talent, such as La Harpe, who died during the Consulate, Ducis,
Bernardin de Saint-Pierre, Chenier, and Lemercier, yet they could not
be compared with Lagrange, Laplace, Monge, Fourcroy, Berthollet, and
Cuvier, whose labours have so prodigiously extended the limits of
human knowledge. No one, therefore, could murmur at seeing the class of
sciences in the Institute take precedence of its elder sister. Besides,
the First Consul was not sorry to show, by this arrangement, the slight
estimation in which he held literary men. When he spoke to me respecting
them he called them mere manufacturers of phrases. He could not
pardon them for excelling him in a pursuit in which he had no claim to
distinction. I never knew a man more insensible than Bonaparte to the
beauties of poetry or prose. A certain degree of vagueness, which
was combined with his energy of mind, led him to admire the dreams of
Ossian, and his decided character found itself, as it were, represented
in the elevated thoughts of Corneille. Hence his almost exclusive
predilection for these two authors. With this exception, the finest
works in our literature were in his opinion merely arrangements of
sonorous words, void of sense, and calculated only for the ear.
Bonaparte's contempt, or, more properly speaking, his dislike of
literature, displayed itself particularly in the feeling he cherished
towards some men of distinguished literary talent. He hated Chenier,
and Ducis still more. He could not forgive Chenier for the Republican
principles which pervaded his tragedies; and Ducis excited in him; as
if instinctively, an involuntary hatred. Ducis, on his part, was not
backward in returning the Consul's animosity, and I remember his writing
some verses which were inexcusably violent, and overstepped all the
bounds of truth. Bonaparte was so singular a composition of good and bad
that to describe him as he was under one or other of these aspects
would serve for panegyric or satire without any departure from truth.
Bonaparte was very fond of Bernardin Saint-Pierre's romance of 'Paul and
Virginia', which he had read in his boyhood. I remember that he one
day tried to read 'Les etudes de la Nature', but at the expiration of a
quarter of an hour he threw down the book, exclaiming, "How can any one
read such silly stuff. It is insipid and vapid; there is nothing in it.
These are the dreams of a visionary! What is nature? The thing is vague
and unmeaning. Men and passions are the subjects to write about--there
is something there for study. These fellows are good for nothing under
any government. I will, however, give them pensions, because I ought to
do so, as Head of the State. They occupy and amuse the idle. I will make
Lagrange a Senator--he has a head."
Although Bonaparte spoke so disdainfully of literary men it must not be
taken for granted that he treated them ill. On the contrary, all those
who visited at Malmaison were the objects of his attention, and even
flattery. M. Lemercier was one of those who came most frequently, and
whom Bonaparte received with the greatest pleasure. Bonaparte treated M.
Lemercier with great kindness; but he did not like him. His character as
a literary man and poet, joined to a polished frankness, and a mild
but inflexible spirit of republicanism, amply sufficed to explain
Bonaparte's dislike. He feared M. Lemercier and his pen; and, as
happened more than once, he played the part of a parasite by flattering
the writer. M. Lemercier was the only man I knew who refused the cross
of the Legion of Honour.
Bonaparte's general dislike of literary men was less the result of
prejudice than circumstances. In order to appreciate or even to read
literary works time is requisite, and time was so precious to him that
he would have wished, as one may say, to shorten a straight line. He
liked only those writers who directed their attention to positive and
precise things, which excluded all thoughts of government and censures
on administration. He looked with a jealous eye on political economists
and lawyers; in short, as all persons who in any way whatever meddled
with legislation and moral improvements. His hatred of discussions
on those subjects was strongly displayed on the occasion of the
classification of the Institute. Whilst he permitted the reassembling of
a literary class, to the number of forty, as formerly, he suppressed
the class of moral and political science. Such was his predilection for
things of immediate and certain utility that even in the sciences he
favoured only such as applied to terrestrial objects. He never treated
Lalande with so much distinction as Monge and Lagrange. Astronomical
discoveries could not add directly to his own greatness; and, besides,
he could never forgive Lalande for having wished to include him in
a dictionary of atheists precisely at the moment when he was opening
negotiations with the court of Rome.
Bonaparte wished to be the sole centre of a world which he believed he
was called to govern. With this view he never relaxed in his constant
endeavour to concentrate the whole powers of the State in the hands
of its Chief. His conduct upon the subject of the revival of public
instruction affords evidence of this fact. He wished to establish
6000 bursaries, to be paid by Government, and to be exclusively at his
disposal, so that thus possessing the monopoly of education, he could
have parcelled it out only to the children of those who were blindly
devoted to him. This was what the First Consul called the revival of
public instruction. During the period of my closest intimacy with him
he often spoke to me on this subject, and listened patiently to my
observations. I remember that one of his chief arguments was this:
"What is it that distinguishes men? Education--is it not? Well, if the
children of nobles be admitted into the academies, they will be as well
educated as the children of the revolution, who compose the strength of
my government. Ultimately they will enter into my regiments as officers,
and will naturally come in competition with those whom they regard as
the plunderers of their families. I do not wish that!"
My recollections have caused me to wander from the journey of the First
Consul and Madame Bonaparte to the seabord departments and Belgium.
I have, however, little to add to what I have already stated on
the subject. I merely remember that Bonaparte's military suite, and
Lauriston and Rapp in particular, when speaking to me about the journey,
could not conceal some marks of discontent on account of the great
respect which Bonaparte had shown the clergy, and particularly to M. de
Roquelaure, the Archbishop of Malines (or Mechlin). That prelate, who
was a shrewd man, and had the reputation of having been in his youth
more addicted to the habits of the world than to those of the cloister,
had become an ecclesiastical courtier. He went to Antwerp to pay his
homage to the First Consul, upon whom he heaped the most extravagant
praises. Afterwards, addressing Madame Bonaparte, he told her that she
was united to the First Consul by the sacred bonds of a holy alliance.
In this harangue, in which unction was singularly blended with
gallantry, surely it was a departure from ecclesiastical propriety to
speak of sacred bonds and holy alliance when every one knew that those
bonds and that alliance existed only by a civil contract. Perhaps M. de
Roquelaure merely had recourse to what casuists call a pious fraud in
order to engage the married couple to do that which he congratulated
them on having already done. Be this as it may, it is certain that this
honeyed language gained M. de Roquelaure the Consul's favour, and in a
short time after he was appointed to the second class of the Institute.
CHAPTER XXI.
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--Fouché's manoeuvres--The Abbe David and Lajolais--
Fouché's visit to St. Cloud--Regnier outwitted by Fouché--
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 a 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 war, after many 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 Paris, 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 Fouché in order to prepare his return to office.
To corroborate my opinion respecting Fouché'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. Fouché, 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 Fouché'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 Fouché. 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 Fouché, 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. Fouché
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 Fouché'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 Fouché, however, persisted in his assertion, the First Consul sent to
Paris for the Grand Judge, Regnier, who showed Fouché the letter he had
received. The First Consul triumphed at first to see Fouché 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 Fouché, 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
space. 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
Fouché'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.
Fouché, 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
Vendée 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
Fouché 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,
CHAPTER XXII.
1804.
The events of 1804--Death of the Duc d'Enghien--Napoleon's arguments
at St. Helena--Comparison of dates--Possibility of my having saved
the Duc d'Enghien's life--Advice given to the Duc d'Enghien--Sir
Charles Stuart--Delay of the Austrian Cabinet--Pichegru and the
mysterious being--M. Massias--The historians of St. Helena--
Bonaparte's threats against the emigrants and M. Cobentzel--
Singular adventure of Davoust's secretary--The quartermaster--
The brigand of La Vendée.
In order to form a just idea of the events which succeeded each other
so rapidly at the commencement of 1804 it is necessary to consider
them both separately and connectedly. It must be borne in mind that all
Bonaparte's machinations tended to one object, the foundation of the
French Empire in his favour; and it is also essential to consider how
the situation of the emigrants, in reference to the First Consul, had
changed since the declaration of war. As long as Bonaparte continued at
peace the cause of the Bourbons had no support in foreign Cabinets, and
the emigrants had no alternative but to yield to circumstances; but on
the breaking out of a new war all was changed. The cause of the Bourbons
became that of the powers at war with France; and as many causes
concurred to unite the emigrants abroad with those who had returned but
half satisfied, there was reason to fear something from their revolt, in
combination with the powers arrayed against Bonaparte.
Such was the state of things with regard to the emigrants when the
leaders and accomplices of Georges' conspiracy were arrested at the very
beginning of 1804. The assassination of the Duc d'Enghien
--[Louis Antoine Henri de Bourbon, Duc d'Enghien (1772-1804), son of
the Duc de Bourbon, and grandson of the Prince de Condé, served
against France in the army of Condé. When this force was disbanded
he stayed at Ettenheim on account of a love affair with the
Princesse Charlotte de Rohan-Rochefort. Arrested in the territory
of Baden, he was taken to Vincennes, and after trial by
court-martial shot in the moat, 21st May 1804. With him
practically ended the house of Bourbon-Condé as his grandfather
died in 1818, leaving only the Duc de Bourbon, and the Princesee
Louise Adelaide, Abbesse de Remiremont, who died in 1824.]--
took place on the 21st of March; on the 30th of April appeared the
proposition of the Tribunate to found a Government in France under
the authority of one individual; on the 18th of May came the
'Senatus-consulte', naming Napoleon Bonaparte EMPEROR, and lastly,
on the 10th. of June, the sentence of condemnation on Georges and
his accomplices. Thus the shedding of the blood of a Bourbon, and the
placing of the crown of France on the head of a soldier of fortune were
two acts interpolated in the sanguinary drama of Georges' conspiracy. It
must be remembered, too, that during the period of these events we were
at war with England, and on the point of seeing Austria and the Colossus
of the north form a coalition against the new Emperor.
I will now state all I know relative to the death of the Duc d'Enghien.
That unfortunate Prince, who was at Ettenheim, in consequence of a love
affair, had no communication whatever with those who were concocting a
plot in the interior. Machiavelli says that when the author of a crime
cannot be discovered we should seek for those to whose advantage it
turns. In the present case Machiavelli's advice will find an easy
application, since the Duke's death could be advantageous only to
Bonaparte, who considered it indispensable to his accession to the crown
of France. The motives may be explained, but can they be justified?
How could it ever be said that the Duc d'Enghien perished as a presumed
accomplice in the conspiracy of Georges?
Moreau was arrested on the 15th of February 1804, at which time the
existence of the conspiracy was known. Pichegru and Georges were also
arrested in February, and the Duc d'Enghien not till the 15th of March.
Now if the Prince had really been concerned in the plot, if even he
had a knowledge of it, would he have remained at Ettenheim for nearly
a month after the arrest of his presumed accomplices, intelligence of
which he might have obtained in the space of three days? Certainly not.
So ignorant was he of that conspiracy that when informed at Ettenheim of
the affair he doubted it, declaring that if it were true his father and
grandfather would have made him acquainted with it. Would so long an
interval have been suffered to elapse before he was arrested? Alas!
cruel experience has shown that that step would have been taken in a few
hours.
The sentence of death against Georges and his accomplices was not
pronounced till the 10th of June 1804, and the Duc d'Enghien was shot
on the 21st of March, before the trials were even commenced. How is this
precipitation to be explained? If, as Napoleon has declared, the young
Bourbon was an accomplice in the crime, why was he not arrested at
the time the others were? Why was he not tried along with them, on the
ground of his being an actual accomplice; or of being compromised, by
communications with them; or, in short, because his answers might have
thrown light on that mysterious affair? How was it that the name of the
illustrious accused was not once mentioned in the course of that awful
trial?
It can scarcely be conceived that Napoleon could say at St. Helena,
"Either they contrived to implicate the unfortunate Prince in their
project, and so pronounced his doom, or, by omitting to inform him of
what was going on, allowed him imprudently to slumber on the brink of
a precipice; for he was only a stone's cast from the frontier when they
were about to strike the great blow in the name and for the interest of
his family."
This reasoning is not merely absurd, it is atrocious. If the Duke was
implicated by the confession of his accomplices, he should have been
arrested and tried along with them. Justice required this. If he was
not so implicated, where is the proof of his guilt? Because some
individuals, without his knowledge, plotted to commit a crime in the
name of his family he was to be shot! Because he was 130 leagues from
the scene of the plot, and had no connection with it, he was to
die! Such arguments cannot fail to inspire horror. It is absolutely
impossible any reasonable person can regard the Duc d'Enghien as
an accomplice of Cadoudal; and Napoleon basely imposed on his
contemporaries and posterity by inventing such falsehoods, and investing
them with the authority of his name.
Had I been then in the First Consul's intimacy I may aver, with as much
confidence as pride, that the blood of the Duc d'Enghien would not have
imprinted an indelible stain on the glory of Bonaparte. In this terrible
matter I could have done what no one but me could even attempt, and
this on account of my position, which no one else has since held with
Bonaparte. I quite admit that he would have preferred others to me, and
that he would have had more friendship for them than for me, supposing
friendship to be compatible with the character of Bonaparte, but I knew
him better than any one else. Besides, among those who surrounded him I
alone could have permitted myself some return to our former familiarity
on account of our intimacy of childhood. Certainly, in a matter which
permanently touched the glory of Bonaparte, I should not have been
restrained by the fear of some transitory fit of anger, and the reader
has seen that I did not dread disgrace. Why should I have dreaded it?
I had neither portfolio, nor office, nor salary, for, as I have said,
I was only with Bonaparte as a friend, and we had, as it were, a common
purse. I feel a conviction that it would have been very possible for
me to have dissuaded Bonaparte from his fatal design, inasmuch as I
positively know that his object, after the termination of the peace, was
merely to frighten the emigrants, in order to drive them from Ettenheim,
where great numbers, like the Duc d'Enghien, had sought refuge. His
anger was particularly directed against a Baroness de Reith and a
Baroness d'Ettengein, who had loudly vituperated him, and distributed
numerous libels on the left bank of the Rhine. At that period Bonaparte
had as little design against the Duc d'Enghien's life as against that of
any other emigrant. He was more inclined to frighten than to harm him,
and certainly his first intention was not to arrest the Prince, but, as
I have said, to frighten the 'emigres', and to drive them to a distance.
I must, however, admit that when Bonaparte spoke to Rapp and Duroc of
the emigrants on the other side of the Rhine he expressed himself with
much irritability: so much so, indeed, that M. de Talleyrand, dreading
its effects for the Duc d'Enghien, warned that Prince, through the
medium of a lady to whom he was attached, of his danger, and advised him
to proceed to a greater distance from the frontier. On receiving this
notice the Prince resolved to rejoin his grandfather, which he could not
do but by passing through the Austrian territory. Should any doubt exist
as to these facts it may be added that Sir Charles Stuart wrote to M. de
Cobentzel to solicit a passport for the Duc d'Enghien; and it was solely
owing to the delay of the Austrian Cabinet that time was afforded for
the First Consul to order the arrest of the unfortunate Prince as soon
as he had formed the horrible resolution of shedding the blood of a
Bourbon. This resolution could have originated only with himself, for
who would have dared to suggest it to him? The fact is, Bonaparte knew
not what he did. His fever of ambition amounted to delirium; and he knew
not how he was losing himself in public opinion because he did not know
that opinion, to gain which he would have made every sacrifice.
When Cambacérès (who, with a slight reservation, had voted the death of
Louis XVI.) warmly opposed in the Council the Duc d'Enghien's arrest,
the First Consul observed to him, "Methinks, Sir, you have grown very
chary of Bourbon blood!"
Meanwhile the Duc d'Enghien was at Ettenheim, indulging in hope rather
than plotting conspiracies. It is well known that an individual made an
offer to the Prince de Condé to assassinate the First Consul, but
the Prince indignantly rejected the proposition, and nobly refused to
recover the rights of the Bourbons at the price of such a crime. The
individual above-mentioned was afterwards discovered to be an agent of
the Paris police, who had been commissioned to draw the Princes into
a plot which would have ruined them, for public feeling revolts at
assassination under any circumstances.
It has been alleged that Louis XVIII.'s refusal to treat with Bonaparte
led to the fatal catastrophe of the Duc d'Enghien's death. The first
correspondence between Louis XVIII. and the First Consul, which has been
given in these Memoirs, clearly proves the contrary. It is certainly
probable that Louis XVIII.'s refusal to renounce his rights should have
irritated Bonaparte. But it was rather late to take his revenge
two years after, and that too on a Prince totally ignorant of those
overtures. It is needless to comment on such absurdities. It is equally
unnecessary to speak of the mysterious being who often appeared at
meetings in the Faubourg St. Germain, and who was afterwards discovered
to be Pichegru.
A further light is thrown on this melancholy catastrophe by a
conversation Napoleon had, a few days after his elevation to the
imperial throne, with M. Masaias, the French Minister at the Court
of the Grand Duke of Baden. This conversation took place at
Aix-la-Chapelle. After some remarks on the intrigues of the emigrants
Bonaparte observed, "You ought at least to have prevented the plots
which the Duc d'Enghien was hatching at Ettenheim."--"Sire, I am too old
to learn to tell a falsehood. Believe me, on this subject your Majesty's
ear has been abused."--"Do you not think, then, that had the conspiracy
of Georges and Pichegru proved successful, the Prince would have passed
the Rhine, and have come post to Paris?"
M. Massias, from whom I had these particulars, added, "At this last
question of the Emperor I hung down my head and was silent, for I saw he
did not wish to hear the truth."
Now let us consider, with that attention which the importance of the
subject demands, what has been said by the historians of St. Helena.
Napoleon said to his companions in exile that "the Duc d'Enghien's death
must be attributed either to an excess of zeal for him (Napoleon), to
private views, or to mysterious intrigues. He had been blindly urged
on; he was, if he might say so, taken by surprise. The measure was
precipitated, and the result predetermined."
This he might have said; but if he did so express himself, how are we
to reconcile such a declaration with the statement of O'Meara? How give
credit to assertions so very opposite?
Napoleon said to M. de Las Casas:
"One day when alone, I recollect it well, I was taking my coffee,
half seated on the table at which I had just dined, when suddenly
information was brought to me that a new conspiracy had been
discovered. I was warmly urged to put an end to these enormities;
they represented to me that it was time at last to give a lesson to
those who had been day after day conspiring against my life; that
this end could only be attained by shedding the blood of one of
them; and that the Duc d'Enghien, who might now be convicted of
forming part of this new conspiracy, and taken in the very act,
should be that one. It was added that he had been seen at
Strasburg; that it was even believed that he had been in Paris; and
that the plan was that he should enter France by the east at the
moment of the explosion, whilst the Duc de Berri was disembarking in
the west. I should tell you," observed the Emperor, "that I did not
even know precisely who the Duc d'Enghien was (the Revolution having
taken place when I was yet a very young man, and I having never been
at Court), and that I was quite in the dark as to where he was at
that moment. Having been informed on those points I exclaimed that
if such were the case the Duke ought to be arrested, and that orders
should be given to that effect. Everything had been foreseen and
prepared; the different orders were already drawn up, nothing
remained to be done but to sign them, and the fate of the young
Prince was thus decided."
Napoleon next asserts that in the Duke's arrest and condemnation all the
usual forms were strictly observed. But he has also declared that the
death of that unfortunate Prince will be an eternal reproach to those
who, carried away by a criminal zeal, waited not for their Sovereign's
orders to execute the sentence of the court-martial. He would, perhaps,
have allowed the Prince to live; but yet he said, "It is true I wished
to make an example which should deter."
It has been said that the Duc d'Enghien addressed a letter to Napoleon,
which was not delivered till after the execution. This is false and
absurd! How could that Prince write to Bonaparte to offer him his
services and to solicit the command of an army? His interrogatory makes
no mention of this letter, and is in direct opposition to the sentiments
which that letter would attribute to him. The truth is, no such letter
ever existed. The individual who was with the Prince declared he never
wrote it. It will never be believed that any one would have presumed to
withhold from Bonaparte a letter on which depended the fate of so august
a victim.
In his declarations to his companions in exile Napoleon endeavoured
either to free himself of this crime or to justify it. His fear or his
susceptibility was such, that in discoursing with strangers he merely
said, that had he known of the Prince's letter, which was not delivered
to him.--God knows why!--until after he had breathed his last, he would
have pardoned him. But at a subsequent date he traced, with his own
hand, his last thoughts, which he supposed would be consecrated in the
minds of his contemporaries, and of posterity. Napoleon, touching on the
subject which he felt would be one of the most important attached to his
memory, said that if the thing were to do again he would act as he then
did. How does this declaration tally with his avowal, that if he
had received the Prince's letter he should have lived? This is
irreconcilable. But if we compare all that Napoleon said at St. Helena,
and which has been transmitted to us by his faithful followers; if we
consider his contradictions when speaking of the Duc d'Enghien's death
to strangers, to his friends, to the public, or to posterity, the
question ceases to be doubtful. Bonaparte wished to strike a blow which
would terrify his enemies. Fancying that the Duc de Berri was ready
to land in France, he despatched his aide de camp Savary, in disguise,
attended by gendarmes, to watch the Duke's landing at Biville, near
Dieppe. This turned out a fruitless mission. The Duke was warned in
time not to attempt the useless and dangerous enterprise, and Bonaparte,
enraged to see one prey escape him, pounced upon another. It is well
known that Bonaparte often, and in the presence even of persons whom
he conceived to have maintained relations with the partisans of the
Bourbons at Paris, expressed himself thus: "I will put an end to these
conspiracies. If any of the emigrants conspire they shall be shot. I
have been told that Cobentzel harbours some of them. I do not believe
this; but if it be true, Cobentzel shall be arrested and shot along with
them. I will let the Bourbons know I am not to be trifled with." The
above statement of facts accounts for the suppositions respecting the
probable influence of the Jacobins in this affair. It has been said, not
without some appearance of reason, that to get the Jacobins to help him
to ascend the throne Bonaparte consented to sacrifice a victim of the
blood royal, as the only pledge capable of ensuring them against
the return of the proscribed family. Be this as it may, there are no
possible means of relieving Bonaparte from his share of guilt in the
death of the Duc d'Enghien.
To the above facts, which came within my own knowledge, I may add the
following curious story, which was related to me by an individual who
himself heard it from the secretary of General Davoust.
Davoust was commanding a division in the camp of Boulogne, and his
secretary when proceeding thither to join him met in the diligence a
man who seemed to be absorbed in affliction. This man during the whole
journey never once broke silence but by some deep sighs, which he had
not power to repress. General Davoust's secretary observed him with
curiosity and interest, but did not venture to intrude upon his grief
by any conversation. The concourse of travellers from Paris to the
camp was, however, at that time very great, and the inn at which the
diligence stopped in the evening was so crowded that it was impossible
to assign a chamber to each traveller. Two, therefore, were put into
one room, and it so happened that the secretary was lodged with his
mysterious travelling companion.
When they were alone he addressed him in a torso of interest which
banished all appearance of intrusion. He inquired whether the cause of
his grief was of a nature to admit of any alleviation, and offered to
render him any assistance in his power. "Sir," replied the stranger,
"I am much obliged for the sympathy you express for me--I want nothing.
There is no possible consolation for me. My affliction can end only with
my life. You shall judge for yourself, for the interest you seem to take
in my misfortune fully justifies my confidence. I was quartermaster
in the select gendarmerie, and formed part of a detachment which was
ordered to Vincennes. I passed the night there under arms, and at
daybreak was ordered down to the moat with six men. An execution was to
take place. The prisoner was brought out, and I gave the word to fire.
The man fell, and after the execution I learned that we had shot the
Duc d'Enghien. Judge of my horror! . . . I knew the prisoner only by the
name of the brigand of La Vendée! . . . I could no longer remain in the
service--I obtained my discharge, and am about to retire to my family.
Would that I had done so sooner!" The above has been related to me and
other persons by Davoust's secretary, whom I shall not name.
CHAPTER XXIII.
1804.
General Ordener's mission--Arrest of the Duc d'Enghien--Horrible
night-scene---Harrel's account of the death of the Prince--Order for
digging the grave--The foster-sister of the Duc 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 Chateaubriand'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 Duc d'Enghien's death--Consequences of the Duc d'Enghien's
death--Change of opinion in the provinces--The Gentry of the
Chateaus--Effect of the Duc 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 Duc 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
Duc 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 Duc 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 Duc 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 Duc 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 Duc 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 Rémusat. 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 he 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 Duc 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 he 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 Duc 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 Fouché 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
Chateaubriand 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 Duc 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 Fouché
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 Duc 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 Duc 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 Duc 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.
CHAPTER XXIV.
1804.
Pichegru betrayed--His arrest--His conduct to his old aide de camp--
Account of Pichegru's family, and his education at Brienne--
Permission to visit M. Carbonnet--The prisoners in the Temple--
Absurd application of the word "brigand"--Moreau and the state of
public opinion respecting him--Pichegru's firmness--Pichegru
strangled in prison--Public opinion at the time--Report on the death
of Pichegru.
I shall now proceed to relate what I knew at the time and what I have
since learnt of the different phases of the trial of Georges, Pichegru,
Moreau and the other persons accused of conspiracy,--a trial to all the
proceedings of which I closely attended. From those proceedings I was
convinced that Moreau was no conspirator, but at the same time I must
confess that it is very probable the First Consul might believe that
he had been engaged in the plot, and I am also of opinion that the real
conspirators believed Moreau to be their accomplice and their chief;
for the object of the machinations of the police agents was to create a
foundation for such a belief, it being important to the success of their
scheme.
It has been stated that Moreau was arrested on the day after the
confessions made by Bouvet de Lozier; Pichegru was taken by means of the
most infamous treachery that a man can be guilty of. The official police
had at last ascertained that he was in Paris, but they could not learn
the place of his concealment. The police agents had in vain exerted all
their efforts to discover him, when an old friend, who had given him his
last asylum, offered to deliver him up for 100,000 crowns. This infamous
fellow gave an exact description of the chamber which Pichegru
occupied in the Rue de Chabanais, and in consequence of his information
Comminges, commissary of police, proceeded thither, accompanied by some
determined men. Precautions were necessary, because it was known that
Pichegru was a man of prodigious bodily strength, and that besides,
as he possessed the means of defence, he would not allow himself to
be taken without making a desperate resistance. The police entered his
chamber by using false keys, which the man who had sold him had the
baseness to get made for them. A light was burning on his night table.
The party of police, directed by Comminges, overturned the table,
extinguished the light, and threw themselves on the general, who
struggled with all his strength, and cried out loudly. They were obliged
to bind him, and in this state the conqueror of Holland was removed to
the Temple, out of which he was destined never to come alive.
It must be owned that Pichegru was far from exciting the same interest
as Moreau. The public, and more especially the army, never pardoned
him for his negotiations with the Prince de Condé prior to the 18th
Fructidor. However, I became acquainted with a trait respecting him
while he was in Paris which I think does him much honour. A son of M.
Lagrenee, formerly director of the French Academy at Rome, had been one
of Pichegru's aides de camp. This young man, though he had obtained the
rank of captain, resigned on the banishment of his general, and resumed
the pencil, which he had lad aside for the sword. Pichegru, while he was
concealed in Paris; visited his former aide de camp, who insisted upon
giving him an asylum; but Pichegru positively refused to accept M.
Lagrenee's offer, being determined not to commit a man who had already
given him so strong a proof of friendship. I learned this fact by a
singular coincidence. At this period Madame de Bourrienne wished to have
a portrait of one of our children; she was recommended to M. Lagrenee,
and he related the circumstance to her.
It was on the night of the 22d of February that Pichegru was arrested
in the manner I have described. The deceitful friend who gave him up was
named Le Blanc, and he went to settle at Hamburg with the reward of his
treachery, I had entirely lost sight of Pichegru since we left Brienne,
for Pichegru was also a pupil of that establishment; but, being older
than either Bonaparte or I, he was already a tutor when we were
only scholars, and I very well recollect that it was he who examined
Bonaparte in the four first rules of arithmetic.
Pichegru belonged to an agricultural family of Franche-Comte. He had a
relation, a minim,' in that country. The minim, who had the charge of
educating the pupils of the Military School of Brienne, being very poor,
and their poverty not enabling them to hold out much inducement to other
persons to assist them, they applied to the minims of Franche-Comte.
In consequence of this application Pichegru's relation, and some other
minims, repaired to Brienne. An aunt of Pichegru, who was a sister of
the order of charity, accompanied them, and the care of the infirmary
was entrusted to her. This good woman took her nephew to Brienne with
her, and he was educated at the school gratuitously. As soon as his
age permitted, Pichegru was made a tutor; but all, his ambition was
to become a minim. He was, however, dissuaded from that pursuit by his
relation, and he adopted the military profession. There is this further
remarkable circumstance in the youth of Pichegru, that, though he was
older by several years than Bonaparte, they were both made lieutenants
of artillery at the same time. What a difference in their destiny!
While the one was preparing to ascend a throne the other was a solitary
prisoner in the dungeon of the Temple.
I had no motive to induce me to visit either the Temple or La Force,
but I received at the time circumstantial details of what was passing in
those prisons, particularly in the former; I went, however, frequently
to St. Pelagie, where M. Carbonnet was confined. As soon as I knew that
he was lodged in that prison I set about getting an admission from Real,
who smoothed all difficulties. M. Carbonnet was detained two months
in solitary confinement. He was several times examined, but the
interrogatories produced no result, and, notwithstanding the desire
to implicate him in consequence of the known intimacy between him and
Moreau, it was at last found impossible to put him on trial with the
other parties accused.
The Temple had more terrors than St. Pelagie, but not for the prisoners
who were committed to it, for none of those illustrious victims of
police machination displayed any weakness, with the exception of Bouvet
de Lozier, who, being sensible of his weakness, wished to prevent its
consequences by death. The public, however, kept their attention riveted
on the prison in which Moreau was confined. I have already mentioned
that Pichegru was conveyed thither on the night of the 22d of February;
a fortnight later Georges was arrested, and committed to the same
prison.
Either Real or Desmarets, and sometimes both together, repaired to
the Temple to examine the prisoners. In vain the police endeavoured to
direct public odium against the prisoners by placarding lists of their
names through the whole of Paris, even before they were arrested.
In those lists they were styled "brigands," and at the head of "the
brigands," the name of General Moreau shone conspicuously. An absurdity
without a parallel. The effect produced was totally opposite to that
calculated on; for, as no person could connect the idea of a brigand
with that of a general who was the object of public esteem, it was
naturally concluded that those whose names were placarded along with his
were no more brigands than he.
Public opinion was decidedly in favour of Moreau, and every one was
indignant at seeing him described as a brigand. Far from believing him
guilty, he was regarded as a victim fastened on because his reputation
embarrassed Bonaparte; for Moreau had always been looked up to as
capable of opposing the accomplishment of the First Consul's ambitious
views. The whole crime of Moreau was his having numerous partisans among
those who still clung to the phantom of the Republic, and that crime
was unpardonable in the eyes of the First Consul, who for two years had
ruled the destinies of France as sovereign master. What means were not
employed to mislead the opinion of the public respecting Moreau? The
police published pamphlets of all sorts, and the Comte de Montgaillard
was brought from Lyons to draw up a libel implicating him with Pichegru
and the exiled Princes. But nothing that was done produced the effect
proposed.
The weak character of Moreau is known. In fact, he allowed himself to
be circumvented by a few intriguers, who endeavoured to derive advantage
from the influence of his name. But he was so decidedly opposed to the
reestablishment of the ancient system that he replied to one of the
agents who addressed' him, "I cannot put myself at the head of any
movement for the Bourbons, and such an attempt would not succeed. If
Pichegru act on another principle--and even in that case I have told
him that the Consuls and the Governor of Paris must disappear--I believe
that I have a party strong enough in the Senate to obtain possession of
authority, and I will immediately make use of it to protect his friends;
public opinion will then dictate what may be fit to be done, but I will
promise nothing in writing." Admitting these words attributed to Moreau
to be true, they prove that he was dissatisfied with the Consular
Government, and that he wished a change; but there is a great difference
between a conditional wish and a conspiracy.
The commander of the principal guard of the Temple was General Savory,
and he had reinforced that guard by his select gendarmerie. The
prisoners did not dare to communicate one with another for fear of
mutual injury, but all evinced a courage which created no little alarm
as to the consequences of the trial. Neither offers nor threats produced
any confessions in the course of the interrogatories. Pichegru, in
particular, displayed an extraordinary firmness, and Real one day, on
leaving the chamber where he had been examining him, said aloud in the
presence of several persons, "What a man that Pichegru is!"
Forty days elapsed after the arrest of General Pichegru when, on
the morning of the 6th of April, he was found dead in the chamber he
occupied in the Temple. Pichegru had undergone ten examinations; but he
had made no confessions, and no person was committed by his replies.
All his declarations, however, gave reason to believe that he would
speak out, and that too in a lofty and energetic manner during the
progress of the trial. "When I am before my judges," said he, "my
language shall be conformable to truth and the interests of my country."
What would that language have been? Without doubt there was no wish that
it should be heard. Pichegru would have kept his promise, for he was
distinguished for his firmness of character above everything, even above
his qualities as a soldier; differing in this respect from Moreau, who
allowed himself to be guided by his wife and mother-in-law, both of whom
displayed ridiculous pretensions in their visits to Madame Bonaparte.
The day on which Real spoke before several persons of Pichegru in the
way I have related was the day of his last examination. I afterwards
learned, from a source on which I can rely, that during his examination
Pichegru, though careful to say nothing which could affect the other
prisoners, showed no disposition to be tender of him who had sought and
resolved his death, but evinced a firm resolution to unveil before the
public the odious machinery of the plot into which the police had drawn
him. He also declared that he and his companions had no longer any
object but to consider of the means of leaving Paris, with the view of
escaping from the snares laid for them when their arrest took place. He
declared that they had all of them given up the idea of overturning
the power of Bonaparte, a scheme into which they had been enticed
by shameful intrigues. I am convinced the dread excited by his
manifestation of a resolution to speak out with the most rigid candour
hastened the death of Pichegru. M. Real, who is still living, knows
better than any one else what were Pichegru's declarations, as he
interrogated him. I know not whether that gentleman will think fit,
either at the present or some future period, to raise the veil of
mystery which hangs over these events, but of this I am sure, he will be
unable to deny anything I advance. There is evidence almost amounting
to demonstration that Pichegru was strangled in prison, and consequently
all idea of suicide must be rejected as inadmissible. Have I positive
and substantive proof of what I assert? I have not; but the concurrence
of facts and the weight of probabilities do not leave me in possession
of the doubts I should wish to entertain on that tragic event. Besides,
there exists a certain popular instinct, which is rarely at fault,
and it must be in the recollection of many, not only that the general
opinion favoured the notion of Pichegru's assassination, but that the
pains taken to give that opinion another direction, by the affected
exhibition of the body, only served to strengthen it. He who
spontaneously says, I have not committed such or such a crime, at least
admits there is room for suspecting his guilt.
The truth is, the tide of opinion never set in with such force against
Bonaparte as during the trial of Moreau; nor was the popular sentiment
in error on the subject of the death of Pichegru, who was clearly
strangled in the Temple by secret agents. The authors, the actors, and
the witnesses of the horrible prison scenes of the period are the only
persons capable of removing the doubts which still hang over the
death of Pichegru; but I must nevertheless contend that the preceding
circumstances, the general belief at the time, and even probability, are
in contradiction with any idea of suicide on the part of Pichegru. His
death was considered necessary, and this necessity was its real cause.
CHAPTER XXV.
1804.
Arrest of Georges--The fruiterer's daughter of the Rue de La
Montagne--St. Genevieve--Louis Bonaparte's visit to the Temple--
General Lauriston--Arrest of Villeneuve and Barco--Villeneuve
wounded--Moreau during his imprisonment--Preparations for leaving
the Temple--Remarkable change in Georges--Addresses and
congratulations--Speech of the First Consul forgotten--Secret
negotiations with the Senate--Official proposition of Bonaparte's
elevation to the Empire--Sitting of the Council of State--
Interference of Bonaparte--Individual votes--Seven against twenty--
His subjects and his people--Appropriateness of the title of
Emperor--Communications between Bonaparte and the Senate--Bonaparte
first called Sire by Cambacérès--First letter signed by Napoleon as
Emperor--Grand levee at the Tuileries--Napoleon's address to the
Imperial Guard--Organic 'Senatus-consulte'--Revival of old formulas
and titles--The Republicanism of Lucien--The Spanish Princess--
Lucien's clandestine marriage--Bonaparte's influence on the German
Princes--Intrigues of England--Drake at Munich--Project for
overthrowing Bonaparte's Government--Circular from the Minister for
Foreign Affairs to the members of the Diplomatic Body--Answers to
that circular.
Georges was arrested about seven o'clock, on the evening of the 9th
of March, with another conspirator, whose name, I think, was Leridan.
Georges was stopped in a cabriolet on the Place de l'Odeon, whither he
had no doubt been directed by the police agent, who was constantly about
him. In not seizing him at his lodgings, the object, probably, was to
give more publicity to his arrest, and to produce an effect upon the
minds of the multitude. This calculation cost the life of one man, and
had well-nigh sacrificed the lives of two, for Georges, who constantly
carried arms about him, first shot dead the police officer who seized
the horse's reins, and wounded another who advanced to arrest him is
the cabriolet. Besides his pistols there was found upon him a poniard of
English manufacture.
Georges lodged with a woman named Lemoine, who kept a fruiterer's shop
in the Rue de la Montagne St. Genevieve, and on the evening of the
9th of March he had just left his lodging to go, it was said, to a
perfumer's named Caron. It is difficult to suppose that the circumstance
of the police being on the spot was the mere effect of chance. The
fruiterer's daughter was putting into the cabriolet a parcel belonging
to Georges at the moment of his arrest. Georges, seeing the officers
advance to seize him, desired the girl to get out of the way, fearing
lest he should shoot her when he fired on the officers. She ran into a
neighbouring house, taking the parcel along with her. The police, it
may readily be supposed, were soon after her. The master of the house in
which she had taken refuge, curious to know what the parcel contained,
had opened it, and discovered, among other things, a bag containing
1000 Dutch sovereigns, from which he acknowledged he had abstracted a
considerable sum. He and his wife, as well as the fruiterer's daughter,
were all arrested; as to Georges, he was taken that same evening to the
Temple, where he remained until his removal to the Conciergerie when the
trial commenced.
During the whole of the legal proceedings Georges and the other
important prisoners were kept in solitary confinement. Immediately on
Pichegru's death the prisoners were informed of the circumstance. As
they were all acquainted with the general, and none believed the fact of
his reported suicide, it may easily be conceived what consternation and
horror the tragical event excited among them. I learned, and I was sorry
to hear of it, that Louis Bonaparte, who was an excellent man, and,
beyond all comparison, the best of the family, had the cruel curiosity
to see Georges in his prison a few days after the death of Pichegru, and
when the sensation of horror excited by that event in the interior of
the Temple was at its height, Louis repaired to the prison, accompanied
by a brilliant escort of staff-officers, and General Savary introduced
him to the prisoners. When Louis arrived, Georges was lying on his bed
with his hands strongly bound by manacles. Lauriston, who accompanied
Louis, related to me some of the particulars of this visit, which, in
spite of his sincere devotedness to the first Consul, he assured me had
been very painful to him.
After the arrest of Georges there were still some individuals marked out
as accomplices in the conspiracy who had found means to elude the search
of the police. The persons last arrested were, I think, Villeneuve, one
of the principal confidants of Georges, Burban Malabre, who went by the
name of Barco, and Charles d'Hozier. They were not taken till five
days after the arrest of the Duc d'Enghien. The famous Commissioner
Comminges, accompanied by an inspector and a detachment of gendarmes
d'Elite, found Villeneuve and Burban Malabre in the house of a man named
Dubuisson, in the Rue Jean Robert.
This Dubuisson and his wife had sheltered some of the principal persons
proscribed by the police. The Messieurs de Polignac and M. de Riviere
had lodged with them. When the police came to arrest Villeneuve and
Burban Malabre the people with whom they lodged declared that they had
gone away in the morning. The officers, however, searched the house, and
discovered a secret door within a closet. They called, and receiving no
answer, the gendarmerie had recourse to one of those expedients which
were, unfortunately, too familiar to them. They fired a pistol through
the door. Villeneuve, who went by the name of Joyau, was wounded in the
arm, which obliged him and his companion to come from the place of their
concealment, and they were then made prisoners.
Moreau was not treated with the degree of rigour observed towards the
other prisoners. Indeed, it would not have been safe so to treat him,
for even in his prison he received the homage and respect of all the
military, not excepting even those who were his guards. Many of these
soldiers had served under him, and it could not be forgotten how much
he was beloved by the troops he had commanded. He did not possess
that irresistible charm which in Bonaparte excited attachment, but his
mildness of temper and excellent character inspired love and respect. It
was the general opinion in Paris that a single word from Moreau to the
soldiers in whose custody he was placed would in a moment have converted
the gaoler-guard into a guard of honour, ready to execute all that might
be required for the safety of the conqueror of Hohenlinden. Perhaps the
respect with which he was treated and the indulgence of daily seeing his
wife and child were but artful calculations for keeping him within the
limits of his usual character. Besides, Moreau was so confident of
the injustice of the charge brought against him that he was calm and
resigned, and showed no disposition to rouse the anger of an enemy who
would have been happy to have some real accusation against him. To these
causes combined I always attributed the resignation; and I may say the
indifference, of Moreau while he was in prison and on his trial.
When the legal preparations for the trial were ended the prisoners of
the Temple were permitted to communicate with each other, and, viewing
their fate with that indifference which youth, misfortune, and courage
inspired, they amused themselves with some of those games which usually
serve for boyish recreation. While they were thus engaged the order
arrived for their removal to the Conciergerie. The firmness of all
remained unshaken, and they made their preparations for departure as
if they were going about any ordinary business. This fortitude was
particularly remarkable in Georges, in whose manner a change had taken
place which was remarked by all his companions in misfortune.
For some time past the agents of Government throughout France had been
instructed to solicit the First Consul to grant for the people what the
people did not want, but what Bonaparte wished to take while he appeared
to yield to the general will, namely, unlimited sovereign authority,
free from any subterfuge of denomination. The opportunity of the great
conspiracy just discovered, and in which Bonaparte had not incurred a
moment's danger, as he did at the time of the infernal machine, was
not suffered to escape; that opportunity was, on the contrary, eagerly
seized by the authorities of every rank, civil, ecclesiastical, and
military, and a torrent of addresses, congratulations, and thanksgivings
inundated the Tuileries. Most of the authors of these addressee did not
confine themselves to mere congratulations; they entreated Bonaparte to
consolidate his work, the true meaning of which was that it was time he
should make himself Emperor and establish hereditary succession. Those
who on other occasions had shown an officious readiness to execute
Bonaparte's commands did not now fear to risk his displeasure by
opposing the opinion he had expressed in the Council of State on the
discussion of the question of the Consulate for life. Bonaparte then
said, "Hereditary succession is absurd. It is irreconcilable with the
principle of the sovereignty of the people, and impossible in France."
In this scene of the grand drama Bonaparte played his part with his
accustomed talent, keeping himself in the background and leaving to
others the task of preparing the catastrophe. The Senate, who took the
lead in the way of insinuation, did not fail, while congratulating the
First Consul on his escape from the plots of foreigners, or, as they
were officially styled, the daggers of England, to conjure him not to
delay the completion of his work. Six days after the death of the Duc
d'Enghien the Senate first expressed this wish. Either because Bonaparte
began to repent of a useless crime, and felt the ill effect it must
produce on the public mind, or because he found the language of the
Senate somewhat vague, he left the address nearly a month unanswered,
and then only replied by the request that the intention of the address
might be more completely expressed. These negotiations between the
Senate and the Head of the Government were not immediately published.
Bonaparte did not like publicity except for what had arrived at a
result; but to attain the result which was the object of his ambition
it was necessary that the project which he was maturing should be
introduced in the Tribunate, and the tribune Curee had the honour to
be the first to propose officially, on the 30th of April 1804, the
conversion of the Consular Republic into an Empire, and the elevation
of Bonaparte to the title of Emperor; with the rights of hereditary
succession.
If any doubts could exist respecting the complaisant part which Curee
acted on this occasion one circumstance would suffice to remove them;
that is, that ten days before the development of his proposition
Bonaparte had caused the question of founding the Empire and
establishing hereditary succession in his family to be secretly
discussed in the Council of State. I learned from one of the Councillors
of State all that passed on that occasion, and I may remark that
Cambacérès showed himself particularly eager in the Council of State, as
well as afterwards in the Senate, to become the exalted subject of him
who had been his first colleague in the Consulate.
About the middle of April, the Council of State being assembled as for
an ordinary sitting, the First Consul, who was frequently present at the
sittings, did not appear. Cambacérès arrived and took the Presidency in
his quality of Second Consul, and it was remarked that his air was more
solemn than usual, though he at all times affected gravity.
The partisans of hereditary succession were the majority, and resolved
to present an address to the First Consul. Those of the Councillors who
opposed this determined on their part to send a counter-address; and to
avoid this clashing of opinions Bonaparte signified his wish that each
member of the Council should send him his opinion individually, with his
signature affixed. By a singular accident it happened to be Berlier's
task to present to the First Consul the separate opinions of the
Council. Out of the twenty-seven Councillors present only seven opposed
the question. Bonaparte received them all most graciously, and told
them, among other things, that he wished for hereditary power only for
the benefit of France; that the citizens would never be his subjects,
and that the French people would never be his people. Such were the
preliminaries to the official proposition of Curee to the Tribunate, and
upon reflection it was decided that, as all opposition would be useless
and perhaps dangerous to the opposing party, the minority should join
the majority. This was accordingly done.
The Tribunate having adopted the proposition of Curee, there was no
longer any motive for concealing the overtures of the Senate. Its
address to the First Consul was therefore published forty days after its
date: the pear was then ripe. This period is so important that I must
not omit putting together the most remarkable facts which either came
within my own observation, or which I have learned since respecting the
foundation of the Empire.
Bonaparte had a long time before spoken to me of the title of Emperor
as being the most appropriate for the new sovereignty which he wished
to found in France. This, he observed, was not restoring the old system
entirely, and he dwelt much on its being the title which Caesar had
borne. He often said, "One may be the Emperor of a republic, but not the
King of a republic, those two terms are incongruous."
In its first address the Senate had taken as a test the documents it had
received from the Government in relation to the intrigues of Drake, who
had been sent from England to Munich. That text afforded the opportunity
for a vague expression of what the Senate termed the necessities of
France. To give greater solemnity to the affair the Senate proceeded in
a body to the Tuileries, and one thing which gave a peculiar character
to the preconcerted advances of the Senate was that Cambacérès, the
Second Consul, fulfilled his functions of President on this occasion,
and delivered the address to the First Consul.
However, the First Consul thought the address of the Senate, which, I
have been informed, was drawn up by Francois de Neufchateau, was not
expressed with sufficient clearness; he therefore, after suffering
a little interval to elapse, sent a message to the Senate signed by
himself, in which he said, "Your address has been the object of my
earnest consideration." And though the address contained no mention of
hereditary succession, he added, "You consider the hereditary succession
of the supreme magistracy necessary to defend the French people against
the plots of our enemies and the agitation arising from rival ambition.
At the same time several of our institutions appear to you to require
improvement so as to ensure the triumph of equality and public liberty,
and to offer to the nation and the Government the double guarantee
they require." From the subsequent passages of the message it will be
sufficient to extract the following: "We have been constantly guided by
this great truth: that the sovereignty dwells with the French people,
and that it is for their interest, happiness, and glory that the Supreme
Magistracy, the Senate, the Council of State, the Legislative Body, the
Electoral Colleges, and the different branches of the Government,
are and must be instituted." The omission of the Tribunate in this
enumeration is somewhat remarkable. It announced a promise which was
speedily realised.
The will of Bonaparte being thus expressed in his message to
the--Senate, that body, which was created to preserve the institutions
consecrated by the Constitution of the year VIII., had no alternative
but to submit to the intentions manifested by the First Consul. The
reply to the message was, therefore, merely a counterpart of the message
itself. It positively declared that hereditary government was essential
to the happiness, the glory, and the prosperity of France, and that that
government could be confided only to Bonaparte and his family. While the
Senate so complaisantly played its part in this well-get-up piece, yet,
the better to impose on the credulity of the multitude, its reply, like
Bonaparte's message, resounded with the words liberty and equality.
Indeed, it was impudently asserted in that reply that Bonaparte's
accession to hereditary power would be a certain guarantee for the
liberty of the press, a liberty which Bonaparte held in the greatest
horror, and without which all other liberty is but a vain illusion.
By this reply of the Senate the most important step was performed. There
now remained merely ceremonies to regulate and formulas to fill up.
These various arrangements occasioned a delay of a fortnight. On the
18th of May the First Consul was greeted for the first time by the
appellation of Sire by his former colleague, Cambacérès, who at the
head of the Senate went to present to Bonaparte the organic
'Senatus-consulte' containing the foundation of the Empire. Napoleon was
at St. Cloud, whither the Senate proceeded in state. After the speech
of Cambacérès, in which the old designation of Majesty was for the first
time revived, the EMPEROR replied:--
All that can contribute to the welfare of the country is essentially
connected with my happiness. I accept the title which you believe
to be conducive to the glory of the nation. I submit to the
sanction of the people the law of hereditary succession. I hope
that France will never repent the honours she may confer on my
family. At all events, my spirit will not be with my posterity when
they cease to merit the confidence and love of the great nation.
Cambacérès next went to congratulate the Empress, and then was realised
to Josephine the prediction which I had made to her three years before
at Malmaison.
--[In the original motion as prepared by Curee, the Imperial dignity
was to be declared hereditary in the family of Napoleon. Previous to
being formerly read before the Tribunate, the First Consul sent for
the document, and when it was returned it was found that the word
family was altered to descendants. Fabre, the President of the
Tribunate, who received the altered document from Maret, seeing the
effect the alteration would have on the brothers of Napoleon, and
finding that Maret affected to crest the change as immaterial, took
on himself to restore the original form, and in that shape it was
read by the unconscious Curee to the Tribunals. On this curious,
passage see Miot de Melito, tome ii, p. 179. As finally settled the
descent of the crown in default of Napoleon's children was limited
to Joseph and Louis and their descendants, but the power of adoption
was given to Napoleon. The draft of the 'Senates-consulte' was
heard by the Council of State in silence, and Napoleon tried in vain
to get even the most talkative of the members now to speak. The
Senate were not unanimous in rendering the 'Senatus-consulte'. The
three votes given against it were said to have been Gregoire, the
former constitutional Bishop of Blois, Carat, who as Minister of
Justice had read to Louis XVI. the sentence of death, and
Lanjuinais, one of the very few survivors of the Girondists, Thiers
says there was only one dissentient voice. For the fury of the
brothers of Napoleon, who saw the destruction of all their ambitions
hopes in any measure for the descent of the crown except in the
family, see Miot, tome ii. p.. 172, where Joseph is described as
cursing the ambition of his brother, and desiring his death as a
benefit for France and his family.]--
Bonaparte's first act as Emperor, on the very day of his elevation to
the Imperial throne, was the nomination of Joseph to the dignity of
Grand Elector, with the title of Imperial Highness. Louis was raised to
the dignity of Constable, with the same title, and Cambacérès and Lebrun
were created Arch-Chancellor and Arch-Treasurer of the Empire. On the
same day Bonaparte wrote the following letter to Cambacérès, the first
which he signed as Emperor, and merely with the name of Napoleon:--
CITIZEN CONSUL CAMBACERES--Your title has changed; but your
functions and my confidence remain the same. In the high dignity
with which you are now invested you will continue to manifest, as
you have hitherto done in that of Consul, that wisdom and that
distinguished talent which entitle you to so important a share in
all the good which I may have effected. I have, therefore, only to
desire the continuance of the sentiments you cherish towards the
State and me.
Given at the Palace of St. Cloud, 28th Floréal, an XII.
(18th May 1804).
(Signed) NAPOLEON.
By the Emperor.
H. B. MARET.