_Disaffection begins to arise against Napoleon among the
Soldiery--Purpose of setting up Moreau against him--Character of
Moreau--Causes of his Estrangement from Buonaparte--Pichegru--The
Duke d'Enghien--Georges Cadoudal, Pichegru, and other Royalists,
landed in France--Desperate Enterprise of Georges--Defeated--Arrest
of Moreau--of Pichegru--and Georges--Captain Wright--Duke d'Enghien
seized at Strasburg--Hurried to Paris--Transferred to
Vincennes--Tried by a Military Commission--Condemned--and
Executed--Universal Horror of France and Europe--Buonaparte's
Vindication of his Conduct--His Defence considered--Pichegru found
dead in his Prison--Attempt to explain his Death by charging him
with Suicide--Captain Wright found with his Throat cut--A similar
Attempt made--Georges and other Conspirators Tried--Condemned--and
Executed--Royalists Silenced--Moreau sent into Exile._
[Sidenote: DISAFFECTION OF THE SOLDIERY.]
While Buonaparte was meditating the regeneration of Europe, by means of
conquering, first Britain, and then the northern powers, a course of
opposition to his government, and disaffection to his person, was
beginning to arise even among the soldiers themselves. The acquisition
of the consulate for life was naturally considered as a deathblow to the
Republic; and to that name many of the principal officers of the army,
who had advanced themselves to promotion by means of the Revolution,
still held a grateful attachment. The dissatisfaction of these military
men was the more natural, as some of them might see in Buonaparte
nothing more than a successful adventurer, who had raised himself high
above the heads of his comrades, and now exacted their homage. As
soldiers, they quickly passed from murmurs to threats; and at a festive
meeting, which was prolonged beyond the limits of sobriety, a colonel of
hussars proposed himself as the Brutus to remove this new Cæsar. Being
expert at the use of the pistol, he undertook to hit his mark at fifty
yards distance, during one of those reviews which were perpetually
taking place in presence of the first consul. The affair became known to
the police, but was hushed up as much as possible by the address of
Fouché, who saw that Buonaparte might be prejudiced by the bare act of
making public that such a thing had been agitated, however
unthinkingly.[45]
The discontent spread wide, and was secretly augmented by the agents of
the house of Bourbon; and, besides the constitutional Opposition, whose
voice was at times heard in the Legislative Body and the Tribunate,
there existed malecontents without doors, composed of two parties, one
of whom considered Buonaparte as the enemy of public liberty, whilst the
other regarded him as the sole obstacle to the restoration of the
Bourbons; and the most eager partisans of both began to meditate on the
practicability of removing him by any means, the most violent and the
most secret not excepted. Those among the furious Republicans, or
enthusiastic Royalists, who entertained such sentiments, excused them,
doubtless, to their conscience, by Napoleon's having destroyed the
liberties, and usurped the supreme authority, of the country; thus
palliating the complexion of a crime which can never be vindicated.
These zealots, however, bore no proportion to the great body of
Frenchmen, who, displeased with the usurpation of Buonaparte, and
disposed to overthrow it, if possible, held themselves yet obliged to
refrain from all crooked and indirect practices against his life.
Proposing to destroy his power in the same way in which it had been
built, the first and most necessary task of the discontented party was
to find some military chief, whose reputation might bear to be balanced
against that of Napoleon; and no one could claim such distinction
excepting Moreau. If his campaigns were inferior to those of his great
rival in the lightning-like brilliancy and celerity of their operations,
and in the boldness of combination on which they were founded, they were
executed at smaller loss to his troops, and were less calculated to
expose him to disastrous consequences if they chanced to miscarry.
Moreau was no less celebrated for his retreat through the defiles of the
Black Forest, in 1796, than for the splendid and decisive victory of
Hohenlinden.
Moreau's natural temper was mild, gentle, and accessible to
persuasion--a man of great abilities certainly, but scarcely displaying
the bold and decisive character which he ought to possess, who, in such
times as we write of, aspires to place himself at the head of a faction
in the state. Indeed, it rather would seem that he was forced into that
situation of eminence by the influence of general opinion, joined to
concurring circumstances, than that he deliberately aspired to place
himself there. He was the son of a lawyer of Bretagne,[46] and in every
respect a man who had risen by the Revolution. He was not, therefore,
naturally inclined towards the Bourbons; yet when Pichegru's
communications with the exiled family in 1795 became known to him by the
correspondence which he intercepted, Moreau kept the secret until some
months after,[47] when Pichegru had, with the rest of his party, fallen
under the Revolution of 18th Fructidor, which installed the Directory
of Barras, Reubel, and La Raveillière. After this period, Moreau's
marriage with a lady[48] who entertained sentiments favourable to the
Bourbons, seems to have gone some length in deciding his own political
opinions.
Moreau had lent Buonaparte his sword and countenance on 18th Brumaire;
but he was soon dissatisfied with the engrossing ambition of the new
ruler of France, and they became gradually estranged from each other.
This was not the fault of Buonaparte, who, naturally desirous of
attaching to himself so great a general, showed him considerable
attention, and complained that it was received with coldness. On one
occasion, a most splendid pair of pistols had been sent to the first
consul. "They arrive in a happy time," he said, and presented them to
Moreau, who at that instant entered his presence chamber.[49] Moreau
received the civility as one which he would willingly have dispensed
with. He made no other acknowledgment than a cold bow, and instantly
left the levee.
Upon the institution of the Legion of Honour, one of the grand crosses
was offered to him. "The fool!" said Moreau, "does he not know that I
have belonged to the ranks of honour for these twelve years?" Another
pleasantry on this topic, upon which Buonaparte was very sensitive, was
a company of officers, who dined together with Moreau, voting a
sauce-pan of honour to the general's cook, on account of his merits in
dressing some particular dish. Thus, living estranged from Buonaparte,
Moreau came to be gradually regarded as the head of the disaffected
party in France; and the eyes of all those who disliked Napoleon or his
government, were fixed upon him, as the only individual whose influence
might be capable of balancing that of the chief consul.
Meantime, the peace of Amiens being broken, the British Government, with
natural policy, resolved once more to avail themselves of the state of
public feeling in France, and engage the partisans of royalty in a fresh
attack upon the Consular Government. They were probably in some degree
deceived concerning the strength of that party, which had been much
reduced under Buonaparte's management, and had listened too implicitly
to the promises and projects of agents, who, themselves sanguine beyond
what was warranted, exaggerated even their own hopes in communicating
them to the British ministers. It seems to have been acknowledged, that
little success was to be hoped for, unless Moreau could be brought to
join the conspiracy. This, however, was esteemed possible; and
notwithstanding the disagreement, personal as well as political, which
had subsisted betwixt him and Pichegru, the latter seems to have
undertaken to become the medium of communication betwixt Moreau and the
Royalists. Escaped from the deserts of Cayenne, to which he had been
exiled, Pichegru had for some time found refuge and support in London,
and there openly professed his principles as a Royalist, upon which he
had for a long time acted in secret.
[Sidenote: THE DUKE D'ENGHIEN.]
A scheme was in agitation for raising the Royalists in the west, and the
Duke de Berri was to make a descent on the coast of Picardy, to favour
the insurrection. The Duke d'Enghien, grandson of the Prince of Condé,
fixed his residence under the protection of the Margrave of Baden, at
the chateau of Ettenheim, with the purpose, doubtless, of being ready to
put himself at the head of the Royalists in the east of France, or, if
occasion should offer, in Paris itself. This prince of the house of
Bourbon, the destined inheritor of the name of the great Condé, was in
the flower of youth, handsome, brave, and high-minded. He had been
distinguished for his courage in the emigrant army, which his
grandfather commanded. He gained by his valour the battle of Bortsheim;
and when his army, to whom the French Republicans showed no quarter,
desired to execute reprisals on their prisoners, he threw himself among
them to prevent their violence. "These men," he said "are
Frenchmen--they are unfortunate--I place them under the guardianship of
your honour and your humanity." Such was the princely youth, whose name
must now be written in bloody characters in this part of Napoleon's
history.
Whilst the French princes expected on the frontier the effect of
commotions in the interior of France, Pichegru, Georges Cadoudal, and
about thirty other Royalists of the most determined character, were
secretly landed in France, made their way to the metropolis, and
contrived to find lurking places invisible to the all-seeing police.
There can be no reason to doubt that a part of those agents, and Georges
in particular, saw the greatest obstacle of their enterprise in the
existence of Buonaparte, and were resolved to commence by his
assassination. Pichegru, who was constantly in company with Georges,
cannot well be supposed ignorant of this purpose, although better
befitting the fierce chief of a band of Chouans than the conqueror of
Holland.
In the meantime, Pichegru effected the desired communication with
Moreau, then, as we have said, considered as the chief of the
discontented military men, and the declared enemy of Buonaparte. They
met at least twice; and it is certain that on one of these occasions
Pichegru carried with him Georges Cadoudal, at whose person and plans
Moreau expressed horror, and desired that Pichegru would not again bring
that irrational savage into his company. The cause of his dislike we
must naturally suppose to have been the nature of the measures Georges
proposed, being the last to which a brave and loyal soldier like Moreau
would willingly have resorted to; but Buonaparte, when pretending to
give an exact account of what passed betwixt Moreau and Pichegru,
represents the conduct of the former in a very different point of view.
Moreau, according to this account, informed Pichegru, that while the
first consul lived, he had not the slightest interest in the army, and
that not even his own aides-de-camp would follow him against Napoleon;
but were Napoleon removed, Moreau assured them all eyes would be fixed
on himself alone--that he would then become first consul--that Pichegru
should be second; and was proceeding to make farther arrangements, when
Georges broke in on their deliberations with fury, accused the generals
of scheming their own grandeur, not the restoration of the king, and
declared that to choose betwixt _blue_ and _blue_, (a phrase by which
the Vendéans distinguished the Republicans,)[50] he would as soon have
Buonaparte as Moreau at the head of affairs, and concluded by stating
his own pretensions to be third consul at least. According to this
account, therefore, Moreau was not shocked at the atrocity of Georges'
enterprise, of which he himself had been the first to admit the
necessity, but only disgusted at the share which the Chouan chief
assorted to himself in the partition of the spoil. But we give no credit
whatever to this story. Though nothing could have been so important to
the first consul at the time as to produce proof of Moreau's direct
accession to the plot on his life, no such proof was ever brought
forward; and therefore the statement, we have little doubt, was made up
afterwards, and contains what Buonaparte might think probable, and
desire that others should believe, not what he knew from certain
information, or was able to prove by credible testimony.
The police was speedily alarmed, and in action. Notice had been received
that a band of Royalists had introduced themselves into the capital,
though it was for some time very difficult to apprehend them. Georges,
meanwhile, prosecuted his attempt against the chief consul, and is
believed at one time to have insinuated himself in the disguise of a
menial into the Tuileries, and even into Buonaparte's apartment; but
without finding any opportunity to strike the blow, which his uncommon
strength and desperate resolution might otherwise have rendered
decisive. All the barriers were closed, and a division of Buonaparte's
guards maintained the closest watch, to prevent any one escaping from
the city. By degrees sufficient light was obtained to enable the
government to make a communication to the public upon the existence and
tendency of the conspiracy, which became more especially necessary, when
it was resolved to arrest Moreau himself. This took place on the 15th
February, 1804. He was seized without difficulty or resistance, while
residing quietly at his country-house. On the day following, an order of
the day, signed by Murat, then Governor of Paris, announced the fact to
the citizens, with the additional information, that Moreau was engaged
in a conspiracy with Pichegru, Georges, and others, who were closely
pursued by the police.
The news of Moreau's imprisonment produced the deepest sensation in
Paris; and the reports which were circulated on the subject were by no
means favourable to Buonaparte. Some disbelieved the plot entirely,
while others, less sceptical, considered the chief consul as making a
pretext of the abortive attempt of Pichegru and Georges for the purpose
of sacrificing Moreau, who was at once his rival in military fame, and
the declared opponent of his government. It was even asserted, that
secret agents of Buonaparte in London had been active in encouraging the
attempts of the original conspirators, for the sake of implicating a man
whom the first consul both hated and feared. Of this there was no proof;
but these and other dark suspicions pervaded men's minds, and all eyes
were turned with anxiety upon the issue of the legal investigations
which were about to take place.
Upon the 17th February, the great judge of police, by a report[51] which
was communicated to the Senate, the Legislative Body, and the Tribunate,
denounced Pichegru, Georges, and others, as having returned to France
from their exile, with the purpose of overthrowing the government, and
assassinating the chief consul, and implicated Moreau as having held
communication with them. When the report was read in the Tribunate, the
brother of Moreau arose, and, recalling the merits and services of his
relative, complained of the cruelty of calumniating him without proof,
and demanded for him the privilege of an open and public trial.
"This is a fine display of sensibility," said Curee, one of the
tribunes, in ridicule of the sensation naturally produced by this
affecting incident.
"It is a display of indignation," replied the brother of Moreau, and
left the assembly.
The public bodies, however, did what was doubtless expected of them, and
carried to the foot of the consular throne the most exaggerated
expressions of their interest in the life and safety of him by whom it
was occupied.
[Sidenote: ARREST OF PICHEGRU AND GEORGES.]
Meanwhile, the vigilance of the police, and the extraordinary means
employed by them, accomplished the arrest of almost all the persons
concerned in the plot. A false friend, whom Pichegru had trusted to the
highest degree, betrayed his confidence for a large bribe, and
introduced the gendarmes into his apartment while he was asleep. They
first secured the arms which lay beside him, and then his person, after
a severe struggle. Georges Cadoudal, perhaps a yet more important
capture, fell into the hands of the police soon after. He had been
traced so closely, that at length he dared not enter a house, but spent
many hours of the day and night in driving about Paris in a cabriolet.
On being arrested, he shot one of the gendarmes dead, mortally wounded
another, and had nearly escaped from them all. The other conspirators,
and those accused of countenancing their enterprise, were arrested to
the number of forty persons, who were of very different characters and
conditions; some followers or associates of Georges, and others
belonging to the ancient nobility. Among the latter were Messrs. Armand
and Jules Polignac, Charles de la Rivière, and other Royalists of
distinction. Chance had also thrown into Buonaparte's power a victim of
another description. Captain Wright, the commander of a British brig of
war, had been engaged in putting ashore on the coast of Morbihan,
Pichegru and some of his companions. Shortly afterwards, his vessel was
captured by a French vessel of superior force. Under pretence that his
evidence was necessary to the conviction of the French conspirators, he
was brought up to Paris, committed to the Temple, and treated with a
rigour which became a prelude to the subsequent tragedy.
It might have been supposed, that among so many prisoners, enough of
victims might have been selected to atone with their lives for the
insurrection which they were accused of meditating; nay, for the attempt
which was alleged to be designed against the person of the first consul.
Most unhappily for his fame, Napoleon thought otherwise; and, from
causes which we shall hereafter endeavour to appreciate, sought to give
a fuller scope to the gratification of his revenge, than the list of his
captives, though containing several men of high rank, enabled him to
accomplish.
[Sidenote: THE DUKE D'ENGHIEN.]
We have observed, that the residence of the Duke d'Enghien upon the
French frontier was to a certain degree connected with the enterprise
undertaken by Pichegru, so far as concerned the proposed insurrection of
the royalists in Paris. This we infer from the duke's admission, that he
resided at Ettenheim in the expectation of having soon a part of
importance to play in France.[52] This was perfectly vindicated by his
situation and connexions. But that the duke participated in, or
countenanced in the slightest degree, the meditated attempt on
Buonaparte's life, has never even been alleged, and is contrary to all
the proof led in the case, and especially to the sentiments impressed
upon him by his grandfather, the Prince of Condé.[53] He lived in great
privacy, and amused himself principally with hunting. A pension allowed
him by England was his only means of support.
On the evening of the 14th March, a body of French soldiers and
gendarmes, commanded by Colonel Ordenner, acting under the direction of
Caulaincourt, afterwards called Duke of Vicenza, suddenly entered the
territory of Baden, a power with whom France was in profound peace, and
surrounded the chateau in which the unfortunate prince resided. The
descendant of Condé sprung to his arms, but was prevented from using
them by one of his attendants, who represented the force of the
assailants as too great to be resisted. The soldiers rushed into the
apartment, and, presenting their pistols, demanded to know which was the
Duke d'Enghien. "If you desire to arrest him," said the Duke, "you ought
to have his description in your warrant."--"Then we must seize on you
all," replied the officer in command; and the prince, with his little
household, were arrested and carried to a mill at some distance from the
house, where he was permitted to receive some clothes and necessaries.
Being now recognised, he was transferred, with his attendants, to the
citadel of Strasburg, and presently afterwards separated from the
gentlemen of his household, with the exception of his aide-de-camp, the
Baron de St. Jacques. He was allowed to communicate with no one. He
remained a close prisoner for three days; but on the 18th, betwixt one
and two in the morning, he was obliged to rise and dress himself
hastily, being only informed that he was about to commence a journey.
He requested the attendance of his valet-de-chambre, but was answered
that it was unnecessary. The linen which he was permitted to take with
him amounted to two shirts only; so nicely had his worldly wants been
calculated and ascertained. He was transported with the utmost speed and
secrecy towards Paris, where he arrived on the 20th; and, after having
been committed for a few hours to the Temple, was transferred to the
ancient Gothic castle of Vincennes, about a mile from the city, long
used as a state prison, but whose walls never received a more
illustrious or a more innocent victim. There he was permitted to take
some repose; and, as if the favour had only been granted for the purpose
of being withdrawn, he was awaked at midnight, and called upon to
sustain an interrogatory on which his life depended, and to which he
replied with the utmost composure. On the ensuing night, at the same
dead hour, he was brought before the pretended court. The law enjoined
that he should have had a defender appointed to plead his cause. But
none such was allotted to him.
The inquisitors before whom he was hurried, formed a military commission
of eight officers, having General Hulin as their president. They were,
as the proceedings express it, named by Buonaparte's brother-in-law
Murat, then governor of Paris. Though necessarily exhausted with fatigue
and want of rest, the Duke d'Enghien performed in this melancholy scene
a part worthy of the last descendant of the great Condé. He avowed his
name and rank, and the share which he had taken in the war against
France, but denied all knowledge of Pichegru or of his conspiracy. The
interrogations ended by his demanding an audience of the chief consul.
"My name," he said, "my rank, my sentiments, and the peculiar distress
of my situation, lead me to hope that my request will not be refused."
The military commissioners paused and hesitated--nay, though selected
doubtless as fitted for the office, they were even affected by the whole
behaviour, and especially by the intrepidity, of the unhappy prince. But
Savary, then chief of the police, stood behind the president's chair,
and controlled their sentiments of compassion. When they proposed to
further the prisoner's request of an audience of the first consul,
Savary cut the discussion short, by saying, that was inexpedient. At
length they reported their opinion, that the Duke d'Enghien was guilty
of having fought against the Republic, intrigued with England, and
maintained intelligence in Strasburg, for the purpose of seizing the
place;--great part of which allegations, and especially the last, was in
express contradiction to the only proof adduced, the admission, namely,
of the prisoner himself. The report being sent to Buonaparte to know his
farther pleasure, the court received for answer their own letter, marked
with the emphatic words, "Condemned to death." Napoleon was obeyed by
his satraps with Persian devotion. The sentence was pronounced, and the
prisoner received it with the same intrepid gallantry which
distinguished him through the whole of the bloody scene. He requested
the aid of a confessor. "Would you die like a monk?" is said to have
been the insulting reply. The duke, without noticing the insult, knelt
down for a minute, and seemed absorbed in profound devotion.
"Let us go," he said, when he arose from his knees. All was in readiness
for the execution; and, as if to stamp the trial as a mere mockery, the
grave had been prepared ere the judgment of the court was
pronounced.[54] Upon quitting the apartment in which the pretended trial
had taken place, the prince was conducted by torch-light down a
winding-stair, which seemed to descend to the dungeons of the ancient
castle.
"Am I to be immured in an oubliette?" he said, naturally recollecting
the use which had sometimes been made of those tombs for the
living.--"No, Monseigneur," answered the soldier he addressed, in a
voice interrupted by sobs, "be tranquil on that subject." The stair led
to a postern, which opened into the castle ditch, where, as we have
already said, a grave was dug, beside which were drawn up a party of the
gendarmes d'élite. It was near six o'clock in the morning, and day had
dawned. But as there was a heavy mist on the ground, several torches and
lamps mixed their pale and ominous light with that afforded by the
heavens,--a circumstance which seems to have given rise to the
inaccurate report, that a lantern was tied to the button of the victim,
that his slayers might take the more certain aim. Savary was again in
attendance, and had taken his place upon a parapet which commanded the
place of execution. The victim was placed, the fatal word was given by
the future Duke de Rovigo, the party fired, and the prisoner fell. The
body, dressed as it was, and without the slightest attention to the
usual decencies of sepulture, was huddled into the grave with as little
ceremony as common robbers use towards the carcases of the murdered.
Paris learned with astonishment and fear the singular deed which had
been perpetrated so near her walls. No act had ever excited more
universal horror, both in France and in foreign countries, and none has
left so deep a stain on the memory of Napoleon. If there were farther
proof necessary of the general opinion of mankind on the subject, the
anxiety displayed by Savary, Hulin, and the other subaltern agents in
this shameful transaction to diminish their own share in it, or transfer
it to others, would be sufficient evidence of the deep responsibility to
which they felt themselves subjected.
There is but justice, however, in listening to the defence which
Buonaparte set up for himself when in Saint Helena, especially as it
appeared perfectly convincing to Las Cases, his attendant who, though
reconciled to most of his master's actions, had continued to regard the
Duke d'Enghien's death as so great a blot upon his escutcheon, that he
blushed even when Napoleon himself introduced the subject.[55]
His exculpation seems to have assumed a different and inconsistent
character, according to the audience to whom it was stated. Among his
intimate friends and followers, he appears to have represented the whole
transaction as an affair not of his own device, but which was pressed
upon him by surprise by his ministers. "I was seated," he said, "alone,
and engaged in finishing my coffee, when they came to announce to me the
discovery of some new machination. They represented it was time to put
an end to such horrible attempts, by washing myself in the blood of one
amongst the Bourbons; and they suggested the Duke d'Enghien as the most
proper victim." Buonaparte proceeds to say, that he did not know exactly
who the Duke d'Enghien was, far less that he resided so near France as
to be only three leagues from the Rhine. This was explained. "In that
case," said Napoleon, "he ought to be arrested." His prudent ministers
had foreseen this conclusion. They had the whole scheme laid, and the
orders ready drawn up for Buonaparte's signature; so that, according to
this account, he was hurried into the enormity by the zeal of those
about him, or perhaps in consequence of their private views and
mysterious intrigues. He also charged Talleyrand with concealing from
him a letter,[56] written by the unfortunate prisoner, in which he
offered his services to Buonaparte, but which was intercepted by the
minister. If this had reached him in time, he intimates that he would
have spared the prince's life. To render this statement probable, he
denies generally that Josephine had interested herself to the utmost to
engage him to spare the duke; although this has been affirmed by the
testimony of such as declared, that they received the fact from the
Empress's own lips.[57]
It is unfortunate for the truth of this statement and the soundness of
the defence which it contains, that neither Talleyrand, nor any human
being save Buonaparte himself, could have the least interest in the
death of the Duke d'Enghien. That Napoleon should be furious at the
conspiracies of Georges and Pichegru and should be willing to avenge the
personal dangers he incurred; and that he should be desirous to
intimidate the family of Bourbon, by "washing himself," as he expresses
it, "in the blood of one of their House," was much in character. But
that the sagacious Talleyrand should have hurried on a cruel proceeding,
in which he had no earthly interest, is as unlikely, as that, if he had
desired to do so, he could have been able to elicit from Buonaparte the
powers necessary for an act of so much consequence, without his master
having given the affair, in all its bearings, the most full and ample
consideration. It may also be noticed, that besides transferring a part
at least of the guilt from himself, Buonaparte might be disposed to
gratify his revenge against Talleyrand, by stigmatizing him, from St.
Helena, with a crime the most odious to his new sovereigns of the House
of Bourbon. Lastly, the existence of the letter above mentioned has
never been proved, and it is inconsistent with every thought and
sentiment of the Duke d'Enghien. It is besides said to have been dated
from Strasburg; and the duke's aide-de-camp, the Baron de St. Jacques,
has given his testimony that he was never an instant separated from his
patron, during his confinement in that citadel; and that the duke
neither wrote a letter to Buonaparte nor to any one else. But, after
all, if Buonaparte had actually proceeded in this bloody matter upon the
instigation of Talleyrand, it cannot be denied, that, as a man knowing
right from wrong, he could not hope to transfer to his counsellor the
guilt of the measures which he executed at his recommendation. The
murder, like the rebellion of Absalom, was not less a crime, even
supposing it recommended and facilitated by the unconscientious counsels
of a modern Achitophel.
Accordingly, Napoleon has not chosen to trust to this defence; but,
inconsistently with this pretence of being hurried into the measure by
Talleyrand, he has, upon other occasions, broadly and boldly avowed that
it was in itself just and necessary; that the Duke d'Enghien was
condemned by the laws, and suffered execution accordingly under their
sanction.
It is an easy task to show, that even according to the law of France,
jealous and severe as it was in its application to such subjects, there
existed no right to take the life of the duke. It is true he was an
emigrant, and the law denounced the penalty of death against such of
these as should return to France with arms in their hands. But the duke
did not so return--nay, his returning at all was not an act of his own,
but the consequence of violence exercised on his person. He was in a
more favourable case than even those emigrants whom storms had cast on
their native shore, and whom Buonaparte himself considered as objects of
pity, not of punishment. He had indeed borne arms against France; but as
a member of the House of Bourbon, he was not, and could not be
accounted, a subject of Buonaparte, having left the country before his
name was heard of; nor could he be considered as in contumacy against
the state of France, for he, like the rest of the royal family, was
specially excluded from the benefits of the amnesty which invited the
return of the less distinguished emigrants. The act by which he was
trepanned, and brought within the compass of French power, not of French
law, was as much a violation of the rights of nations, as the
precipitation with which the pretended trial followed the arrest, and
the execution the trial, was an outrage upon humanity. On the trial no
witnesses were produced, nor did any investigation take place, saving by
the interrogation of the prisoner. Whatever points of accusation,
therefore, are not established by the admission of the duke himself,
must be considered as totally unproved. Yet this unconscientious
tribunal not only found their prisoner guilty of having borne arms
against the Republic, which he readily admitted, but of having placed
himself at the head of a party of French emigrants in the pay of
England, and carried on machinations for surprising the city of
Strasburg; charges which he himself positively denied, and which were
supported by no proof whatever.
Buonaparte, well aware of the total irregularity of the proceedings in
this extraordinary case, seems, on some occasions, to have wisely
renounced any attempt to defend what he must have been convinced was
indefensible, and has vindicated his conduct upon general grounds, of a
nature well worthy of notice. It seems that, when he spoke of the death
of the Duke d'Enghien among his attendants, he always chose to represent
it as a case falling under the ordinary forms of law, in which all
regularity was observed, and where, though he might be accused of
severity, he could not be charged with violation of justice. This was
safe language to hearers from whom he was sure to receive neither
objection nor contradiction, and is just an instance of an attempt, on
the part of a conscientiously guilty party, to establish, by repeated
asseverations, an innocence which was inconsistent with fact. But with
strangers, from whom replies and argument might be expected, Napoleon
took broader grounds. He alleged the death of the Duke d'Enghien to be
an act of self-defence, a measure of state policy, arising out of the
natural rights of humanity, by which a man, to save his own life, is
entitled to take away that of another. "I was assailed," he said, "on
all hands by the enemies whom the Bourbons raised up against me;
threatened with air-guns, infernal machines, and deadly stratagems of
every kind. I had no tribunal on earth to which I could appeal for
protection, therefore I had a right to protect myself; and by putting to
death one of those whose followers threatened my life, I was entitled to
strike a salutary terror into the others."[58]
We have no doubt that, in this argument, which is in the original much
extended, Buonaparte explained his real motives; at least we can only
add to them the stimulus of obstinate resentment, and implacable
revenge. But the whole resolves itself into an allegation of that state
necessity, which has been justly called the Tyrant's plea, and which has
always been at hand to defend, or rather to palliate, the worst crimes
of sovereigns. The prince may be lamented, who is exposed, from civil
disaffection, to the dagger of the assassin, but his danger gives him no
right to turn such a weapon even against the individual person by whom
it is pointed at him. Far less could the attempt of any violent
partisans of the House of Bourbon authorise the first consul to take, by
a suborned judgment, and the most precipitate procedure, the life of a
young prince, against whom the accession to the conspiracies of which
Napoleon complained had never been alleged, far less proved. In every
point of view, the act was a murder; and the stain of the Duke
d'Enghien's blood must remain indelibly upon Napoleon Buonaparte.
With similar sophistry, he attempted to daub over the violation of the
neutral territory of Baden, which was committed for the purpose of
enabling his emissaries to seize the person of his unhappy victim. This,
according to Buonaparte, was a wrong which was foreign to the case of
the Duke d'Enghien, and concerned the sovereign of Baden alone. As that
prince never complained of this violation, "the plea," he contended,
"could not be used by any other person."[59] This was merely speaking as
one who has power to do wrong. To whom was the Duke of Baden to
complain, or what reparation could he expect by doing so? He was in the
condition of a poor man, who suffers injustice at the hands of a wealthy
neighbour, because he has no means to go to law, but whose acquiescence
under the injury cannot certainly change its character, or render that
invasion just which is in its own character distinctly otherwise. The
passage may be marked as showing Napoleon's unhappy predilection to
consider public measures not according to the immutable rules of right
and wrong, but according to the opportunities which the weakness of one
kingdom may afford to the superior strength of another.[60]
It may be truly added, that even the pliant argument of state necessity
was far from justifying this fatal deed. To have retained the Duke
d'Enghien a prisoner, as a hostage who might be made responsible for the
Royalists' abstaining from their plots, might have had in it some touch
of policy; but the murder of the young and gallant prince, in a way so
secret and so savage, had a deep moral effect upon the European world,
and excited hatred against Buonaparte wherever the tale was told. In the
well-known words of Fouché, the duke's execution was worse than a moral
crime--it was a political blunder.[61] It had this consequence, most
unfortunate for Buonaparte, that it seemed to stamp his character as
bloody and unforgiving; and in so far prepared the public mind to
receive the worst impressions, and authorised the worst suspicions, when
other tragedies of a more mysterious character followed that of the last
of the race of Condé.[62]
[Sidenote: DEATH OF PICHEGRU.]
The Duke d'Enghien's execution took place on the 21st March; on the 7th
April following, General Pichegru was found dead in his prison. A black
handkerchief was wrapped round his neck, which had been tightened by
twisting round a short stick inserted through one of the folds. It was
asserted that he had turned this stick with his own hands, until he lost
the power of respiring, and then, by laying his head on the pillow, had
secured the stick in its position. It did not escape the public, that
this was a mode of terminating life far more likely to be inflicted by
the hands of others than those of the deceased himself. Surgeons were
found, but men, it is said, of small reputation, to sign a report upon
the state of the body, in which they affirm that Pichegru had died by
suicide; yet as he must have lost animation and sense so soon as he had
twisted the stick to the point of strangulation, it seems strange he
should not have then unclosed his grasp on the fatal tourniquet, which
he used as the means of self-destruction. In that case the pressure must
have relaxed, and the fatal purpose have remained unaccomplished. No
human eye could see into the dark recesses of a state prison, but there
were not wanting many who entertained a total disbelief of Pichegru's
suicide. It was argued that the first consul did not dare to bring
before a public tribunal, and subject to a personal interrogatory, a man
of Pichegru's boldness and presence of mind--it was said, also, that his
evidence would have been decisively favourable to Moreau--that the
citizens of Paris were many of them attached to Pichegru's person--that
the soldiers had not forgotten his military fame--and, finally, it was
reported, that in consideration of these circumstances, it was judged
most expedient to take away his life in prison. Public rumour went so
far as to name, as the agents in the crime, four of those Mamelukes, of
whom Buonaparte had brought a small party from Egypt, and whom he used
to have about his person as matter of parade. This last assertion had a
strong impression on the multitude, who are accustomed to think, and
love to talk, about the mutes and bowstrings of Eastern despotism. But
with well-informed persons, its improbability threw some discredit on
the whole accusation. The state prisons of France must have furnished
from their officials enough of men as relentless and dexterous in such a
commission as those Eastern strangers, whose unwonted appearance in
these gloomy regions must have at once shown a fatal purpose, and
enabled every one to trace it to Buonaparte.[63]
A subsequent catastrophe, of nearly the same kind, increased by its
coincidence the dark suspicions which arose out of the circumstances
attending the death of Pichegru.
Captain Wright, from whose vessel Pichegru and his companions had
disembarked on the French coast, had become, as we have said, a prisoner
of war, his ship being captured by one of much superior force, and after
a most desperate defence. Under pretext that his evidence was necessary
to the conviction of Pichegru and Georges, he was brought to Paris, and
lodged a close prisoner in the Temple. It must also be mentioned, that
Captain Wright had been an officer under Sir Sidney Smith, and that the
mind of Buonaparte was tenaciously retentive of animosity against those
who had aided to withstand a darling purpose, or diminish and obscure
the military renown, which was yet more dear to him. The treatment of
Captain Wright was--must have been severe, even if it extended no
farther than solitary imprisonment; but reports went abroad, that
torture was employed to bring the gallant seaman to such confessions as
might suit the purposes of the French Government. This belief became
very general, when it was heard that Wright, like Pichegru, was found
dead in his apartment, with his throat cut from ear to ear, the result,
according to the account given by Government, of his own impatience and
despair. This official account of the second suicide committed by a
state prisoner, augmented and confirmed the opinions entertained
concerning the death of Pichegru, which it so closely resembled. The
unfortunate Captain Wright was supposed to have been sacrificed, partly
perhaps to Buonaparte's sentiments of petty vengeance, but chiefly to
conceal, within the walls of the Temple, the evidence which his person
would have exhibited in a public court of justice, of the dark and cruel
practices by which confession was sometimes extorted.
Buonaparte always alleged his total ignorance concerning the fate of
Pichegru and Wright, and affirmed upon all occasions, that they
perished, so far as he knew, by their own hands, and not by those of
assassins. No proof has ever been produced to contradict his assertion;
and so far as he is inculpated upon these heads, his crime can be only
matter of strong suspicion. But it was singular that this rage for
suicide should have thus infected the state prisons of Paris, and that
both these men, determined enemies of the Emperor, should have adopted
the resolution of putting themselves to death, just when that event was
most convenient to their oppressor. Above all, it must be confessed,
that, by his conduct towards the Duke d'Enghien, Buonaparte had lost
that fairness of character to which he might otherwise have appealed, as
in itself an answer to the presumptions formed against him. The man who,
under pretext of state necessity, ventured on such an open violation of
the laws of justice, ought not to complain if he is judged capable, in
every case of suspicion, of sacrificing the rights of humanity to his
passions or his interest. He himself has affirmed, that Wright died,
long before it was announced to the public, but has given no reason why
silence was preserved with respect to the event.[64] The Duke de Rovigo,
also denying all knowledge of Wright's death, acknowledges that it was
a dark and mysterious subject, and intimates his belief that Fouché was
at the bottom of the tragedy.[65] In Fouché's real or pretended Memoirs,
the subject is not mentioned. We leave, in the obscurity in which we
found it, a dreadful tale, of which the truth cannot, in all
probability, be known, until the secrets of all hearts shall be laid
open.
[Sidenote: TRIAL OF CADOUDAL AND OTHERS.]
Rid of Pichegru, by his own hand or his jailor's, Buonaparte's
government was now left to deal with Georges and his comrades, as well
as with Moreau. With the first it was an easy task, for the Chouan chief
retained, in the court of criminal justice before which he was conveyed,
the same fearless tone of defiance which he had displayed from the
beginning. He acknowledged that he came to Paris for the sake of making
war personally on Napoleon, and seemed only to regret his captivity, as
it had disconcerted his enterprise. He treated the judges with cool
contempt, and amused himself by calling Thuriot, who conducted the
process, and who had been an old Jacobin, by the name of Monsieur
Tue-Roi. There was no difficulty in obtaining sentence of death against
Georges and nineteen of his associates; amongst whom was Armand de
Polignac, for whose life his brother affectionately tendered his own.
Armand de Polignac, however, with seven others, were pardoned by
Buonaparte; or rather banishment in some cases, and imprisonment in
others, were substituted for a capital punishment. Georges and the rest
were executed, and died with the most determined firmness.
The discovery and suppression of this conspiracy seems to have produced,
in a great degree, the effects expected by Buonaparte. The Royal party
became silent and submissive, and, but that their aversion to the reign
of Napoleon showed itself in lampoons, satires, and witticisms, which
were circulated in their evening parties, it could hardly have been
known to exist. Offers were made to Buonaparte to rid him of the
remaining Bourbons, in consideration of a large sum of money; but with
better judgment than had dictated his conduct of late, he rejected the
proposal. His interest, he was now convinced, would be better consulted
by a line of policy which would reduce the exiled family to a state of
insignificance, than by any rash and violent proceedings, which must
necessarily draw men's attention, and, in doing so, were likely to
interest them in behalf of the sufferers, and animate them against their
powerful oppressor. With this purpose, the names of the exiled family
were, shortly after this period, carefully suppressed in all periodical
publications, and, with one or two exceptions, little allusion to their
existence can be traced in the pages of the official journal of France;
and, unquestionably, the policy was wisely adopted towards a people so
light, and animated so intensely with the interest of the moment, as the
French, to whom the present is a great deal, the future much less, and
the past nothing at all.
Though Georges's part of the conspiracy was disposed of thus easily, the
trial of Moreau involved a much more dangerous task. It was found
impossible to procure evidence against him, beyond his own admission
that he had seen Pichegru twice; and this admission was coupled with a
positive denial that he had engaged to be participant in his schemes. A
majority of the judges seemed disposed to acquit him entirely, but were
cautioned by the president Hemart, that, by doing so, they would force
the government upon violent measures. Adopting this hint, and willing to
compromise matters, they declared Moreau guilty, but not to the extent
of a capital crime. He was subjected to imprisonment for two years; but
the soldiers continuing to interest themselves in his fate, Fouché, who
about this time was restored to the administration of police, interceded
warmly in his favour,[66] and seconded the applications of Madame
Moreau, for a commutation of her husband's sentence.[67] His doom of
imprisonment was therefore exchanged for that of exile; a mode of
punishment safer for Moreau, considering the late incidents in the
prisons of state; and more advantageous for Buonaparte, as removing
entirely from the thoughts of the republican party, and of the soldiers,
a leader, whose military talents brooked comparison with his own, and to
whom the public eye would naturally be turned when any cause of
discontent with their present government might incline them to look
elsewhere. Buonaparte thus escaped from the consequences of this
alarming conspiracy; and, like a patient whose disease is brought to a
favourable crisis by the breaking of an imposthume, he attained
additional strength by the discomfiture of those secret enemies.
FOOTNOTES:
[45] Fouché, tom. i., p. 231.
[46] Moreau was born at Morlaix in 1763.
[47] "If Moreau's friendship for Pichegru led him into this culpable
compromise, he ought not to have communicated these papers at a time
when a knowledge of their contents could no longer be serviceable to the
state; for, after the transactions of the 18th Fructidor, that party was
defeated, and Pichegru was in chains."--NAPOLEON, _Montholon_, tom. i.,
p. 43.
[48] "The Empress Josephine married Moreau to Mademoiselle Hulot, a
creole of the Isle of France. This young lady had an ambitious mother,
who governed her, and soon governed her husband also. She changed his
character; he was no longer the same man; he began to intrigue; his
house became the rendezvous of all the disaffected. For a long time the
first consul refused to notice this imprudent conduct; but at length he
said, 'I wash my hands of him; let him run his head against the pillars
of the Tuileries.'"--NAPOLEON, _Montholon_, tom. i., p. 53.
[49] "Moreau went to Paris during the armistice of Pahrsdorff, and
alighted unexpectedly at the Tuileries. Whilst he was engaged with the
first consul, the minister at war, Carnot, arrived from Versailles with
a pair of pistols, enriched with diamonds, of very great value: they
were intended for the first consul, who, taking the pistols, presented
them to Moreau, saying, 'They come very opportunely.' This was not a
thing contrived for effect."--NAPOLEON, _Montholon_, tom. i., p. 52.
[50] See Mémoires de Savary, tom. ii., p. 52.
[51] See Annual Register, vol. xlvi., p. 616.
[52] The passage alluded to is in the Duke of Rovigo's (Savary's)
Vindication of his own Conduct. At the same time, no traces of such an
admission are to be found in the interrogations, as printed elsewhere.
It is also said, that when the duke (then at Ettenheim) first heard of
the conspiracy of Pichegru, he alleged that it must have been only a
pretended discovery. "Had there been such an intrigue in reality," he
said, "my father and grandfather would have let me know something of the
matter, that I might provide for my safety." It may be added, that if he
had been really engaged in that conspiracy, it is probable that he would
have retired from the vicinity of the French territory on the scheme
being discovered.--S.
[53] A remarkable letter from the Prince of Condé to the Comte d'Artois,
dated 24th January, 1802, contains the following passage, which we
translate literally:--"The Chevalier de Roll will give you an account of
what has passed here yesterday. A man of a very simple and gentle
exterior arrived the night before, and having travelled, as he affirmed,
on foot, from Paris to Calais, had an audience of me about eleven in the
forenoon, and distinctly offered to rid us of the usurper by the
shortest method possible. I did not give him time to finish the details
of his project, but rejected the proposal with horror, assuring him that
you, if present, would do the same. I told him, we should always be the
enemies of him who had arrogated to himself the power and the throne of
our Sovereign, until he should make restitution: that we had combated
the usurper by open force, and would do so again if opportunity offered;
but that we would never employ that species of means which only became
the Jacobin party; and if that faction should meditate such a crime,
assuredly we would not be their accomplices." This discourse the prince
renewed to the secret agent in the presence of the Chevalier de Roll, as
a confidential friend of the Comte d'Artois, and, finally, advised the
man instantly to leave England, as, in case of his being arrested, the
prince would afford him no countenance or protection. The person to whom
the Prince of Condé addressed sentiments so worthy of himself and of his
great ancestor, afterwards proved to be an agent of Buonaparte,
despatched to sound the opinions of the Princes of the House of Bourbon,
and if possible to implicate them in such a nefarious project as should
justly excite public indignation against them.--S.
[54] Savary has denied this. It is not of much consequence. The illegal
arrest--the precipitation of the mock trial--the disconformity of the
sentence from the proof--the hurry of the execution--all prove that the
unfortunate prince was doomed to die long before he was brought before
the military commission.--S.--See, in Savary's Memoirs, tom. ii, p. 221,
the Supplementary Chapter, "On the Catastrophe of the Duke d'Enghien."
[55] The reasoning and sentiments of Buonaparte on this subject are
taken from the work of Las Cases, tom. iv., partie 7ieme, p. 249, where
they are given at great length.--S.
[56] Napoleon in Exile, vol. i., p. 335.
[57] "The idea of the death of the Duke d'Enghien never crossed the
first consul's mind, till he was astonished and confounded by the
tidings communicated to him by Savary of his execution. The question was
not whether he should be put to death, but whether he should be put on
his trial. Joseph, Josephine, Cambacérès, Berthier, earnestly
expostulated with the chief magistrate against it. Joseph, who was
living at Morfontaine, and transiently in town, on the 20th of March,
the day the Duke d'Enghien was taken a prisoner to Paris, spoke to his
brother in his behalf, warmly urging the defence of the grandson of the
Prince of Condé, who, he reminded his brother, had seven times crowned
him for as many distinctions gained at the Royal School; to which
expostulation the first consul's reply affords a curious proof of the
state of his mind at the moment. His answer was given by declaiming the
following passage from a speech of Cæsar, in Corneille's tragedy of _La
Mort de Pompée_:--
'Votre zèle est faux, si seul il redoutait
Ce que le monde entier à pleins vœux souhaitait:
Et s'il vous a donné ces craintes trop subtiles,
Qui m'ôtent tout le fruit de nos guerres civiles,
Où l'honneur seul m'engage, et que pour terminer
Je ne veux que celui de vaincre et pardonner;
Où mes plus dangereux et plus grands adversaires,
Sitôt qu'ils sont vaincus, ne sont plus que mes frères;
Et mon ambition ne va qu'à les forcer,
Ayant domté leur haine, à vivre et m'embrasser.
Oh! combien d'allegresse une si triste guerre
Aurait-elle laisée dessus toute la terre,
Si l'on voyait marcher dessus un même char,
Vainqueurs de leur discorde, et Pompée et César.'"
JOSEPH BUONAPARTE.
[58] See Las Cases, tom. iv., p. 269.
[59] See Las Cases, tom. iv., p. 271.
[60] See, in the Appendix to this volume, No. II., "FURTHER PARTICULARS
CONCERNING THE ARREST, TRIAL, AND DEATH OF THE DUKE D'ENGHIEN."
[61] "I was not the person who hesitated to express himself with the
least restraint, respecting this violence against the rights of nations
and humanity. 'It is more than a crime,' I said, 'it is a political
blunder;' words which I record, because they have been repeated and
attributed to others."--FOUCHÉ, tom. i., p. 266.
[62] "I deplore as much as any man can possibly do, the catastrophe of
the Duke d'Enghien; but as Napoleon has himself spoken of it, it does
not become me to add another word. I shall only observe, that this
affair is far from having been cleared up--that it was impossible that
my brother should have brought the prince to Paris to be immolated--that
he who established a Bourbon in Tuscany, had quite a contrary design,
and one which could but be favourable; else why cause so distinguished a
prince to make a journey to Paris, when his presence in traversing
France could but be dangerous? If it be asked, why the commendable
design attributed to Napoleon was not followed up, and was so cruelly
changed, I cannot explain: but I am persuaded that impartial history
will one day reveal this secret."--LOUIS BUONAPARTE, p. 40.
[63] "M. de Bourrienne does not scruple to charge with a frightful crime
the man whom he calls the friend of his youth, in whose service he had
been for years, and by whom he sought to be again employed, as long as
fortune was on his side. In my conscience, I believe there never existed
a man less capable of committing such a crime than Napoleon; yet it is
he whom the schoolfellow of Brienne dares to accuse. On the morning of
Pichegru's death, I was in the first consul's cabinet in the Tuileries,
searching for some papers, when Savary was announced, and I heard him
detail the particulars of the suicide, precisely as they were afterwards
published. I read on Napoleon's countenance the surprise which the event
created, and little imagined that there were men so base as to charge
him with so detestable and uncalled-for a murder; for the meeting
between Pichegru and Moreau had been fully established."--JOSEPH
BUONAPARTE.--"What advantage could accrue to me from Pichegru's
assassination?--a man who was evidently guilty, against whom every proof
was ready, and whose condemnation was certain. The fact is, that he
found himself in a hopeless situation; his high mind could not bear to
contemplate the infamy of a public execution, he despaired of my
clemency, or disdained to appeal to it, and put an end to his
existence."--NAPOLEON, _Las Cases_, tom. iv., p. 258.
[64] See Napoleon in Exile, vol. ii., p. 215.
[65] "When, as minister of the police, the sources of information were
open to me, I ascertained that Wright cut his throat in despair, after
reading the account of the capitulation of the Austrian general, Mack,
at Ulm, that is, while Napoleon was engaged in the campaign of
Austerlitz. Can any one, in fact, without alike insulting common sense
and glory, admit that the Emperor had attached so much importance to the
destruction of a scurvy lieutenant of the English navy, as to send from
one of his most glorious fields of battle the order for his destruction?
It has been added, that it was I who received from him this commission:
now I never quitted him for a single day during the whole campaign, from
his departure from Paris till his return."--SAVARY, tom. ii., p. 61.
[66] Mémoires de Fouché, tom. i., p. 267.
[67] "I was the person whom the first consul sent to him in the Temple
to communicate his consent, and to make arrangements with him for his
departure. I gave him my own carriage, and the first consul paid all the
expenses of his journey to Barcelona. The general expressed a wish to
see Madame Moreau; I went myself to fetch her, and brought her to the
Temple."--SAVARY, tom. ii., p. 66.