Volume II Part 5 (1/2)

[94:B] Particularly his eloquent and manly ”Appeal to the Parliament of Great Britain, on the case of the Emperor Napoleon.”

The inhuman conduct pursued towards the captive emperor at length became the subject of parliamentary inquiry. A motion to this effect was introduced to the House of Peers by Lord Holland, in the month of March, 1817. Of the motives by which this n.o.ble lord was actuated, it is difficult to award sufficient praise. He declared, ”My chief motive in bringing forward this motion is to rescue parliament and the country from the stain that will attach to them, if any harsh or ungenerous treatment has been used towards Napoleon.” Such an anxiety for the character of his country was, doubtless, a patriotic and proper motive; but it never ought to claim precedence of the great, permanent, and universal feelings of pity for the unfortunate, which are among the n.o.blest characteristics of our nature. His lords.h.i.+p, therefore, might have insisted more upon the merit of a motive to which, on all occasions, he has shewn himself to be eminently ent.i.tled. That the praiseworthy object of Lord Holland's motion was not attained must be matter of deep regret to every man who wishes to maintain the reputation of his country. But the ministers shuffled over the charge by reading partial extracts from those doc.u.ments which his lords.h.i.+p wished to have produced, while they refused an examination of the entire papers. This, to say the least of it, had a very suspicious appearance. Such a mode of proceeding was contrary to the long-established usages of the House, to the laws of evidence, and to the common course of practice in all investigation; and, however it might answer Lord Castlereagh's purpose, was little calculated to dispel the doubts of impartial inquirers, or to make a satisfactory case to the world and to posterity. What judgment would a foreigner form of this matter, who might have heard the blessings of our happy administration of justice extolled to the skies?

A captive, the most ill.u.s.trious ever cla.s.sed under that head, complained of the unnecessary rigour of his treatment. A British peer made a motion in parliament to inquire into the truth of these allegations, and for the production of papers connected with and tending to elucidate the subject. The secretary of state contended, that the a.s.sertions of the complainant were groundless, read partial extracts from the papers in question, but refused their entire production, and negatived the motion for them, without a.s.signing any sufficient reason. If Lord Castlereagh thought the inference to be drawn from such a garbled statement would be favourable to his cause, he must have built his logic, not upon the REASON of the matter, but upon the VOTES OF HIS PENSIONED ADHERENTS,--a mode of conclusion not at all uncommon or unnatural to this minister.

His lords.h.i.+p, indeed, considered his conduct to Napoleon as meritorious, on account of that great man having been the enemy of England! But does it follow that, because the uncertain events of war had placed the French emperor in a situation to claim the protection of our laws as a private individual, that his lords.h.i.+p was justified in betraying his misplaced confidence, or in treating him with the same spirit of hostility when he was a helpless captive, as when he was a powerful general arrayed in arms against the whole of Europe? A doctrine, more repugnant to humanity, more dangerous in its consequences to society, cannot be conceived. From what code of morality, or from what system of religion, did his lords.h.i.+p borrow such a principle? Much has been said of Lord Castlereagh's kindness of heart; but what a dark scroll of evidence does the treatment of Napoleon at St. Helena exhibit against such an a.s.sertion! To commiserate a fallen foe, to be moved by the sad spectacle of his fortunes, is the natural propensity and inseparable concomitant of every man possessing ”PERSONAL COURAGE,” or ”KINDNESS OF HEART:”

”The truly brave Will valorous actions prize, Respect a great and n.o.ble mind, Albeit in enemies;”

while to oppress an adversary in your power, whether among nations or individuals, is not only considered _cowardly_, but abject, ungenerous, and savage. There is no circ.u.mstance which reflects so much disgrace on the national character of the Romans as their behaviour to Hannibal. The treatment which he received has been stigmatized as an act of complicated meanness, cruelty, and injustice. In modern times, the case of Napoleon seems most closely to resemble that of Hannibal, both in the splendour of his achievements while he was victorious, and in the sad similitude of fortune after his being defeated and betrayed into the hands of his enemies. It is true that Napoleon did not ”play the Roman”

and kill himself, as Hannibal did[97:A]; but a portion of the words which the Carthaginian general used on that occasion might have been aptly repeated by Napoleon, with merely an alteration of names: ”The victory which Flamininus gains over a man, disarmed and betrayed, will not do him much honour. This single day will be a lasting testimony of the great degeneracy of the Romans. They have deputed a person of consular dignity to spirit up Prusias impiously to murder one who is his guest!” It is curious to reflect that, in the annals of the world, the same action, according to circ.u.mstances, at one time is a crime,--at another, an act of heroism! The same man is at one time a Claudius,--at another, a Marcus Aurelius. Cataline is but a vile conspirator. If, however, he had been able to found an empire, like Caesar, he would have been esteemed a benefactor. Our Oliver Cromwell was acknowledged till his last hour, and his protection sought by all sovereigns; but after his death, his body was suspended on a gibbet: he only wanted a son like himself to enable him to form a new dynasty. So long as NAPOLEON was fortunate, Europe bowed at his footstool, while the first princes thought it an honour to ally themselves with his family, and to obtain his smile was esteemed a favour. As soon, however, as he fell a prey to treachery, it was pretended that he was nothing more than a miserable adventurer, an usurper, without talent and without courage!

[97:A] Plutarch a.s.signs him three different deaths; but Livy tells us, that Hannibal drank poison, which he always carried about with him, in case he should be taken by surprise.

But, even allowing that any sufficient argument could have been urged for the detention of Napoleon, surely all restraint beyond what was strictly necessary for the security of his person was unjustifiable, and every species of mortification, not only ungenerous, but absolutely criminal. Lord Castlereagh ought, at least, in giving directions for his custody, to have been particularly circ.u.mspect that no real or seeming unkindnesses were exercised against the captive emperor. If the coercive measures adopted were thought necessary, they should have been introduced in a more conciliatory manner, and with every allowance for the irritation and impatience which exile and imprisonment will be sure to produce upon the most apathetic being in creation. But, when we take into consideration the ungentlemanly and ign.o.ble proceedings pursued against Napoleon at St. Helena, can we feel surprised at the bursts of indignation which now and then escaped him at the cowardly conduct of his jailer? That he should have viewed Sir Hudson Lowe as the meanest creature in existence, is not at all to be wondered at; for it appeared as if

”Some demon said, 'Sir Hudson Lowe, Although we've got the dreaded foe, Yet here the question pinches: How shall we crush this mighty man?'

Sir Hudson cried, 'I know the plan; We'll make him DIE BY INCHES!'”

Neither could Napoleon help considering Lord Castlereagh as the ”demon”

here alluded to. His lords.h.i.+p had induced him on board a British s.h.i.+p, under the most sacred promises of bringing him over to this country, that he might pa.s.s the remainder of his days under the blessings of our so-much-boasted const.i.tution, as being ”the envy and admiration of the whole world!” What milder appellation than ”demon,” therefore, did his lords.h.i.+p deserve, when, violating every principle of hospitality, he took advantage of Napoleon's faith in such promises, and seized upon the opportunity it afforded him of arresting the emperor as a prisoner of war, and of sending him to a barren rock, far from his wife, child, and friends, to be a prey to an unwholesome climate, and the rude insults of a mean and pitiful man like Sir Hudson Lowe!

”Great G.o.d of war, and was it so That Britons crush'd a fallen foe!

Had Wellington been taken, (And there were chances on that day) Would Bonaparte have used his sway, And left him thus forsaken?”

Indeed, there was once a time when this same Lord Castlereagh might have been taken prisoner by Napoleon, which would most probably have been done, if the French emperor had possessed no loftier ideas of justice and honour than his lords.h.i.+p exhibited. This circ.u.mstance is related by Mr. O'Meara, in Bonaparte's own words, as follows:

”When Castlereagh was at Chatillon with the amba.s.sadors of the allied powers, after some successes of mine, and when I had, in a manner, invested the town, _he was greatly alarmed lest I might seize him_ and make him _prisoner_. Not being accredited as an amba.s.sador, nor invested with any diplomatic character to France, I might have taken him as an enemy. He went to Caulincourt, to whom he mentioned that _he laboured under considerable apprehensions that I should cause violent hands to be laid upon him_, as he acknowledged I had a right to do.

It was impossible for him to get away without falling in with my troops. Caulincourt replied, that as far as his opinion went, he would say that I should not meddle with him; but that he could not answer for what I might do. Immediately after, he (Caulincourt) wrote to me what Castlereagh had said, and his answer. I signified to him in reply, that he was to tell Castlereagh to make his mind easy, and stay where he was: that I would consider him as an amba.s.sador. At Chatillon, (continued Bonaparte) when speaking about the liberty enjoyed in England, Castlereagh observed, in a contemptuous manner, that it was not the thing most to be esteemed in England; that it was an USAGE they were obliged to put up with; but that it had become an abuse, and would not answer for other countries.”

It will thus be seen that GRAt.i.tUDE, at least, ought to have prompted different conduct in Lord Castlereagh towards Napoleon; instead of which, the charges brought against Sir Hudson Lowe by Mr. O'Meara were not only deemed unworthy of inquiry, but his lords.h.i.+p actually dismissed the accuser from the British service. Thus a deserving and generous-minded officer was ruined, without even a hearing, for merely attempting to do an act of justice to the exiled Emperor of France! The charges against Sir Hudson Lowe, however, remained the same, and this summary mode of revenge inflicted on Mr. O'Meara was not at all calculated to acquit Lord Castlereagh from sharing in the accusation of wantonly oppressing Napoleon. Could any thing tend more to criminate his lords.h.i.+p than the sudden punishment of the accuser, while in the act of preferring his complaint? Grant that Mr. O'Meara had misconducted himself, and that he had thus given his employer a right to dismiss him, surely he ought not, in common honesty, to have done so till he had first given him every opportunity of making good his charges. His lords.h.i.+p's readiness to stigmatize, and even silence him, in this manner, wore any appearance but that of an honourable anxiety to meet and to defy his adversary. We cannot devote s.p.a.ce sufficient to bring forward the charges of Mr. O'Meara; but the inquirer will find himself amply repaid for his trouble by their perusal. As Sir Hudson Lowe can only be looked upon as a cowardly ruffian, who scrupled not to _execute_ the orders of his superiors in office, however unjust they might be, the real odium of Napoleon's treatment and death must rest upon the government, of which Lord Castlereagh was the most active member. Mr.

O'Meara was appointed medical attendant upon the emperor by this government, and his professional ability and private worth have never been questioned. If Lord Castlereagh, therefore, willed not the death of Napoleon, it was his duty to have removed those causes of complaint which Mr. O'Meara emphatically pointed out ”would render Bonaparte's PREMATURE DEATH as inevitable as if it were to take place under the hands of the EXECUTIONER!” The public are aware how fatally this prediction was fulfilled; but the whole evidence of Mr. O'Meara would carry conviction to the mind of any man who had not previously determined to disbelieve truth. Indeed, he has been confirmed in many essential points of his statements by the admissions of either the governor's advocates or the governor himself. One of these advocates stated that Mr. O'Meara was discharged for disobeying orders; but of what nature were those orders? The governor wanted him to act as a spy upon the emperor, and to sign false reports of the state of his health!

Consequently, Mr. O'Meara did indignantly refuse to perform such a base and cruel service; and what man of honour and principle would not have done the same? A refusal of this kind reflects no disgrace upon Mr.

O'Meara, but will rather hand his name down to posterity as one deserving better treatment than he unfortunately experienced.

In contemplating the manifold deprivations to which Napoleon ultimately fell a victim, we cannot help remarking upon one peculiar trait of the human mind,--that of being more moved by fiction than reality; for a tale of imaginary woe will excite more exquisite feeling, more real sympathy, than the severest reverses of fortune which may have occurred in our time, or which may be even present to our view! If Napoleon, for instance, had been an ideal personage, and the history of his life had been made the subject of romance or poetry, what mind so dull but would have moralized upon the vicissitude of human affairs?--what heart so cold but would have felt some commiseration for the captive? But when all that a poet's fancy could have formed and blended of surprising extremes, to raise the interest of the reader in the hero of the tragedy, had actually occurred and been signally manifested in this extraordinary man,--when he, who at one time was raised to an elevation and possessed a power never enjoyed by any other individual, was hurled headlong from his height to the abyss of humiliation, was imprisoned, exiled, captive, and forlorn,--how happened it that the feelings of our nature were not to take their accustomed course, that the sources of sympathy were to be dried up, and compa.s.sion, which had hitherto been considered amongst the most amiable of virtues, was all at once to lose its very essence and property, and not only not to be numbered amongst our weaknesses, but catalogued amongst our crimes? For the prevalence of this disposition,--which, alas! was too observable even among those cla.s.ses in whom education and the intercourse of enlightened society would have naturally led to an expectation of better feelings and sounder conclusions on the subject,--it is difficult to account; unless it be true in morals, as in mechanics, that the motion may be continued when the impulse has ceased, and that to this we must refer the state of national feeling at the time Napoleon was suffering an acc.u.mulation of indignities at St. Helena. Since his death, however, the injustice and inhumanity of his treatment have been freely acknowledged and severely commented on; and there is every reason to believe that his great name will be finally rescued from that misrepresentation which interested writers have endeavoured to surround all his actions.

From the affinity between fear and hatred, there is no wonder that when Napoleon was arrayed as our enemy, we joined hatred with hostility. But, at the time of his seizure on board the Bellerophon, he was no longer formidable; he was then in our hands. Upon what principle, then, did active hatred continue when both hostility and apprehension had ceased?

Did a consciousness of inclemency (to use the mildest term that the occasion will admit) towards the object of it sufficiently account for the continuance of this hatred? It had been better, indeed, if Lord Castlereagh, as well as his coadjutors at that period, who cherished this inextinguishable species of enmity, had considered whether the world and posterity might not be apt to ascribe the meanest and most wicked of motives to such conduct. And let all the detracters of Napoleon recollect, that the illiberal invectives in which they have so freely indulged against him will, instead of making any lasting impression upon his fame, only serve to perpetuate their own disgrace and that of his ign.o.ble persecutors. While his figure will stand conspicuous through history, the crowd of monarchs and ministers, who have alternately crouched to and calumniated, truckled to or trampled upon him, can only escape oblivion as they make the group which shade the back ground of the picture, and give a force, _by forming a contrast_, to the grandeur of the leading figure. Lord Castlereagh will a.s.suredly form one of this back-ground group; but we envy him not in _such fame_. The conduct of his lords.h.i.+p to Napoleon, instead of displaying that dignified sentiment and enlightened understanding which should adorn the character of a n.o.bleman, and which we should naturally be led to expect from a ”secretary of state for foreign affairs,” has degraded his name to the level of the meanest of the mean. We will not say that we had rather been a chimney-sweeper than have been guilty of his lords.h.i.+p's treachery to Napoleon; but, considering it as a deliberate exposition of the wickedness of his heart and his abandonment of every honourable feeling, which will be put on record, and handed down to posterity, we certainly will say, that all the wealth and t.i.tles of Lord Londonderry, together with his immense political power and the smiles bestowed on him by his despotic patrons, should never have induced us to have done the like.

Would that it were in our power here to close the catalogue of crimes, which are written in characters of blood, against the Marquis of Londonderry. The death of Napoleon was followed by the persecutions of an innocent and n.o.ble-minded WOMAN,--”the injured Queen of England!” But this self-important man had been so hardened in iniquity, that it was by no means a difficult task to persuade him to a.s.sist in her ruin. Her majesty was too well acquainted with the SECRETS OF STATE to be allowed the free exercise of her rights; and as his lords.h.i.+p had lent his a.s.sistance to prevent many of these disreputable secrets from being made public[107:A], self-preservation might have operated as a further inducement for him to enter the lists of her most bitter enemies. How fatally the Marquis of Londonderry and his colleagues succeeded in their diabolical plans have been already explained. But the inglorious triumph added not to his lords.h.i.+p's peace of mind; for, from that period, he was observed to exhibit ”a conscience ill at ease.” And it was a very remarkable fact, that the marquis should have selected the precise time of the year, only twelve months after, for his own destruction as that in which his royal mistress met her fate! A circ.u.mstance of this singular nature should operate as a great moral lesson for the consideration of mankind generally, though Providence might have designed it as a warning to the ”t.i.tled wickedness” of our land. Such is the condition of our nature, that we cannot mortgage either our moral or our physical energies so as always to repel the accusations of our own hearts, which are sure, eventually, to reprove us for evils committed.

”O then beware; Those wounds heal ill that men do give themselves: Omission to do what is necessary Seals a commission to a blank of danger; And danger, like an ague, subtly taints Even then when we sit idly in the sun!”

On what a slender thread hangs human life, and how worthless are t.i.tles and wealth, if all is not at peace within! On what a ”beetling ledge”

the favourite of royalty tracks his uncertain way! By what a fragile tenure the courtier holds the rewards of his servility, on which he is so accustomed to pride himself! The suicide of the gay and puissant Marquis of Londonderry was, indeed, a memento full of lessons of humility to the fawning parasites of power.

[107:A] More particularly the affair of the bondholders. His lords.h.i.+p also strenuously exerted himself to prevent any public inquiry into the cruel death of the Princess Charlotte.

In the October of this year, Mr. Henry Nugent Bell, of whom we have before had occasion to speak, died at his house, Whitehall Place, in the 30th year of his age. This individual merits a little commiseration, notwithstanding the disgraceful part he took in the Manchester murders, and other similar missions of Lord Sidmouth; because, though the tool of despotic ministers, he made some amends to the public by _betraying_ his base employers. The newspapers generally reported his death to have proceeded from a _natural cause_; but this was not the case. We can POSITIVELY state that he died UNFAIRLY; but whether from his own hand, or from the design of an enemy, we are not able to determine. Mr. Bell appears never to have forgiven himself for his dereliction from the path of virtue, and only urged, in extenuation of his conduct, the _cruel necessity_ he was under to oblige his patron. Once enlisted under the banners of Sidmouth, the unfortunate man soon found out the necessity of not being over-scrupulous in his actions. One crime succeeded another; and thus a man of education and talent was made the victim of unjust and diabolical proceedings.