Adieu, my pretty turf-built hut !* I made, I deck'd you all myself, But since my arms I must resume, My pretty fowls and doves adieu ! Shalt share my toils, shalt share my fame- But no farewel I bid to you, Ye praams, and boats, who, o'er the wave, 'Tis but a few short hours delay'd. As I am writing on the subject of poetical agents, I will also say some words of our poetical flatterers, though the same persons frequently occupy both the one office and the other. A man of the name of Richaud, who sang formerly the glory of Marat and Robespierre, offered to Buonaparte, on the evening preceding his departure for Strasburgh, the following lines; and was in return presented with a purse full of gold, and an order to the minister of the interior, Champagny, to be employed in his offices, until better provided for. * During the long continuance of the French encampment at Boulogne, the troops had formed, at it were, a romantic town of huts. Every hut had a garden surrounding it, kept in excellent order, and stocked with vegetables and flowers. They had besides, fowls, pigeons, and rabbits; and these, with a cat and a dog, generally formed the little household of every soldier. STANCES, SUR LES BRUITS DE GUERRE AVEC L'AUTRICHE. Rois tant de fois vaincus! O Rois dont l'imprudence Menace encore votre vainqueur, Fixez en ce moment vos regards sur la France, Tremblez, si votre voix invoque les tempêtes Vas, l'Europe est temoin qu'au laurier de la gloire Mais du soldat Français la valeur irritée Dis un mot, un seul mot, et Vienne epouvantée STANZAS ON THE RUMOUR OF A WAR WITH AUSTRIA. Kings, who so often vanquish'd, vainly dare What miserable pride, ye foolish kings, Still your deluded reason thus misleads? But thee, lov'd chief, to new achievements bold I received, four days afterwards, at the circle of Madame Joseph Buonaparte, with all other visitors, a copy of these stanzas ; most of the foreign ambassadors were of the party, and had also a share of this patriotic donation. Count de Cobentzel had prudently absented himself; otherwise this delenda of the Austrian Carthage would have been officially announced to him. Another poetaster, of the name of Brouet, in a long, dull, disgusting poem, after comparing Buonaparte with all great men of antiquity, and proving that he surpasses them all; tells his countrymen that their Emperor is the deputy-divinity upon. earth, the mirror of wisdom, a demi-god, to whom future ages will erect statues, build temples, burn incense, fall down and adore; a proportionate share of abuse is, of course, bestowed on your nation. He says, A Londres on vit briller d'un eclat éphémère Le front tout radieux d'un ministre influent Sur la terre est nommé BUONAPARTE LE GRAND. For this delicate compliment, Brouet was made deputy-postmaster-general in Italy, and a knight of the Legion of Honour. It must be granted, that if Buonaparte is fond of flattery, he does not receive it gratis, but pays for it like a real Emperor. It has lately become the etiquette, not only in our court-circle, and official assemblies, but even in fashionable societies of persons who are, or wish to become Buonaparte's public functionaries, to distribute, and have read and applauded, these disinterested effusions of our poetical geniuses. This fashion occasioned lately, a curious blunder at a tea-party, in the hotel of Madame Talleyrand. The same printer who had been engaged by this lady, had also been employed by Chenier, or some other poet, to print a short satire against some of our literary ladies, in which Madame de Genlis, and Madame de Stael, who has just arrived here from her exile, were, with others, very severely handled. By mistake, a bundle of this production was given to Picard, after the porter of Madame Talleyrand, and a copy was handed to each visitor, even to Madame de Genlis, and Madame de Stael, who took them without noticing their contents. reading an act of a new play, was asked by the lady of the house to read this poetic worship of the Emperor of the French. Af ter the two first lines he stopped short, looked round him confused, suspecting a trick had been played upon him. This induced the audience to read what had been given them, and Madame Talleyrand with the rest; who, instead of permitting Picard to continue with another act of his play, as he had adroitly began, made the most awkward apology in the world, and by it, still more exposed the ladies, who were the objects of the satire; which, in an hour afterwards, was exchanged for the verses intended for the homage of the Emperor, and the cause of the error was cleared up. I have read somewhere of a tyrant of antiquity, who forced all his subjects to furnish one room of their houses in the best possible manner, according to their circumstances, and to have it consecrated for the reception of his bust, before which, under pain of death, they were commanded to prostrate themselves, morning, noon, and night. They were to enter this room bare. headed and bare-footed, to remain there only on their knees, and to leave it without turning their back towards the sacred repre sentative of their Prince. All laughing, sneezing, coughing, speaking, or even whispering, were capitally prohibited; but crying was not only permitted, but commanded, when his Majes ty was offended, angry, or unwell. Should our system of cring ing continue progressively to increase, as it has done these last three years, we, too, shall very soon have rooms consecrated, and an idol to adore. MY LORD, LETTER LVIII. Paris, September, 1805. PORTUGAL has suffered more from the degraded state of Spain, under the administration of the Prince of Peace, than we have yet gained by it in France. Engaged by her, in 1793, in a war against its inclination and interest, it was not only deserted afterwards, but sacrificed. But for the dictates of the Court of Madrid, supported, perhaps, by some secret influence of the Court of St. James, the Court of Lisbon would have preserved its neutrality, and, though not a well-wisher to the French Re public, never have been counted among her avowed enemies. In the peace of 1795, and the subsequent treaty of 1796, which transformed the family compact of the French and Spanish Bourbons into a national alliance between France and Spain, there was no question about Portugal. In 1797, indeed, our government condescended to receive a Portuguese plenipotentiary, but merely for the purpose of plundering his country of some millions of money, and to insult it, by shutting up its representative as a state prisoner in the Temple. Of this violation of the laws of civilized nations, Spain never complained, nor had Portugal any means to avenge it. After four years of negotiation, and an expenditure of thirty millions, the imbecile Spanish premier supported demands made by our government, which, if assented to, would have left his Most Faithful Majesty without any territory in Europe, and without any place of refuge in America. Circumstances not permitting your country to send any but pecuniary succours, Portugal would have become an easy prey to the united Spanish and French forces, had the marauders agreed about the partition of the spoil. Their disunion, the consequence of their avidity, saved it from ruin, but not from pillage. A province was ceded to Spain; the banks and the navigation of a river to France; and fifty millions to the private purse of the Buonaparte family. It might have been supposed that such renunciations, and such offerings, would have satiated ambition, as well as cupidity; but though the Cabinet of Lisbon was in peace with the Cabinet of St. Cloud, the pretensions and encroachments of the latter left the former no rest. While pocketing tributes, it required commercial monopolies, and when its commerce was favoured, it demanded sea-ports to ensure the security of its trade. Its pretensions rose in proportion to the condescensions of the state it oppressed. With the money and the value of the diamonds, which Portugal has paid in loans, in contributions, in requisitions, in donations, in tributes, and in presents, it might have supported. |