PARIS, August, 1805.
MY LORD:--That Bonaparte had, as far back as February, 1803 (when the
King of Prussia proposed to Louis XVIII. the formal renunciation of his
hereditary rights in favour of the First Consul), determined to assume
the rank and title, with the power of a Sovereign, nobody can doubt. Had
it not been for the war with England, he would, in the spring of that
year, or twelve months earlier, have proclaimed himself Emperor of the
French, and probably would have been acknowledged as such by all other
Princes. To a man so vain and so impatient, so accustomed to command and
to intimidate, this suspension of his favourite plan was a considerable
disappointment, and not a little increased his bitter and irreconcilable
hatred of Great Britain.
Here, as well as in foreign countries, the multitude pay homage only to
Napoleon’s uninterrupted prosperity; without penetrating or considering
whether it be the consequence of chance or of well-digested plans;
whether he owes his successes to his own merit or to a blind fortune. He
asserted in his speech to the constitutional authorities, immediately
after hostilities had commenced with England, that the war would be of
short duration, and he firmly believed what he said. Had he by his
gunboats, or by his intrigues or threats, been enabled to extort a second
edition of the Peace of Amiens, after a warfare of some few months, all
mouths would have been ready to exclaim, “Oh, the illustrious warrior!
Oh, the profound politician!” Now, after three ineffectual campaigns on
the coast, when the extravagance and ambition of our Government have
extended the contagion of war over the Continent; when both our direct
offers of peace, and the negotiations and mediations of our allies, have
been declined by, or proved unavailing with, the Cabinet of St. James,
the inconsistency, the ignorance, and the littleness of the fortunate
great man seem to be not more remembered than the outrages and
encroachments that have provoked Austria and Russia to take the field.
Should he continue victorious, and be in a position to dictate another
Peace of Luneville, which probably would be followed by another pacific
overture to or from England, mankind will again be ready to call out,
“Oh, the illustrious warrior! Oh, the profound politician! He foresaw,
in his wisdom, that a Continental war was necessary to terrify or to
subdue his maritime foe; that a peace with England could be obtained only
in Germany; and that this war must be excited by extending the power of
France on the other side of the Alps. Hence his coronation as a King of
Italy; hence his incorporation of Parma and Genoa with France; and hence
his donation of Piombino and Lucca to his brother-in-law, Bacchiochi!”
Nowhere in history have I read of men of sense being so easily led astray
as in our times, by confounding fortuitous events with consequences
resulting from preconcerted plans and well-organized designs.
Only rogues can disseminate and fools believe that the disgrace of
Moreau, and the execution of the Duc d’Enghien, of Pichegru, and Georges,
were necessary as footsteps to Bonaparte’s Imperial throne; and that
without the treachery of Mehee de la Touche, and the conspiracy he
pretended to have discovered, France would still have been ruled by a
First Consul. It is indeed true, that this plot is to be counted (as the
imbecility of Melas, which lost the battle of Marengo) among those
accidents presenting themselves apropos to serve the favourite of fortune
in his ambitious views; but without it, he would equally have been hailed
an Emperor of the French in May, 1804. When he came from the coast, in
the preceding winter, and was convinced of the impossibility of making
any impression on the British Islands with his flotilla, he convoked his
confidential Senators, who then, with Talleyrand, settled the Senatus
Consultum which appeared five months afterwards. Mehee’s correspondence
with Mr. Drake was then known to him; but he and the Minister of Police
were both unacquainted with the residence and arrival of Pichegru and
Georges in France, and of their connection with Moreau; the particulars
of which were first disclosed to them in the February following, when
Bonaparte had been absent from his army of England six weeks. The
assumption of the Imperial dignity procured him another decent
opportunity of offering his olive-branch to those who had caused his
laurels to wither, and by whom, notwithstanding his abuse, calumnies, and
menaces, he would have been more proud to be saluted Emperor than by all
the nations upon the Continent. His vanity, interest, and policy, all
required this last degree of supremacy and elevation at that period.
Bonaparte had so well penetrated the weak side of Moreau’s character
that, although he could not avoid doing justice to this general’s
military talents and exploits, he neither esteemed him as a citizen nor
dreaded him as a rival. Moreau possessed great popularity; but so did
Dumourier and Pichegru before him: and yet neither of them had found
adherents enough to shake those republican governments with which they
avowed themselves openly discontented, and against which they secretly
plotted. I heard Talleyrand say, at Madame de Montlausier’s, in the
presence of fifty persons, “Napoleon Bonaparte had never anything to
apprehend from General Moreau, and from his popularity, even at the head
of an army. Dumourier, too, was at the head of an army when he revolted
against the National Convention; but had he not saved himself by flight
his own troops would have delivered him up to be punished as a traitor.
Moreau, and his popularity, could only be dangerous to the Bonaparte
dynasty were he to survive Napoleon, had not this Emperor wisely averted
this danger.” From this official declaration of Napoleon’s confidential
Minister, in a society of known anti-imperialists, I draw the conclusion
that Moreau will never more, during the present reign, return to France.
How very feeble, and how badly advised must this general have been, when,
after his condemnation to two years’ imprisonment, he accepted a
perpetual exile, and renounced all hopes of ever again entering his own
country. In the Temple, or in any other prison, if he had submitted to
the sentence pronounced against him, he would have caused Bonaparte more
uneasiness than when at liberty, and been more a point of rally to his
adherents and friends than when at his palace of Grosbois, because
compassion and pity must have invigorated and sharpened their feelings.
If report be true, however, he did not voluntarily exchange imprisonment
for exile; racks were shown him; and by the act of banishment was placed
a poisonous draught. This report gains considerable credit when it is
remembered that, immediately after his condemnation, Moreau furnished his
apartments in the Temple in a handsome manner, so as to be lodged well,
if not comfortably, with his wife and child, whom, it is said, he was not
permitted to see before he had accepted Bonaparte’s proposal of
transportation.
It may be objected to this supposition that the man in power, who did not
care about the barefaced murder of the Duc d’Enghien, and the secret
destruction of Pichegru, could neither much hesitate, nor be very
conscientious about adding Moreau to the number of his victims. True,
but the assassin in authority is also generally a politician. The
untimely end of the Duc d’Enghien and of Pichegru was certainly lamented
and deplored by the great majority of the French people; but though they
had many who pitied their fate, but few had any relative interest to
avenge it; whilst in the assassination of Moreau, every general, every
officer, and every soldier of his former army, might have read the
destiny reserved for himself by that chieftain, who did not conceal his
preference of those who had fought under him in Italy and Egypt, and his
mistrust and jealousy of those who had vanquished under Moreau in
Germany; numbers of whom had already perished at St. Domingo, or in the
other colonies, or were dispersed in separate and distant garrisons of
the mother country. It has been calculated that of eighty-four generals
who made, under Moreau, the campaign of 1800, and who survived the Peace
of Lundville, sixteen had been killed or died at St. Domingo, four at
Guadeloupe, ten in Cayenne, nine at Ile de France, and eleven at l’Ile
Reunion and in Madagascar. The mortality among the officers and men has
been in proportion.
An anecdote is related of Pichegru, which does honour to the memory of
that unfortunate general. Fouche paid him a visit in prison the day
before his death, and offered him “Bonaparte’s commission as a
Field-marshal, and a diploma as a grand officer of the Legion of Honour,
provided he would turn informer against Moreau, of whose treachery
against himself in 1797 he was reminded. On the other hand, he was
informed that, in consequence of his former denials, if he persisted in
his refractory conduct, he should never more appear before any judge, but
that the affairs of State and the safety of the country required that he
should be privately despatched in his gaol.”
“So,” answered this virtuous and indignant warrior, “you will spare my
life only upon condition that I prove myself unworthy to live. As this
is the case, my choice is made without hesitation; I am prepared to
become your victim, but I will never be numbered among your accomplices.
Call in your executioners; I am ready to die as I have lived, a man of
honour, and an irreproachable citizen.”
Within twenty-four hours after this answer, Pichegru was no more.
That the Duc d’Enghien was shot on the night of the 21st of March, 1804,
in the wood or in the ditch of the castle at Vincennes, is admitted even
by Government; but who really were his assassins is still unknown. Some
assert that he was shot by the grenadiers of Bonaparte’s Italian guard;
others say, by a detachment of the Gendarmes d’Elite; and others again,
that the men of both these corps refused to fire, and that General Murat,
hearing the troops murmur, and fearing their mutiny, was himself the
executioner of this young and innocent Prince of the House of Bourbon, by
riding up to him and blowing out his brains with a pistol. Certain it is
that Murat was the first, and Louis Bonaparte the second in command, on
this dreadful occasion.