1804.
The Temple--The intrigues of Europe--Prelude to the Continental
system--Bombardment of Granville--My conversation with the First
Consul on the projected invasion of England--Fauche Borel--Moreau
and Pichegru--Fouche's manoeuvres--The Abbe David and Lajolais--
Fouche's visit to St. Cloud--Regnier outwitted by Fouche--
My interview with the First Consul--His indignation at the reports
respecting Hortense--Contradiction of these calumnies--The brothers
Faucher--Their execution--The First Consul's levee--My conversation
with Duroc--Conspiracy of Georges, Moreau, and Pichegru--Moreau
averse to the restoration of the Bourbons--Bouvet de Lozier's
attempted suicide--Arrest of Moreau--Declaration of MM. de Polignac
and de Riviere--Connivance of the police--Arrest of M. Carbonnet and
his nephew.
The time was passed when Bonaparte, just raised to the Consulate, only
proceeded to the Temple to release the victims of the "Loi des suspects"
by his sole and immediate authority. This state prison was now to be
filled by the orders of his police. All the intrigues of Europe were in
motion. Emissaries came daily from England, who, if they could not
penetrate into the interior of France, remained in the towns near the
frontiers, where they established correspondence, and published
pamphlets, which they sent to Paris by post, in the form of letters.
The First Consul, on the other hand, gave way, without reserve, to the
natural irritation which that power had excited by her declaration of
war. He knew that the most effective war he could carry on against
England would be a war against her trade.
As a prelude to that piece of madness, known by the name of the
Continental system, the First Consul adopted every possible preventive
measure against the introduction of English merchandise. Bonaparte's
irritation against the English was not without a cause. The intelligence
which reached Paris from the north of France was not very consolatory.
The English fleets not only blockaded the French ports, but were acting
on the offensive, and had bombarded Granville. The mayor of the town did
his duty, but his colleagues, more prudent, acted differently. In the
height of his displeasure Bonaparte issued a decree, by which he bestowed
a scarf of honour on Letourneur, the mayor, and dismissed his colleagues
from office as cowards unworthy of trust. The terms of this decree were
rather severe, but they were certainly justified by the conduct of those
who had abandoned their posts at s critical moment.
I come now to the subject of the invasion of England, and what the First
Consul said to me respecting it. I have stated that Bonaparte never had
any idea of realising the pretended project of a descent on England. The
truth of this assertion will appear from a conversation which I had with
him after he returned from his journey to the north. In this
conversation he repeated what he had often before mentioned to me in
reference to the projects and possible steps to which fortune might
compel him to resort.
The peace of Amiens had been broken about seven months when, on the 15th
of December 1803, the First Consul sent for me to the Tuileries. His
incomprehensible behaviour to me was fresh in my mind; and as it was
upwards of a year since I had seen him, I confess I did not feel quite at
ease when I received the summons. He was perfectly aware that I
possessed documents and data for writing his history which would describe
facts correctly, and destroy the illusions with which his flatterers
constantly, entertained the public. I have already stated that at that
period I had no intention of the kind; but those who laboured constantly
to incense him against me might have suggested apprehensions on the
subject. At all events the fact is, that when he sent for me I took the
precaution of providing myself with a night-cap, conceiving it to be very
likely that I should be sent to sleep at Vincennes. On the day appointed
for the interview Rapp was on duty. I did not conceal from him my
opinion as to the possible result of my visit. "You need not be afraid,"
said Rapp; "the First Consul merely wishes to talk with you." He then
announced me.
Bonaparte came into the grand salon where I awaited him, and addressing
me in the most good-humoured way said, "What do the gossips say of my
preparations for the invasion of England?"--"There is a great difference
of opinion on the subject, General," I replied. "Everyone speaks
according to his own views. Suchet, for instance, who comes to see me
very often, has no doubt that it will take place, and hopes to give you
on the occasion fresh proofs of his gratitude and fidelity."--"But Suchet
tells me that you do not believe it will be attempted."--"That is true, I
certainly do not."--"Why?"--"Because you told me at Antwerp, five years
ago, that you would not risk France on the cast of a die--that the
adventure was too hazardous--and circumstances have not altered since
that time."--"You are right. Those who look forward to the invasion of
England are blockheads. They do not see the affair in its true light.
I can, doubtless, land in England with 100,000 men. A great battle will
be fought, which I shall gain; but I must reckon upon 30,000 men killed,
wounded, and prisoners. If I march on London, a second battle must be
fought. I will suppose myself again victorious; but what should I do in
London with an army diminished three-fourths and without the hope of
reinforcements? It would be madness. Until our navy acquires
superiority it is useless to think of such a project. The great
assemblage of troops in the north has another object. My Government must
be the first in the world, or it must fall." Bonaparte then evidently
wished it to be supposed that he entertained the design of invading
England in order to divert the attention of Europe to that direction.
From Dunkirk the First Consul proceeded to Antwerp, where also he had
assembled experienced men to ascertain their opinions respecting the
surest way of attempting a landing, the project of which was merely a
pretence. The employment of large ships of was, after rang discussions,
abandoned in favour of a flotilla.
--[At this period a caricature (by Gillray) appeared in London.
which was sent to Paris, and strictly sought after by the police.
One of the copies was shown to the First Consul, who was highly
indignant at it. The French fleet was represented by a number of
nut-shells. An English sailor, seated on a rock, was quietly
smoking his pipe, the whiffs of which were throwing the whole
squadron into disorder.--Bourrienne. Gillray's caricatures should
be at the reader's side during the perusal of this work, also
English Caricature and Satire on Napoleon I., by J. Ashton Chatto:
and Windus, 1884.]--
After visiting Belgium, and giving directions there, the First Consul
returned from Brussels to Paris by way of Maestricht, Liege, and
Soissons.
Before my visit to the Tuileries, and even before the rupture of the
peace of Amiens, certain intriguing speculators, whose extravagant zeal
was not less fatal to the cause of the Bourbons than was the blind
subserviency of his unprincipled adherents to the First Consul, had taken
part in some underhand manoeuvres which could have no favourable result.
Amongst these great contrivers of petty machinations the well-known
Fauche Borel, the bookseller of Neufchatel, had long been conspicuous.
Fauche Borel, whose object was to create a stir, and who wished nothing
better than to be noticed and paid, failed not to come to France as soon
as the peace of Amiens afforded him the opportunity. I was at that time
still with Bonaparte, who was aware of all these little plots, but who
felt no personal anxiety on the subject, leaving to his police the care
of watching their authors.
The object of Fauche Borel's mission was to bring about a reconciliation
between Moreau and Pichegru. The latter general, who was banished on the
18th Fructidor 4th (September 1797), had not obtained the First Consul's
permission to return to France. He lived in England, where he awaited a
favourable opportunity for putting his old projects into execution.
Moreau was in Pains, but no longer appeared at the levees or parties of
the First Consul, and the enmity of both generals against Bonaparte,
openly avowed on the part of Pichegru; and still disguised by Moreau, was
a secret to nobody. But as everything was prosperous with Bonaparte he
evinced contempt rather than fear of the two generals. His apprehensions
were, indeed, tolerably allayed by the absence of the one and the
character of the other. Moreau's name had greater weight with the army
than that of Pichegru; and those who were plotting the overthrow of the
Consular Government knew that that measure could not be attempted with
any chance of success without the assistance of Moreau. The moment was
inopportune; but, being initiated in some secrets of the British Cabinet,
they knew that the peace was but a truce, and they determined to profit
by that truce to effect a reconciliation which might afterwards secure a
community of interests. Moreau and Pichegru had not been friends since
Moreau sent to the Directory the papers seized in M. de Klinglin's
carriage, which placed Pichegru's treason in so clear a light. Since
that period Pichegru's name possessed no influence over the minds of the
soldiers, amongst whom he had very few partisans, whilst the name of
Moreau was dear to all who had conquered under his command.
Fauche Borel's design was to compromise Moreau without bringing him to
any decisive step. Moreau's natural indolence, and perhaps it may be
said his good sense, induced him to adopt the maxim that it was necessary
to let men and things take their course; for temporizing policy is often
as useful in politics as in war. Besides, Moreau was a sincere
Republican; and if his habit of indecision had permitted him to adopt any
resolution, it is quite certain that he would not then have assisted in
the reestablishment of the Bourbons, as Pichegru wished.
What I have stated is an indispensable introduction to the knowledge of
plots of more importance which preceded the great event that marked the
close of the Consulship: I allude to the conspiracy of Georges, Cadoudal,
Moreau, and Pichegru, and that indelible stain on the character of
Napoleon,--the death of the Duc d'Enghien. Different opinions have been
expressed concerning Georges' conspiracy. I shall not contradict any of
them. I will relate what I learned and what I saw, in order to throw
some light on that horrible affair. I am far from believing what I have
read in many works, that it was planned by the police in order to pave
the First Consul's way to the throne. I think that it was contrived by
those who were really interested in it, and encouraged by Fouche in order
to prepare his return to office.
To corroborate my opinion respecting Fouche's conduct and his manoeuvres
I must remind the reader that about the close of 1803 some persons
conceived the project of reconciling Moreau and Pichegru. Fouche, who
was then out of the Ministry, caused Moreau to be visited by men of his
own party, and who were induced, perhaps unconsciously, by Fouche's art,
to influence and irritate the general's mind. It was at first intended
that the Abbe David, the mutual friend of Moreau and Pichegru, should
undertake to effect their reconciliation; but he, being arrested and
confined in the Temple, was succeeded by a man named Lajolais, whom every
circumstance proves to have been employed by Fouche. He proceeded to
London, and, having prevailed on Pichegru and his friends to return to
France, he set off to announce their arrival and arrange everything for
their reception and destruction. Moreau's discontent was the sole
foundation of this intrigue. I remember that one day, about the end of
January 1804, I called on Fouche, who informed me that he had been at St.
Cloud, where he had had a long conversation with the First Consul on the
situation of affairs. Bonaparte told him that he was satisfied with the
existing police, and hinted that it was only to make himself of
consequence that he had given a false colouring to the picture. Fouche
asked him what he would say if he told him that Georges and Pichegru had
been for some time in Paris carrying on the conspiracy of which he had
received information. The First Consul, apparently delighted at what he
conceived to be Fouche's mistake, said, with an air of contempt, "You are
well informed, truly! Regnier has just received a letter from London
stating that Pichegru dined three days ago at Kingston with one of the
King of England's ministers."
As Fouche, however, persisted in his assertion, the First Consul sent to
Paris for the Grand Judge, Regnier, who showed Fouche the letter he had
received. The First Consul triumphed at first to see Fouche at fault;
but the latter so clearly proved that Georges and Pichegru were actually
in Paris that Regnier began to fear he had been misled by his agents,
whom his rival paid better than he did. The First Consul, convinced that
his old minister knew more than his new one, dismissed Regnier, and
remained a long time in consultation with Fouche, who on that occasion
said nothing about his reinstatement for fear of exciting suspicion.
He only requested that the management of the business might be entrusted
to Real, with orders to obey whatever instructions he might receive from
him. I will return hereafter to the arrest of Moreau and the other
persons accused, and will now subjoin the account of a long interview
which I had with Bonaparte in the midst of these important events.
On the 8th of March 1804, some time after the arrest but before the trial
of General Moreau, I had an audience of the First Consul, which was
unsought on my part. Bonaparte, after putting several unimportant
questions to me as to what I was doing, what I expected he should do for
me, and assuring me that he would bear me in mind, gave a sudden turn to
the conversation, and said, "By the by, the report of my connection with
Hortense is still kept up: the most abominable rumours have been spread
as to her first child. I thought at the time that these reports had only
been admitted by the public in consequence of the great desire that I
should not be childless. Since you and I separated have you heard them
repeated?"--"Yes, General, oftentimes; and I confess I could not have
believed that this calumny would have existed so long."--"It is truly
frightful to think of! You know the truth--you have seen all--heard all
--nothing could have passed without your knowledge; you were in her full
confidence during the time of her attachment to Duroc. I therefore
expect, if you should ever write anything about me, that you will clear
me from this infamous imputation. I would not have it accompany my name
to posterity. I trust in you. You have never given credit to the horrid
accusation?"--"No, General, never." Napoleon then entered into a number
of details on the previous life of Hortense; on the way in which she
conducted herself, and on the turn which her marriage had taken. "It has
not turned out," he said, "as I wished: the union has not been a happy
one. I am sorry for it, not only because both are dear to me, but
because the circumstance countenances the infamous reports that are
current among the idle as to my intimacy with her." He concluded the
conversation with these words:--"Bourrienne, I sometimes think of
recalling you; but as there is no good pretext for so doing, the world
would say that I have need of you, and I wish it to be known that I stand
in need of nobody." He again said a few words about Hortense.
I answered that it would fully coincide with my conviction of the truth
to do what he desired, and that I would do it; but that suppressing the
false reports did not depend on me.
Hortense, in fact, while she was Mademoiselle BEAUHARNAIS, regarded
Napoleon with respectful awe. She trembled when she spoke to him, and
never dared to ask him a favour. When she had anything to solicit she
applied to me; and if I experienced any difficulty in obtaining for her
what she sought, I mentioned her as the person for whom I pleaded.
"The little simpleton!" Napoleon would say, "why does she not ask me
herself: is the girl afraid of me?" Napoleon never cherished for her any
feeling but paternal tenderness. He loved her after his marriage with
her mother as he would have loved his own child. During three years I
was a witness to all their most private actions, and I declare that I
never saw or heard anything that could furnish the least ground for
suspicion, or that afforded the slightest trace of the existence of a
culpable intimacy. This calumny must be classed among those with which
malice delights to blacken the characters of men more brilliant than
their fellows, and which are so readily adopted by the light-minded and
unreflecting. I freely declare that did I entertain the smallest doubt
with regard to this odious charge, of the existence of which I was well
aware before Napoleon spoke to me on the subject, I would candidly avow
it. He is no more: and let his memory be accompanied only by that, be it
good or bad, which really belongs to it. Let not this reproach be one of
those charged against him by the impartial historian. I must say, in
concluding this delicate subject, that the principles of Napoleon on
points of this kind were rigid in the utmost degree, and that a
connection of the nature of that charged against him was neither in
accordance with his morals nor his tastes.
I cannot tell whether what followed was a portion of his premeditated
conversation with me, or whether it was the result of the satisfaction he
had derived from ascertaining my perfect conviction of the purity of his
conduct with regard to Hortense, and being assured that I would express
that conviction. Be this as it may, as I was going out at the door he
called me back, saying, "Oh! I have forgotten something." I returned.
"Bourrienne," said he, "do you still keep up your acquaintance with the
Fauchers?"--"Yes, General; I see them frequently."--"You are wrong."--
"Why should I not? They are clever, well-educated men, and exceedingly
pleasant company, especially Caesar. I derive great pleasure from their
society; and then they are almost the only persons whose friendship has
continued faithful to me since I left you. You know people do not care
for those who can render them no service."--"Maret will not see the
Fauchers."--"That may be, General; but it is nothing to me; and you must
recollect that as it was through him I was introduced to them at the
Tuileries, I think he ought to inform me of his reasons for dropping
their acquaintance."--"I tell you again he has closed his door against
them. Do you the same; I advise you." As I did not seem disposed to
follow this advice without some plausible reason, the First Consul added,
"You must know, then, that I learn from Caesar all that passes in your
house. You do not speak very ill of me yourself, nor does any one
venture to do so in your presence. You play your rubber and go to bed.
But no sooner are you gone than your wife, who never liked me, and most
of those who visit at your house, indulge in the most violent attacks
upon me. I receive a bulletin from Caesar Faucher every day when he
visits at your house; this is the way in which he requites you for your
kindness, and for the asylum you afforded his brother.--[Constantine
Rancher had been condemned in contumacy for the forgery of a public
document.--Bourrienne.]--But enough; you see I know all--farewell;" and
he left me.
The grave having closed over these two brothers,--[The Fauchers were twin
brothers, distinguished in the war of the Revolution, and made brigadier-
generals at the same time on the field of battle. After the Cent Jours
they refused to recognise the Bourbons, and were shot by sentence of
court-martial at Bordeaux. (Bouillet)]--I shall merely state that they
wrote me a letter the evening preceding their execution, in which they
begged me to forgive their conduct towards me. The following is an
extract from this letter:
In our dungeon we hear our sentence of death being cried in the streets.
To-morrow we shall walk to the scaffold; but we will meet death with such
calmness and courage as shall make our executioners blush. We are sixty
years old, therefore our lives will only be shortened by a brief apace.
During our lives we have shared in common, illness, grief, pleasure,
danger, and good fortune. We both entered the world on the same day, and
on the same day we shall both depart from it. As to you, sir....
I suppress what relates to myself.
The hour of the grand levee arrived just as the singular interview which
I have described terminated. I remained a short time to look at this
phantasmagoria. Duroc was there. As soon as he saw me he came up, and
taking me into the recess of a window told me that Moreau's guilt was
evident, and that he was about to be put on his trial. I made some
observations on the subject, and in particular asked whether there were
sufficient proofs of his guilt to justify his condemnation? "They should
be cautious," said I; "it is no joke to accuse the conqueror of
Hohenlinden." Duroc's answer satisfied me that he at least had no doubt
on the subject. "Besides," added he, "when such a general as Moreau has
been between two gendarmes he is lost, and is good for nothing more. He
will only inspire pity." In vain I tried to refute this assertion so
entirely contrary to facts, and to convince Duroc that Moreau would never
be damaged by calling him "brigand," as was the phrase then, without
proofs. Duroc persisted in his opinion. As if a political crime ever
sullied the honour of any one! The result has proved that I judged
rightly.
No person possessing the least degree of intelligence will be convinced
that the conspiracy of Moreau, Georges, Pichegru, and the other persons
accused would ever have occurred but for the secret connivance of
Fouche's police.
Moreau never for a moment desired the restoration of the Bourbons. I was
too well acquainted with M. Carbonnet, his most intimate friend, to be
ignorant of his private sentiments. It was therefore quite impossible
that he could entertain the same views as Georges, the Polignacs,
Riviera, and others; and they had no intention of committing any overt
acts. These latter persons had come to the Continent solely to
investigate the actual state of affairs, in order to inform the Princes
of the House of Bourbon with certainty how far they might depend on the
foolish hopes constantly held out to them by paltry agents, who were
always ready to advance their own interests at the expense of truth.
These agents did indeed conspire, but it was against the Treasury of
London, to which they looked for pay.
Without entering into all the details of that great trial I will relate
some facts which may assist in eliciting the truth from a chaos of
intrigue and falsehood.
Most of the conspirators had been lodged either in the Temple or La
Force, and one of them, Bouvet de Lozier, who was confined in the Temple,
attempted to hang himself. He made use of his cravat to effect his
purpose, and had nearly succeeded, when a turnkey by chance entered and
found him at the point of death. When he was recovered he acknowledged
that though he had the courage to meet death, he was unable to endure the
interrogatories of his trial, and that he had determined to kill himself,
lest he might be induced to make a confession. He did in fact confess,
and it was on the day after this occurred that Moreau was arrested, while
on his way from his country-seat of Grosbois to Paris.
Fouche, through the medium of his agents, had given Pichegru, Georges,
and some other partisans of royalty, to understand that they might depend
on Moreau, who, it was said, was quite prepared. It is certain that
Moreau informed Pichegru that he (Pichegru) had been deceived, and that
he had never been spoken to on the subject. Russillon declared on the
trial that on the 14th of March the Polignacs said to some one,
"Everything is going wrong--they do not understand each other. Moreau
does not keep his word. We have been deceived." M. de Riviera declared
that he soon became convinced they had been deceived, and was about to
return to England when he was arrested. It is certain that the principal
conspirators obtained positive information which confirmed their
suspicions. They learned Moreau's declaration from Pichegru. Many of
the accused declared that they soon discovered they had been deceived;
and the greater part of them were about to quit Paris, when they were all
arrested, almost at one and the same moment. Georges was going into La
Vendee when he was betrayed by the man who, with the connivance of the
police, had escorted him ever since his departure from London, and who
had protected him from any interruption on the part of the police so long
as it was only necessary to know where he was, or what he was about.
Georges had been in Paris seven months before it was considered that the
proper moment had arrived for arresting him.
The almost simultaneous arrest of the conspirators proves clearly that
the police knew perfectly well where they could lay their hands upon
them.
When Pichegru was required to sign his examination he refused. He said
it was unnecessary; that, knowing all the secret machinery of the police,
he suspected that by some chemical process they would erase all the
writing except the signature, and afterwards fill up the paper with
statements which he had never made. His refusal to sign the
interrogatory, he added, would not prevent him from repeating before a
court of justice the truth which he had stated in answer to the questions
proposed to him. Fear was entertained of the disclosures he might make
respecting his connection with Moreau, whose destruction was sought for,
and also with respect to the means employed by the agents of Fouche to
urge the conspirators to effect a change which they desired.
On the evening of the 15th of February I heard of Moreau's arrest, and
early next morning I proceeded straight to the Rue St. Pierre, where
M. Carbonnet resided with his nephew. I was anxious to hear from him the
particulars of the general's arrest. What was my surprise! I had hardly
time to address myself to the porter before he informed me that
M. Carbonnet and his nephew were both arrested. "I advise you, sir,"
added the man, "to retire without more ado, for I can assure you that the
persons who visit M. Carbonnet are watched."--"Is he still at home?"
said I. "Yes, Sir; they are examining his papers."--" Then," said I,
"I will go up." M. Carbonnet, of whose friendship I had reason to be
proud, and whose memory will ever be dear to me, was more distressed by
the arrest of his nephew and Moreau than by his own. His nephew was,
however, liberated after a few hours. M. Carbonnet's papers were sealed
up, and he was placed in solitary confinement at St. Pelagic.
Thus the police, who previously knew nothing, were suddenly informed of
all. In spite of the numerous police agents scattered over France, it
was only discovered by the declarations of Bouvet de Lozier that three
successive landings had been effected, and that a fourth was expected,
which, however, did not take place, because General Savary was despatched
by the First Consul with orders to seize the persons whose arrival was
looked for. There cannot be a more convincing proof of the fidelity of
the agents of the police to their old chief, and their combined
determination of trifling with their new one,