The Letter-Bag of Lady Elizabeth Spencer-Stanhope Part 22

Another Frenchman, of a very different type, who was a friend of John Stanhope at this date, was the young Comte de St. Morys, of whose tragic fate, so ill.u.s.trative of the conditions then prevalent in France, Stanhope subsequently gave the following account:--

"The Comte de St. Morys had been an _emigre_ at the period of the Revolution. His mother, however, had not accompanied her husband during that exile, and, in consequence, had succeeded eventually in preventing the confiscation of some of his property. When, later, Napoleon adopted the course of gathering round his throne as many of the old _n.o.blesse_ as he could, he conveyed the hint to Madame de St. Morys that, unless her son returned, the remainder of her property should be confiscated. In consequence of this notification the young Comte deemed it his duty to return to his native land, and he established himself in the _ba.s.se-cour_ of his former home, which was all of the chateau which now remained.

"Unfortunately for him, the rest of the property had been sold to a man whose character may be best described by stating that he had been a branded fellow. A good understanding was not likely to exist between men of such opposite principles, and St. Morys, although he possessed the kindest and the warmest heart, was rather of a hasty disposition, and had a little more brusquerie of manner than is generally found among Frenchmen of his rank. What may have been the first, or the princ.i.p.al cause of the dispute, I know not, but, from what I heard, it appeared to me most probable that the object of Colonel Barbier de Fay was to compel Monsieur de St. Morys to give him a high price for his land in order to get rid of so disagreeable a neighbour.

"However that may be, Colonel Barbier's hatred to St. Morys at length carried him so far as to lead him to form a plan of vengeance which I can characterise by no other expression than diabolical.

"At the restoration of the Bourbons, Monsieur de St. Morys, like many others, was raised to the rank he would have held according to the army list. He therefore became a general in the army and a lieutenant in the Garde de Corps, which, as the regiment was entirely composed of n.o.bles, was a very high situation. Colonel Barbier, with a double motive--first that of tormenting Monsieur de St. Morys and next that of throwing discredit on a corps which he detested--introduced into the Garde room, and circulated wherever he could find access, printed papers blackening the Count's character. That gentleman accordingly challenged him. Colonel Barbier replied that he would only accept the challenge on one condition-- that two pistols should be put into a bag, one loaded and another not, and that they should draw for the chance.

"This St. Morys rejected, stating that he was prepared to fight, but not to commit murder. In order, however, that his character should be free from stain he referred the matter to the Marshals of France. They approved of his conduct, and there the matter ought to have ended. Unfortunately the Garde de Corps, aware of the jealousy with which the old army viewed their position, were very touchy on the point of honour. Wherefore the Duc de Luxembourg, his Colonel, considered that St. Morys was under a cloud, and refused to allow him to perform his military duties till his reputation was cleared. This was, in point of fact, the object which his adversary had in view. It placed St. Morys in a most awkward position, and threw an apple of discord among the Garde de Corps.

"My poor friend unluckily consulted everybody, and followed everybody's advice. That which our joint friend, the Comte G. de la Rochefoucauld, gave him appeared to me the best; he advised him to make up his mind at once to the sacrifice of his commission; that having challenged his opponent he had done all that was inc.u.mbent upon him as a man of honour, a fact which was unquestionable after the decision of the marshals, and that he should express himself ready to meet any person who should arraign his conduct. But this would probably have involved him with the Duc de Luxembourg, and consequently compelled him to resign his commission in the Guards, which would have been peculiarly unfortunate as he was daily in expectation of being raised to the rank of captain, upon which he intended to have retired upon half pay.

"Instead, therefore, of following this advice, he endeavoured by further irritation to compel his opponent to meet him; he went into a cafe and struck the Colonel on the face with his fist, believing that so public a disgrace would induce Barbier to meet him on his own terms; but the other was not to be diverted from his predetermined purpose; he continued to persist in his declaration that he would fight only on the terms he had originally proposed.

"In this state the matter continued for some time, till Barbier thought he had sufficiently achieved his first object of bringing disgrace upon St.

Morys, and therefore, at last, consented to meet his antagonist. They accordingly met, fired two brace of pistols, and then drew their swords.

The seconds had previously decreed that the duel should terminate as soon as blood was drawn. Monsieur de St. Morys having, or thinking he had, slightly wounded his enemy, called out, 'Monsieur, vous etes blesse!' and laid himself open in full confidence that the fight was over. 'Non, monsieur,' replied Barbier, '_mais vous etes mort!_' and not only plunged his sword into his victim's body, but is said actually to have given a turn with his wrist to secure the mortality of the wound.

"Thus terminated the life of poor St. Morys!"

The consummation of this tragedy, however, belonged to a date later than that of the residence of John Stanhope in Paris, and during his sojourn there St Morys was still, like many of his day, endeavouring to reconcile his royalist proclivities to the changed conditions of his surroundings and his own altered fortunes. Meanwhile, into the comparatively peaceful routine of Parisian life came, ever and anon, news of a series of victories achieved by the _grande armee_, which was received in France with the customary complacency and elation that such events had long been wont to evoke. By the bulk of Frenchmen the triumphant issue of the Russian campaign was looked upon as a foregone conclusion, and, therefore, when there suddenly broke upon Paris the knowledge of the supreme disaster of Moscow the effect was overwhelming. The 10th Bulletin disclosed the truth with a shattering finality: "_Dans quatre jours cette belle armee n'existait plus._" The effect was as though a thunderbolt had fallen upon the smiling, placid country. France was plunged into mourning for her sons, Ministers trembled for their posts, and everywhere reigned consternation, uncertainty and grief.

Suddenly, into the middle of this general _boulevers.e.m.e.nt_, a rumour gained credence that the Emperor himself was at the Tuileries. Young Stanhope hastened to the palace to learn the accuracy of this report, and was soon convinced of its truth. Throughout the building were tokens of unwonted activity; lights were visible in all the windows, and a small crowd was stationed outside. From a French soldier standing near him he learnt that the carriage in which Napoleon had travelled had broken down at Meaux, "and the Emperor had then got into one of the little cabriolets vulgarly called a _pot de chambre_; they are little cars which ply between Paris and the neighbouring towns, and carry four inside, and one, generally called a _lapin_, on the same seat as the driver." Upon his arrival in Paris his Imperial Majesty got out of this vehicle and walked to the Tuileries, where he was stopped by the guard at the door, who, in the dusk, failed to recognise him. "_Je suis de la maison!_" explained Napoleon briefly, and he was permitted to enter.

Thus Bonaparte returned to Paris, not as the triumphant victor, the indomitable conqueror of Europe, but as a defeated general, bent on retrieving some singularly grievous errors by tact and perseverance. Yet something never to be regained was lost to the Man of Destiny. The spell which had deified him was broken. Napoleon the Invincible, the Infallible, had blundered. "This supernatural man, this G.o.d--or devil--had sunk below the level of ordinary men. '_Le prestige est pa.s.se_' was in everybody's mouth."

Paris soon rang with stories of the disastrous campaign--tales, in the most trivial of which the Parisians recognised the complex personality of that G.o.d or devil of their mingled idolatry or detestation. A French officer told John Stanhope two anecdotes, which, although in themselves slight, are strikingly ill.u.s.trative both of Napoleon's shrewdness and of his brutality. On one occasion the Emperor heard some men murmuring and declaring that rather than suffer the torments which they were then enduring, they had better give up the struggle and make up their minds to go to Siberia. Napoleon turned to them, and, fixing them with his glance, merely observed, "En Siberie ou _en France_!" Well did he understand the emotional temperament of the men with whom he had to deal! The tone in which he uttered _en France_ recalled vividly to their thoughts their own, their beautiful France; and the men, who a moment before were abandoned to despair, roused themselves and advanced on their march with all the enthusiasm and the renewed vivacity of Frenchmen.

The other story, as indicated, is of a less creditable nature. After the terrible crossing of the Beresina, when, through faulty generalship and inexcusable want of forethought, thousands upon thousands of lives were needlessly sacrificed, the Emperor, during the wretched bivouac west of the river, was, like the rest of his regiment, suffering intensely from the bitter weather. His officers, therefore, went round calling for dry wood for his fire, and soldiers, perishing with cold, came forward to offer precious sticks, with the words, uttered ungrudgingly, "Take this for the Emperor." Shortly afterwards, Napoleon was seated in a miserable _barraque_, with his _surtout_ over his shoulders, enjoying the poor fire thus obtained. Folding his coat more closely about him, he remarked casually, "Il y aura diablement des fous geles cette nuit!"

Yet the man before whose colossal egoism imagination waxes impotent, could, on other occasions, exhibit an irresponsible _bonhomie_, which seemed totally at variance with the more sinister side of his character.

This John Stanhope ill.u.s.trates by another anecdote.

"Amongst my fellow-prisoners at Verdun had been a gentleman who promoted to the rank of his mistress a woman who was previously his maid-servant.

He obtained permission to reside in Paris, but was included in the general order of the Duc de Rovigo upon his appointment to the Ministry of Police, by which nearly all the English were returned to the depots.

"Madame Chambers, who found herself, under that fict.i.tious t.i.tle, occupying a very different position at Paris to that which she could fill at Verdun, where her real situation and origin were generally known, had no inclination to go back to that depot, but determined to leave no stone unturned to obtain leave for Chambers to remain in Paris. She was not a person to be easily daunted or troubled with any unnecessary _mauvaise honte_. Accordingly, the first time that the Emperor went to the _cha.s.se_, Madame Chambers made her appearance. It was after the shooting was over, when a great circle was formed, in which the Emperor paced backwards and forwards, generally with his hands behind his back and his eyes fixed upon the ground, whilst the game which had been shot was laid out before him.

Madame Chambers advanced and presented a pet.i.tion to him. He inquired curtly who she was and what she wanted, and took no further notice of her.

The next time the Emperor went to the _cha.s.se_ Madame Chambers again made her appearance, the same scene was re-enacted, with the same result. He went again a third time, and there also again appeared Madame Chambers with her pet.i.tion.

"'Comment!' exclaimed the Emperor furiously, 'toujours Madame Chambers!'

"'Oui, Empereur, toujours Madame Chambers,' she replied imperturbably.

"This was too much for Napoleon. The man who was accustomed to see the greatest of his generation tremble before his slightest frown gazed in no small astonishment at the plump, placid little soubrette who confronted him without a tremor. He burst into a merry laugh, and exclaimed. '_Eh bien, que votre mari reste a Paris. Berthier, je vous en charge!_' turning to Marshal Berthier who was in his suite; and Mr Chambers was never sent back to the depot."

Few, however, shared the temerity of Madame Chambers. John Stanhope writes: "The awe that even the princ.i.p.al ministers felt in the presence of Napoleon would not be credited in England. His courtiers literally trembled before him. 'In what sort of a humour is the Emperor to-day?'

was a frequent question in Paris.... How I have blushed for the adulation, the degrading, I may almost say the blasphemous flattery that has been offered before the throne of Napoleon by men of the highest rank. But perhaps I ought to make some allowance for those who had witnessed the horrors of the Revolution. Can, however, such men be expected to recover the high tone of feeling they once entertained? Can France ever be restored to a sound state?"

Yet one man stood alone in heroic opposition to the Conqueror of Christendom. Frail, old, and deserted even by those upon whose support he had relied, the Pope, Pius VII., had courage to oppose the Conqueror of the world. While John Stanhope was in Paris the celebrated interview took place between the aged Pontiff and the autocrat to whom the Vicar of Christ was but as a temporal Sovereign to be crushed beneath the might of an all-but universal monarchy. Pius VII. had indeed had an ample warning in the fate of his predecessor, who, bereft of all power, had been consigned by Napoleon to an imprisonment in which he had expired. In 1801 Pius VII. had been forced to conclude a _concordat_ with Napoleon, which the latter had afterwards subjected to arbitrary alterations; in 1804 the Pontiff had found himself compelled to repair to Paris to a.s.sist at the coronation of his enemy. Shortly after his return to Rome the French had entered the Eternal city, and in May 1809 the Papal States were annexed by France. Promptly the brave old Pontiff excommunicated the robbers of the Holy See, and the vengeance of Bonaparte upon this act was swift and sure.

The Pope was removed as a prisoner to Gren.o.ble, then to Fontainebleau; and it is curious to learn, by Stanhope's contemporary account, the light in which such a stupendous event in the history of the Roman Church was regarded at the date of its happening.

"The Holy Father, the representative of St Peter, he who holds the Keys of Heaven and h.e.l.l, is actually a prisoner in the hands of Napoleon! Poor, excellent old man, gallantly and with the resignation of a martyr does he bear up against his sufferings and maintain the dignity of the Papal See.

It is a singular thing that in a _soi-disant_ Catholic country the imprisonment of the Father of their Church should make so little sensation. I hear, indeed, that many women gathered round the different places at which he stopped in the course of his journey through France, but even the interest they felt for him soon appears to have subsided. _A partie de cha.s.se_ the other day was announced to take place in the Forest of Fontainebleau. This afforded the Emperor an opportunity of having a conversation with the Pope without any sacrifice of his own dignity, without any troublesome arrangement of ceremony, and still more without drawing upon himself the public eye, as to go hunting near the Palace of Fontainebleau without even paying a visit to the Pope would have been a positive breach of politeness.

"The interview took place. On the one side was the venerable churchman bending beneath the weight of affliction as well as of years, on the other Napoleon Bonaparte; yet if the reports circulated in Paris are to be believed, the old Pontiff held his own with unabated courage and dignity, and n.o.bly maintained the cause of his religion, though the Emperor is said _actually to have thrust his fist in his face and all but struck him_. How the interview terminated I cannot learn, but I heard the fresh Concordat cried about the streets of Paris that same evening.

"This dispute," he writes later, "has narrowly escaped producing the most important results in ecclesiastical history--the separation of the French Empire from the See of Rome. The Emperor had a.s.sumed the nomination to the French Bishoprics, but the Pope refused to give the invest.i.ture to the persons he appointed. The Church almost universally stood by their Chief; the consequence was that there was a considerable difficulty in filling up the vacant Sees. The Archbishopric of Paris was one of these. The Emperor offered it to his Uncle, Cardinal Fesch, but he, either from sincere attachment to his Church, or from the duty he owed to the Roman supremacy as a Cardinal, or from a conviction that he was safer in possession of the Archbishopric of Lyons, held under the Pope's authority, than he could be in one held in defiance of it, resolved to brave the Emperor's anger and refuse that offer. Napoleon, contenting himself with calling Fesch a fool, offered it to Cardinal Maury, who became t.i.tular Archbishop of Paris.

There are few things in the history of the French Revolution that make one blush more for human nature than the falling off of that man whose opening career had been so brilliant....

"More and more the Emperor had felt that to be second to the Pope was inconsistent with his own dignity, and that if he could not bend the pontiff to his will, he must do without him. He had accordingly determined to a.s.sume the sole presentation of the Bishoprics; but how to get the Church to a.s.sent to such a proceeding was the question. He came at length to the decision of summoning the Gallican and Italian Churches.... When the Council met, I was allowed by a friend of mine to copy a letter from one of the members. It was a curious doc.u.ment and I preserved it for some time with great care, but I became at length alarmed at having such a compromising paper in my possession and reluctantly committed it to the flames. The tenor, however, of some parts of it I remember....

"The writer stated that the Emperor at first proposed to try the effects of corruption and to tamper with the Bishops individually, and that he had succeeded in that course, to some extent, more particularly with the Italian Bishops; but that when he abandoned that plan and summoned a Council, he committed a great error and entirely defeated his own intentions. Those men, who could be gained by corruption or intimidated by power, when they found themselves surrounded by their Brethren, were withheld, by shame, from giving way to such considerations. Numbers give power; individually each man might tremble at the thought of resisting Napoleon, but united, the _esprit de corps_ which is, as it ought to be, the most powerful incentive among all Churchmen, taught them to offer an unyielding opposition to all demands inconsistent with the rights of their Church. But there was another circ.u.mstance which rendered the a.s.sembling of the Council fatal to the Emperor's project, and which, not to have known, was on his part inexcusable ignorance. At the opening of all Councils each member takes an oath that he will not alter anything that has been fixed by former Councils, so that everyone in this case was individually bound by an oath taken in the presence of his Colleagues to reject such conditions as were required by the Emperor from the Council!

The consequence of this was that even those who had given their adhesion to his plans were now found united with the brethren in the cause of their Church. Napoleon found that he had overreached himself.

"The letter further stated that the Bishop or Archbishop of Tours had conducted himself like an angel. _Du sang nous en avons tous dans nos veines_, was the opening of his speech, _et que nous en devons repandre puisque la derniere goutte_, etc., etc. It stated further that when the Bishops took up the address to the throne they commenced in the following words--_Sire, nous vous apportons nos tetes!_ Upon which the Emperor actually started, surprised at hearing himself addressed in words which were suited to a Nero or a Caligula."

Meanwhile Napoleon, having failed to bend the Church of Rome to his will, was preparing for another campaign against terrestrial powers. He had started a conscription and was raising an army of 400,000 men, with which he hoped to regain something of his lost prestige in the eyes of the world. Apart from troops, he had to acquire horses for his cavalry and for this end some expedient had to be devised. The methods which he adopted were in accordance with the rest of his policy.

"Bold, indeed, as well as singular, was his plan. A conscription of horses would have been too violent, certainly too straightforward a proceeding, but still it was only by some measure of that nature that his object could be attained. That which was determined upon was the _voluntary presentation_ of horses to the Emperor, a plan which obviated the necessity of paying anything, whereas, in a case of conscription, some sum, however inadequate, must have been fixed upon as a sort of regulation price.

"The example was set by the Senate, then followed by the city of Paris and all the authorities. The papers teemed with fulsome statements of the "presents" made to the Emperor. Monsieur A. had sent his son, fully equipped; Monsieur B. had sent two horses, which the Emperor had graciously accepted, etc., etc. If this fashion had been confined to those whose situation rendered it inc.u.mbent upon them to prove their zeal for the Emperor's service, there would have been no great harm; no one would have felt much pity for this slight sacrifice on the part of those who were basking in the sunshine of Court favour. Far, however, was the measure from being limited to courtiers; its operation was universal. The stables of every individual were visited, their horses examined and practically seized....

"A friend of mine was so indignant at having his stables inspected that he boldly refused to allow his horses to be taken out, declaring that if the Emperor insisted upon having them, he would give them poison. I heard of only one other case of resistance. A man whose horses were to be taken away, inquired, with unprecedented temerity, 'Is this compulsory?'

"'No!--Ah, no!' was the emphatic reply.

"'Then if it is voluntary, it rests with me?'

"'_Mais certainement!_ But we _advise_ you to send them!'

"'May I then demand payment?' he next inquired.

"'Mais certainement!' was again the a.s.surance which he received. He might have payment at a subsequent date--they could not say exactly when, but they _advised_ him not to demand it.

"It may be concluded that such indiscriminate spoliation, only rendered the more disgusting by the humbug with which it was accompanied, could not but tend to increase the unpopularity of the Emperor. So violent was the discontent, that nothing but the dread of the police and the state of apathy, into which the whole nation had sunk, prevented an open insurrection."

In the midst of the general discontent, however, a ripple of merriment pa.s.sed over Paris. Madame mere, who, of course, could not avoid following the new fashion, presented her horses as an offering to her son. They were at once, to the delight of the Parisians, returned to her as _good for nothing_! "Whether," says Stanhope, "she had selected her gift with a view to this verdict, or whether it represented the general state of her stud, I know not, but, from what I have seen, I conclude that the latter is not an unlikely case." This little incident and the fact that many of the untrained horses thus acquired, pirouetted in an undignified manner and turned their backs as the Emperor pa.s.sed, momentarily restored the good humour of the Parisians.

But John Stanhope, whose own steed escaped confiscation on account of its being blind of one eye, took far less interest in the Emperor's movements than in a chance of freedom which at last presented itself to him. "There was not a man in France at this date," he states, "certainly not a Minister, who would have dared individually to plead the cause of a prisoner. With the exception of Talleyrand, few among the French dignitaries were superior to that singular influence by which Napoleon was able to subdue the proudest spirits; and since the Ministers had positive orders not to submit to the Emperor any proposal of that nature, there was not one of them bold enough to defy such a mandate." But as with the ecclesiastics, so with the Savants of France; what a man dared not attempt singly, a body of men, in their collective strength, might venture. It was patent to the Savants that the young Englishman had been unjustly detained. The object of his journey had been so obviously not only a peaceable but a laudable one, that the Inst.i.tute determined at length, if possible, in the interests of Science, to effect his liberation.

And at last they succeeded. At last, after a period of alternate tormenting hope and despair, John Stanhope secured the longed-for pa.s.sport which accorded him permission to quit Paris. Even then, when liberty was once more within his reach, it was all but s.n.a.t.c.hed from him. Savary, Minister of the Interior, taking advantage of the Emperor's absence, harshly ordered all prisoners to return to their _depots_. But Stanhope, with Napoleon's pa.s.sport in his pocket, decided to disregard these orders, and since his parole no longer prohibited an attempt at flight, he determined to sell his newborn liberty dearly. After many hairbreadth escapes he succeeded in reaching the German frontier, and to his unbounded relief knew that he was at last free!

[Ill.u.s.tration: Pa.s.sPORT GIVEN BY NAPOLEON I TO JOHN SPENCER STANHOPE, MARCH 14TH, 1813]

By the advice of his friends he decided to make his way back to England, instead of going direct to Greece as he had at first intended. Pa.s.sing next through Vienna, therefore, he viewed with pardonable curiosity Francis I., the father of Marie Louise; and his description of the att.i.tude of the Emperor of Austria towards his redoubtable son-in-law at this date, when the latter still retained the Imperial power, is of interest in the light of the complete change of front exhibited by Francis directly the ascendancy of Napoleon appeared to be on the wane. Stanhope relates:--