However, the First Consul did not give to the classes of the Institute

the rank which they formerly possessed as academies. He placed the class

of sciences in the first rank, and the old French Academy in the second

rank. It must be acknowledged that, considering the state of literature

and science at that period, the First Consul did not make a wrong

estimate of their importance.

Although the literature of France could boast of many men of great

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 stuffy. 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--Fouche's manoeuvres--The Abbe David and Lajolais--

Fouche's visit to St. Cloud--Regnier outwitted by Fouche--

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 was, after rang 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 Pains, 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 Fouche in order

to prepare his return to office.

To corroborate my opinion respecting Fouche'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. Fouche, 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 Fouche'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 Fouche. 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 Fouche, 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. Fouche

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 Fouche'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 Fouche, however, persisted in his assertion, the First Consul sent to

Paris for the Grand Judge, Regnier, who showed Fouche the letter he had

received. The First Consul triumphed at first to see Fouche 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 Fouche, 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 apace.

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

Fouche'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.

Fouche, 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

Vendee 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 Fouche 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 Due d'Enghien--Napoleon's arguments

at St. Helena--Comparison of dates--Possibility of my having saved

the Due 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 Vendee.

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 Due d'Enghien

--[Louis Antoine Henri de Bourbon, Duc d'Enghien (1772-1804), son of

the Duc de Bourbon, and grandson of the Prince de Conde, served

against France in the army of Conde. 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-Conde 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 Due 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 Due 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 Due 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 Due 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 Due 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 Due 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 Due 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 Due 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 Due 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 Cambaceres (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 Due 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 Conde 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 Due 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 Due 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 Due 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 Due 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 Due de Berri was disembarking in

the west. I should tell you," observed the Emperor, "that I did not

even know precisely who the Due 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 Due 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 Due 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 Due

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 Due d'Enghien.

Judge of my horror! . . . I knew the prisoner only by the name of the

brigand of La Vendee! . . . 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 Due d'Enghien--Horrible

night-scene---Harrel's account of the death of the Prince--Order for

digging the grave--The foster-sister of the Duo d'Enghien--Reading

the sentence--The lantern--General Savary--The faithful dog and the

police--My visit to Malmaison--Josephine's grief--

The Duc d'Enghien's portrait and lock of hair--Savary's emotion--

M. de Chateaubriand's resignation--M. de 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 Due d'Enghien's death--Consequences of the Duo d'Enghien's

death--Change of opinion in the provinces--The Gentry of the

Chateaus--Effect of the Due d'Enghien's death on foreign Courts--

Remarkable words of Mr. Pitt--Louis XVIII. sends back the insignia

of the Golden Fleece to the King of Spain.

I will now narrate more fully the sanguinary scene which took place at

Vincennes. General Ordener, commanding the mounted grenadiers of the

Guard, received orders from the War Minister to proceed to the Rhine, to

give instructions to the chiefs of the gendarmerie of New Brissac, which

was placed at his disposal. General Ordener sent a detachment of

gendarmerie to Ettenheim, where the Due d'Enghien was arrested on the

15th of March. He was immediately conducted to the citadel of Strasburg,

where he remained till the 18th, to give time for the arrival of orders

from Paris. These orders were given rapidly, and executed promptly, for

the carriage which conveyed the unfortunate Prince arrived at the barrier

at eleven o'clock on the morning of the 20th, where it remained for five

hours, and afterwards proceeded by the exterior boulevards on the road to

Vincennes, where it arrived at night. Every scene of this horrible drama

was acted under the veil of night: the sun did not even shine upon its

tragical close. The soldiers received orders to proceed to Vincennes at

night. It was at night that the fatal gates of the fortress were closed

upon the Prince. At night the Council assembled and tried him, or rather

condemned him without trial. When the clock struck six in the morning

the orders were given to fire, and the Prince ceased to exist.

Here a reflection occurs to me. Supposing one were inclined to admit

that the Council held on the 10th of March had some connection with the

Due d'Enghien's arrest, yet as no Council was held from the time of the

Duke's arrival at the barrier to the moment of his execution, it could

only be Bonaparte himself who issued the orders which were too punctually

obeyed. When the dreadful intelligence of the Duc d'Enghien's death was

spread in Paris it excited a feeling of consternation which recalled the

recollection of the Reign of Terror. Could Bonaparte have seen the gloom

which pervaded Paris, and compared it with the joy which prevailed on the

day when he returned victorious from the field of Marengo, he would have

felt that he had tarnished his glory by a stain which could never be

effaced.

About half-past twelve on the 22d of March I was informed that some one

wished to speak with me. It was Harrel.

--[Harrel, who had been unemployed till the plot of Arena and

Ceracchi on the 18th Vendemiairean IX (10th October 1800) which he

had feigned to join, and had then revealed to the police (see ante),

had been made Governor of Vincennes.]--

I will relate word for word what he communicated to me. Harrel probably

thought that he was bound in gratitude to acquaint me with these details;

but he owed me no gratitude, for it was much against my will that he had

encouraged the conspiracy of Ceracchi, and received the reward of his

treachery in that crime. The following is Harrel's statement:--

"On the evening of the day before yesterday, when the Prince arrived,

I was asked whether I had a room to lodge a prisoner in; I replied,

No--that there were only my apartments and the Council-chamber. I was

told to prepare instantly a room in which a prisoner could sleep who was

to arrive that evening. I was also desired to dig a pit in the

courtyard.

--[This fact must be noted. Harrel is told to dig a trench before

the sentence. Thus it was known that they had come to kill the Duc

d'Enghien. How can this be answered? Can it possibly be supposed

that anyone, whoever it was, would have dared to give each an order

in anticipation if the order had not been the carrying out of a

formal command of Bonaparte? That is incredible.--Bourrienne.]--

"I replied that that could not be easily done, as the courtyard was paved.

The moat was then fixed upon, and there the pit was dug. The Prince

arrived at seven o'clock in the evening; he was perishing with cold and

hunger. He did not appear dispirited. He said he wanted something to

eat, and to go to bed afterwards. His apartment not being yet

sufficiently aired, I took him into my own, and sent into the village for

some refreshment. The Prince sat down to table, and invited me to eat

with him. He then asked me a number of questions respecting

Vincennes--what was going on there, and other particulars. He told me

that he had been brought up in the neighbourhood of the castle, and

spoke to me with great freedom and kindness. 'What do they want with

me?' he said. 'What do they mean to do with me?' But these questions

betrayed no uneasiness or anxiety. My wife, who was ill, was lying in

the same room in an alcove, closed by a railing. She heard, without

being perceived, all our conversation, and she was exceedingly agitated,

for she recognised the Prince, whose foster-sister she was, and whose

family had given her a pension before the Revolution.

"The Prince hastened to bed, but before he could have fallen asleep the

judges sent to request his presence in the Council-chamber. I was not

present at his examination; but when it was concluded he returned to his

chamber, and when they came to read his sentence to him he was in a

profound sleep. In a few moments after he was led out for execution.

He had so little suspicion of the fate that awaited him that on

descending the staircase leading to the moat he asked where they were

taking him. He received no answer. I went before the Prince with a

lantern. Feeling the cold air which came up the staircase he pressed my

arm and said, 'Are they going to put me into a dungeon?'"

The rest is known. I can yet see Harrel shuddering while thinking of

this action of the Prince's.

Much has been said about a lantern which it is pretended was attached to

one of the Due d'Enghien's button-holes. This is a pure invention.

Captain Dautancourt, whose sight was not very good, took the lantern out

of Harrel's hand to read the sentence to the victim, who had been

condemned with as little regard to judicial forms as to justice. This

circumstance probably gave rise to the story about the lantern to which I

have just alluded. The fatal event took place at six o'clock on the

morning of the 21st of March, and it was then daylight.

General Savary did not dare to delay the execution of the sentence,

although the Prince urgently demanded to have an interview with the First

Consul. Had Bonaparte seen the prince there can be little doubt but that

he would have saved his life. Savary, however, thought himself bound to

sacrifice his own opinions to the powerful faction which then controlled

the First Consul; and whilst he thought he was serving his master, he was

in fact only serving the faction to which, I must say, he did not belong.

The truth is, that General Savary can only be reproached for not having

taken upon himself to suspend the execution, which very probably would

not have taken place had it been suspended. He was merely an instrument,

and regret on his part would, perhaps, have told more in his favour than

his vain efforts to justify Bonaparte. I have just said that if there

had been any suspension there would have been no execution; and I think

this is almost proved by the uncertainty which must have existed in the

mind of the First Consul. If he had made up his mind all the measures

would have been taken in advance, and if they had been, the carriage of

the Duke would certainly not have been kept for five hours at the

barriers. Besides, it is certain that the first intention was to take

the Prince to the prison of the Temple.

From all that I have stated, and particularly from the non-suspension of

the execution, it appears to me as clear as day that General Savary had

received a formal order from Bonaparte for the Due d'Enghien's death, and

also a formal order that it should be so managed as to make it impossible

to speak to Bonaparte again on the subject until all should be over. Can

there be a more evident, a more direct proof of this than the digging of

the grave beforehand? I have repeated Harrel's story just as he related

it to me. He told it me without solicitation, and he could not invent a

circumstance of this nature.

General Savary was not in the moat during the execution, but on the bank,

from whence he could easily see all that passed. Another circumstance

connected with the Due d'Enghien's death has been mentioned, which is

true. The Prince had a little dog; this faithful animal returned

incessantly to the fatal spot in the moat. There are few who have not

seen that spot. Who has not made a pilgrimage to Vincennes and dropped a

tear where the victim fell? The fidelity of the poor dog excited so much

interest that the police prevented any one from visiting the fatal spot,

and the dog was no longer heard to howl over his master's grave.

I promised to state the truth respecting the death of the Due d'Enghien,

and I have done so, though it has cost me some pain. Harrel's narrative,

and the shocking circumstance of the grave being dug beforehand, left me

no opportunity of cherishing any doubts I might have wished to entertain;

and everything which followed confirmed the view I then took of the

subject. When Harrel left me on the 22d I determined to go to Malmaison

to see Madame Bonaparte, knowing, from her sentiments towards the House

of Bourbon, that she would be in the greatest affliction. I had

previously sent to know whether it would be convenient for her to see me,

a precaution I had never before observed, but which I conceived to be

proper upon that occasion. On my arrival I was immediately introduced to

her boudoir, where she was alone with Hortense and Madame de Remusat.

They were all deeply afflicted. "Bourrienne," exclaimed Josephine,

as soon as she perceived me, "what a dreadful event! Did you but know

the state of mind Bonaparte is in! He avoids, he dreads the presence of

every one! Who could have suggested to him such an act as this?"

I then acquainted Josephine with the particulars which I had received

from Harrel. "What barbarity!" she resumed. "But no reproach can rest

upon me, for I did everything to dissuade him from this dreadful project.

He did not confide the secret to me, but I guessed it, and he

acknowledged all. How harshly he repelled my entreaties! I clung to

him! I threw myself at his feet! 'Meddle with what concerns you!'

he exclaimed angrily. 'This is not women's business! Leave me!' And he

repulsed me with a violence which 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 Due d'Enghien was added my regret

that Bonaparte should be capable of such a crime. "What," said

Josephine, "can be thought of this in Paris? He must be the object of

universal, imprecation, for even here his flatterers appear astounded

when they are out of his presence. How wretched we have been since

yesterday; and he!.... You know what he is when 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 Due d'Enghien had entrusted to him. Here," added

Josephine, "is his portrait and a lock of his hair, which he has

requested me to transmit to one who was dear to him. Savary almost shed

tears when he described to me the last moments of the Duke; then,

endeavouring to resume his self-possession, he said: 'It is in vain to

try to be indifferent, Madame! It is impossible to witness the death of

such a man unmoved!'"

Josephine afterwards informed me of the only act of courage which

occurred at this period--namely, the resignation which M. de

Chateaubriand had sent to Bonaparte. She admired his conduct greatly,

and said: "What a pity he is not surrounded by men of this description!

It would be the means of preventing all the errors into which he is led

by the constant approbation of those about him." Josephine thanked me

for my attention in coming to see her at such an unhappy juncture; and I

confess that it required all the regard I cherished for her to induce me

to do so, for at that moment I should not have wished to see the First

Consul, since the evil was irreparable. On the evening of that day

nothing was spoken of but the transaction of the 21st of March, and the

noble conduct of M. de Chateaubriand. As the name of that celebrated man

is for ever written in characters of honour in the history of that

period, I think I may with propriety relate here what I know respecting

his previous connection with Bonaparte.

I do not recollect the precise date of M. de Chateaubriand's return to

France; I only know that it was about the year 1800, for we were,

I think, still at the Luxembourg: However, I recollect perfectly that

Bonaparte began to conceive prejudices against him; and when I one day

expressed my surprise to the First Consul that M. de Chateaubriand's name

did not appear on any of the lists which he had ordered to be presented

to him for filling up vacant places, he said: "He has been mentioned to

me, but I replied in a way to check all hopes of his obtaining any

appointment. He has notions of liberty and independence which will not

suit my system. I would rather have him my enemy than my forced friend.

At all events, he must wait awhile; I may, perhaps, try him first in a

secondary place, and, if he does well, I may advance him."

The above is, word for word, what Bonaparte said the: first time I

conversed with him about M. de Chateaubriand. The publication of 'Atala'

and the 'Genie du Christianisme' suddenly gave Chateaubriand celebrity,

and attracted the attention of the First Consul. Bonaparte who then

meditated the restoration of religious worship: in France, found himself

wonderfully supported by the publication of a book which excited the

highest interest, and whose superior merit led the public mind to the

consideration of religious topics. I remember Madame Bacciocchi coming

one day to visit her brother with a little volume in her hand; it was

'Atala'. She presented it to the First Consul, and begged he would read

it. "What, more romances!" exclaimed he. "Do you think I have time to

read all your fooleries?" He, however, took the book from his sister and

laid it down on my desk. Madame Bacciocchi then solicited the erasure of

M. de Chateaubriand's name from the list of emigrants. "Oh! oh!" said

Bonaparte, "it is Chateaubriand's book, is it? I will read it, then.

Bourrienne, write to Fouche to erase his name from the list."

Bonaparte, at that time paid so little attention to what was doing in the

literary world that he was not aware of Chateaubriand being the author of

'Atala'. It was on the recommendation of M. de Fontanel that Madame

Bacciocchi tried this experiment, which was attended by complete success.

The First Consul read 'Atala', and was much pleased with it. On the

publication of the 'Genie du Christianisme' some time after, his first

prejudices were wholly removed. Among the persons about him there were

many who dreaded to see a man of de Chateaubriand's talent approach the

First Consul, who knew how to appreciate superior merit when it did not

exite his envy.

Our relations with the Court of the Vatican being renewed, and Cardinal

Fesch appointed Ambassador to the Holy See, Bonaparte conceived the idea

of making M. de Chateaubriand first secretary to the Embassy, thinking

that the author of the 'Genie du Christianisme' was peculiarly fitted to

make up for his uncle's deficiency of talent in the capital of the

Christian world, which was destined to become the second city of the

Empire.

It was not a little extraordinary to let a man, previously, a stranger to

diplomatic business; stepping over all the intermediate degrees; and

being at once invested with the functions of first secretary to an

important Embassy. I oftener than once heard the First Consul

congratulate himself on having made the appointment. I knew, though

Bonaparte was not aware of the circumstance at the time, that

Chateaubriand at first refused the situation, and that he was only

induced to accept it by the entreaties of the head of the clergy,

particularly of the Abby Emery, a man of great influence. They

represented to the author of the' Genie du Christianisme that it was

necessary he should accompany the uncle of the First Consul to Rome; and

M. de Chateaubriand accordingly resolved to do so.

However, clouds, gathered; I do not know from what cause, between the

ambassador and his secretary. All I know is, that on Bonaparte being

informed of the circumstance he took the part of the Cardinal, and the

friends of M. de Chateaubriand expected to see him soon deprived of his

appointment, when, to the great astonishment of every one, the secretary

to the Roman Embassy, far from being disgraced, was raised by the First

Consul to the rank of Minister Plenipotentiary to the Valais, with leave

to travel in Switzerland and Italy, together with the promise of the

first vacant Embassy.

This favour excited a considerable sensation at the Tuileries; but as it

was known to be the will and pleasure of the First Consul all expression

of opinion on the subject was confined to a few quiet murmurs that

Bonaparte had done for the name of Chateaubriand what, in fact, he had

done only on account of his talent. It was during the continuance of

this favour that the second edition of the 'Genie du Christianisme' was

dedicated to the First Consul.

M. de Chateaubriand returned to France previously to entering on the

fulfilment of his new mission. He remained for some months in Paris, and

on the day appointed for his departure he went to take leave of the First

Consul. By a singular chance it happened to be the fatal morning of the

21st of March, and consequently only a few hours after the Duc d'Enghien

had been shot. It is unnecessary to observe that M. de Chateaubriand was

ignorant of the fatal event. However, on his return home he said to his

friends that he had remarked a singular change in the appearance of the

First Consul, and that there was a sort of sinister expression in his

countenance. Bonaparte saw his new minister amidst the crowd who

attended the audience, and several times seemed inclined to step forward

to speak to him, but as often turned away, and did not approach him the

whole morning. A few hours after, when M. de 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 Due d'Enghien alienated from him

minds which were still wavering, and even those which had already

declared in his favour. That act of tyranny dissolved the charm which

had created hope from his government and awakened affections which had as

yet only slumbered. Those to whom this event was almost indifferent also

joined in condemning it; for there are certain aristocratic ideas which

are always fashionable in a certain class of society. Thus for different

causes this atrocity gave a retrograde direction to public opinion, which

had previously been favourably disposed to Bonaparte throughout the whole

of France.

The consequences were not less important, and might have been disastrous

with respect to foreign Courts. I learned, through a channel which does

not permit me to entertain any doubt of the correctness of my

information, that as soon as the Emperor Alexander received the news it

became clear that England might conceive a well-founded hope of forming a

new coalition against France. Alexander openly expressed his

indignation. I also learned with equal certainty that when Mr. Pitt was

informed of the death of the French Prince he said, "Bonaparte has now

done himself more mischief than we have done him since the last

declaration of war."

--[The remark made on this murder by the astute cold-blooded Fouche

is well known. He said, "It was worse than a crime--it was a

blunder!"--Editor of 1836 Edition.]--

Pitt was not the man to feel much concern for the death of any one; but

he understood and seized all the advantages afforded to him by this great

error of policy committed by the most formidable enemy of England. In

all the Treasury journals published in London Bonaparte was never spoken

of under any other name than that of the "assassin of the Duc d'Enghien."

The inert policy of the Cabinet of Vienna prevented the manifestation of

its displeasure by remonstrances, or by any outward act. At Berlin, in

consequence of the neighbourhood of the French troops in Hanover, the

commiseration for the death of the Due d'Enghien was also confined to the

King's cabinet, and more particularly to the salons of the Queen of

Prussia; but it is certain that that transaction almost everywhere

changed the disposition of sovereigns towards the First Consul, and that

if it did not cause, it at least hastened the success of the negotiations

which England was secretly carrying on with Austria and Prussia. Every

Prince of Germany was offended by the violation of the Grand Duke of

Baden's territory, and the death of a Prince could not fail everywhere to

irritate that kind of sympathy of blood and of race which had hitherto

always influenced the crowned heads and sovereign families of Europe; for

it was felt as an injury to all of them.

When Louis XVIII. learned the death of the Due d'Enghien he wrote to the

King of Spain, returning him the insignia of the Order of the Golden

Fleece (which had also been conferred on Bonaparte), with the

accompanying letter:

SIRE, MONSIEUR, AND DEAR COUSIN--It is with regret that I send back

to you the insignia of the Order of the Golden Fleece which his

Majesty, your father, of glorious memory conferred upon me. There

can be nothing in common between me and the great criminal whom

audacity and fortune have placed on my throne, since he has had the

barbarity to stain himself with the blood of a Bourbon, the Duc

d'Enghien.

Religion might make me pardon an assassin, but the tyrant of my

people must always be my enemy.

In the present age it is more glorious to merit a sceptre than to

possess one.

Providence, for incomprehensible reasons, may condemn me to end my

days in exile, but neither my contemporaries nor posterity shall

ever have to say, that in the period of adversity I showed my self

unworthy of occupying the throne of my ancestors.

LOUIS

The death of the Due d'Enghien was a horrible episode in the proceedings

of the great trial which was then preparing, and which was speedily

followed by the accession of Bonaparte to the Imperial dignity. It was

not one of the least remarkable anomalies of the epoch to see the

judgment by which criminal enterprises against the Republic were

condemned pronounced in the name of the Emperor who had so evidently

destroyed that Republic. This anomaly certainly was not removed by the

subtlety, by the aid of which he at first declared himself Emperor of the

Republic, as a preliminary to his proclaiming himself Emperor of the

French. Setting aside the means, it must be acknowledged that it is

impossible not to admire the genius of Bonaparte, his tenacity in

advancing towards his object, and that adroit employment of suppleness

and audacity which made him sometimes dare fortune, sometimes avoid

difficulties which he found insurmountable, to arrive, not merely at the

throne of Louis XVI., but at the reconstructed throne of Charlemagne.

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 enact 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 hesides, 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 Conde 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 Cambaceres--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 Due

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 Cambaceres 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. Cambaceres 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 Cambaceres, 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, Cambaceres, 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 Cambaceres,

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.

Cambaceres 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.