 antiquity, more grateful than we, would 
 not have failed to call divine a race, 
 which, beginning by a brave and pru- 
 dent king, and finishing by a martyr, has 
 
54 
 
 reckoned in the space of nine centuries 
 forty-three rnonarchs, among whom we 
 do not find but one single tyrant : Singu- 
 lar example in the history of the world, 
 and eternal subject of pride for our coun- 
 try ! Probity and honour were seated 
 on the throne of France, as were force 
 and policy on many of the other thrones. 
 The noble and mild blood of the Capets 
 ceased to produce heroes only to make 
 kings who were honest men. Some were 
 called wise, good, just, well-beloved; 
 others, surnamed great, august, fathers 
 of learning and of the country. Some 
 few among them had passions which 
 they expiated by misfortunes ; but none 
 frightened the world by those vices 
 which load the memory of the Caesars, 
 and which Bonaparte has reproduced. 
 The Bourbons, last branch of this sa- 
 
cred tree, have seen, by an extraordina* 
 ry fatality, their first king fall under 
 the poniard of fanaticism, and their last 
 under the axe of Atheism — Demo- 
 cracy. Since the time of Robert 
 VI. son of St. Louis, from whom he 
 descended, there was only wanting for 
 them, during so many ages, that glory 
 of adversity which they have at length 
 so magnificently obtained. What have 
 we to reproach them with ? The name 
 of Henry the Fourth yet makes every 
 French heart bound with joy, while it 
 suffuses our eyes with tears ; we owe to 
 Louis the 14th the best part of our gkn 
 ry. Have we not surnamed Louis the 
 16th the most honest man of his king- 
 dom? 
 
 This family weeps in exile, not their 
 misfortunes, but ours. That young prin- 
 cess whom we have persecuted, whom 
 
we rendered an orphan, weeps every- 
 day in foreign palaces, over the heart- 
 rending state of the prisons of France. 
 She might have received the hand of a 
 powerful prince, but she preferred to 
 unite her fate to that of her cousin, poor, 
 exiled, proscribed, because he was a 
 Frenchman, and that she would not 
 separate herself from the misfortunes of 
 her family. All the world admires her 
 virtues; the nations of Europe follow 
 her when she appears in their public 
 walks — loading her with benedictions; 
 and we — we could forget her! When 
 she left her country, where she had been 
 so unhappy, she looked back and shed 
 tears. Constant objects of her prayers 
 and love, we hardly know that she exists. 
 " / feel> y she sometimes said, "that! 
 shall never have children but in France" 
 Affecting words, which alone ought to 
 
57 
 
 make us fall at her feet, and tear from us 
 sobs of repentance. 
 
 The brother of our king, Louis the 
 18th, who is to be the first to reign over 
 xis, is a prince known by his learning, 
 inaccessible to prejudices — a stranger to 
 vengeance. Of all sovereigns who might 
 govern France at present, it is he, per- 
 haps, who best suits our actual position, 
 or the spirit of the age ; as of all the men 
 whom we could choose Bonaparte is the 
 
 least calculated to be a king. The 
 
 institutions of nations are the work of 
 time and experience: to reign we must, 
 above all things, have reason and uni- 
 formity. A prince who has only two 
 or three common ideas in his head, but 
 useful ones, would be a more suitable 
 sovereign for a nation than an extraordi- 
 nary adventurer, incessantly engender- 
 ing new plans, imagining new laws, not 
 
believing he reigns but when he labours 
 to disturb his people, and changing — de- 
 stroying in the evening what he created 
 in the morning. Louis the 18th has not 
 only those fixed ideas, that moderation, 
 that good sense, so necessary in a mo- 
 narch, but he is also a prince the friend 
 of letters, learned and eloquent like many 
 of our kings, possessed of a mind regu- 
 lated and enlightened — of a character 
 firm and philosophical. 
 
 Let us choose between Bonaparte, 
 who returns bringing to us the Bloody 
 Code of the Conscription, and Louis the 
 1 8th, who advances to heal our wounds 
 — the will of Louis the 16th in his hand. 
 He will repeat at his coronation these 
 words, written by his virtuous brother: 
 
 " I pardon with my whole heart those 
 who are my enemies, without my having 
 
59 
 
 given them the least reason to be so* 
 and I pray God to pardon them." 
 
 Monsieur the Count d' Artois, so frank, 
 so loyal, so truly French, distinguishes 
 himself to-day by his piety, his mildness, 
 and his goodness, as much as he was re- 
 marked in early youth by his air of 
 grandeur and his royal graces. Bona- 
 parte was beaten down by the hand of 
 God, but not corrected by adversity; 
 in proportion as he retreated into the 
 country which now escapes from his ty- 
 ranny, he dragged after him unhappy 
 victims loaded with irons ; it is in the 
 last prisons of France that he exercises 
 the last acts of his power. Monsieur the 
 Count d' Artois arrives alone, without 
 soldiers, without support, unknown to 
 the French to whom he shows himself. 
 Hardly had he pronounced his name, 
 
 before the people fall at his feet; they 
 
 4* 
 
60 
 
 kiss the skirts of his garment ; they hug 
 his knees, they cry out to him ; shed- 
 ding floods of tears, " We bring iou 
 
 NOTHING BUT OUR HEARTS! THE MON- 
 STER HAS LEFT US NOTHING ELSE !" 
 
 To quit France in that manner, to enter 
 it in this. Recognise, my countrymen, on 
 one side the usurper, on the other the le- 
 gitimate prince. M. the Duke of Angou- 
 Ieme has appeared in another of our pro- 
 vinces; Bordeaux, the second city of 
 the kingdom, threw itself into his arms, 
 and the country of Henry IV. ac- 
 knowledges with transports of joy the 
 heir of the virtues of the people of Beam. 
 Our armies have not seen a braver 
 knight than M. the Duke of Berri. M. 
 the Duke of Orleans proves by his no- 
 ble fidelity to the blood of his king, that 
 his name is one of the foremost of 
 France. I have already spoken of the 
 three generations of French heroes, M. 
 
the Prince of €onde, M. the Duke of 
 Bourbon ; I leave to Bonaparte to name 
 
 the third (Enghein ! ! !) 
 
 By what shameful caprice did we give 
 to the sen of a tipstaff of Ajaccio, the 
 heritage of Robert the Strong? This 
 Sobert the Strong descended apparently 
 from the second race, and the iast allied 
 itself with the first. He was Count of 
 Paris. Hugh Capet brought to the 
 French, as a Frenchman, Paris, his pa- 
 ternal inheritance, also immense proper- 
 ty and domains. France, so small under 
 the first Capets, enriched and enlarged 
 herself under their descendants. To re- 
 place this ancient face we went to look 
 for a king, as was said by a senator, 
 among a people whom the Romans would 
 not have for slaves. It was in favour of 
 an obscure Italian, whose fortune we 
 made by plundering all Frenchmen, that 
 
62 
 
 we overthrew the Salique law, palla- 
 dium of our empire. How much did 
 our fathers differ from us in sentiments 
 and in maxims ! At the death of Philip 
 the Handsome, they adjudged the crown 
 to Philip of Valois, in exclusion of Ed- 
 ward III. King of England : they pre- 
 ferred to condemn themselves to two 
 centuries of war, rather than be govern- 
 ed by a foreigner. This noble resolu- 
 tion was the cause of the glory and 
 greatness of France : the or i flame was 
 rent in pieces on the plains of Crecy, 
 Poictiers and Agincourt, but its frag- 
 ments finally triumphed over the ban- 
 ners of Edward III. and of Henry V. 
 and the cry of Mounljoy Saint Dennis 
 strangled all our factions. The same 
 question of succession was played off on 
 the death of Henry III. The parliament 
 *»f that day issued the famous edict 
 
63 
 
 1 
 which gave Henry IV. and Louis 
 
 XIV. to France. These were never- 
 theless not ignoble heads — those of Ed- 
 ward III., Henry V., the Duke of Guise, 
 and the Infant of Spain. Great God ! 
 what, then, has become of the pride of 
 France ! She refused such great sove- 
 reigns in order to preserve the French 
 and royal race, and she made choice of 
 Bonaparte; nay, his detested birthday 
 (15th August) impiously appears in al! 
 our almanacs as the day of Saint Napo- 
 leon ! ! Will posterity believe what we 
 have seen — what we still see ? # * * 
 
 .34. d& •«• dfc -Tfr 
 ^ w w tF *»F 
 
 Bonaparte has nothing French in his? 
 manners or character. His very features 
 show his origin. The language which 
 he learnt in his cradle is not ours, and 
 his accent, like his name, betrays his 
 country. His father and mother lived 
 
64 
 
 the half of their lives subjects of the Re- 
 public of Genoa* He is more sincere 
 than his flatterers ; he would not acknow- 
 ledge himself a Frenchman : he hates 
 and despises us. He has been often 
 heard to say, it's just like you, ye French 
 ###### #— In common conver- 
 sation he spoke of Italy as his country, 
 and of France as his conquest. If Bona- 
 parte is a Frenchman we must necessa- 
 rily admit that Toussaint Louverture 
 was as much, or more so than he; 
 for in truth he was born in an old French 
 colony, and under French laws; the 
 freedom which he received gave him the 
 rights of subject and citizen, and a fo- 
 reigner, brought up by the charity of our 
 kings, occupies the throne of our kings, 
 and incessantly pants to shed our blood ! 
 We watched over his youth, and in gra- 
 titude he plunges us into an abyss of 
 wretchedness ! 
 
65 
 
 How delightful it will be to repose at 
 length, after so many troubles and suffer- 
 ings, under the paternal authority of our 
 legitimate sovereign ! 
 
 We have a legitimate prince, born of 
 our blood, educated among us, whom we 
 know, who knows us, who has our man- 
 ners, tastes, habits, for whom we prayed 
 to God in our youth, whose name our 
 children know as well as that of their 
 nearest neighbours, and whose fore* 
 fathers lived and died with ours. 
 
 If the re-establishment of the house of 
 Bourbon is necessary to France, it is not 
 less so to all Europe. 
 
 To advert at first only to private rea- 
 sons, is there a man in the world who 
 would put any confidence in the word 
 of Bonaparte 1 Is it not one of the 
 first points of his policy as well the in- 
 
66 
 
 clination of his heart, to make talent con- 
 sist in deceiving, to look upon good faith 
 as folly and the mark of a narrow mind, 
 and to laugh at the sanctity of oaths f 
 Has he kept a single one of the treaties 
 which he made with the different powers 
 of Europe 1 It was always by violating 
 some article of these treaties, and in full 
 peace, that he made Ms most brilliant 
 conquests. 
 
 Other powers, so often deceived, could 
 they at once resume a security which 
 might ruin them ? What, can they so 
 soon have forgotten the pride of the ad- 
 venturer who treated them with so much 
 insolence, who boasted of having kings in 
 his antechamber, who sent to signify his 
 orders to sovereigns, established spies 
 even in their courts, and said openly that 
 before ten years his dynasty would be 
 the oldest in Europe ! Can kings treat 
 
er 
 
 with a man who has heaped upon them 
 outrages which a simple individual could 
 not brook ? A lovely queen, who was 
 the admiration of Europe for her beauty, 
 her courage, and her virtues, was by him 
 precipitated into an untimely grave, by 
 the most cowardly, as well as low insults 
 and injuries. The sacredness of kings 
 as well as decency, restrains me from 
 repeating the calumnies, the rudeness, 
 and vulgar, coarse pleasantries which, in 
 turn, he has poured out against those 
 very kings and their ministers, who to- 
 day dictate laws to him in his palace* 
 If the rulers of other nations despise 
 these outrages personally, they cannot, 
 and they ought not to despise them for 
 the interest and majesty of thrones : they 
 owe it even to the happiness of their 
 people, to make themselves respected by 
 them, by breaking the sword of the usur- 
 
68 
 
 per, and dishonouring forever that abomi- 
 liable right of the strongest, on which Bo- 
 naparte founded his pride and his empire. 
 It deeply concerns the tranquillity and 
 welfare of the people ; it concerns the 
 security of crowns, the lives and families 
 of sovereigns, that a man, sprung out of 
 the inferior ranks of society, should not 
 with impunity seat himself on the throne 
 of his master, take place among legiti- 
 mate sovereigns, treat them as brothers, 
 and find in the revolutions which raised 
 him, sufficient strength to balance the 
 rights of the legitimacy of his race. If 
 this example is once given to the world, 
 no monarch can reckon on his crown. 
 Let them be very careful ; all the mon- 
 archies of Europe are very nearly daugh- 
 ters of the same manners and the same 
 times ; all kings are, in reality, a species 
 of brothers, united by the Christian re- 
 
69 
 
 iigion, and the antiquity of dear and nch 
 ble recollections. This beautiful an$ 
 great system once broken, new races, 
 seated on the thrones, will make other 
 manners reign — other principles — other 
 ideas. It is done then for ancient Eu- 
 rope ; and in the course of some years, 
 a general revolution will have changed 
 the succession of all its sovereigns. Rings 
 then must take the defence of the house 
 of Bourbon, as they would that of their 
 own family. What is true in this as re- 
 gards royalty is equally so considered 
 as it respects natural relations. There 
 is not a king in Europe who has not 
 Bourbon blood in his veins, and who 
 does not see in them illustrious and un- 
 fortunate relations. The people have 
 been but too much taught that thrones 
 may be convulsed. It rests with kings 
 now to show them, that if thrones can 
 
70 
 
 be shaken, they cannot be destroyed; 
 that for the happiness of the world, 
 crowns do not depend on the successes 
 of crime and the sports of fortune. 
 
 Paris, like Athens, has seen foreign- 
 ers enter her walls, who h 've respected 
 her in remembrance of her glory and her 
 great men. Eighty thousand conquering 
 soldiers have slept by the side of our 
 citizens without troubling their slumbers, 
 without committing the smallest violence, 
 without even singing a song of triumph. 
 These are liberators, and not conquer- 
 ors. Immortal honour to the sovereigns 
 who have given to the world a similar 
 example of moderation in the midst of 
 victory! What injuries they had to 
 avenge! But they did not confound 
 Frenchmen with the tyrant who oppres- 
 ses them. So have they already reaped 
 the fruits of their magnanimity. They 
 
n 
 
 have been received by the inhabitants 
 of Paris as if they had been our true 
 monarchs — as French Princes — as, Bour- 
 bons. We shall soon behold the de- 
 scendants of Henry the Fourth ; Alex- 
 ander has promised them to us ; he re- 
 collects that the marriage contract of the 
 Duke and Duchess of Angouleme are de- 
 posited in the archives of Russia. He 
 has faithfully preserved the last public 
 act of our lawful government; he has 
 brought it back to the treasury of our 
 charters, where we will preserve in our 
 turn the recital of his entry into PARIS 9 
 as one of the greatest and most glorious 
 monuments of history. 
 
 At the same time let us not separate 
 from the two sovereigns who are now 
 among us that other sovereign who makes 
 to the cause of kings and to the repose 
 of tlie people the greatest of sacrifices; 
 
72 ' 
 
 may be find as a monarch and a father 
 the recompense of his virtues in the com- 
 passion, the gratitude, and the admiration 
 of the French. 
 
 Frenchmen ! friends, companions in 
 
 misfortune, let us forget our quarrels, our 
 
 hatreds, our errors, to save the country ; 
 
 let us embrace each other on the ruins 
 
 ef our dear native land ; and that, calling 
 
 to our succour the heir of Henry IV., 
 
 and of Louis XIV., he should come to 
 
 dry up the tears of his children, restore 
 
 happiness to his family, and charitably 
 
 throw over our wounds the mantle of 
 
 Saint Louis, half torn to pieces by our 
 
 own hands. Let us deeply ponder over 
 
 all the evils which we feel, the loss of 
 
 our property, of our armies, the horrors 
 
 of invasion, the butchery of our children, 
 
 the trouble and the decomposition of all 
 
 France, the loss of our liberties, and 
 
73 
 
 seriously re fleet that all this is the work 
 of one single man, and that we owe all 
 the opposite blessings to an omnipotent, 
 overruling Providence, through whose 
 wisdom and goodness, after a long night 
 of darkness and death, light and mercy 
 have come among us from all parts of 
 Europe with healing in their wings J 
 Let us, then, cause to be heard on all 
 sides the only shout which can save us, 
 that sacred, soul-transporting Paean which 
 our fathers made to resound in misfor- 
 tune as in victory, and which shall be 
 for us the signal of Peace and Happi- 
 ness: Long, Long Live the King! 
 
ODE 
 
 TO 
 
 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE. 
 
 BT 
 
 LORD BYRON. 
 
1 Expende Jnnibalem . — qvot libras in duce swnmo 
 
 1 Jnvenies ?" Juvknal, Sat, X. 
 
 A# 
 
O D E 
 
 TO 
 
 NAPOLEON BONAPARTE, 
 
 I. 
 'Tis bonb — but .yesterday a King! 
 
 And arm'd with kings to strive — 
 And now thou art a nameless thing 
 
 So abject — yet alive ! 
 Is this the man of thousand thrones, 
 Who strew' d our earth with hostile bone^ 
 
 And can he thus survive ? 
 Since he, miscall'd the Morning Star, 
 Nor man, nor fiend, hath falFn so far* 
 
80 
 
 II. 
 
 Ill-minded man! why scourge thy kin^ 
 Who bow'd so low the knee ? 
 
 By gazing on thyself grown blind, 
 Thou taught' st the rest to see. 
 
 With might unquestion'd — power to save, 
 
 Thine only gift hath been the grave 
 To those that worshipp'd thee ; 
 
 Nor till thy fall could mortals guess 
 
 Ambition's less than littleness ! 
 
 III. 
 
 Thanks for that lesson — it will teach 
 
 To after warriors more 
 Than high philosophy can preach, 
 
 And vainly preach' d before. 
 That spell upon the minds of men 
 Breaks, never to unite again, 
 
 That led them to adore 
 Those Pagod things of sabre-sway, 
 With fronts of brass, and feet of clay. 
 
81 
 
 IV. 
 
 The triumph, and the vanity, 
 The rapture of the strife ;(a) 
 
 The earthquake voice of victory, 
 To thee the breath of life ; 
 
 The sword, the sceptre, and that sway 
 
 Which man seem'd made but to obey, 
 Wherewith renown was life — 
 
 All quell'd — Dark spirit ! what must be 
 
 The madness of thy memory ! 
 
 V. 
 
 The desolator desolate ! 
 
 The victor overthrown ! 
 The arbiter of others' fate 
 
 A suppliant for his own ! 
 Is it some yet imperial hope 
 That with such. change can calmly cope ? 
 
 Or dread of death alone ? 
 To die a prince — or live a slave — 
 Thy choice is most ignobly brave ! 
 
M 
 
 VI. 
 
 He who of old would rend the oak 
 Dreamed not of the rebound ; 
 
 Chained by the trunk he vainly broke 
 Alone — how look'd he round ! 
 
 Thou in the sternness of thy strength 
 
 An equal deed hast done at length, 
 And darker fate hast found : 
 
 He fell, the forest-prowlers' prey ; 
 
 But thou must eat thy heart away ! 
 
 VII. 
 
 The Roman, when his burning heart 
 Was slaked with blood of Rome, 
 Threw down the dagger — dared depart 
 
 In savage grandeur home. — 
 He dared depart, in utter scorn 
 Of men that such a yoke had borne. 
 
 Yet left him such a doom ! 
 His only glory was that hour 
 Of self-upheld abandon'd pow r er. 
 
$3 
 
 VIII. 
 
 The Spaniard, when the lust of sway 
 Had lost its quickening spell, - 
 
 Cast crowns for rosaries away, 
 An empire for a cell. 
 
 A strict accountant of his beads, 
 
 A subtle disputant in creeds, 
 His dotage trifled well : 
 
 Yet better had he neither known 
 
 A bigot's shrine nor despot's throne. 
 
 IX. 
 
 But thou — from thy reluctant hand 
 
 The thunderbolt is rung — 
 Too late thou hear'st the high command 
 
 To which thy weakness clung : 
 All Evil Spirit as thou art, 
 It is enough to grieve the heart 
 
 To see thine own unstrung ; 
 To think that God's fair world hath been 
 The footstool of a thing so mean. 
 
84 
 
 X. 
 
 And earth hath spilt her blood for him 
 
 Who thus can hoard his own ! 
 And monarchs bow'd the trembling limb, 
 
 And thank'd him for a throne ! 
 Fair Freedom ! we may hold thee dear, 
 When thus thy mightiest foes their fear 
 
 In humblest guise have shown. 
 O ! ne'er may tyrant leave behind 
 A brighter name to lure mankind. 
 
 XI. 
 
 Thine evil deeds are writ in gore, 
 
 Nor written thus in vain — 
 Thy triumphs tell of fame no more, 
 
 Or deepen every stain. — 
 If thou hadst died as honour dies, 
 Some new Napoleon might arise, 
 
 To shame the world again. 
 But who would soar the solar height 
 To set in such a starless night ? 
 
85 
 
 XII. 
 
 Weighed in the balance, hero dust 
 
 Is vile as vulgar clay ; 
 Thy scales, mortality ! are just 
 
 To all that pass away ; 
 But yet methought the living great 
 Some higher sparks should animate, 
 
 To dazzle and dismay ; 
 Nor deem'd Contempt could thus make mirth 
 Of these, the conquerors of the earth, 
 
 XIII. 
 
 And she, proud Austria's mournful flower, 
 
 Thy still imperial bride ; 
 How bears her breast the torturing hour ? 
 
 Still clings she to thy side ? 
 Must she too bend, must she too share 
 Thy late repentance, long despair, 
 
 Thou throneless homicide ? 
 If still she loves thee, hoard that gem, 
 'Tis worth thv vanish'd diadem ! 
 
&> 
 
 XIV. 
 
 Then haste thee to thy sullen isk;. 
 
 And gaze upon the sea ; 
 That element may meet thy smile : 
 
 It ne'er was rul'd by thee ! 
 Or trace with thine all idle hand, 
 In loitering mood upon the sand, 
 
 That earth is now as free ! 
 That Corinth's pedagogue hath how 
 Transferred his by- word to thy brow- 
 
 XV. 
 
 Thou Timour! in his captive's cage 
 
 What thoughts will there be thine* 
 While brooding in thy prison'd rage ? 
 
 But one — " The world was mine. ,? 
 Unless, like he of Babylon, 
 All sense is with thy sceptre gone, 
 
 Life will not long confine 
 That spirit poured so widely forth — 
 So long obeyed — so little worth ' 
 
8f 
 
 XVI. 
 
 Or like the thief, of fire from heaven 
 Wilt thou withstand the shock, 
 And share with him, the unforgiven, 
 
 His vulture and his rock ? 
 Foredoomed by God, by man accurst, 
 And that last act, though not thy worst s 
 
 The very fiend's arch mock ;(&) 
 He in his fall preserved his pride, 
 And if a mortal, had as proudly died ! 
 
 57 ^ 
 

 
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