Napoleonic Literature
Napoleon and His Marshals - Vol. II
Chapter XX
MARSHAL BERNADOTTE
His Early
Life— Marries the Sister-in-law of Joseph Bonaparte— His Envy and Treason—
His Folly and Disgrace at Wagram— Elected Crown Prince of Sweden— Quarrels
with Napoleon— Joins the Allies— His Character.
NOTHING could be more lucky
for the reputation of Marshal Bernadotte than being elected Crown Prince
of Sweden; and nothing could be more fortunate for the Crown Prince of
Sweden than the failure of the Russian expedition. Too egotistical and
self-inflated to perceive great qualities in other men, a querulous and
unmitigated boaster, his career would have ended but sadly for himself,
had he been left to pursue it as a Frenchman.
Jean Baptiste Jules Bernadotte
was born at Pau, in the Lower Pyrenees, January 26, 1764. His father was
a common attorney, and designed his son for the same profession. But at
fifteen years of age young Bernadotte enlisted as a private in the royal
marines and was sent to Corsica. The same year Bonaparte, then a boy of
eleven years of age, left the island to enter the school of Brienne. It
is not improbable that the vessels that bore these two youths, who were
yet to cross each other's track so frequently in life, met in the passage.
What actors in what scenes those two children were destined to be! Serving
here two years he was sent to the East Indies, where, in a sortie, at Cuddalore,
he was wounded and taken prisoner.
On his return to France, he
designed to leave the service and prosecute the profession of law. But
being promoted to the rank of sergeant it so inflamed his youthful ambition,
that he determined to remain in the army; and from that time he steadily
rose in his profession till he bore its highest honors.
Soon after, the Revolution
broke out; and in an insurrection of the Marsellaise, the colonel that
had promoted young Bernadotte was surrounded by the infuriated populace,
and would have been destroyed, but for the latter, who threw himself into
the crowd, and by his harangues calmed their fury and saved his benefactor.
Becoming a furious Republican,
he was raised to the rank of colonel, and sent to the Rhine, where he fought
bravely; and, at Fleurus, so distinguished himself that he was made general
of brigade. Previous to this, however, he had, in the true affectation
of Republicanism, so common at that time, refused this very appointment,
and thus gained the credit for patriotic zeal which he knew to be the sure
road to favor. Elevated to general of division, be fought gallantly during
the campaign of 1795, and '96, on the Rhine, and though an unmitigated
boaster, and utterly unworthy of confidence in his statements, especially
of himself and his battles, was a brave, skillful, and efficient officer.
At the close of this campaign,
he was sent with 20,000 men, detached from the army of Sambre-Meuse, into
Italy, to aid the army under Bonaparte, who had just astonished Europe
by his deeds. At the first interview between them a mutual dislike seemed
to arise. Bernadotte said to his quarter-general, "I have seen a man of
twenty-six or seven years of age, who assumes the air of one of fifty,
and he presages anything but good to the Republic." The young Bonaparte
dismissed him more summarily, saying simply, "He has a French head
and a Roman heart." He, however, placed him over the advance guard in the
campaign of 1797, terminating with the fall of Venice. At the battle of
Tagliamento, with which it opened, he led his division into the river with
the words, "Soldiers of the Rhine, the soldiers of Italy are watching your
conduct." This stimulated them to the highest pitch of enthusiasm, and
they plunged headlong into the stream, and moved side by side with "the
army of Italy," into the fire of the enemy's batteries.
In honor of the bravery be
exhibited in this battle, and the service he rendered, he was sent to Paris
with the colors taken from the enemy. He took no part in the revolution
of the 18th Fructidor, which occurred soon after; and already began to
show that envy of Bonaparte which caused him finally to disgrace himself
and well-nigh ruin his fortunes.
Being sent about this time
as ambassador to Vienna, he, on his arrival, hung out the colors of the
Republic before his hotel, which so enraged the populace that they tore
them down, and, rushing into his house, destroyed his furniture, and endangered
his life. He immediately returned to Paris in anger; and because the Directory
did not resent the insult sufficiently, refused to serve it in any capacity.
While Bonaparte was fitting
out his expedition to Egypt, Bernadotte was paying his addresses to Mademoiselle
Désirée Clary, daughter of a Marseilles merchant. She was
the sister of the wife of Joseph Bonaparte, and formerly counted on her
list of suitors Napoleon himself. But the young general of artillery being
then without employment, the father refused his consent to the match; saying,
"that one Bonaparte was quite enough in the family." She therefore dismissed
him, and accepted Bernadotte—which was about as poor a compliment to her
taste and judgment as she could well pay.
While Bonaparte was in Egypt,
Bernadotte was intriguing at Paris. Being appointed Minister of War, his
influence was thrown against the Directory, which, under the pretext of
fearing that he was about to excite an insurrection, dismissed him, as
before noticed, from his office. He was first apprised of it by a note
declaring that his resignation was accepted. Perfectly furious at this
summary way of disposing of him, he sat down and replied in bitter language,
saying, "You accept a resignation which I have not given"; and demanded
his half-pay.
When Bonaparte, on his return,
gathered around him his young lieutenants, Bernadotte was one of the three
who stood aloof—Jourdan because he was a republican, Augereau because he
was a Jacobin, and Bernadotte from envy and jealousy, and because he would
take no part in elevating a man above himself. But no sooner was the former
firmly established as First Consul, than this sturdy republican became
an obsequious supplicant for office, and obtained the appointment of counsellor
of state, and commander-in-chief of the Army of the West. But soon after,
still filled with the idea that he was better able, and more worthy, to
govern than Bonaparte, he mixed himself up with Moreau's conspiracy to
overturn him. The plot being discovered, Moreau was exiled, while the former
was disgraced by having his staff dissolved and his command withdrawn.
English biographers, with stupid prejudice, assert that Bonaparte made
the pretended conspiracy an excuse to humble a general that showed too
much ability. Nothing can be more ridiculous than the endless reiteration
of the charge that Napoleon was in a state of constant anxiety lest his
lieutenants should be too successful, and therefore, the moment they fulfilled
his commands, disgraced them.
This is the more foolish,
inasmuch as these same writers never weary of charging him with rigorous
severity in his judgment, and with condemning and rebuking his generals
whenever they failed in executing his orders, even though insurmountable
obstacles intervened. That Bernadotte was implicated in the conspiracy
of Pichegru and Moreau is now settled, from the confessions and documents
of his friends who glory in it.
Bonaparte at length became
reconciled to him, through the mediation of Joseph's wife, the sister of
Madame Bernadotte; and when he assumed the imperial crown, created him
Marshal of the Empire, and gave him the command of the Army of Hanover,
and of the eight cohort of the Legion of Honor—a remarkable instance of
his generosity and magnanimity. The same institution of Legion of Honor,
which Bernadotte now gloried in, he had opposed in the council of state
with all the declamation peculiar to his race.
In 1805 he was chosen president
of the electoral college of Vaucluse, and was returned to the senate by
the Lower Department of the Pyrenees—and the next year, after fighting
bravely at Austerlitz, was created Prince of Ponte Corvo by Napoleon. The
latter seemed determined, by flattering the pride of this self-conceited
and overbearing Gascon, to keep him quiet and docile. At the battle of
Jena, however his pride came very near securing again his downfall. When
the Emperor sent to Davoust at Auerstadt—as mentioned in the description
of that battle—to move forward, so as to take the enemy in rear, at evening,
after he himself had defeated them in front, and, if Bernadotte had not
departed for Dornberg, to take his corps also,—the latter had not
departed, and it was plainly his duty to fulfill his last instructions.
As it was, he took no part either in the battle of Jena or of Auerstadt,
but with his splendid army marched within hearing of cannonading of both
without rendering any assistance whatsoever. Napoleon's anger at his conduct,
in thus leaving Davoust to maintain that unequal fight alone, was extreme.
Said he, "If I should send him to a council of war nothing could save him
from being shot. I will not speak to him on the subject, but I will let
him see what I think of his conduct." Bernadotte, in his self-conceit,
lets out the motive that prevented him from joining Davoust: "I was piqued,"
said he, "to be addressed in the language of authority by Davoust, but
I did my duty. Let the Emperor accuse me if he pleases, I will answer him.
I am a Gascon, but he is still more so." Constantly inflated with the idea
of his self-importance, be struts about, boasting that he will answer the
Emperor if he dares upbraid him—prouder to have shown his independence
than he would have been had he won a battle.
The reflection, however, that
he had taken no part in either of those two great conflicts with which
the world would ring, annoyed him excessively; and the opportunity furnished
him a few days after, of striking a successful blow, was eagerly seized.
Overtaking the Duke of Wurtemberg at Halle, he cut his army to pieces,
and drove him back to Magdeburg. But failing to follow up his success as
he ought, he let the greater part of the enemy slip through his fingers,
when, if he had followed Napoleon's orders and pushed on, he would have
captured the whole of it. This, together with his conduct at Auerstadt,
brought down a torrent of indignation on him from the Emperor, and it is
more than probable, that, had he not been connected with the Bonaparte
family, he would have been placed where his gasconade would have been in
future as harmless as it was ridiculous.
In 1808 he was sent into the
neighborhood of Hamburg with a large force; and though unsuccessful in
his military operations, his administration as governor of Frionia and
Jutland was so mild and conciliating that he won the esteem and good will
of the inhabitants.
In 1809, with other corps
of the French army, he was summoned from the banks of the Elbe with his
Saxon troops, to the island of Lobau, where the forces were concentrating,
previous to the battle of Wagram. But on the first day of the battle, both
in his attacks on the heights of Wagram and on the village of Aderklaa,
he was repulsed and on the second day he met with a still more serious
discomfiture in his encounter with the Austrian center. It was his troops
that, in their confusion, overwhelmed the carriage of Massena, which so
enraged the marshal that he ordered his dragoons to charge them as if they
had been enemies. But, notwithstanding his defeat, Bernadotte, who never
contemplated himself except with the most perfect satisfaction, and could
see nothing but glory in his own actions, issued, the very day after the
battle, a proclamation to his soldiers, in which he spoke in the most inflated
terms of their bravery. Said he: "Saxons! on the day of the 5th of July,
seven or eight thousand of you pierced the center of the enemy's army,
and reached Deutch Wagram, despite all the efforts of forty thousand
of the enemy supported by sixty pieces of cannon; you continued the
combat till midnight, and bivouacked in the middle of the Austrian lines.
At daybreak on the 6th, you renewed the combat with the same perseverance,
and, in the midst of the ravages of the enemy's artillery, your living
columns have remained immovable like brass. The great Napoleon was
a witness to your devotion; he has enrolled you among his bravest followers.
Saxons the fortunes of a soldier consists in the performance of his duties;
you have worthily performed yours." This eulogium would have applied with
great pertinency to Macdonald and his iron column, or to Oudinot and his
steady battalions, but, pronounced over the Saxon troops, was the most
impudent falsehood ever uttered by a sane man. Napoleon immediately issued
an order of the day, in which he declared, that the proclamation of the
Prince of Ponte Corvo was "contrary to truth, to policy, and to national
honor,"—that "the corps of the Prince of Ponte Corvo did not remain
immovable as brass, but were the first to beat a retreat." This order of
the day was directed to be circulated among the marshals and ministers
alone, so as not to distress the Saxon troops.
This—giving the lie so direct—for
once, perfectly stunned Bernadotte; and his feathers dropped still more,
when he found, a few days after, that his corps was dissolved, and he was
disgraced from his command. He sought, again and again, a private interview
with Napoleon, but the latter steadily refused to see him, and the disgraced
marshal returned to Paris.
One hardly knows which to
be surprised at most in this proclamation of Bernadotte—the falsehood it
contained, the impudence that dare publish it, or the self-conceit that
would presume to distribute that praise or blame which the Emperor alone
had a right to do. One cannot help from getting a supreme contempt for
such a character, however much military ability he may at other times exhibit.
On his return to Paris he
was appointed by the Ministry to defend Antwerp from the attacks of the
English, who had just landed at Walcheren: but no sooner did Napoleon hear
of the appointment, than he sent Bessieres to supersede him. Soon after,
Bernadotte publishing some other folly, Bonaparte exiled him. Subsequently,
however, an interview took place between them at Vienna, which allayed
somewhat the anger of the Emperor, and Prince Ponte Corvo was restored
to favor. He received the appointment of governor of Rome, and was preparing
to depart for Italy, when the astounding news was brought him, that he
was elected Crown Prince of Sweden.
A revolution had taken place
in Sweden, and Gustavus IV was dethroned. The government was immediately
placed under the protection of Napoleon, but he refused to involve himself
with the powers of the North by accepting such a trust. Efforts were then
made to conclude an alliance between Prince Augustus, the heir apparent,
and some member of the Bonaparte family. But an end was suddenly put to
all expectations of this kind, by the death of the prince, who fell from
his horse in a fit of apoplexy, while reviewing his guards. The throne
was now open to aspirants. The states of Sweden had the power to choose
their king, but they wished in their election to secure themselves against
the grasping power of Russia. Russia, on the other hand, was anxious to
have one on the throne who would be bound to her interests—Napoleon one
who would act as a sort of counterpoise to the growing strength of the
former. In this state of affairs, the King of Denmark put in his claim
and endeavored to induce Bonaparte to support it. But the leading men in
the kingdom were opposed to his appointmentment, as they knew it would
be displeasing to the majority of the Swedes.
In the midst of this agitation
and excitement, an article appeared in the Journal des Débats,
declaring that the election of the King of Denmark would be acceptable
to the Emperor. This sent consternation through Sweden; and amid other
suggestions as to the mode of relieving themselves from embarrassment,
some of the chief men proposed that a French general should be elected
crown prince. The public mind naturally fell on Bernadotte, who in 1807
had commanded the army on the shores of the Baltic, and, by his kindness
toward some Swedish prisoners taken in Poland, endeared himself to many
of the inhabitants. Besides, he was regarded in Sweden as the favorite
marshal of Napoleon. How much his gasconade while on the Baltic had to
do with this opinion, it is impossible to tell. He was also the nearest
relative of the Emperor, of any fame, without a throne, and to elect him,
therefore, seemed to secure the protection of the former, which Sweden
was determined to have at all hazards, for his star was then in the ascendant,
and his strong arm was sufficient to protect any ally. Still, all these
reasons combined would not, probably, have secured his election, but for
the timely occurrence of a single mistake. The committee of twelve, appointed
to recommend a successor to the Diet, met, and at the first ballot the
young prince of Augustenburg had eleven votes, and Bernadotte one. The
chances of the latter, therefore, were far from being favorable; but, previous
to the day of final meeting, a French agent arrived, and announced, though
without any authority, that the election of Bernadotte would meet the wishes
of Napoleon. This settled the question at once, and he was chosen. Whose
agent this was, or by whose instigation he was sent to make such a declaration,
does not appear. At all events, the trick succeeded.
When the result was announced
to Bernadotte, he referred the whole matter to Napoleon as his Emperor.
The latter advised him to accept, and promised him two millions of francs
as an outfit. English historians say, however, that he used every effort
to dissuade him from accepting, and finally submitted with as good grace
as possible, and endeavored by his generosity and kindness to bind him
to his interests. The picture they draw of him in this affair makes him
appear in a most unenviable light; but there is only one statement necessary
to render it all plain. If Napoleon had wished to prevent Bernadotte from
taking the crown, he had but to say it, and that would have ended the matter;
or had he intimated to the Diet of Sweden that he never would countenance
the election, it would have been put aside. The sole motive of the Diet
was to secure his good will and protection—while Bernadotte would as soon
have laid his head on the block, as undertaken to have filled the Swedish
throne contrary to his command. All powerful as the former then was, it
would have been madness to have done so without his hearty co-operation;
and it was only because he was so powerful, that it was permitted by Denmark
and Russia. The crown of Sweden was as much the gift of Napoleon to Bernadotte
as if he had himself placed it on his head. It is true he wished him still
to be a subject of France, as Murat was; but finding it repugnant to his
feelings, withdrew his request.
Bernadotte entered Stockholm
in triumph, and was immediately adopted by the aged Charles XIV as his
son, with the name of Charles John. The old king being too far advanced
in life to take an active part in matters of state, the government of Sweden
depended on Bernadotte as much as if he had already been crowned. But with
such a man at the head of affairs, it was not to be expected that friendly
relations could long exist between Sweden and France. Napoleon insisted
that the former, as it had virtually put itself under his protection, should
share his fortunes—and as he was then at war with England, immediately
close her ports against English ships. This Bernadotte refused to do until
it became a choice between a war with England and one with France, and
then submitted; though the fulfillment of his contract was a piece of mockery
throughout. English goods were smuggled in, and a contraband trade kept
up, so that the ports were really as open to British traders as ever. This
system of double dealing was to secure two things: the revenue which trade
with England furnished, and peace with France at the same time. The consequence
was, that England did not trouble Swedish merchantmen, but let them go
and come as in time of peace. This violation of good faith, and this deception,
which was to be expected from Bernadotte, exasperated Napoleon beyond bounds,
and he used stern and threatening language toward the treacherous government.
Finding at last that nothing was to be gained by words, he seized on Pomerania,
and treated Sweden as an open enemy: this completed the estrangement, and
Bernadotte waited only for a favorable opportunity to ally himself with
Russia against France. He hesitated, however, to provoke the deadly blow
of the man he had learned to fear; and shuffled and delayed, and expostulated
and promised, till the disastrous issue of the Russian campaign gave
him hopes that the hour of his rival's overthrow had come.
Soon after, when the great
confederacy was formed against the falling Emperor, he was assigned a conspicuous
place in the conferences of Trachenberg; yet even here, his selfish and
vain heart still hesitated. With the maps illustrating the proposed operations
laid out before him, and flourishing his scented white pocket-handkerchief
in his hand, he harangued with his usual pomposity on the greatness of
the plans, and uttered flaming declarations of his zeal for the common
cause; yet still hung back from the coalition. He was afraid that the mighty
genius which had shaken Europe so long and so terribly would rise superior
to the disasters that environed it; and then woe to the charity-King who
had dared to open his cannon on the ranks of his countrymen, and against
the benefactor who had given him his crown. His unbounded vanity also stepped
in; and, if he joined the confederacy at all, he wished to be appointed
commander-in-chief of the allied forces.
But at length this pompous
King, this half-charlatan, half-genius, struck hands with Russia and Austria—the
former the natural enemy of his kingdom—and at the head of 30,000 troops
marched into the field. A Gascon to the last, he, in order to cover his
infamy and excuse his conduct wrote a hypocritical impudent, and bombastic
letter to Napoleon, urging him—though at the time in a death-struggle for
his throne—to abandon the idea of universal dominion; and ended by declaring
that in fighting against him he was espousing the cause of liberty against
tyranny. False-hearted and false-tongued, he seemed to be ignorant when
he was committing an insult, or uttering an untruth.
Moreau, another traitor to
France, landed at this time in Europe from the United States, and proceeded
immediately to Stralsund, to have an interview with Bernadotte. The latter
received him with thunders of artillery, and all the pomp and display becoming
a triumphant hero. Cordial in their hatred of Napoleon, these two generals,
nevertheless, felt a little awkward when they began to concert together
to subdue their former master, and march against the troops they had so
often led to battle.
While Napoleon was overthrowing
the allies at Dresden, Oudinot was advancing against Bernadotte, who intercepted
his route to Berlin. With a little over 70,000 men he came upon the Prince
Royal at Gros Beeren with over a hundred thousand troops at his disposal.
With this overwhelming force against him, Oudinot, as mentioned before,
was defeated with great slaughter. Ney, who superseded him, shared the
same fate. These victories, for which even the panegyrists of Bernadotte
give him but partial praise, filled his mind with extravagant ideas of
his greatness, and he looked forward to the overthrow of Napoleon, as paving
the way to the throne of France, to which he confidently expected to be
called.
When the Allies marched on
Paris, he hesitated for some time to cross the Rhine, and took no part
in the campaign of 1814, which ended in the capitulation of the French
capital. This his friends attribute to his love for France, and repugnance
to appear as an enemy on the soil of his native country. But one would
think that after he had butchered the troops which once followed him joyfully
into battle and helped to overturn the government that had fostered him,
he would have little scruple to march on Paris.
The truth is, his supreme
selfishness, vanity, and ambition lay at the bottom of his inactivity.
He was afraid that, if he pushed matters to extremity, it would interfere
with his future prospects, so be kept aloof and addressed an inflated proclamation
to the people of France, vindicating his conduct. But neither France nor
the allied powers took the same exalted views of his capacities that he
himself did; and he returned to Sweden, with only the gift of Norway in
his hand, as a reward for his services in the common cause, and as a remuneration
for the loss of Finland which Russia had wrested from his grasp. In 1818,
the old monarch dying, Bernadotte was crowned King of Sweden, with the
title of Charles XIV., and a few months after King of Norway also
at Drontheim; and continued to reign as a very just and equitable monarch,
though completely under the thumb of Russia. He died a few years since,
and left his throne to his son Oscar. To this son, born in 1799, Napoleon
stood as godfather and gave him his name. He married, in 1823, Josephine
Maximilienne, eldest daughter of Eugene Beaubarnois, Viceroy of Italy.
It was thought, at the death
of Bernadotte, that Prince Gustavus Vasa would make an effort for the throne
but Oscar seated himself quietly in the place of his father, and now rules
as a wise and able king.
Bernadotte has been extravagantly
eulogized by his friends, and all his stupid jealousy and vain ambition
tortured into integrity of character and true patriotism. The mere fact
that he occupied a throne, and was able to manage well a country that did
not require as much intelligence and strqngth of character as to rule the
State of New York; and still better, that he struck hands with the allies
and turned against the author of his fortunes, and the land of his birth,
have placed him in great favor with the enemies of Napoleon. But had he
exhibited the same vanity and ridiculous self-conceit—enacted the same
follies, and yet stood as firm to his master's cause as did the other marshals,
he would have been the butt and ridicule of all historians.
Still, with all his boasting,
he was firm and cool in the hour of danger, and of great energy and resources
on the battle-field. He is called a great general, but it is bard to show
where he merited the title. He was not an inferior one, it is true, nor
does his career exhibit the traits of a superior one. His vanity and sensitiveness
respecting the honor due him constantly interfered with the operations
of his intellect; and with his mind divided between himself and the object
he was after, he necessarily committed many blunders. He was a good general,
and with a little more mind would have been a distinguished one. His bravery
was proverbial to the army. He has been frequently known, when his men
recoiled before a deadly fire, to throw his epaulettes among the enemy—and
thus shame them into bravery. In this respect he resembled a fighting-cock,
of which his countenance almost instantaneously reminded one. With round,
sharp eyes, a small, hooked nose, feeble intellectual developments, and
a brusque, confident, and pompous air, he had all the courage of this warlike
bird, as well as its amazing capacities for crowing. Even the allies, with
whom he made common cause, gave him the sobriquet of Charles Jean Charlatan.
Querulous, bombastic, vain, declamatory, and boasting, he so tasked the
patience of Napoleon, that it required all his generosity of character,
backed by his relationship, and the intercessions of his brother's wife,
to prevent him from putting him one side, as an impracticable general and
a trustless friend. Yet the rebukes which the former sometimes administered,
English biographers declare grew out of envy of Bernadotte's brilliant
talents and great achievements; while the vanity, jealousy, and envy of
the latter, who could appreciate nobody but himself, and was fault-finding
and intractable—they call patriotism and hatred of tyranny. His denunciations
of Napoleon, however, sprung from any source but Republicanism. Opposing
his election as First Consul, then taking appointment from his hands when
elected; conspiring against his authority and life, then swearing allegiance
to his throne; too Republican to help place a man in power, yet fawning
upon him when there; opposing vehemently the establishment of the Legion
of Honor, afterwards wearing its insignia with pride when bestowed on him;
declaiming like an old Roman against the assumption of regal power by Napoleon,
yet grasping eagerly the first crown placed within his reach; mourning
over the fall of liberty in France at the establishment of the Empire,
yet banding with tyrants to overthrow what freedom there was left in Europe,—he
stands before the world the most singular republican and patriot it has
ever produced. Quarreling with his king and equals alike; too vain and
conceited to obey, yet too shallow to command in chief; ready to sacrifice
the welfare of the entire army in order to gratify personal pride; breaking
over all rules of propriety in his arrogant attempts to screen his defeats;
making use of his relationship to Napoleon to be restored to favor, after
he had been disgraced, yet striking at his very heart the moment he can
do it with safety; receiving a crown as a gift, and then helping to uncrown
the giver; uttering frothy words of patriotism to France, yet invading
her territory, overturning her throne, and sending a hostile army into
her capital; false to his old friends and benefactor, and cruel as the
grave to the land of his birth; traitor alike to his principles and the
claims of gratitude;—he is about as unsymmetrical and contemptible a character
as one would wish to see on a throne. His panegyrists are welcome to their
subject, and the haters of Bonaparte to their ally and friend.
Still, he was not a vindictive
and cruel man in his disposition. His rapacity grew out of his love of
display, his unscrupulous use of the means to elevate himself out of his
inordinate ambition; and nine-tenths of all his follies and quarrels, out
of his boundless vanity and incurable self-conceit. He obtained the character
of charlatan among his friends, from his love of declamation, and great
pleasure in hearing himself harangue; in short, he was a thorough Gascon—intrepid,
cool in the hour of danger—had some genius—some talent—was very lucky;
and, either by mistake or trick, obtained a crown, and took a place amid
the kings of the earth, which has thrown a mantle over his character and
a dignity about his name.
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