1804.
General Ordener's mission--Arrest of the Due d'Enghien--Horrible
night-scene---Harrel's account of the death of the Prince--Order for
digging the grave--The foster-sister of the Duo d'Enghien--Reading
the sentence--The lantern--General Savary--The faithful dog and the
police--My visit to Malmaison--Josephine's grief--
The Duc d'Enghien's portrait and lock of hair--Savary's emotion--
M. de Chateaubriand's resignation--M. de Chatenubriand's connection
with Bonaparte--Madame Bacciocchi and M. de Fontanes--Cardinal Fesch
--Dedication of the second edition of the 'Genie du Christianisme'
--M. de Chateaubriand's visit to the First Consul on the morning of
the Due d'Enghien's death--Consequences of the Duo d'Enghien's
death--Change of opinion in the provinces--The Gentry of the
Chateaus--Effect of the Due d'Enghien's death on foreign Courts--
Remarkable words of Mr. Pitt--Louis XVIII. sends back the insignia
of the Golden Fleece to the King of Spain.
I will now narrate more fully the sanguinary scene which took place at
Vincennes. General Ordener, commanding the mounted grenadiers of the
Guard, received orders from the War Minister to proceed to the Rhine, to
give instructions to the chiefs of the gendarmerie of New Brissac, which
was placed at his disposal. General Ordener sent a detachment of
gendarmerie to Ettenheim, where the Due d'Enghien was arrested on the
15th of March. He was immediately conducted to the citadel of Strasburg,
where he remained till the 18th, to give time for the arrival of orders
from Paris. These orders were given rapidly, and executed promptly, for
the carriage which conveyed the unfortunate Prince arrived at the barrier
at eleven o'clock on the morning of the 20th, where it remained for five
hours, and afterwards proceeded by the exterior boulevards on the road to
Vincennes, where it arrived at night. Every scene of this horrible drama
was acted under the veil of night: the sun did not even shine upon its
tragical close. The soldiers received orders to proceed to Vincennes at
night. It was at night that the fatal gates of the fortress were closed
upon the Prince. At night the Council assembled and tried him, or rather
condemned him without trial. When the clock struck six in the morning
the orders were given to fire, and the Prince ceased to exist.
Here a reflection occurs to me. Supposing one were inclined to admit
that the Council held on the 10th of March had some connection with the
Due d'Enghien's arrest, yet as no Council was held from the time of the
Duke's arrival at the barrier to the moment of his execution, it could
only be Bonaparte himself who issued the orders which were too punctually
obeyed. When the dreadful intelligence of the Duc d'Enghien's death was
spread in Paris it excited a feeling of consternation which recalled the
recollection of the Reign of Terror. Could Bonaparte have seen the gloom
which pervaded Paris, and compared it with the joy which prevailed on the
day when he returned victorious from the field of Marengo, he would have
felt that he had tarnished his glory by a stain which could never be
effaced.
About half-past twelve on the 22d of March I was informed that some one
wished to speak with me. It was Harrel.
--[Harrel, who had been unemployed till the plot of Arena and
Ceracchi on the 18th Vendemiairean IX (10th October 1800) which he
had feigned to join, and had then revealed to the police (see ante),
had been made Governor of Vincennes.]--
I will relate word for word what he communicated to me. Harrel probably
thought that he was bound in gratitude to acquaint me with these details;
but he owed me no gratitude, for it was much against my will that he had
encouraged the conspiracy of Ceracchi, and received the reward of his
treachery in that crime. The following is Harrel's statement:--
"On the evening of the day before yesterday, when the Prince arrived,
I was asked whether I had a room to lodge a prisoner in; I replied, No--
that there were only my apartments and the Council-chamber. I was told
to prepare instantly a room in which a prisoner could sleep who was to
arrive that evening. I was also desired to dig a pit in the courtyard.
--[This fact must be noted. Harrel is told to dig a trench before
the sentence. Thus it was known that they had come to kill the Duc
d'Enghien. How can this be answered? Can it possibly be supposed
that anyone, whoever it was, would have dared to give each an order
in anticipation if the order had not been the carrying out of a
formal command of Bonaparte? That is incredible.--Bourrienne.]--
"I replied that that could not be easily done, as the courtyard was paved.
The moat was then fixed upon, and there the pit was dug. The Prince
arrived at seven o'clock in the evening; he was perishing with cold and
hunger. He did not appear dispirited. He said he wanted something to
eat, and to go to bed afterwards. His apartment not being yet
sufficiently aired, I took him into my own, and sent into the village for
some refreshment. The Prince sat down to table, and invited me to eat
with him. He then asked me a number of questions respecting Vincennes--
what was going on there, and other particulars. He told me that he had
been brought up in the neighbourhood of the castle, and spoke to me with
great freedom and kindness. 'What do they want with me?' he said. What
do they mean to do with me?' But these questions betrayed no uneasiness
or anxiety. My wife, who was ill, was lying in the same room in an
alcove, closed by a railing. She heard, without being perceived, all our
conversation, and she was exceedingly agitated, for she recognised the
Prince, whose foster-sister she was, and whose family had given her a
pension before the Revolution.
"The Prince hastened to bed, but before he could have fallen asleep the
judges sent to request his presence in the Council-chamber. I was not
present at his examination; but when it was concluded he returned to his
chamber, and when they came to read his sentence to him he was in a
profound sleep. In a few moments after he was led out for execution.
He had so little suspicion of the fate that awaited him that on
descending the staircase leading to the moat he asked where they were
taking him. He received no answer. I went before the Prince with a
lantern. Feeling the cold air which came up the staircase he pressed my
arm and said, 'Are they going to put me into a dungeon?'"
The rest is known. I can yet see Harrel shuddering while thinking of
this action of the Prince's.
Much has been said about a lantern which it is pretended was attached to
one of the Due d'Enghien's button-holes. This is a pure invention.
Captain Dautancourt, whose sight was not very good, took the lantern out
of Harrel's hand to read the sentence to the victim, who had been
condemned with as little regard to judicial forms as to justice. This
circumstance probably gave rise to the story about the lantern to which I
have just alluded. The fatal event took place at six o'clock on the
morning of the 21st of March, and it was then daylight.
General Savary did not dare to delay the execution of the sentence,
although the Prince urgently demanded to have an interview with the First
Consul. Had Bonaparte seen the prince there can be little doubt but that
he would have saved his life. Savary, however, thought himself bound to
sacrifice his own opinions to the powerful faction which then controlled
the First Consul; and whilst he thought he was serving his master, he was
in fact only serving the faction to which, I must say, he did not belong.
The truth is, that General Savary can only be reproached for not having
taken upon himself to suspend the execution, which very probably would
not have taken place had it been suspended. He was merely an instrument,
and regret on his part would, perhaps, have told more in his favour than
his vain efforts to justify Bonaparte. I have just said that if there
had been any suspension there would have been no execution; and I think
this is almost proved by the uncertainty which must have existed in the
mind of the First Consul. If he had made up his mind all the measures
would have been taken in advance, and if they had been, the carriage of
the Duke would certainly not have been kept for five hours at the
barriers. Besides, it is certain that the first intention was to take
the Prince to the prison of the Temple.
From all that I have stated, and particularly from the non-suspension of
the execution, it appears to me as clear as day that General Savary had
received a formal order from Bonaparte for the Due d'Enghien's death, and
also a formal order that it should be so managed as to make it impossible
to speak to Bonaparte again on the subject until all should be over. Can
there be a more evident, a more direct proof of this than the digging of
the grave beforehand? I have repeated Harrel's story just as he related
it to me. He told it me without solicitation, and he could not invent a
circumstance of this nature.
General Savary was not in the moat during the execution, but on the bank,
from whence he could easily see all that passed. Another circumstance
connected with the Due d'Enghien's death has been mentioned, which is
true. The Prince had a little dog; this faithful animal returned
incessantly to the fatal spot in the moat. There are few who have not
seen that spot. Who has not made a pilgrimage to Vincennes and dropped a
tear where the victim fell? The fidelity of the poor dog excited so much
interest that the police prevented any one from visiting the fatal spot,
and the dog was no longer heard to howl over his master's grave.
I promised to state the truth respecting the death of the Due d'Enghien,
and I have done so, though it has cost me some pain. Harrel's narrative,
and the shocking circumstance of the grave being dug beforehand, left me
no opportunity of cherishing any doubts I might have wished to entertain;
and everything which followed confirmed the view I then took of the
subject. When Harrel left me on the 22d I determined to go to Malmaison
to see Madame Bonaparte, knowing, from her sentiments towards the House
of Bourbon, that she would be in the greatest affliction. I had
previously sent to know whether it would be convenient for her to see me,
a precaution I had never before observed, but which I conceived to be
proper upon that occasion. On my arrival I was immediately introduced to
her boudoir, where she was alone with Hortense and Madame de Remusat.
They were all deeply afflicted. "Bourrienne," exclaimed Josephine,
as soon as she perceived me, "what a dreadful event! Did you but know
the state of mind Bonaparte is in! He avoids, he dreads the presence of
every one! Who could have suggested to him such an act as this?"
I then acquainted Josephine with the particulars which I had received
from Harrel. "What barbarity!" she resumed. "But no reproach can rest
upon me, for I did everything to dissuade him from this dreadful project.
He did not confide the secret to me, but I guessed it, and he
acknowledged all. How harshly he repelled my entreaties! I clung to
him! I threw myself at his feet! 'Meddle with what concerns you!'
he exclaimed angrily. 'This is not women's business! Leave me!' And he
repulsed me with a violence which be had never displayed since our first
interview after your return from Egypt. Heavens! what will become of
us?"
I could say nothing to calm affliction and alarm in which I participated,
for to my grief for the death of the Due d'Enghien was added my regret
that Bonaparte should be capable of such a crime. "What," said
Josephine, "can be thought of this in Paris? He must be the object of
universal, imprecation, for even here his flatterers appear astounded
when they are out of his presence. How wretched we have been since
yesterday; and he!.... You know what he is when be is dissatisfied with
himself. No one dare speak to him, and all is mournful around us. What
a commission he gave to Savary! You know I do not like the general,
because he is one of those whose flatteries will contribute to ruin
Bonaparte. Well! I pitied Savary when he came yesterday to fulfil a
commission which the Due d'Enghien had entrusted to him. Here," added
Josephine, "is his portrait and a lock of his hair, which he has
requested me to transmit to one who was dear to him. Savary almost shed
tears when he described to me the last moments of the Duke; then,
endeavouring to resume his self-possession, he said: 'It is in vain to
try to be indifferent, Madame! It is impossible to witness the death of
such a man unmoved!'"
Josephine afterwards informed me of the only act of courage which
occurred at this period--namely, the resignation which M. de
Chateaubriand had sent to Bonaparte. She admired his conduct greatly,
and said: "What a pity he is not surrounded by men of this description!
It would be the means of preventing all the errors into which he is led
by the constant approbation of those about him." Josephine thanked me
for my attention in coming to see her at such an unhappy juncture; and I
confess that it required all the regard I cherished for her to induce me
to do so, for at that moment I should not have wished to see the First
Consul, since the evil was irreparable. On the evening of that day
nothing was spoken of but the transaction of the 21st of March, and the
noble conduct of M. de Chateaubriand. As the name of that celebrated man
is for ever written in characters of honour in the history of that
period, I think I may with propriety relate here what I know respecting
his previous connection with Bonaparte.
I do not recollect the precise date of M. de Chateaubriand's return to
France; I only know that it was about the year 1800, for we were,
I think, still at the Luxembourg: However, I recollect perfectly that
Bonaparte began to conceive prejudices against him; and when I one day
expressed my surprise to the First Consul that M. de Chateaubriand's name
did not appear on any of the lists which he had ordered to be presented
to him for filling up vacant places, he said: "He has been mentioned to
me, but I replied in a way to check all hopes of his obtaining any
appointment. He has notions of liberty and independence which will not
suit my system. I would rather have him my enemy than my forced friend.
At all events, he must wait awhile; I may, perhaps, try him first in a
secondary place, and, if he does well, I may advance him."
The above is, word for word, what Bonaparte said the: first time I
conversed with him about M. de Chateaubriand. The publication of 'Atala'
and the 'Genie du Christianisme' suddenly gave Chateaubriand celebrity,
and attracted the attention of the First Consul. Bonaparte who then
meditated the restoration of religious worship: in France, found himself
wonderfully supported by the publication of a book which excited the
highest interest, and whose superior merit led the public mind to the
consideration of religious topics. I remember Madame Bacciocchi coming
one day to visit her brother with a little volume in her hand; it was
'Atala'. She presented it to the First Consul, and begged he would read
it. "What, more romances!" exclaimed he. "Do you think I have time to
read all your fooleries?" He, however, took the book from his sister and
laid it down on my desk. Madame Bacciocchi then solicited the erasure of
M. de Chateaubriand's name from the list of emigrants. "Oh! oh!" said
Bonaparte, "it is Chateaubriand's book, is it? I will read it, then.
Bourrienne, write to Fouche to erase his name from the list."
Bonaparte, at that time paid so little attention to what was doing in the
literary world that he was not aware of Chateaubriand being the author of
'Atala'. It was on the recommendation of M. de Fontanel that Madame
Bacciocchi tried this experiment, which was attended by complete success.
The First Consul read 'Atala', and was much pleased with it. On the
publication of the 'Genie du Christianisme' some time after, his first
prejudices were wholly removed. Among the persons about him there were
many who dreaded to see a man of de Chateaubriand's talent approach the
First Consul, who knew how to appreciate superior merit when it did not
exite his envy.
Our relations with the Court of the Vatican being renewed, and Cardinal
Fesch appointed Ambassador to the Holy See, Bonaparte conceived the idea
of making M. de Chateaubriand first secretary to the Embassy, thinking
that the author of the 'Genie du Christianisme' was peculiarly fitted to
make up for his uncle's deficiency of talent in the capital of the
Christian world, which was destined to become the second city of the
Empire.
It was not a little extraordinary to let a man, previously, a stranger to
diplomatic business; stepping over all the intermediate degrees; and
being at once invested with the functions of first secretary to an
important Embassy. I oftener than once heard the First Consul
congratulate himself on having made the appointment. I knew, though
Bonaparte was not aware of the circumstance at the time, that
Chateaubriand at first refused the situation, and that he was only
induced to accept it by the entreaties of the head of the clergy,
particularly of the Abby Emery, a man of great influence. They
represented to the author of the' Genie du Christianisme that it was
necessary he should accompany the uncle of the First Consul to Rome; and
M. de Chateaubriand accordingly resolved to do so.
However, clouds, gathered; I do not know from what cause, between the
ambassador and his secretary. All I know is, that on Bonaparte being
informed of the circumstance he took the part of the Cardinal, and the
friends of M. de Chateaubriand expected to see him soon deprived of his
appointment, when, to the great astonishment of every one, the secretary
to the Roman Embassy, far from being disgraced, was raised by the First
Consul to the rank of Minister Plenipotentiary to the Valais, with leave
to travel in Switzerland and Italy, together with the promise of the
first vacant Embassy.
This favour excited a considerable sensation at the Tuileries; but as it
was known to be the will and pleasure of the First Consul all expression
of opinion on the subject was confined to a few quiet murmurs that
Bonaparte had done for the name of Chateaubriand what, in fact, he had
done only on account of his talent. It was during the continuance of
this favour that the second edition of the 'Genie du Christianisme' was
dedicated to the First Consul.
M. de Chateaubriand returned to France previously to entering on the
fulfilment of his new mission. He remained for some months in Paris, and
on the day appointed for his departure he went to take leave of the First
Consul. By a singular chance it happened to be the fatal morning of the
21st of March, and consequently only a few hours after the Duc d'Enghien
had been shot. It is unnecessary to observe that M. de Chateaubriand was
ignorant of the fatal event. However, on his return home he said to his
friends that he had remarked a singular change in the appearance of the
First Consul, and that there was a sort of sinister expression in his
countenance. Bonaparte saw his new minister amidst the crowd who
attended the audience, and several times seemed inclined to step forward
to speak to him, but as often turned away, and did not approach him the
whole morning. A few hours after, when M. de Chatenubriand mentioned his
observations to some of his friends; he was made acquainted with the
cause of that agitation which, in spite of all his strength of mind and
self-command, Bonaparte could not disguise.
M. de Chateaubriand instantly resigned his appointment of Minister
Plenipotentiary to the Valais. For several days his friends were much
alarmed for his safety, and they called every morning early to ascertain
whether he had not been carried off during the night. Their fears were
not without foundation. I must confess that I, who knew Bonaparte well,
was somewhat surprised that no serious consequence attended the anger he
manifested on receiving the resignation of the man who had dedicated his
work to him. In fact, there was good reason for apprehension, and it was
not without considerable difficulty that Elisa succeeded in averting the
threatened storm. From this time began a state of hostility between
Bonaparte and Chateaubriand which only terminated at the Restoration.
I am persuaded, from my knowledge of Bonaparte's character, that though
he retained implacable resentment against a returned emigrant who had
dared to censure his conduct in so positive a manner, yet, his first
burst of anger being soothed, that which was the cause of hatred was at
the same time the ground of esteem. Bonaparte's animosity was,
I confess, very natural, for he could not disguise from himself the real
meaning of a resignation made under such circumstances. It said plainly,
"You have committed a crime, and I will not serve your Government, which
is stained with the blood of a Bourbon!" I can therefore very well
imagine that Bonaparte could never pardon the only man who dared to give
him such a lesson in the midst of the plenitude of his power. But, as I
have often had occasion to remark, there was no unison between
Bonaparte's feelings and his judgment.
I find a fresh proof of this in the following passage, which he dictated
to M. de Montholon at St. Helena (Memoires, tome iv. p 248). "If," said
he, "the royal confidence had not been placed in men whose minds were
unstrung by too important circumstances, or who, renegade to their
country, saw no safety or glory for their master's throne except under
the yoke of the Holy Alliance; if the Duc de Richelieu, whose ambition
was to deliver his country from the presence of foreign bayonets; if
Chateaubriand, who had just rendered valuable services at Ghent; if they
had had the direction of affairs, France would have emerged from these
two great national crises powerful and redoubtable. Chateaubriand had
received from Nature the sacred fire-his works show it! His style is not
that of Racine but of a prophet. Only he could have said with impunity
in the chamber of peers, 'that the redingote and cocked hat of Napoleon,
put on a stick on the coast of Brest, would make all Europe run to
arms.'"
The immediate consequences of the Duc d'Enghien's death were not confined
to the general consternation which that unjustifiable stroke of state
policy produced in the capital. The news spread rapidly through the
provinces and foreign countries, and was everywhere accompanied by
astonishment and sorrow. There is in the departments a separate class of
society, possessing great influence, and constituted entirely of persons
usually called the "Gentry of the Chateaux," who may be said to form the
provincial Faubourg St. Germain, and who were overwhelmed by the news.
The opinion of the Gentry of the Chateaux was not hitherto unfavourable
to the First Consul, for the law of hostages which he repealed had been
felt very severely by them. With the exception of some families
accustomed to consider themselves, in relation to the whole world, what
they were only within the circle of a couple of leagues; that is to say,
illustrious personages, all the inhabitants of the provinces, though they
might retain some attachment to the ancient order of things, had viewed
with satisfaction the substitution of the Consular for the Directorial
government, and entertained no personal dislike to the First Consul.
Among the Chateaux, more than anywhere else, it had always been the
custom to cherish Utopian ideas respecting the management of public
affairs, and to criticise the acts of the Government. It is well known
that at this time there was not in all France a single old mansion
surmounted by its two weathercocks which had not a systems of policy
peculiar to itself, and in which the question whether the First Consul
would play the part of Cromwell or Monk was not frequently canvassed.
In those innocent controversies the little news which the Paris papers
were allowed to publish was freely discussed, and a confidential letter
from Paris sometimes furnished food for the conversation of a whole week.
While I was with Bonaparte he often talked to me about the life in the
Chateaux, which he considered as the happiest for men with sufficient
income and exempt from ambition. He knew and could appreciate this sort
of life, for he often told me the period of his life which he remembered.
with the greatest pleasure was that which he had passed in a Chateau of
the family of Boulat du Colombier near Valence. Bonaparte set great
value on the opinion of the Chateaux, because while living in the country
he had observed the moral influence which their inhabitants exercise over
their neighbourhood. He had succeeded to a great degree in conciliating
them, but the news of the death of the Due d'Enghien alienated from him
minds which were still wavering, and even those which had already
declared in his favour. That act of tyranny dissolved the charm which
had created hope from his government and awakened affections which had as
yet only slumbered. Those to whom this event was almost indifferent also
joined in condemning it; for there are certain aristocratic ideas which
are always fashionable in a certain class of society. Thus for different
causes this atrocity gave a retrograde direction to public opinion, which
had previously been favourably disposed to Bonaparte throughout the whole
of France.
The consequences were not less important, and might have been disastrous
with respect to foreign Courts. I learned, through a channel which does
not permit me to entertain any doubt of the correctness of my
information, that as soon as the Emperor Alexander received the news it
became clear that England might conceive a well-founded hope of forming a
new coalition against France. Alexander openly expressed his
indignation. I also learned with equal certainty that when Mr. Pitt was
informed of the death of the French Prince he said, "Bonaparte has now
done himself more mischief than we have done him since the last
declaration of war."
--[The remark made on this murder by the astute cold-blooded Fouche
is well known. He said, "It was worse than a crime--it was a
blunder!"--Editor of 1836 Edition.]--
Pitt was not the man to feel much concern for the death of any one; but
he understood and seized all the advantages afforded to him by this great
error of policy committed by the most formidable enemy of England. In
all the Treasury journals published in London Bonaparte was never spoken
of under any other name than that of the "assassin of the Duc d'Enghien."
The inert policy of the Cabinet of Vienna prevented the manifestation of
its displeasure by remonstrances, or by any outward act. At Berlin, in
consequence of the neighbourhood of the French troops in Hanover, the
commiseration for the death of the Due d'Enghien was also confined to the
King's cabinet, and more particularly to the salons of the Queen of
Prussia; but it is certain that that transaction almost everywhere
changed the disposition of sovereigns towards the First Consul, and that
if it did not cause, it at least hastened the success of the negotiations
which England was secretly carrying on with Austria and Prussia. Every
Prince of Germany was offended by the violation of the Grand Duke of
Baden's territory, and the death of a Prince could not fail everywhere to
irritate that kind of sympathy of blood and of race which had hitherto
always influenced the crowned heads and sovereign families of Europe; for
it was felt as an injury to all of them.
When Louis XVIII. learned the death of the Due d'Enghien he wrote to the
King of Spain, returning him the insignia of the Order of the Golden
Fleece (which had also been conferred on Bonaparte), with the
accompanying letter:
SIRE, MONSIEUR, AND DEAR COUSIN--It is with regret that I send back
to you the insignia of the Order of the Golden Fleece which his
Majesty, your father, of glorious memory conferred upon me. There
can be nothing in common between me and the great criminal whom
audacity and fortune have placed on my throne, since he has had the
barbarity to stain himself with the blood of a Bourbon, the Duc
d'Enghien.
Religion might make me pardon an assassin, but the tyrant of my
people must always be my enemy.
In the present age it is more glorious to merit a sceptre than to
possess one.
Providence, for incomprehensible reasons, may condemn me to end my
days in exile, but neither my contemporaries nor posterity shall
ever have to say, that in the period of adversity I showed my self
unworthy of occupying the throne of my ancestors.
LOUIS
The death of the Due d'Enghien was a horrible episode in the proceedings
of the great trial which was then preparing, and which was speedily
followed by the accession of Bonaparte to the Imperial dignity. It was
not one of the least remarkable anomalies of the epoch to see the
judgment by which criminal enterprises against the Republic were
condemned pronounced in the name of the Emperor who had so evidently
destroyed that Republic. This anomaly certainly was not removed by the
subtlety, by the aid of which he at first declared himself Emperor of the
Republic, as a preliminary to his proclaiming himself Emperor of the
French. Setting aside the means, it must be acknowledged that it is
impossible not to admire the genius of Bonaparte, his tenacity in
advancing towards his object, and that adroit employment of suppleness
and audacity which made him sometimes dare fortune, sometimes avoid
difficulties which he found insurmountable, to arrive, not merely at the
throne of Louis XVI., but at the reconstructed throne of Charlemagne.