“1st.—Longwood, with the road by Hut’s Gate, along the hill, as far as
the signal-post near Alarm-House, are to be fixed as boundaries.“
OBSERVATION. Sir Hudson Lowe’s predecessor had extended the boundary
line to the summits of the hills; but in about a fortnight, he perceived
that, by removing the sentinels to a little further distance, the house
and garden of Secretary-general Brook would be included within the
boundaries, and he immediately gave orders for the change.
At about forty fathoms from the road-side is Corbett’s garden, which
contains about eight or ten oak trees and a fountain; thus affording a
cool and agreeable shade.[32] According to the new restrictions, which
confined him to the high-road, a line is substituted for a surface, and
the secretary’s house and Corbett’s garden are excluded from the
boundaries.
Footnote 32:
In the very spot here described by Napoleon is his grave.
“2d.—Sentinels will mark the boundary lines, which nobody must pass to
approach the house or grounds of Longwood, without the Governor’s
permission.”
OBSERVATION. By the regulations which were first laid down, respecting
our establishment at St. Helena, and which were approved by the English
Governor, persons were admitted to Longwood in the following manner: The
Governor, the Admiral, the Colonel commanding the regiment and the camp,
the two members of the East India Company’s Council, and the
Secretary-general, who were the persons highest in authority on the
island, might pass the line of sentinels without any order or permission
whatever. The inhabitants of the Island were required to have a pass
from the Governor; naval men to be furnished with one from their
Admiral, and military with one from their colonel; and finally, the
inhabitants, sailors, and officers might all come to Longwood by the
permission of Count Bertrand, when the Emperor wished to receive them.
This arrangement, which continued for eight months, was attended by no
inconvenience. By the present regulation (which has been in force since
the month of August, though it was not formally communicated to us until
we were furnished with the list of new restrictions,) we may be said to
be kept in solitary confinement, and cut off from all intercourse with
the inhabitants. The latter, the officers and seamen are all equally
averse to the idea of being obliged to solicit the Governor’s permission
to visit Longwood, and to subject themselves to an interrogatory
respecting the motive of their visit. Strangers, whether civil or
military, officers, touching at St. Helena on their passage from India,
and who might be desirous of seeing the Emperor, usually applied to
Count Bertrand, who appointed the day and the hour when they would be
received. During their stay in the island they were regarded as
citizens, and with the permission of Count Bertrand, they might when
they pleased visit Longwood; and it may once more be observed that this
arrangement subsisted for eight months without being attended by any
inconvenience. If any strangers touching at the island might excite the
suspicion of the Governor, he could prevent them from landing, or
passing the first post. Finally, the Governor, by the report of the
sentinels, was daily made acquainted with the names of the persons who
visited Longwood. But in the month of August, the Governor sought to
impose on us the obligation of receiving strangers, to whom he wished to
render himself agreeable, and also of receiving them at the time he
might think proper to appoint. This was putting the finishing stroke to
all his offensive conduct! To put a stop to all these insults, the
Emperor found himself obliged to declare that he would in future receive
no one.
“3d.—The road to the left of Hut’s Gate, which turns off by Woodridge to
Longwood, never having been frequented by General Bonaparte since the
arrival of the Governor, the post by which it was observed, will be in a
great measure withdrawn. But whenever the General may wish to ride on
horseback in this direction, on giving timely notice to the officer he
will experience no obstacle.“
OBSERVATION.—In the first observation it was proved that the limits had
been contracted in this quarter; and, by this third article, they are
still more circumscribed. To say that the valley has not been frequented
for six months is a strange reason for adopting this decision. It is
certainly true that Napoleon has for several months declined going out,
in consequence of the harassing conduct of the Governor; but it must
also be observed that one part of the valley is not accessible in rainy
weather, and that in the other part a camp has been formed. Yet Lord
Bathurst stated, in his speech in Parliament, that “this road had been
prohibited, when it was found that he (General Bonaparte) had abused the
confidence which had been reposed in him, and had endeavoured to corrupt
the inhabitants of the island.” But here Lord Bathurst contradicts Sir
Hudson Lowe. The offer of permission to ride in the valley, whenever it
may be wished, is a mere pretence; the forms prescribed for the
attainment of this permission render it impossible. This offer never has
been, and never can be, fulfilled. The ride in the valley being thus
prohibited, it has become impossible to visit Miss Mason’s garden, in
which there are some large trees which afford agreeable shade. Within
the boundaries to which the captives are now restricted, there is not a
single spot in which they can enjoy the sight of trees or water:
sentinels are posted at different distances throughout the boundaries;
and, under the pretence of misunderstanding in the orders, &c., any
individual may be arrested. This has frequently happened to the French
officers.
“4th. If he (General Bonaparte) should wish to prolong his ride in any
other directions, an officer of the Governor’s staff (if he receives
timely notice) will be in readiness to attend him. If the notice should
be short, the officer on duty at Longwood may take the place of the
staff-officer.
“The inspecting officer has orders not to approach General Bonaparte, at
least unless he be asked for; and not to watch him in his rides, except
so far as his duty requires; that is to say, he must observe that the
established rules are not violated; and if they should be transgressed,
he must intimate the circumstance in a respectful way”
OBSERVATION. This regulation is useless. The Emperor will not go out so
long as he sees there is a wish to subject him to direct and public
inspection. Besides, the staff-officers have orders to report all that
the French may say when in conversation with them. This affords
opportunities for calumny. Several English officers have refused to act
this dishonourable part, declaring that they would not degrade
themselves to the level of spies, and repeat the conversations that may
take place in the unguarded confidence of a ride or walk.
“5th. The rules already in force, for preventing communications with any
one whatever, without the Governor’s permission, must be strictly
enforced. Consequently, it is requisite that General Bonaparte should
abstain from entering into any conversation (except such as the
interchange of customary salutations may demand) with the persons whom
he may happen to meet, unless it be in the presence of an English
officer.“
OBSERVATION.—Hitherto this extremity of insult had been avoided. The
Emperor does not acknowledge, either in the Governor or his agents, the
right of imposing any restrictions on him. But what is the object of
this article? To insult and degrade the character of the captives!—to
give rise to disputes between them and the sentinels. To prohibit them
from speaking to any one, or entering any house, is, in fact, a moral
annulment of the circuit allowed them. This is so extraordinary that we
are now actually induced to believe, what many persons have already
suspected, that Sir Hudson Lowe is occasionally subject to fits of
lunacy.
“6th.—Those persons who, with the consent of General Bonaparte, may
receive the Governor’s permission to visit him, must not communicate
with any individual of his suite, unless a permission to that effect be
specially expressed.”
OBSERVATION.—This is useless; for nobody has been received since the
present Governor abolished the regulations which were established by his
predecessor. However, the consequence of this restriction is that, if
Napoleon should receive a stranger, as none of his officers can be
present, and none of his servants in attendance, he would be reduced to
the necessity of opening the doors himself. Besides, as the Emperor does
not understand English, it follows, if the individual admitted to him
should not speak French, that they must both remain mute, and thus the
interview would be reduced to a mere exhibition.
“7th.—At sunset, the garden round Longwood is to be regarded as the
extent of the boundaries. At that time sentinels will be posted at the
limits of the garden; but so as not to incommode General Bonaparte by
observing his motions, should he wish to continue his walks. During the
night, sentinels will be stationed close to the house, as they formerly
were; and all admission must be prohibited until the sentinels are
withdrawn from the house and garden on the following morning.”
OBSERVATION.—During the excessively hot season, the only time when it is
possible to walk is after sun-set. In order to avoid meeting the
sentinels, the Emperor finds it necessary to return to the house while
it is still broad day-light; though the heat of the sun has rendered it
impossible for him to go out during the day, as the grounds round
Longwood are without shade, water, or verdure. According to this new
restriction, the Emperor cannot enjoy a walk in the evening; while he is
likewise deprived of the exercise of riding on horseback. He is confined
in a small house, in all respects insufficient for his accommodation,
badly built, unwholesomely situated, and without a supply of water; and,
in addition to all this, every opportunity is taken to expose him to
insult and disrespect. His constitution, though naturally robust, is
very much enfeebled by the treatment he experiences.
“8th.—Every letter for Longwood will be enclosed by the Governor in a
sealed envelope, and forwarded to the officer on duty, to be delivered,
sealed, to the officer of General Bonaparte’s suite to whom it is
addressed, who by this means will be assured that nobody except the
Governor knows its contents.
“In like manner, letters from any of the residents of Longwood must be
delivered to the officer on duty, enclosed in a second sealed envelope
and addressed to the Governor, which will be a security that no
individual except the latter can peruse its contents.
“No letter can be written or sent, and no communication of any kind
whatever can be made, except in the manner above mentioned. No
correspondence can be maintained with any individual in the island,
except for the necessary communications to the purveyor. The notes
containing these communications must be delivered open to the officer on
duty, who will forward them to the proper quarter.
“The above-mentioned restrictions will be observed from the date of the
10th inst.
“H. LOWE.“
“_St. Helena, October 9th, 1816._“
OBSERVATION.—This last restriction has no reference to the Emperor, who
neither writes nor receives letters. A simple explanation is, therefore,
all that is required. Will the observations that may be contained in the
confidential letters from the Emperor’s officers to their friends be
regarded as offensive? When those who may read these letters shall be
convinced that they are in no way hostile to the safety or policy of the
state, will they forget their contents, so that they may never become
the subject of conversation or abuse? This explanation will decide
whether all correspondence is, or is not, to be considered as
prohibited. The seizure of the person of Count Las Cases completely
justifies this observation.
The object of the 8th article of the restrictions, as the inquisitorial
system established on the island sufficiently proves, is to prevent the
European journals from giving publicity to the criminal conduct that is
pursued here. A vast deal of trouble is taken to secure this object: it
would have been far easier to have acted in such a way as to render
concealment unnecessary. A letter addressed to Count Bertrand, dated the
1st of July, 1816, goes to still greater lengths; for it prohibits even
verbal communications with the inhabitants of the island. This is the
delirium of fury and hatred; or rather, it may be said to be a proof of
downright madness. The regulation here alluded to is but a trifling
example of the vexations to which we are exposed, and the invention of
which seems to be the sole occupation of the present Governor. Can Lord
Bathurst now affirm that Sir H. Lowe has imposed no restriction; that
the instructions of the English ministry were of a nature advantageous
to Napoleon and his suite, and had no other object than that of securing
their safe custody? In consequence of this absurd and insulting
treatment, the Emperor has not enjoyed exercise without doors for
several months. His medical attendants foresee that this confinement
will prove fatal to his constitution. It is a more certain, and far more
inhuman, mode of assassination, than poison or the sword. [What a
horrible prophecy!]
ANXIETY OCCASIONED BY THE NEW RESTRICTIONS.—ANECDOTES OF
CAMPO-FORMIO.—MM. DE COBENTZEL, GALLO, AND CLARKE.—THE COUNT
D’ANTRAIGUES.
10th.—This morning we had agreed to meet together at the Grand
Marshal’s, to deliberate on the restrictions which the Governor had
recently transmitted to us, and to adopt a uniform resolution. I was
unwell, and could not attend. I, however, wrote down my opinion: I
stated that in the delicate situation in which I was placed I could do
nothing; I could arrive at no positive conclusion; I always found 0—0.
The point in question was, indeed, of the most serious and difficult
nature. We were required to subject ourselves to new restrictions, to
place ourselves under the dependence of the Governor, who shamefully
abused his power, employed the most insulting language towards the
Emperor, and announced that we must submit to every grievance, under
pain of being immediately separated from Napoleon, sent to the Cape, and
thence to Europe.
On the other hand, the Emperor, indignant at the mortifications to which
we were exposed on his account, insisted that we should no longer submit
to them. He urged us rather to quit him, and to return to Europe, to
bear witness that we had seen him absolutely buried alive.
But how could we for a moment endure this thought! Death was preferable
to separation from him whom we served, admired, and loved; to whom we
daily became more and more attached, through his personal qualities, and
the miseries which injustice and hatred had accumulated upon him. This
was the real state of the question. In these distressing circumstances,
we knew not what determination to adopt. I closed my letter by stating
that, if left to myself alone, I would sign, without scruple, any thing
that the Governor might present to me; and that, if a collective
resolution were taken, I would implicitly adopt it.
The Governor had now found out a method of attacking us in detail: he
declared his intention of removing any individual of Napoleon’s suite
according to his will and caprice.
The Emperor was indisposed: the Doctor has observed incipient scurvy. He
desired me to attend him, and we conversed on the subjects which chiefly
occupied our attention at the moment. He wanted something to amuse him,
and he took up the chapter of Leoben, which happened to be beside him.
When he had finished reading it, the conversation turned on the
conferences which brought about the treaty of Campo-Formio. I refer to
the chapters on that subject for the portrait and character of the first
Austrian negotiator, M. de Cobentzel, whom Napoleon surnamed the “_great
northern bear_,” on account of the influence which, he said, his heavy
paw had exercised on the green table of the conferences.
“M. de Cobentzel was at that time,” said the Emperor, “the agent of the
Austrian monarchy, the main spring of its plans, and the director of its
diplomacy. He had been appointed on all the principal European
embassies, and had been long at the Court of Catharine, whose peculiar
favour he enjoyed. Proud of his rank and importance, he doubted not that
his dignified and courtly manners would easily overawe a General who had
just issued from the revolutionary camp. Thus,” observed Napoleon, “he
shewed a want of respect in addressing the French General; but the first
words uttered by the latter sufficed to reduce him to his proper level,
above which he never afterwards attempted to rise.”
The conferences at first proceeded very slowly; for M. de Cobentzel,
according to the custom of the Austrian Cabinet, proved himself very
skilful in the art of retarding business. The French General, however,
determined to bring matters to an issue: the conference, which he had
declared should be the last, was maintained with great warmth. Napoleon
came, resolved to have a decisive answer to his propositions; they were
rejected. He then rose in a fit of passion, and exclaimed energetically:
“You wish for war then?—You shall have it:” and laying his hands on a
magnificent piece of porcelain (which M. de Cobentzel used with great
complacency to boast of having received as a present from the great
Catharine), he dashed it with all his force on the ground, where it was
broken into a thousand pieces. “There,” he exclaimed, “such, I promise
you, will be the fate of your Austrian monarchy in less than three
months:” and so saying, he rushed out of the apartment. M. de Cobentzel
stood petrified; but M. de Gallo, who was of a more conciliatory temper,
followed the French General to his carriage, endeavouring to detain him.
“He almost dragged me back by main force,” said the Emperor, “and with
so pitiable an air, that, in spite of my apparent anger, I could not
refrain from laughing in my sleeve.”
M. de Gallo was the ambassador from Naples to Vienna, whither he had
conducted the Neapolitan Princess, the second wife of the Emperor
Francis. He possessed the full confidence of the Princess, and she, in
her turn, ruled her husband: thus the ambassador enjoyed great influence
at the Court of Vienna. When the army of Italy, marching on Vienna,
dictated the armistice of Leoben, the Empress, at this critical
juncture, cast her eyes on her confident, and charged him to avert the
danger. He was to gain an interview with the French General, as if
accidentally, and to endeavour to prevail on him to accept his services
as a negotiator. Napoleon, who was well acquainted with every
circumstance, determined to turn his knowledge to a good account.
Accordingly, on receiving M. de Gallo, he inquired who he was. The
favourite courtier, disconcerted to find himself under the necessity of
telling his name, replied that he was the Marquess de Gallo, and that he
had been charged by the Emperor of Austria to make overtures to
Napoleon. “But,” said the latter, “your name is not German.” “True,”
replied M. de Gallo,” I am the Neapolitan ambassador.” “And how happens
it,” said Napoleon drily, “that I have to treat with Naples? We are at
peace. Has the Emperor of Austria no negotiators of the old school? Is
the old aristocracy of Vienna extinct?” M. de Gallo, alarmed at the idea
of such observations being officially communicated to the Cabinet of
Vienna, now became intent on ingratiating himself into the favour of the
young General.
Napoleon enquired what news had been received from Vienna, and spoke of
the armies of the Rhine, the Sambre, and the Meuse. He obtained all the
intelligence he could; and, when he was about to withdraw, M. de Gallo,
in the most suppliant tone, inquired whether he might hope to be
accepted as a negotiator, and whether he should proceed to Vienna to
obtain full powers. Napoleon had no wish to decline this proposal; he
had gained an advantage which he was not willing to lose. M. de Gallo,
who subsequently became ambassador from Naples to the First Consul, and
also ambassador from Joseph to the Emperor Napoleon, frequently
mentioned this scene, and frankly avowed that he had never been so
frightened in the whole course of his life.
In the French negotiations, Clarke acted the same kind of secondary part
which M. de Gallo maintained with regard to Austria. “Clarke,” said the
Emperor, “had been sent to Italy by the Directory, which had begun to
consider me as dangerous. He was charged with an ostensible and public
mission; but he had secret orders to keep an eye upon me, and to
ascertain if, in case of necessity, it would be possible to arrest me.
But little reliance could have been placed on the officers of my army,
in an affair of this kind, and therefore the first inquiries were
addressed to the Cisalpine Directory. The answer was that it would be as
well to spare trouble on this point, and to give up all idea of it. As
soon as I was made acquainted with Clarke’s real instructions, I frankly
told him all I knew; at the same time assuring him that I should concern
myself but very little about any reports that might be made. He was soon
convinced of this. When, on his mission to Austria, he was dismissed, by
that Power, I offered to find employment for him, and he afterwards
remained with me; though perhaps there was, in reality, but little
sympathy between us. I should undoubtedly have again taken him into my
service, after my return, if I had found him in the ranks along with the
rest. You know that I could not easily rid myself of those to whom I had
become accustomed: when people had once embarked with me, I could never
prevail on myself to throw them overboard. Nothing but absolute
necessity could force me to such a course. Clarke’s chief merit was that
of being a good man of business.”
After Brumaire, Clarke naturally came in contact with the First Consul
as his aid-de-camp, &c. There was then little etiquette observed at the
palace; the duties were not distinctly separated, and the whole
presented a kind of family circle. The officers immediately connected
with the Consul dined at a general table. Clarke, who was extremely
susceptible and punctilious, got involved in quarrels with one of these
persons. The circumstance having reached the ears of the First Consul,
he appointed Clarke ambassador to Florence, to the court of the Queen of
Etruria. This post was in itself highly agreeable; but Clarke had been
appointed to it by way of disgrace. He urgently solicited his recal;
and, at length, to his great satisfaction, he received an order to
return to France. But his punishment was not yet at an end. The First
Consul took but little notice of him: he sent him to the Tuileries, to
St. Cloud, and to the camp of Boulogne, without explaining his
intentions, or granting him any thing. Clarke, in despair, told one of
his friends that he had no alternative but to throw himself into the
Seine, as he could no longer endure the contempt to which he was
exposed, added to the mortification of being deprived of his situation.
Just at this time he was unexpectedly made Secretary of the
Topographical Cabinet, Councillor of State, and appointed to some other
posts, which altogether produced him a salary of 60 or 80,000 francs.
This was Napoleon’s way: his first favour was usually followed
immediately by several others. In these cases his bounty was
overwhelming. But it was necessary to take advantage of the interval of
favour; it might be endless, or it might be instantly and irretrievably
lost.
I knew General Clarke well; he had been my comrade at the Military
School. He informed me that, some days before the battle of Jena, the
Emperor, from whose dictation he had just written numerous orders and
instructions, entering into a familiar conversation, while he walked up
and down his chamber, said: “In three or four days I will fight a
battle, which I shall gain: it will bring me at least as far as the
Elbe, and perhaps to the Vistula. There I will fight a second battle,
which I shall also gain. Then ... then ...,” said he, with a meditative
air, and placing his hand on his forehead ... “but that is enough; it is
useless to invent romances,—Clarke, in a month you will be Governor of
Berlin; and history will record that, in the space of one year, and in
two different wars, you were Governor of Vienna and Berlin; that is to
say, of the Austrian and Prussian monarchies. By the bye,” continued he,
smiling, “what did Francis give you for governing his capital?”—“Nothing
at all, Sire.”—“How, nothing at all?—That was hard indeed! Well, in that
case, I must pay his debt.” And he gave him, as far as I can recollect,
a sum sufficient to purchase an hotel in Paris, or a country house in
the vicinity of the capital.
The course of events exceeded even Napoleon’s expectations. He fought
but one battle, which brought him to Berlin, and enabled him to advance
to the Vistula.
“Clarke,” said Napoleon, “possessed a strong taste for family
parchments. At Florence he spent a great portion of his time in
investigating my genealogy. He also took great pains to trace out his
own, and I believe he at length persuaded himself that he was related to
the whole Faubourg Saint-Germain. Doubtless he has a much higher opinion
of his own dignity, now that he is the Minister of a legitimate King
than he had when he was merely the Minister of an upstart Emperor. It is
said that he at present enjoys great favour; I wish it may last. It
commenced a few days before my arrival at Paris, when the cause of the
King was desperate. It certainly appeared useless to accept a ministry
when all was lost; but I have nothing to say against that. This sort of
conduct may have its fair side; yet it is necessary to observe some
degree of decorum, and in that Clarke was wholly wanting. However, I
willingly forgive him in all that concerns me.... In 1813 and 1814 some
persons endeavoured to inspire me with doubts of Clarke’s fidelity; but
I never would listen to any thing of the kind. I always believed him to
be an honest man.” The intimate friends of the Duke de Feltre can bear
witness that Napoleon was correct in the opinion he had formed of the
character of his minister.
The Duke de Feltre, on communicating to the Emperor the intelligence of
the arrival of the Count d’Artois in Switzerland, advised him to make
peace. Napoleon replied, under date of 22d of February, 1814:—“As to
your advice of making peace, it is too absurd: it is by cherishing such
notions as this that public spirit is destroyed. Besides, it is
supposing me either mad or stupid to imagine that, if I could conclude
peace, I would not immediately do it. To the prevailing notion that it
has been in my power to make peace for four months past, but that I
declined doing so, must be attributed all the misfortunes of France. I
expected, at least, to have been spared the pain of hearing such
sentiments expressed.”
The Emperor, reverting to the events of Campo-Formio, alluded to the
arrest of the Count d’Antraigues, the papers that were found upon him,
and the discoveries to which they gave rise; he also mentioned the
indulgence which the Count experienced, and the treachery with which
that indulgence was repaid.
The Count d’Antraigues, who was a man of considerable talent, fond of
intrigue, and endowed with personal advantages, had acquired a certain
degree of importance at the commencement of our Revolution. He was a
member of the right hand side of the Constituent Assembly, and he
emigrated at the time of its dissolution. At the period when the French
were about to assail Venice, the Count d’Antraigues was residing there,
where he held a diplomatic appointment from the Russian Government, and
was the main spring and agent of all the machinations that were plotting
against France. On seeing the danger of the Venetian Republic, he
attempted to escape; but he fell in with one of our posts, and was
seized, with all his papers. The General-in-chief appointed a special
commission to examine these documents, and the secrets which they
unfolded were the subject of great astonishment. They contained, among
other things, full proof of the treason of Pichegru, who had sacrificed
his troops to facilitate the operations of the enemy. “Pichegru,”
exclaimed the Emperor indignantly, “was guilty of the most odious crime
that can possibly be conceived, that of coldly sacrificing the men whose
lives had been entrusted to his honour and discretion.”
The Count d’Antraigues, finding that all his secrets were discovered,
conducted himself with so much address and apparent candour, that
Napoleon, conceiving he had gained him over, or, to speak more properly,
suffering himself to be gained over by the Count, treated him with the
utmost indulgence. He defended him against the proceedings of the
Directory, which insisted on having him shot, and the Count was allowed
to proceed to Milan on his parole. But what was Napoleon’s surprise on
learning that M. d‘Antraigues had escaped to Switzerland, and had
published an infamous libel against him, reproaching him with
ill-treatment, and complaining of having been confined in chains? These
falsehoods occasioned so much indignation that several foreign
diplomatists, who knew how Napoleon had really acted towards the Count,
spontaneously made a public declaration of what they had witnessed.
So late as the year 1814, the Count d‘Antraigues died in England, in a
horrible way, being assassinated by his valet-de-chambre in the presence
of his wife, who was the celebrated singer Saint Huberti.
At the time of the seizure of the Count d‘Antraigues‘ papers, Pichegru
was at the head of the Legislative Body, and was almost at open war with
the Directory. It may well be supposed that the members of the Directory
were highly gratified by thus obtaining important and authentic
documents against their adversaries. This discovery greatly influenced
Napoleon in the course which he adopted in the events of Fructidor: it
was one of the principal causes of his famous proclamation, which
brought about the triumph of the Directory.
Desaix, who was serving under Moreau in the army of the Rhine, having
taken advantage of the armistice to introduce himself to the
General-in-chief of the army of Italy, for whom he had conceived the
highest admiration, was with Napoleon at the time of the important
discovery above mentioned. Napoleon having informed him of the treason
of Pichegru, Desaix observed; “But we knew all this on the Rhine three
months ago. A waggon, belonging to General Klinglin’s corps, which fell
into our hands, furnished us with all Pichegru’s correspondence with the
enemies of the Republic.”—“And did Moreau give no intimation of this to
the Directory?” “No.”—“Then he is very blameable,” exclaimed Napoleon;
“when the safety of one’s country is at stake silence is guilt!” After
Pichegru’s fall, Moreau communicated to the Directory all he knew
respecting the conspiracy, at the same time pronouncing a severe
reprobation on those who were concerned in it. “This was but another
instance of misconduct,” said Napoleon; “by not speaking earlier, he
betrayed his country; and by speaking so late, he merely struck a blow
at one who was already fallen.”