where were some emigrants, some English agents, and
the Baroness de Reich, so noted for her political
intrigues:
The central point of the latter was given out to be
at the castle of Ettenheim, where the Duke
d'Enghien, Dumourier, an English colonel, and
several agents of the Bourbons, resided.
The hundred and twenty thousand francs given by the
minister Drake to the Sieur Rosey, chef de
bataillon, to excite an insurrection,
The declarations of Mehee;
And the reports of M. Sh***, prefect of Strasbourg,
and brother-in-law of the Duke de Fel....; leave no
doubt of the existence of the intrigues at
Offenbourg and Ettenheim, to which M. Sh***
ascribes in particular the agitation, and symptoms
of discontent, that prevail at Weissembourg, and in
several parts of Alsace.
On the other hand, the conspiracy of the 3d of
Nivose had just broken out. The discoveries made by
the servant of Georges, and by other individuals,
led to the belief, that the Duke d'Enghien had been
sent by England to the borders of the Rhine, in
order to place himself at the head of the
insurrection, as soon as Napoleon was made away
with.
The necessity of putting an end to these plots, and
strike terror into their instigators by a grand act
of reprisal, squared in an incredible degree with
the political considerations, that led Napoleon to
attempt a bold stroke, in order to give the
revolution, and the revolutionists, those
guaranties, which circumstances demanded:
Napoleon, named consul for life (I borrow here the
language of the Manuscript from St. Helena), felt
the weakness of his situation, the ridiculousness
of his consulship. It was necessary to establish
something solid, to serve as a support to the
revolution. The republicans were alarmed at the
height, on which circumstances had placed him: they
were suspicious of the use he might make of his
power: they dreaded his renewing an antiquated
royalty by the help of his army. The royalists
fomented this rumour, and took a delight in
representing him as an ape of the ancient monarchs:
other royalists, more adroit, whispered about, that
he was enamoured of the part of Monk, and that he
would take the pains to restore the power, only to
make a present of it to the Bourbons, when it
should be in a proper state to be offered them.
Ordinary minds, unacquainted with his powers,
credited these reports; they sanctioned the tales
of the royalist party, and decried him to the
people, and to the army; for they began to suspect
him, and his attachment to their cause. He could
not allow such an opinion to pass current, because
it tended to unhinge every thing. It was necessary,
at all events, to undeceive France, the royalists,
and Europe at large, in order that they might know,
what they had to reckon upon in him. A persecution
of reports in detail never produces any thing but a
bad effect, for it does not attack the root of the
evil.
The death of the Duke d'Enghien would decide the
question, that agitated France; it would decide the
character of Napoleon beyond return; in fine, it
might intimidate and punish the authors of the
plots incessantly contriving against his life, and
against the state: accordingly he determined on it.
He sent for Marshal Berthier, and this minister
directed General Ord**, by an order which the
Emperor dictated, and which I have _seen_, to set
off post for Strasbourg; to cause General Lev** to
place under his orders fifteen boatmen, three
hundred dragoons from the garrison of Schelstadt,
and thirty gendarmes; to pass the Rhine at Rheinan,
to proceed to Ettenheim, to surround the town, and
_to carry off the Duke d'Enghien, Dumourier, an
English colonel, and all the persons in their
suite_.
The Duke d'Enghien,
General Thumery,
Colonel de Grunstein,
Lieutenant Schmidt,
Abbe Weinburn, and five other inferior persons,
were arrested by a chef d'escadron of the
gendarmerie, named Ch**, who was charged with this
part of the expedition.
Then, and then only, it became certain, that
Dumourier was not at Ettenheim. General Thumery had
been mistaken for him. This mistake, occasioned by
the similarity of their rank, and some likeness of
sound between their names, which the Germans
pronounced nearly alike, had heightened the
importance and criminality of the pretended plots
at Ettenheim in the mind of Napoleon, and had the
most fatal influence on his determination.
The Duke d'Enghien was brought from Strasbourg to
Paris, and carried before a military commission.
The Empress Josephine, the Princess Hortense, fell
at Napoleon's feet in tears, and conjured him to
spare the life of the Duke d'Enghien. Prince
Cambaceres and the Prince of Neufchatel strongly
remonstrated to him on the horrible inutility of
the blow he was about to strike. He appeared to
hesitate, when the information was brought him,
that the prince was no more.
Napoleon had not expected so speedy a catastrophe.
He had even given orders to M. Real, to repair to
Vincennes, to interrogate the Duke d'Enghien: but
his trial and execution had been hastened by Murat;
who, urged by some regicides, at the head of whom
was M. Fou***, thought he should render a service
to Napoleon, to his family, and to France, by
insuring the death of a Bourbon.
The Prince de T***, whom the Emperor often publicly
reproached with having advised the seizure and
death of the Duke d'Enghien, was directed to pacify
the court of Baden, and to justify the violation of
its territory in the eyes of Europe. M. de
Caulincourt being at Strasbourg, the Emperor
thought him more proper than any other person, to
follow up a negotiation, if the turn of affairs
should require it; and he was directed to send to
the minister of Baden the despatch of the Prince de
T***. But there was no need of having recourse to
negotiations: the court, far from complaining of
the violation of its territory, expressed itself
well contented, that the step taken had saved it
the disgrace of consenting, or the embarrassment of
a refusal.
This is an exact and true recital of the
circumstances, that preceded, followed, and
accompanied, the carrying off and death of the last
of the house of Conde.
The seizure of the Duke d'Enghien was long imputed
to M. de Caulincourt, and is still imputed to him
by persons uninformed of the truth.
Some assert, that he arrested him with his own
hands:
Others, that he gave orders for the seizure of his
person: both these imputations are equally false.
He did not arrest the Duke d'Enghien, for his
seizure was executed and consummated by chef
d'escadron Ch***.
Neither directly, nor indirectly, did he give
orders for seizing the prince: for the particular
mission, to carry him off, was confided to General
Ord**, and this general had no orders to receive
from M. de Caulincourt his equal, perhaps even his
inferior.
What made it be supposed, at a time when it was not
possible to explain the facts, that M. de
Caulincourt had been employed to seize the Duke
d'Enghien, or cause him to be seized, was, that M.
de Caulincourt received, at the same moment as
General Ord**, orders to repair to Strasbourg, to
cause the emigrants and English agents, who had
fixed the seat of their intrigues at Offenbourg, to
be carried off. But this mission, for which it
would be requisite to take measures in concert with
General Ord**, and perhaps even to assist him in
case of need; for a simultaneous proceeding was
necessary, that one expedition might not cause the
failure of the other; this mission, I say, though
analogous to that of General Ord**, had no real
connexion with it.
Their objects were different:
That of one was to carry off the Duke d'Enghien
from Ettenheim;
That of the other, to seize the conspirators at
Offenbourg, which was eight or ten leagues distant.
Perhaps it will be objected, that M. de Caulincourt
was not ignorant of General Ord**'s being directed,
to seize the Duke d'Enghien. Be it so: I cannot
perceive the consequence, attempted to be drawn
from this. But what I have _seen_ in the cabinet,
and what I attest, is, that the order given to M.
de Caulincourt said nothing of Ettenheim, and that
the name of the Duke d'Enghien was not even
mentioned in it: it related solely, in the first
place, to the construction of a flotilla, that was
preparing on the Rhine; and, secondly, to the
expedition of Offenbourg; an expedition that
terminated, as no doubt is still remembered, in the
laughable flight of the minister Drake and his
agents.
I have thought it my duty as a Frenchman and an
historian, to enter into these details, and destroy
for ever an error, which malevolence and the spirit
of party have laid hold of, in order to tarnish the
political life of one of the men, who do the
greatest honour to the imperial government and to
France.
M. de Caulincourt would not have been less
irreproachable, had he committed the fatal seizure
ascribed to him: he would have done his duty, as
General Ord** did his. A soldier is not the judge
of the orders he is to execute. The great Conde,
covered with the laurels of Rocroy, Fribourg,
Norlinguen, and Lenz, was arrested, in spite of the
faith pledged to him, in the apartments of the
King; yet neither his contemporaries, nor
posterity, have charged Marshal d'Albret with this
arrest as a crime.]
Will it be said, that Pichegru was strangled by his orders? The
designs of Pichegru were so clearly substantiated, and the laws so
clear, that he could not escape the scaffold: why, then, should he
cause him to be murdered? The greatest criminals themselves do not
commit useless crimes. Were apprehensions entertained of the
disclosures he might make?... What could he disclose to the French
people? That Napoleon aspired to the throne? Of this no one was
ignorant.
A man, that Napoleon had reason to dread, was Moreau: was his life
attempted? Yet it was less dangerous, to assassinate him, than to send
to a tribunal, where guilt presided, a warrior at that time so dear to
France and to the army.
No, Napoleon was not cruel, he was not sanguinary. If he were
sometimes inexorable, it was because there are circumstances, in which
the monarch must shut his heart to compassion, and leave the law free
to act: but, if he knew how to punish, he was also capable of
pardoning; and, at the moment when he gave up Georges[103] to the
sword of justice, he spared the lives of Messrs. de Polignac and the
Marquis de Riviere, whose courage and zeal he respected.
[Footnote 103: I have been assured, that Georges
was three times offered his pardon by Napoleon, if
he would promise, not to engage in any conspiracy
again; and that it was not till after his third
refusal, that his sentence was ordered to be
carried into execution.]
The Emperor did not stop at the rigorous trial, to which he had
delivered over the person of M. de Lascours: by a decree, dated the
18th of March, and published the 9th of April, he ordered the
condemnation, and the sequestration of the property of
The Prince of Benevento,
The Duke of Ragusa,
The Duke of Alberg,
The Abbe de Montesquiou,
The Count de Jaucourt,
The Count de Bournonville, and
The Sieurs Lynch,
Vitrolles,
Alexis de Noailles,
Bourienne,
Bellard,
La Roche-Jaquelin, and
Sostene de la Rochefoucault[104];
[Footnote 104: Marshal Augereau, Duke de
Castiglione, was also in this list. His name was
struck out at the request of the duchess, and in
consideration of the proclamation, which he
published on the 23d of March.]
All of whom, as members of the provisional government, or agents of
the royal party, had concurred in the subversion of the imperial
government, previous to the abdication of Napoleon.
This decree, though supposed to have originated at Lyons, first saw
the light at Paris; and was, as I have just said, the result of the
ill humour, into which the plots of the royalists had thrown Napoleon.
The terms, in which it was originally couched, too clearly attested
its source: the first article said; "are declared traitors to their
country, and shall be punished as such, &c."
It was I, who wrote this decree, from the dictation of the Emperor.
When I had finished it, he ordered me, to go and get it signed by
Count Bertrand, who had countersigned the decrees of Lyons. I went to
the marshal. He read the decree, and returned it to me, saying: "I
will never sign it: this is not what the Emperor promised us; they who
advise him, to take such measures, are his bitterest enemies; I will
speak to him about it." I related this firm and courageous answer to
Napoleon word for word. He ordered me, to return to the grand Marshal,
to endeavour to overcome his repugnance, and, if he still persisted,
to bring him to him. Count Bertrand instantly followed me, with head
erect, into the Emperor's closet. "I am astonished," said Napoleon to
him in a dry tone, "that you make such difficulties about it to me.
The severity I wish to display is necessary for the good of the
state."--"I do not think so, Sire."--"I do, I tell you: and it is my
business alone to judge of it. I did not ask your advice, but your
signature, which is only a matter of form, and cannot in any way
compromise you."--"Sire, a minister, who countersigns the act of a
sovereign, is morally responsible for that act; and I should think
myself wanting in my duty to your Majesty, and perhaps to myself, if I
were weak enough to set my hand to such measures. If your Majesty
choose to reign by the laws, you have no right, arbitrarily to
pronounce, by a simple decree, sentence of death, and forfeiture of
property, against your subjects. If you choose to act as a dictator,
and to have no law but your own will, you have no need of the addition
of my signature. Your Majesty has declared, by your proclamations,
that you would grant a general amnesty. I countersigned them most
cordially; and I will not countersign the decree, that revokes
them."--"But you well know, I always told you, that I never would
pardon Marmont, Talleyrand, and Augereau; and that I promised only to
overlook, what had passed since my abdication. I know better than you,
what I ought to do, to keep my promises, and ensure the tranquillity
of the state. I begun with being indulgent, even to weakness and the
royalists, instead of appreciating my moderation, have abused it: they
bestir themselves, they conspire, and I ought and will bring them to
their senses. I would rather have my blows fall on traitors, than on
men who are misled. Besides, all those who are on the list, Augereau
excepted, are out of France, or in concealment. I shall not seek for
them: my intention is to terrify them more than harm them. You see,
therefore," continued the Emperor, softening his voice, "you have not
rightly considered the business: sign this for me, my dear Bertrand:
you must."--"I cannot, Sire. I request your Majesty's permission, to
submit my observations to you in writing."--"All that, my dear sir,
will make us lose time: you are startled, I assure you, without any
reason; sign, I tell you; I request you, you will do me
pleasure."--"Permit me, Sire, to wait, till your Majesty has seen my
observations." The marshal went away. This noble resistance did not
offend the Emperor: the language of truth and honour never displeased
him, when it issued from a pure heart.
General Bertrand delivered to Napoleon a statement of his reasons. It
did not alter his resolution; it only determined him, to give it a
legal form.
The Emperor, persuaded that General Bertrand would equally retain his
opinion, would not have this new decree presented to him, and it
appeared without being countersigned.
The effect it produced justified the apprehensions of the grand
Marshal. It was considered as an act of despotism and vengeance; as
the first infraction of the promises made to the nation. The murmurs
of the public were echoed even within the walls of the imperial
palace. Labedoyere, at a moment when Napoleon was passing by, said
loud enough to be heard, "If the system of proscriptions and
sequestrations begin again, all will soon be over."
The Emperor, according to his custom on such occasions, affected to be
perfectly satisfied with himself, and appeared no way apprehensive of
the storm. Being at table with several personages and ladies of
distinction belonging to the court, he asked the Countess Duchatel, if
her husband, who was director-general of the domains, had executed the
order for sequestrating the estates of Talleyrand and company. "There
is no hurry for that," answered she drily. He made no reply, and
changed the conversation.
The persons about him are incessantly reproached, with having basely
crouched to his will and opinions: this anecdote, and many others that
I might relate, prove, that all of them at least did not deserve this
reproach. But, supposing it to be just with regard to some, is it as
easy, as is commonly thought, to overcome the will of a sovereign?
From pride, and perhaps from a conviction of superiority, Napoleon did
not readily endure counsel.
In affairs of state, he imposed upon himself the law of consulting his
counsellors, and his ministers. Endowed by nature with the faculty of
knowing every thing, or of divining every thing, he almost always took
an active part in the discussion: and I must say, to the honour of the
Emperor, his ministers, and his counsellors, in common, an
inexpressible degree of confidence, frankness, and independence,
prevailed in these discussions, highly animated as for the most part
they were. The Emperor, far from being shocked when any one
contradicted him, endured, nay provoked contradiction and adopted
without resistance the advice of his opponents, when he thought it
preferable to his own opinion.
When the question concerned those grand decisions, that influence the
fate of empires, the case was different. He listened for a certain
time to the objections of his ministers: but, when his attention had
reached its bounds, he interrupted them, and supported his own opinion
with so much fire, force, and perseverance, that he reduced them to
silence.
This silence was less the effect of their passive obedience to the
intentions of the monarch, than the result of the lessons taught by
experience. They had seen, that the most rash, the most
incomprehensible, I had almost said the most senseless, enterprises of
Napoleon were invariably crowned with success; and they were
convinced, that reason could not contend against the inspirations of
genius, and the favours of fortune.
In fine, Napoleon often consulted only his own will; and his ministers
then knew nothing of his resolves, till they received orders, to carry
them into execution.
Such was, and such always will be the situation of ministers, in a
monarchy, where the Prince governs for himself; and more especially
when this Prince, like Napoleon, owes his throne merely to the
ascendancy of his genius and his sword.
Besides, the time of flatterers and flattery was past with Napoleon.
Every one was interested in telling him the truth, and no one was
sparing of it to him.
The security inspired by this rare and valuable veracity was
strengthened by the arrival of Prince Joseph and Prince Lucien. The
moderation of the one, and the patriotism of the other, were well
known; and the care of maintaining the liberal and pacific intentions
of the Emperor was laid on them both.
Prince Lucien had been deeply afflicted in 1814 at the misfortunes of
his brother, and was eager to offer him his fortune and his services.
This, generous offer did not entirely efface from the heart of
Napoleon the remembrance, of their ancient differences, but it
softened the asperity of them; and it might be foreseen, that their
enmity would not be eternal.
As soon as Prince Lucien heard of the entry of Napoleon into Paris, he
wrote him a letter of congratulation. "Your return," said he, "fills
up the measure of your military glory. But there is another glory
still greater, and above all more desirable, civil glory. The
sentiments and intentions, which you have solemnly promulgated,
promise France, that you know how to acquire it," &c.
Prince Lucien, however, notwithstanding his desire of revisiting that
country, the cause of which he pleaded, did not venture to approach
it. But the invasion of the King of Naples having rendered his
services necessary to the Sovereign Pontiff, the gratitude he owed to
the Holy Father triumphed over his apprehensions. He departed under
the title of secretary to the Pope's nuncio, and crossed the Alps
without any obstacle. Arrived in the French territory, he wrote to
Napoleon, to inform him of his mission, and to ask if his coming to
Paris would be agreeable to him. Napoleon's first feeling was that of
hesitating to receive him: his second, that of opening to him his
arms. The intention of the Prince was to return quickly to Home,
whither he was called by the concerns entrusted to him: but the
interruption of the communications did not allow this. Obliged to
return to Paris, he laid aside his incognito. His return was then
publicly announced, and made an advantageous and agreeable impression
on every mind.
A few days before, the Emperor had made the acquisition of another
personage; less illustrious, it is true, but equally renowned for his
patriotism and intelligence: I mean M. Benjamin Constant.
Napoleon, knowing the experience and reputation of this learned
civilian, sent for him, to converse with him "on liberty and the
constitution." Their conversation continued more than two hours. The
Emperor, willing to attach M. Constant to his party, employed all his
means of seduction; and I leave it to those Frenchmen, and those
foreigners, who have had access to him, to say, whether it were
possible to resist him.
When he wished to fix any one in his train, he studied and penetrated
with extreme sagacity his way of thinking, his principles, his
character, his ruling passions; and then with that familiar grace,
that affability, that force and vivacity of expression, which gave so
much value and such a charm to his conversations[105], he insinuated
himself imperceptibly into your heart, made himself master of your
passions, gently excited them, and artfully flattered them: then,
displaying at once the magic resources of his genius, he plunged you
into intoxication, into admiration, and subdued you so rapidly, so
completely, that it seemed the effect of enchantment.
[Footnote 105: These conversations with persons,
whose merit and opinion Napoleon esteemed, were
always pleasing, instructive, interesting, always
marked with strong thoughts, and bold, ingenious,
or sublime expressions. With persons indifferent to
him, or whose nullity he discerned, his phrases,
scarcely begun, were never finished: his ideas
turned only on insignificant, common-place matters,
which, by way of amusing himself, he was apt to
season with biting sarcasm, or jokes more whimsical
than witty.
This explains the contradictions between the
different opinions given of Napoleon's
understanding by foreigners introduced at his
court.]
Thus M. Benjamin Constant was subjugated: he arrived at the Tuileries
with repugnance, he quitted the palace an enthusiast.
The next day he was named counsellor of state: and this favour he owed
to no base submissions, as his enemies have pretended, but to his
learning, and to the desire the Emperor had of giving to public
opinion, and to M. B. Constant himself, a pledge of his having
forgotten the past; a pledge so much the more meritorious, as the
Emperor, independently of the Philippic launched against him by this
writer on the 19th of March, had besides before his eyes a letter in
his own hand to M. de Blacas, the subject and expressions of which
were of a nature, to inspire Napoleon with something more than
aversion for its author.