Pichegru--The Directory appeal to Buonaparte--The 18th
Fructidor--The Court of Montebello--Josephine--The Treaty of
Campo-Formio--Buonaparte leaves Italy.
In their last agony the Venetian Senate made a vain effort to secure the
personal protection of the general, by offering him a purse of seven
millions of francs. He rejected this with scorn. He had already treated
in the same style a bribe of four millions, tendered on the part of the
Duke of Modena. The friend employed to conduct the business reminded him
of the proverbial ingratitude of all popular governments, and of the
little attention which the Directory had hitherto paid to his personal
interests. "That is all true enough," said Napoleon, "but for four
millions I will not place myself in the power of this duke." Austria
herself, it is said, did not hesitate to tamper in the same manner,
though far more magnificently, as became her resources, with his
republican virtue. He was offered, if the story be true, an independent
German principality for himself and his heirs. "I thank the emperor," he
answered, "but if greatness is to be mine, it shall come from France."
The Venetian Senate were guilty, in their mortal struggle, of another
and a more inexcusable piece of meanness. They seized the person of
Count D'Entraigues, a French emigrant, who had been living in their city
as agent for the exiled house of Bourbon; and surrendered him and all
his papers to the victorious general. Buonaparte discovered among these
documents ample evidence that Pichegru, the French general on the Rhine,
and universally honoured as the conqueror of Holland, had some time
before this hearkened to the proposals of the Bourbon princes, and,
among other efforts in favour of the royal cause, not hesitated even to
misconduct his military movements with a view to the downfall of the
government which had entrusted him with his command.
This was a secret, the importance of which Napoleon could well
appreciate;[18] and he forthwith communicated it to the Directory at
Paris.
The events of the last twelve months in France had made Pichegru a
person of still higher importance than when he commenced his intrigues
with the Bourbons as general on the Rhine. Some obscure doubts of his
fidelity, or the usual policy of the Directory, which rendered them
averse (wherever they could help it) to continue any one general very
long at the head of one army, had induced them to displace Pichegru, and
appoint Hoche, a tried republican, in his room. Pichegru, on returning
to France, became a member of the Council of Five Hundred, and (the
royalist party having at this season recovered all but a preponderance)
was, on the meeting of the chambers, called to the chair of that in
which he had his place.
The Five Directors had in truth done everything to undermine their own
authority. They were known to be divided in opinion among themselves;
three only of their number adhered heartily to the existing
constitution: one was a royalist: another was a democrat of the
Robespierre school. One of these new and uncourtly men excited laughter
by affecting a princely state and splendour of demeanour and equipage.
Another disgusted one set of minds, and annoyed all the rest, by
procuring a law for the observation of the tenth day as the day of
repose, and declaring it a crime to shut up shops on the Sabbath. A
ridiculous ritual of an avowedly heathen worship followed, and was
received with partial horror, universal contempt. A tyrannical law about
the equalisation of weights and measures spread confusion through all
mercantile transactions, and was especially unpopular in the provinces.
A contemptible riot, set on foot by one who called himself Gracchus
Barboeuf, for the purpose of bringing back the reign of _terrorism_ was
indeed suppressed; but the mere occurrence of such an attempt recalled
too vividly the days of Robespierre, and by so doing tended to
strengthen the cause of the royalists in public opinion. The truth is,
that a vast number of the emigrants had found their way back again to
Paris after the downfall of Robespierre, and that the old sway of
elegant manners and enlightened saloons was once more re-establishing
itself where it had so long been supreme. The royalist club of Clichy
corresponded with the exiled princes, and with the imperial government,
and was gaining such influence as to fill Buonaparte himself with alarm.
Everything indicated that the Directory (the _five majesties_ of the
Luxembourg, as they were called in derision) held their thrones by a
very uncertain tenure; and those gentlemen, nothing being left them but
a choice among evils, were fain to throw themselves on the protection of
the armies which they dreaded, and of Hoche and Buonaparte--which last
name in particular had long filled them with jealousy proportioned to
its splendour and popularity.
Napoleon's recent conduct, in more important points than one, had
excited powerfully the resentment of the Directory, which now appealed
to him for aid. He had taken upon himself the whole responsibility of
the preliminary treaty of Leoben, although the French government had
sent General Clarke into Italy for the express purpose of controlling
him, and acting as his equal at least in the negotiation. A clause in
that treaty, by which Mantua, the strongest fortress in Italy, was to be
surrendered back to Austria, had been judged necessary at the time by
the general, in order to obtain from the emperor the boundary of the
Rhine and the cession of Belgium. But the Directory thought the
conqueror underrated the advantages of his own position and theirs in
consenting to it, and but for Carnot would never have ratified it.[19]
At the other side of the Italian Peninsula, again, the victorious
general, immediately after the fall of Venice, had to superintend the
revolution of Genoa; in which great city also the democratic party
availed themselves of the temper and events of the time, to emancipate
themselves from their hereditary oligarchy. They would fain have
excluded the nobility from all share in the remodelled government; and
Napoleon rebuked and discountenanced this attempt in terms little likely
to be heard with approbation by the "_Sires_ of the Luxembourg." He told
the Genoese, that to exclude the nobles was in itself as unjust as
unwise, and that they ought to be grateful for the means of
re-organising their constitution, without passing _like France_ through
the terrible ordeal of a revolution. The rulers of France might be
excused for asking at this moment--Does the lecturer of the Ligurian
Republic mean to be our Washington, our Monk, or our Cromwell?
He, however, received with alacrity the call of the trembling Directory.
He harangued his soldiery, and made himself secure of their readiness to
act as he might choose for them. He not only offered large pecuniary
supplies, and sent his lieutenant Augereau to Paris to command the
National Guard for the government, should they find it necessary to
appeal immediately to force, but announced that he was himself prepared
to "pass the Rubicon," (an ominous phrase) and march to their
assistance, with 15,000 of his best troops.
The Directory, meanwhile, had in their extremity ventured to disregard
the law against drawing regular troops within a certain distance of the
capital, and summoned Hoche to bring a corps of his Rhenish army for
their instant protection.
It was by this means that the new revolution, as it may be called, of
the 18th Fructidor was effected. On that day, (Sept. 4, 1797,) the
majority of the Directory, marching their army into Paris, dethroned
their two opposition colleagues. Pichegru and the other royalists of
note in the assemblies, to the number of more than 150, were arrested
and sent into exile. The government, for the moment, recovered the
semblance of security; and Buonaparte heard, with little satisfaction,
that they had been able to accomplish their immediate object without the
intervention of his personal appearance on the scene. He remonstrated,
moreover, against the manner in which they had followed up their
success. According to him, they ought to have executed Pichegru and a
few ring-leaders, and set an example of moderation, by sparing all those
whose royalism admitted of any doubt, or, if it was manifest, was of
secondary importance. It would have been hard for the Directory at this
time to have pleased Buonaparte, or for Buonaparte to have entirely
satisfied them; but neither party made the effort.
The fall of Venice, however, gave Napoleon the means, which he was not
disposed to neglect, of bringing his treaty with Austria to a more
satisfactory conclusion than had been indicated in the preliminaries of
Leoben.
After settling the affairs of Venice, and establishing the new Ligurian
Republic, the general took up his residence at the noble castle of
Montebello, near Milan. Here his wife, who, though they had been married
in March, 1796, was still a bride, and with whom, during the intervening
eventful months, he had kept up a correspondence full of the fervour, if
not of the delicacy of love,[20] had at length rejoined him. Josephine's
manners were worthy, by universal admission, of the highest rank; and
the elegance with which she did the honours of the castle, filled the
ministers and princes, who were continually to be seen in its precincts,
with admiration. While Napoleon conducted his negotiations with as much
firmness and decision as had marked him in the field, it was her care
that nature and art should lend all their graces to what the Italians
soon learnt to call _the Court_ of Montebello. Whatever talent Milan
contained, was pressed into her service. Music and dance, and festival
upon festival, seemed to occupy every hour. The beautiful lakes of
Lombardy were covered with gay flotillas; and the voluptuous retreats
around their shores received in succession new life and splendour from
the presence of Napoleon, Josephine, and the brilliant circle amidst
whom they were rehearsing the imperial parts that destiny had in reserve
for them. Montebello was the centre from which Buonaparte, during the
greater part of this autumn, negotiated with the emperor, controlled all
Italy, and overawed the Luxembourg.
The final settlement with the emperor's commissioners would have taken
place shortly after the fall of Venice, but for the successful intrigues
of the royalist Clichyens, the universal belief that the government of
France approached some new crisis, and the Austrians' hope that from
such an event their negotiation might derive considerable advantages.
Buonaparte well knew the secret motive which induced Cobentzel, the
emperor's chief envoy, to protract and multiply discussions of which he
by this time was weary. One day, in this ambassador's own chamber,
Napoleon suddenly changed his demeanour; "you refuse to accept our
ultimatum," said he, taking in his hands a beautiful vase of porcelain,
which stood on the mantelpiece near him. The Austrian bowed. "It is
well," said Napoleon, "but mark me--within two months I will shatter
Austria like this potsherd." So saying, he dashed the vase on the ground
in a thousand pieces, and moved towards the door. Cobentzel followed
him, and made submissions which induced him once more to resume his
negotiations.
The result was the treaty of Campo-Formio, so-called from the village at
which it was signed, on the 3d of October, 1797. By this act the emperor
yielded to France, Flanders and the boundary of the Rhine, including the
great fortress of Mentz. The various new republics of Lombardy were
united and recognised under the general name of the Cisalpine Republic.
To indemnify Austria for the loss of those territories, the fall of
Venice afforded new means--of which Napoleon did not hesitate to
propose, nor Austria to accept the use. The French general had indeed
conquered Venice, but he had entered into a treaty subsequently, and
recognised a wholly new government in place of the oligarchy. The
emperor, on the other hand, well knew that the Doge and Senate had
incurred ruin by rising to his own aid. Such considerations weighed
little on either side. France and Austria agreed to effect a division of
the whole territories of the ancient republic. Venice herself, and her
Italian provinces, were handed over to the emperor in lieu of his lost
Lombardy; and the French assumed the sovereignty of the Ionian islands
and Dalmatia. This unprincipled proceeding excited universal disgust
throughout Europe. It showed the sincerity of Buonaparte's love for the
cause of freedom; and it satisfied all the world of the excellent title
of the imperial court to complain of the selfishness and rapacity of the
French democracy.
The emperor set his seal at Campo-Formio to another of Buonaparte's acts
of dictatorship, which, though in one point of view even more
unjustifiable than this, was not regarded by the world with feelings of
the same order. The Italian territory of the Valteline had for ages been
subject to the Grison League. The inhabitants, roused by the prevailing
spirit all around them, demanded Napoleon's intercession with their
Swiss masters, to procure their admission to all the political
privileges of the other cantons. They refused; and Napoleon, in the
plenitude of his authority, immediately supported the Valteline in
throwing off the Grison yoke, and asserting its utter independence. This
territory was now annexed to the Cisalpine Republic. A government, with
which France was on terms of alliance and amity, was thus robbed of its
richest possession; but the Valteline belonged by natural position,
religion, and language, to Italy, and its annexation to the new Italian
republic was regarded as in itself just and proper, however questionable
Buonaparte's title to effect that event. He himself said at the time,
"It is contrary to the rights of man that any one people should be
subject to another;" a canon on which his after history formed a lucid
commentary.
In concluding, and in celebrating the conclusion of his treaty,
Napoleon's proud and fiery temperament twice shone out. Cobentzel had
set down as the first article, "The Emperor recognises the French
Republic." "Efface that," said Napoleon, sternly, "it is as clear as
that the sun is in heaven. Woe to them that cannot distinguish the light
of either!" At the TE DEUM after the proclamation of the peace,
the imperial envoy would have taken the place prepared for Buonaparte,
which was the most eminent in the church. The haughty soldier seized his
arm and drew him back. "Had your master himself been here," said he, "I
should not have forgotten that in my person the dignity of France is
represented."
Various minor arrangements remained to be considered; and a congress of
all the German powers being summoned to meet for that purpose at
Rastadt, Napoleon received the orders of the Directory to appear there,
and perfect his work in the character of ambassador of France. He took
an affecting leave of his soldiery, published a temperate and manly
address to the Cisalpine Republic, and proceeded, by way of Switzerland,
(where, in spite of the affair of the Valteline, he was received with
enthusiasm,) to the execution of his duty. He carried with him the
unbounded love and devotion of one of the finest armies that ever the
world had seen; and the attachment, hardly less energetic, of all those
classes of society throughout Italy, who flattered themselves with the
hope that the Cisalpine Republic, the creature of his hands, would in
time prepare the way for, and ultimately merge in a republican
constitution common to the whole Italian people. With what hopes or
fears as to his future fortunes he abandoned the scene and the
companions of his glory, the reader must form his own opinion.
[Footnote 18: Moreau knew it some months sooner, and said so _after_
Napoleon had communicated it to the Directory. This is a suspicious
circumstance when considered along with the sequel of Moreau's history.]
[Footnote 19: Mantua, as will appear hereafter, was saved to France
under Napoleon's final treaty with Austria; but the events which
rendered this possible were as yet unknown and unexpected.]
[Footnote 20: It would be painful to show, as might easily be done, from
this correspondence, the original want of delicacy in Napoleon's mind.
Many of his letters are such as no English gentleman would address to a
_mistress_. In others, the language is worthy of a hero's passion.
"Wurmser," says he, "shall pay dearly for the tears he causes you to
shed."]