Recommencement of the War--French seize Hanover and Naples--the
English seize various French colonies--Scheme of invading England
resumed--Moreau--Pichegru--Georges Cadoudal--Captain Wright--Murder
of the Duke d'Enghien--Napoleon Emperor of France--King of
Italy--Genoa united to the Empire.
The war was re-opened vigorously on both sides. The English fleets
rapidly reconquered various colonies surrendered back to France by the
treaty of Amiens, and assisted in compelling the dwindled army which
Leclerc had commanded to evacuate St. Domingo. Buonaparte, on the other
hand, despised utterly the distinction between the British Empire and
Hanover--a possession indeed of the same prince, but totally unconnected
with the English Constitution, and, as belonging to the Germanic Empire,
entitled, if it chose, to remain neutral--and having first marched an
army into Holland, ordered Mortier, its chief, to advance without
ceremony and seize the Electorate. At the same time, and with the same
pretext, French troops poured into the South of Italy, and occupied
Naples.
General Mortier's appearance on the Hanoverian frontier was such as to
satisfy the Duke of Cambridge, governor for the Elector, that resistance
was hopeless. He entered into a negotiation (May, 1803), by which the
territory was to be surrendered, provided his army were permitted to
retire unbroken behind the Elbe, pledging themselves not to take the
field again against France during this war. But the ministers of George
III. advised him not to ratify this treaty. Mortier demanded of General
Walmsloden, commander-in-chief of the Hanoverian army, to surrender his
arms--or abide the consequences of being attacked beyond the Elbe--and
that fine body of men was accordingly disarmed and disbanded. The
cavalry, being ordered to dismount and yield their horses to the French,
there ensued a scene which moved the sympathy of the invading soldiery
themselves. The strong attachment between the German dragoon and his
horse is well known; and this parting was more like that of dear
kindred than of man and beast.
The emperor, whose duty it was, as head of the German body, to reclaim
against this invasion of its territory, was obliged to put up with the
Consul's explanation, viz. that he had no wish to make the conquest of
Hanover, but merely to hold it until England should see the necessity of
fulfilling the Maltese article in the treaty of Amiens. Prussia, alarmed
by the near neigbourhood of Mortier, hardly dared to remonstrate.
Denmark alone showed any symptom of active resentment. She marched
30,000 men into her German provinces; but finding that Austria and
Prussia were resolved to be quiescent, was fain to offer explanations,
and recall her troops. The French General, meantime, scourged Hanover by
his exactions, and even, without the shadow of a pretext, levied heavy
contributions in Bremen, Hamburg, and the other Hansetowns in the
vicinity of the Electorate.
These successes enabled Napoleon to feed great bodies of his army at the
expense of others, and to cripple the commerce of England, by shutting
up her communication with many of the best markets on the continent. But
he now recurred to his favourite scheme, that of invading the island
itself, and so striking the fatal blow at the heart of his last and
greatest enemy. Troops to the amount of 160,000, were mustered in camps
along the French and Dutch coasts, and vast flotillas, meant to convey
them across the Channel, were formed, and constantly manoeuvred in
various ports, that of Boulogne being the chief station.
The spirit of England, on the other hand, was effectually stirred. Her
fleets, to the amount of not less than 500 ships of war, traversed the
seas in all directions, blockaded the harbours of the countries in which
the power of the Consul was predominant, and from time to time made
inroads into the French ports, cutting out and destroying the shipping,
and crippling the flotillas. At home the army, both regular and
irregular, was recruited and strengthened to an unexampled extent. Camps
were formed along the English coasts opposite to France, and the King in
person was continually to be seen in the middle of them. By night
beacons blazed on every hill-top throughout the island; and the high
resolution of the citizen-soldiery was attested, on numberless
occasions of false alarm, by the alacrity with which they marched on the
points of supposed danger.[47] There never was a time in which the
national enthusiasm was more ardent and concentrated; and the return of
Pitt to the prime-ministry (March, 1804) was considered as the last and
best pledge that the councils of the sovereign were to exhibit vigour
commensurate with the nature of the crisis. The regular army in Britain
amounted, ere long, to 100,000; the militia to 80,000; and of volunteer
troops there were not less than 350,000 in arms.
Soult, Ney, Davoust, and Victor were in command of the army designed to
invade England, and the Chief Consul personally repaired to Boulogne,
and inspected both the troops and the flotilla. He constantly gave out
that it was his fixed purpose to make his attempt by means of the
flotilla alone; but while he thus endeavoured to inspire his enemy with
false security (for Nelson had declared this scheme of a boat invasion
to be _mad_, and staked his whole reputation on its miserable and
immediate failure, if attempted), the Consul was in fact providing
indefatigably a fleet of men-of-war, designed to protect and cover the
voyage. These ships were preparing in different ports of France and
Spain, to the number of fifty; Buonaparte intended them to steal out to
sea individually or in small squadrons, rendezvous at Martinico, and,
returning thence in a body, sweep the Channel free of the English for
such a space of time at least as might suffice for the execution of his
great purpose. These designs, however, were from day to day thwarted by
the watchful zeal of Nelson and the other English admirals; who observed
Brest, Toulon, Genoa, and the harbours of Spain so closely, that no
squadron, nor hardly a single vessel, could force a passage to the
Atlantic.
Napoleon persisted to the end of his life in asserting his belief that
the invasion of England was prevented merely by a few unforeseen
accidents, and that, had his generals passed the sea, they must have
been successful. The accidents to which he attributed so much influence,
were, it is to be supposed, the presence and zeal of Nelson, Pellew,
Cornwallis, and their respective fleets of observation. As for the
results of the expedition, if the Channel had once been
crossed--Napoleon never seemed to doubt that a single great battle would
have sufficed to place London in his hands. Once arrived in the capital,
he would, he said, have summoned a convention, restored the mass of the
English people to their proper share of political power,--in a word,
banished the King, and revolutionised England on the model of France:
the meaning of all which is--reduced this island to be a province of the
French empire, and yet bestowed upon its people all those rights and
liberties of which he had already removed the last shadow, wherever his
own power was established on the continent.
There can be little doubt that Napoleon egregiously underrated the
resistance which would have been opposed to his army, had it effected
the voyage in safety, by the spirit of the British people, and the great
natural difficulties of the country through which the invaders must have
marched. Nevertheless, it is not to be denied that, had the attempt been
made instantly on the rupture of the peace, the chances of success might
have been considerable--of success, temporary and short-lived indeed,
but still sufficient to inflict a terrible injury upon this country--to
bathe her soil in blood--to give her capital to the flames--and not
impossibly to shake some of her institutions. The enemy himself was, in
all likelihood, unprepared to make the attempt, until England had had
time to make adequate preparation for its encounter. It was otherwise
ordered of God's providence, than that the last bulwark of liberty
should have to sustain the shock of battle at its own gates.
The invasion of England was the great object of attention throughout
Europe during the autumn and winter of 1803. Early in the succeeding
year Paris itself became the theatre of a series of transactions which
for a time engrossed the public mind.
Even before Buonaparte proclaimed himself Consul for life, it appears
that, throughout a considerable part of the French army, strong symptoms
of jealousy had been excited by the rapidity of his advance to sovereign
power. After the monarchy of France was in effect re-established in him
and his dynasty, by the decrees of the 2nd and 4th of August, 1802, this
spirit of dissatisfaction showed itself much more openly; and ere long
it was generally believed that the republican party in the army looked
up to Moreau as their head, and awaited only some favourable opportunity
for rising in arms against Napoleon's tyranny. Moreau was known to have
treated both the Concordat and the Legion of Honour with undisguised
contempt; and Buonaparte's strictures on his conduct of the campaign of
1801 were not likely to have nourished feelings of personal goodwill in
the bosom of him whom all considered as second only to the Chief Consul
himself in military genius. It has already been intimated that the army
of the Rhine had been all along suspected of regarding Napoleon with
little favour. He had never been their general; neither they nor their
chiefs had partaken in the plunder of Italy, or in the glory of the
battles by which it was won. It was from their ranks that the unhappy
expedition under Leclerc had been chiefly furnished, and they considered
their employment in that unwholesome climate as dictated, more by the
Consul's doubts of their fidelity to himself, than his high appreciation
of their discipline and gallantry. How far Pichegru, while corresponding
with the Bourbons as head of the army of the Rhine, had intrigued among
his own soldiery, no evidence has as yet appeared. But after Pichegru's
banishment, Moreau possessed the chief sway over the minds of one great
division of the armed force of the Republic.
Carnot, meantime, and other genuine republicans in the legislative
bodies, had been occupied with the endeavour, since they could not
prevent Napoleon from sitting on the throne of France, to organise at
least something like a constitutional opposition (such as exists in the
Parliament of England) whereby the measures of his government might be,
to a certain extent, controlled and modified. The creation of the Legion
of Honour, the decree enabling Buonaparte to appoint his successor, and
other leading measures, had accordingly been carried through far less
triumphantly than could be agreeable to the self-love of the autocrat.
On the other hand, the return of so many emigrants--(a great part of
whom, not receiving back the property promised to them, were
disappointed and aggrieved anew)--could not fail to strengthen the
influence of the royalists in the private society of Paris; and by
degrees, as has often happened in the history of parties, the leaders of
the republicans and those of the Bourbonists came together, sinking for
the time the peculiar principles of either side, in the common feeling
of hatred to Napoleon.
Pichegru returned from his exile at Cayenne, and after spending some
time in England, where he, no doubt, communicated with the Bourbon
princes, and with some members of Mr. Addington's government, passed
over secretly into France. Georges Cadoudal and other Chouan chiefs were
busy in stirring up their old adherents, and communicated with Pichegru
on his arrival in Paris.
Suddenly, on the 12th of February, Paris was surprised with the
announcement, that a new conspiracy against the life of the Chief Consul
had been discovered by the confession of an accomplice; that 150 men had
meant to assemble at Malmaison in the uniform of the consular guard, and
seize Buonaparte while hunting; that Georges, the Chouan, had escaped by
a quarter of an hour--but that Mairn, La Jollais, and other leaders of
the conspiracy had been taken; finally, that Moreau had held various
conferences with Georges, La Jollais and Pichegru, and that he also was
under arrest.
It is said that Georges Cadoudal had once actually penetrated into the
chamber of Napoleon at the Tuileries, and been prevented by the merest
accident from assassinating him: others of the conspirators had
approached his person very nearly on pretext of presenting petitions.
Buonaparte attributed his escape chiefly to the irregular mode of
living which his multifarious occupations involved; he seldom dined two
days following at the same hour, hardly ever stirred out of the palace
except with his attendants about him for some review or public ceremony,
and perhaps never appeared unguarded except where his appearance must
have been totally unexpected. The officer who betrayed Cadoudal and his
associates, was, it seems, a violent republican, and as such desired the
downfall of the Consul; but he had also served under Napoleon, and
learning at a late hour that the life of his old leader was to be
sacrificed, remonstrated vehemently, and rather than be accessary to
such extremities, gave the necessary information at the Tuileries.
Moreau was forthwith arrested; but Pichegru lurked undiscovered in the
heart of Paris until the 28th; six gens-d'armes then came upon his
privacy so abruptly that he could not use either his dagger or pistols,
though both were on his table. He wrestled for a moment, and then
attempted to move compassion--but was immediately fettered. Shortly
after Cadoudal himself, who had for days traversed Paris in cabriolets,
not knowing where to lay his head, was detected while attempting to pass
one of the barriers. Captain Wright, an English naval officer, who had
distinguished himself under Sir Sydney Smith at Acre, and from whose
vessel Pichegru was known to have disembarked on the coast of France,
happened about the same time to encounter a French ship of much superior
strength, and become a prisoner of war. On pretext that this gentleman
had acted as an accomplice in a scheme of assassination, he also was
immediately placed in solitary confinement in a dungeon of the Temple.
It was now openly circulated that England and the exiled Bourbons had
been detected in a base plot for murdering the Chief Consul; that the
proof of their guilt was in the hands of the government, and would soon
be made public. The Duke de Berri himself, it was added, had been
prepared to land on the west coast of France, whenever Pichegru or
Cadoudal should inform him that the time was come; while another of the
royal exiles lay watching the event, and in readiness to profit by it,
on the other side, immediately behind the Rhine.
The name of this last prince, the heir of Conde, well known for the
brilliant gallantry of his conduct while commanding the van of his
grandfather's little army of exiles, and beloved for many traits of
amiable and generous character, had hardly been mentioned in connection
with these rumours, ere the inhabitants of Paris heard, in one breath,
with surprise and horror, that the Duke d'Enghien had been arrested at
Ettenheim, and tried and executed within sight of their own houses at
Vincennes. This story will ever form the darkest chapter in the history
of Napoleon.
The duke had his residence at a castle in the Duchy of Baden, where,
attended by a few noble friends, the partakers of his exile, he was
chiefly occupied with the diversions of the chase. On the evening of the
14th of March, a troop of French soldiers and gens-d'armes, under
Colonel Ordonner (who derived his orders from Caulaincourt) suddenly
passed the frontier into the independent territory of Baden, surrounded
the Castle of Ettenheim, rushed into the apartment of the prince, and
seized him and all his company. He would have used his arms, but his
attendants, representing the overpowering number of the assailants,
persuaded him to yield without resistance. He was forthwith conveyed to
the citadel of Strasburg, and separated from all his friends except one
aide-de-camp, the Baron de St. Jaques, and allowed no communication with
any one else. After being here confined three days, he was called up at
midnight on the 18th and informed that he must prepare for a journey. He
desired to have the assistance of his valet-de-chambre, and was refused:
they permitted him to pack up _two_ shirts, and the journey immediately
begun.
The duke reached Paris early on the 20th; and after lying a few hours in
the Temple, was removed to the neighbouring Castle of Vincennes, used
for ages as a state prison. Being much fatigued he fell asleep, but was
presently roused, and his examination forthwith commenced. Weary and
wholly unprepared as he must have been, the unfortunate prince conducted
himself throughout in such a manner as to command the respect of his
inquisitors. He at once avowed his name and his services in the army of
Conde, but utterly denied all knowledge of Pichegru and his designs. To
this the whole of his evidence (and there was no evidence but his own)
amounted; and having given it; he earnestly demanded an audience of the
Consul. "My name," said he, "my rank, my sentiments, and the peculiar
distress of my situation, lead me to hope that this request will not be
refused."
At midnight the duke was again called from his bed, to attend the court
which had been constituted for his trial. It consisted of eight military
officers, appointed by Murat, Napoleon's brother-in-law, then governor
of Paris. General Hullin, president of the military commission,
commanded him to listen to the charges on which he was to be tried: of
having fought against France; of being in the pay of England; and of
plotting with England against the internal and external safety of the
Republic. The Duke was again examined, and the second interrogatory was
a mere repetition of the first, with this addition, that the prisoner
avowed his readiness to take part again in the hostilities against
France, if the opportunity should present itself. No other evidence
whatever was adduced, except the written report of a spy of the police,
who testified that the duke received many emigrants at his table at
Ettenheim, and occasionally left the castle for several days together,
without the spy's being able to trace where he was: a circumstance
sufficiently explained by the duke's custom of hunting in the Black
Forest.
General Hullin, in his account of the proceedings,[48] says, "He
uniformly maintained that 'he had only sustained the rights of his
family, and that a Conde could never enter France but with arms in his
hands. My birth,' said he, 'and my opinions must ever render me
inflexible on this point.'"--"The firmness of his answers," continues
Hullin, "reduced the judges to despair. Ten times we gave him an opening
to retract his declarations, but he persisted in them immovably. 'I
see,' he said, 'the honourable intentions of the commissioners, but I
cannot resort to the means of safety which they indicate.' Being
informed that the military commission judged without appeal, 'I know
it,' answered he, 'nor do I disguise to myself the danger which I incur.
My only desire is to have an interview with the First Consul.'"
The irregularities of all this procedure were monstrous. In the first
place, the duke owed no allegiance to the existing government of France.
2ndly, The seizure of his person was wholly illegal; it took place by
means of a violation of an independent territory: an outrage for which
it is impossible to offer the smallest excuse. 3rdly, Had the arrest
been ever so regular, the trial of a prisoner accused of a political
conspiracy was totally beyond the jurisdiction of a court-martial.
4thly, It was against the laws of France to hold any trial at midnight.
5thly, The interrogatory was not read over to the prisoner, which the
law imperatively demanded; and, 6thly, No defender was assigned to
him--an indulgence which the French code refuses not to the meanest or
most atrocious criminal, by what tribunal soever he may be tried.
But to proceed--The judges were moved by the conduct of the prisoner,
and inclined to listen to his request of an audience of the Chief
Consul. But Savary, then minister of police, had by this time introduced
himself into the chamber, and watched the course of procedure from
behind the chair of the president. He now leaned forward, and whispered
into Hullin's ear, "this would be inopportune."--These significant words
were obeyed. The court pronounced the duke guilty of the capital crimes
of having fought against the Republic; of having intrigued with England;
of having maintained intelligence with Strasburg, with the view of
seizing that place; and of having conspired against the life of the
Chief Consul. The prisoner, being remanded to his confinement, the
report was instantly forwarded to Buonaparte, with a request that his
further pleasure might be made known.
The court remained sitting until their messenger returned: he brought
back their own letter with these words inscribed on it, "Condemned to
death." The prisoner being called in again, heard his sentence with
perfect composure. He requested the attendance of a confessor, and was
answered,--"Would you die like a monk?" Without noticing this brutality
he knelt for a moment, as in prayer, and rising, said, "Let us go."
He was immediately led down a winding stair by torch-light; and,
conceiving that he was descending into some subterraneous dungeon, said
to one of the soldiers of the escort, "Am I to be immured in an
_oubliette_?" "Monseigneur," the man replied, sobbing, "be tranquil on
that point." They emerged from a postern into the ditch of the castle,
where a party of gens-d'armes d'elite were drawn up, Savary, their
master, standing on the parapet over them. It was now six o'clock in the
morning, and the gray light of the dawn was mingled with the gleam of
torches. The prince refused to have his eyes bandaged--the word was
given, and he fell. The body, dressed as it was, was immediately thrown
into a grave--which had been prepared beforehand; at least, so say all
the witnesses, except M. Savary.
To resume our notice of the mere informalities of the procedure:--1. The
sentence was altogether unsupported by the evidence, except as to the
mere fact of D'Enghien's having borne arms against France; but this
could be no crime in him: he owed no allegiance to the French
government; on the contrary, he and all his family had been expressly
excepted from every act of amnesty to emigrants, and thereby constituted
_aliens_. 2. The execution took place immediately after the sentence was
pronounced; this is contrary to the laws of all civilised nations, and
in direct contradiction to an article in the French code then in force,
which gave twenty-four hours to every prisoner convicted by a
court-martial, that he might, if he chose, appeal from their sentence.
But, 3rdly, the publications (long afterwards extorted) of Savary and
Hullin, prove that the court, perplexed with the difficulty of making
their sentence appear to have any conformity with the charge and the
evidence, drew up in fact, two different _sentences_: one before the
duke was executed, which bore the article, "immediate execution"; the
other a more careful document, intended alone to meet the public eye, in
which not a word about immediate execution occurs. The duke was _not_
executed, therefore, at six in the morning of the 21st of March, upon
that sentence which was made public at the time, as the authority for
his death.
Every circumstance in the dismal tale, from the quantity of linen packed
up at Strasburg, to the preparation of the grave in the ditch of
Vincennes, attests the fact that the fate of the unfortunate young man
(for he was but 32 years old when he fell) had been determined on, to
the minutest particular, long before he was summoned to a mock trial,
before an incompetent tribunal. If ever man was murdered, it was the
Duke d'Enghien.
Such was the fate of the gallant and generous youth, who, by his fiery
courage, won the battle of Bertsheim; and who, when his followers, to
whom the republicans had so often refused quarter, seemed disposed to
retaliate in the hour of victory, threw himself between them and their
discomfited countrymen, exclaiming, "They are French--they are
unfortunate; I place them under the guardianship of your honour."
The horror with which this remorseless tragedy was heard of in Paris,
soon spread throughout all Europe; and from that day the name of
Buonaparte was irremediably associated with the ideas of sullen revenge
and tyrannic cruelty. The massacre of Jaffa had been perpetrated in a
remote land, and many listened with incredulity to a tale told by the
avowed enemies of the homicide. But this bloody deed was done at home,
and almost in the sight of all Paris. Of the fact there could be no
doubt; and of the pretexts set forth by the organs of the French
government, there were few men of any party who affected not to perceive
the futility. Hitherto Napoleon had been the fortunate heir of a
revolution, in whose civil excesses he had scarcely
participated--henceforth he was the legitimate representative and symbol
of all its atrocities.
In so far as Buonaparte had the power to suppress all mention of this
catastrophe, it was, at the time, suppressed. But in after days, at St.
Helena, when dictating the apology of his life to the companions of his
exile, he not only spoke openly of the death of the Duke d'Enghien, but
appears to have dwelt upon it often and long. Well aware that this was
generally regarded as the darkest trait in his history, he displayed a
feverish anxiety to explain it away. But the Sultan Akber wore a signet,
inscribed, "I never knew any one that lost his way in a straight road;"
and he that is conscious of innocence can have no temptation to multiply
the lines of his defence. Buonaparte, according to the mood of the
moment, or the companion whom he addressed, adopted different methods of
vindicating himself. They were inconsistent as well as diverse; and even
Las Cases seems to have blushed for his hero when he recorded them.
At one time Napoleon represents himself as having been taken by
surprise: his ministers come on him when he is alone, at midnight, and
inform him that the Bourbons have conspired to assassinate him--that the
proofs are in their hands--that the Duke d'Enghien has already been more
than once in Paris, and is lying close to the frontier, expecting the
signal to return and head the conspirators in person.--In the first
flush of indignation he gives the order for arresting the duke--every
artifice is adopted to prevent him from interfering
afterwards--everything is arranged by Talleyrand--the duke addresses a
letter to him from Strasburg--that letter Talleyrand suppresses until
the tragedy is over--had it been delivered in time, the life of the
unhappy prince had been saved.
Unfortunately for Buonaparte, eight days elapsed between the order for
the arrest and the order for the execution, a much longer period than
was ever necessary for restoring the composure of his strong
understanding. Further, the Duke d'Enghien kept a diary during his
imprisonment, in which the minutest incidents are carefully recorded; it
contains no hint of the letter to Napoleon; and the Baron de St. Jaques,
who never quitted his master's chamber while he remained at Strasburg,
bears distinct testimony that no such letter was written there.
Moreover, neither Talleyrand nor any other individual in the world,
except Buonaparte, could have had the slightest motive for desiring the
death of D'Enghien. On the contrary, every motive that has weight with
mankind in general, must have swayed the other way with Talleyrand; a
member of one of the noblest families in France; a man unstained by
participation in any of the butcheries of the revolution; and, above
all, a man whose consummate skill has through life steadily pursued one
object, namely, his own personal interest, and who must have been mad to
perpetrate a gratuitous murder. And, lastly, Talleyrand was minister for
foreign affairs. A letter written at Strasburg could by no accident have
been forwarded through his department in the government; and, in fact,
there is perfect proof that the whole business was done by the police,
whose chief, Savary, communicated directly with the Chief Consul, and
the military, who acted under the orders either of Buonaparte's
aide-de-camp, Caulaincourt (afterwards Duke of Vicenza), or of his
brother-in-law, Murat, the governor of Paris. It is needless to observe,
that Napoleon's accusation of Talleyrand dates _after_ that politician
had exerted all his talents and influence in the work of procuring his
own downfall, and the restoration of the House of Bourbon. But in truth
whether Talleyrand, or Savary, or Caulaincourt, had the chief hand in
the death of the Duke d'Enghien, is a controversy about which posterity
will feel little interest. It is obvious to all men, that not one of
them durst have stirred a finger to bring about a catastrophe of such
fearful importance, without the express orders of Napoleon.
At other times the exile of St. Helena told a shorter and a plainer
tale. "I was assailed," said he, "on all hands by the enemies whom the
Bourbons had raised up against me: threatened with air-guns, infernal
machines, and stratagems of every kind. There was no tribunal to which I
could appeal for protection; therefore I had a right to protect myself.
By putting to death one of those whose followers threatened my life, I
was entitled to strike a salutary terror into all the rest."
The princes of the House of Bourbon, so far from stimulating assassins
to take off the usurper of their throne, never failed, when such schemes
were suggested, to denounce them as atrocities hateful in the sight of
God and man. As to this part of their conduct, the proofs are abundant,
clear, and irrefragable. But it is very possible that Buonaparte
entertained the foul suspicion on which he justifies his violence. And
indeed it is only by supposing him to have sincerely believed that the
Bourbons were plotting against his life, that we can at all account for
the shedding of D'Enghien's blood.--Unless Josephine spake untruly, or
her conversation has been wilfully misrepresented, she strenuously
exerted her influence to procure mercy for the royal victim; and so,
unquestionably, did his venerable mother. But it demanded neither
affection for Napoleon's person, nor regard for his interest, nor
compassion for the youth and innocence of the Duke d'Enghien, to
perceive the imprudence, as well as wickedness, of the proceeding. The
remark of the callous _Fouche_ had passed into a proverb, "It was worse
than a crime--it was a blunder."
A few days after the execution of the Duke d'Enghien (on the morning of
the 7th of April) General Pichegru was found dead in prison: a black
handkerchief was tied round his neck, and tightened by the twisting of a
short stick, like a tourniquet. It could not appear probable that he
should have terminated his own life by such means; and, accordingly, the
rumour spread that he had been taken off in the night by some of the
satellites of Savary; or, according to others, by some Mamelukes whom
Napoleon had brought with him from the East, and now retained near his
person, as an interior body-guard of the palace. This is a mystery which
has never been penetrated. The recent fate of D'Enghien had prepared men
to receive any story of this dark nature; and it was argued that
Buonaparte had feared to bring Pichegru, a bold and dauntless man, into
an open court, where he might have said many things well calculated to
injure the Consul in public opinion.[49]
The other prisoners were now brought to trial. There was not a shadow of
evidence against General Moreau, except the fact, admitted by himself,
that he had been twice in company with Pichegru since his return to
Paris. He in vain protested that he had rejected the proposals of
Pichegru, to take part in a royalist insurrection; and, as for the
murderous designs of Georges Cadoudal, that he had never even heard of
them. He was sentenced to two years' confinement: but, on the
intercession of his wife with Josephine, or rather on finding that a
great part of the soldiery considered so eminent a commander as hardly
used, the Chief Consul ere long, commuted this punishment for two years
of exile.
Moreau was innocent; by his side, on the day of trial, appeared men who
would have scorned to be so. Georges Cadoudal appeared in court with the
miniature of Louis XVI. suspended round his neck, and gloried in the
avowal of his resolution to make war personally on the usurper of the
throne. The presiding judge, Thuriot, had been one of those who
condemned the king to death. Georges punned on his name, and addressed
him as "Monsieur Tue-Roi."[50] When called up for sentence, the judge
missed the miniature, and asked him what he had done with it? "And you,"
answered the prisoner, "what have you done with the original?"--a retort
which nothing could prevent the audience from applauding. Georges and
eighteen more were condemned to death; and he, and eleven besides,
suffered the penalty with heroic firmness. Of the rest, among whom were
two sons of the noble house of Polignac, some were permitted to escape
on condition of perpetual banishment: others had their punishment
commuted to imprisonment.
With what indignation the death of the Duke d'Enghien had been heard of
throughout Europe, now began to appear. The Emperor of Russia and the
Kings of Sweden and Denmark put their courts into mourning, and made
severe remonstrances through their diplomatic agents; and the
correspondence which ensued laid the train for another general burst of
war. Austria was humbled for the time, and durst not speak out: Prussia
could hardly be expected to break her long neutrality on such an
occasion: but wherever the story went, it prepared the minds of princes
as of subjects, to take advantage of the first favourable opportunity
for rising against the tyranny of France.
A conspiracy suppressed never fails to strengthen the power it was meant
to destroy: and Buonaparte, after the tragedies of D'Enghien and
Pichegru, beheld the French royalists reduced everywhere to the silence
and the inaction of terror. Well understanding the national temper, he
gave orders that henceforth the name of the exiled family should be as
much as possible kept out of view; and accordingly after this time it
was hardly ever alluded to in the productions of the enslaved press of
Paris. The adherents of the Bourbons were compelled to content
themselves with muttering their resentment in private saloons, where,
however, the Chief Consul commonly had spies--who reported to him, or to
his Savarys and Fouches, the jests and the caricatures in which the
depressed and hopeless party endeavoured to find some consolation.
In order to check the hostile feeling excited among the sovereigns of
the continent by the murder of the Bourbon Prince, the French government
were now indefatigable in their efforts to connect the conspiracy of
Georges Cadoudal with the cabinet of England. The agents of the police
transformed themselves into numberless disguises, with the view of
drawing the British ministers resident at various courts of Germany into
some correspondence capable of being misrepresented, so as to suit the
purpose of their master. Mr. Drake, envoy at Munich, and Mr. Spencer
Smith, at Stuttgard, were deceived in this fashion; and some letters of
theirs, egregiously misinterpreted, furnished Buonaparte with a pretext
for complaining, to the sovereigns to whom they were accredited, that
they had stained the honour of the diplomatic body by leaguing
themselves with the schemes of the Chouan conspirators. The subservient
princes were forced to dismiss these gentlemen from their residences;
but the English ministry made such explanations in open Parliament as
effectually vindicated the name of their country. Lord Elgin, British
ambassador at Constantinople, had been one of those travellers detained
at the out-breaking of the war, and was now resident on his parole in
the south of France. He was, on some frivolous pretext, confined in a
solitary castle among the Pyrenees; and there every device was practised
to induce him to, at least, receive letters calculated, if discovered in
his possession, to compromise him. But this nobleman, sagaciously
penetrating the design, baffled it by his reserve. Being liberated from
confinement shortly after, he communicated what had happened to a
friend, a member of the French Senate, who traced the matter home to
some of Fouche's creatures, and congratulated Lord Elgin on having
avoided very narrowly the fate of Pichegru.
Sir George Rumbold, the British minister at Hamburg, escaped that
consummation still more narrowly. During the night of the 23rd October a
party of French soldiers passed the Elbe, as Ordonner and his gang had
crossed the Rhine on the 14th of March, and boldly seized Rumbold within
the territory of an independent and friendly state. He was hurried to
Paris, and confined in the fated dungeons of the Temple: but none of his
papers afforded any plausible pretext for resisting the powerful
remonstrance which the King of Prussia thought fit to make against an
outrage perpetrated almost within sight of his dominions; and, after a
few days, Sir George was set at liberty.
Meantime, while all the princes of Europe regarded with indignation
(though few of them, indeed, cared to express the feeling openly) the
cruel tragedies which had been acted in France, the death of Pichegru
had suppressed effectually the hopes of the royalists in that country,
and the exile of Moreau deprived the republicans of the only leader
under whom there was any likelihood of their taking arms against the
Chief Consul. He resolved to profit by the favourable moment for
completing a purpose which he had long meditated; and, on the 30th of
April, little more than a month after the Duke d'Enghien died, one
Curee was employed to move, in the Tribunate, "that it was time to bid
adieu to political illusions--that victory had brought back
tranquillity--the finances of the country had been restored, and the
laws renovated--and that it was a matter of duty to secure those
blessings to the nation in future, by rendering the supreme power
hereditary in the person and family of Napoleon."--"Such," he said, "was
the universal desire of the army and of the people. The title of
Emperor, in his opinion, was that by which Napoleon should be hailed, as
best corresponding to the dignity of the nation."
This motion was carried in the Tribunate, with one dissenting voice,
that of Carnot; who, in a speech of great eloquence, resisted the
principle of hereditary monarchy altogether. He admitted the merits in
war and in policy of the Chief Consul--he was at present the Dictator of
the Republic, and, as such, had saved it.--"Fabius, Camillus,
Cincinnatus were dictators also. Why should not Buonaparte, like them,
lay down despotic power, after the holding of it had ceased to be
necessary to the general good? Let the services of a citizen be what
they might, was there to be no limit to the gratitude of the nation? But
at all events, even granting that Buonaparte himself could not be too
highly rewarded, or too largely trusted, why commit the fortunes of
posterity to chance? Why forget that Vespasian was the father of
Domitian, Germanicus of Caligula, Marcus Aurelius of Commodus?" In
effect Carnot, colleague as he had been of Robespierre, and stained as
he was with the blood of Louis XVI., was a sincere republican; and,
after his own fashion, a sincere patriot. He was alone in the
Tribunate--the rest of whose members prolonged, during three whole days,
a series of fulsome harangues, every one of which terminated in the same
implicit agreement to the proposal of Curee.
The legislative body, without hesitation, adopted it; and a
senatus-consultum forthwith appeared, by which Napoleon Buonaparte was
declared Emperor of the French: the empire to descend in the male line
of his body: in case of having no son, Napoleon might adopt any son or
grandson of his brothers as his heir: in default of such adoption,
Joseph and Louis Buonaparte were named as the next heirs of the crown
(Lucien and Jerome being passed over, as they had both given offence to
Napoleon by their marriages). The members of Napoleon's family were
declared princes of the blood of France.
This decree was sent down to the departments: and the people received it
with indifference. The Prefects reported on the 1st of December, that
between three and four millions of citizens had subscribed their assent
to the proposed measure, while not many more than three thousand voted
in opposition to it. This result indicated, as these functionaries chose
to say, the unanimous approbation of the French people. That nation,
however, consisted at the time of more than thirty millions!
But Napoleon did not wait for this authority, such as it proved to be.
On the 18th of May (more than six months ere the report reached him) he
openly assumed the imperial title and dignity. On the same day he
nominated his late colleagues in the Consulate, Cambaceres and Le Brun,
the former to be Arch-Chancellor, the latter Arch-Treasurer of the
Empire. The offices of High-Constable, Grand Admiral, &c., were revived
and bestowed on his brothers, and others of his immediate connections.
Seventeen generals (viz. Berthier, Murat, Moncey, Jourdan, Massena,
Augereau, Bernadotte, Soult, Brune, Lannes, Mortier, Ney, Davoust,
Bessieres, Kellerman, Lefebre, Perignon, Serrurier) were named Marshals
of the Empire; Duroc, Grand Marshal of the Palace; Caulaincourt, Master
of the Horse; Berthier, Grand Huntsman; and Count Segur, a nobleman of
the ancient regime, Master of the Ceremonies. It was in vain attempted
to excite popular enthusiasm. "It appeared," says an eye-witness, "as if
the shades of D'Enghien and Pichegru had hovered over the scene, and
spread coldness on all that was meant for the manifestation of joy."
It was not so with the soldiery. Napoleon, with his empress, visited the
camps at Boulogne, and was received with the excess of military applause
and devotion. He made a progress to Aix-la-Chapelle, and along the
Rhenish frontier, flattered and extolled at every station. Except
Russia, Sweden, and England, every crown in Europe sent to congratulate
him on his enrolment in the body of hereditary monarchs. Nay, not a few
of the smaller German potentates came in person, to swell, on this great
occasion, the state and magnificence of the new imperial court.
In assuming the title of Emperor, not of King, it escaped not
observation, that Napoleon's object was to carry back the minds of the
French to a period antecedent to the rule of the recently dethroned
dynasty--to the days of Charlemagne, who, with the monarchy of France,
combined both a wider dominion and a loftier style. As that great
conqueror had caused himself to be crowned by Pope Leo, so Napoleon now
determined that his own inauguration should take place under the
auspices of Pius VII.; nay, that the more to illustrate his power, the
head of the Catholic church should repair to Paris for this purpose. It
may be doubted whether, in this measure, he regarded more the mere
gratification of his pride or the chance of conferring a character of
greater solemnity on the installation of the new dynasty, in the eyes of
the Catholic population of France. On the 5th of November, however, the
unresisting Pope left Rome, and, having been received throughout his
progress with every mark of respect and veneration, arrived in Paris to
bear his part in the great pageant. On the 2nd of December Buonaparte
and Josephine appeared, amidst all that was splendid and illustrious in
their capital, and were crowned in Notre-Dame. The Pope blessed them and
consecrated the diadems; but these were not placed on their heads by his
hand. That office, in either case, Napoleon himself performed.
Throughout the ceremonial his aspect was thoughtful: it was on a stern
and gloomy brow that he with his own hands planted the symbol of
successful ambition and uneasy power, and the shouts of the deputies
present, carefully selected for the purpose, sounded faint and hollow
amidst the silence of the people.
As a necessary sequel to these proceedings in Paris, the senators of the
Italian republic now sent in their humble petition, that their president
might be pleased to do them also the favour to be crowned as their king
at Milan. The Emperor proceeded to that city accordingly, and in like
fashion, on the 26th of May, 1805, placed on his own head the old iron
crown of the Lombard kings, uttering the words which, according to
tradition, they were accustomed to use on such occasions, "_God hath
given it me. Beware who touches it._"--Napoleon henceforth styled
himself Emperor of the French and King of Italy, but announced that the
two crowns should not be held by the same person after his death.
It was not, however, for mere purposes of ceremonial that he had once
more passed the Alps. The Ligurian republic sent the Doge to Milan to
congratulate the King of Italy, and also to offer their territories for
the formation of another department of the French empire. But this was a
step of his ambition which led to serious results.
Meanwhile Eugene Beauharnois, son to Josephine, was left Viceroy at
Milan, and the imperial pair returned to Paris.
[Footnote 47: To this period belong Sir W. Scott's song to the Edinburgh
Volunteers:--
"If ever breath of British gale
Shall fan the tricolor,
Or footstep of invader rude,
With rapine foul and red with blood,
Pollute our happy shore--
Then farewell home! and farewell friends!
Adieu each tender tie!
Resolved, we mingle in the tide
Where charging squadron furious ride,
To conquer or to die," &c.
And various sonnets of Mr. Wordsworth; such as--
"It is not to be thought of that the flood
Of British freedom," &c.
"Vanguard of liberty! ye men of Kent,
Ye children of a soil that doth advance
Its haughty brow against the coast of France,
Now is the time to prove your hardiment!" &c.
]
[Footnote 48: This account was published _more than twenty years
afterwards_, in consequence of a pamphlet by Savary (Duke of Rovigo).]
[Footnote 49: About a year afterwards Captain Wright was found dead in
his dungeon in the Temple, with his throat cut from ear to ear. This
mystery has hitherto remained in equal darkness; but Buonaparte was far
from Paris at the period of Wright's death, and, under all the
circumstances of the case, there seems to be no reason for supposing
that he could have had any concern in that tragedy.]
[Footnote 50: _i.e._ Kill-king.]