--[In the original motion as prepared by Curee, the Imperial dignity

was to be declared hereditary in the family of Napoleon. Previous to

being formerly read before the Tribunate, the First Consul sent for

the document, and when it was returned it was found that the word

family was altered to descendants. Fabre, the President of the

Tribunate, who received the altered document from Maret, seeing the

effect the alteration would have on the brothers of Napoleon, and

finding that Maret affected to crest the change as immaterial, took

on himself to restore the original form, and in that shape it was

read by the unconscious Curee to the Tribunals. On this curious,

passage see Miot de Melito, tome ii, p. 179. As finally settled the

descent of the crown in default of Napoleon's children was limited

to Joseph and Louis and their descendants, but the power of adoption

was given to Napoleon. The draft of the 'Senates-consulte' was

heard by the Council of State in silence, and Napoleon tried in vain

to get even the most talkative of the members now to speak. The

Senate were not unanimous in rendering the 'Senatus-consulte'. The

three votes given against it were said to have been Gregoire, the

former constitutional Bishop of Blois, Carat, who as Minister of

Justice had read to Louis XVI. the sentence of death, and

Lanjuinais, one of the very few survivors of the Girondists, Thiers

says there was only one dissentient voice. For the fury of the

brothers of Napoleon, who saw the destruction of all their ambitions

hopes in any measure for the descent of the crown except in the

family, see Miot, tome ii. p.. 172, where Joseph is described as

cursing the ambition of his brother, and desiring his death as a

benefit for France and his family.]--

Bonaparte's first act as Emperor, on the very day of his elevation to the

Imperial throne, was the nomination of Joseph to the dignity of Grand

Elector, with the title of Imperial Highness. Louis was raised to the

dignity of Constable, with the same title, and Cambaceres and Lebrun were

created Arch-Chancellor and Arch-Treasurer of the Empire. On the same

day Bonaparte wrote the following letter to Cambaceres, the first which

he signed as Emperor, and merely with the name of Napoleon:--

CITIZEN CONSUL CAMBACERES--Your title has changed; but your

functions and my confidence remain the same. In the high dignity

with which you are now invested you will continue to manifest, as

you have hitherto done in that of Consul, that wisdom and that

distinguished talent which entitle you to so important a share in

all the good which I may have effected. I have, therefore, only to

desire the continuance of the sentiments you cherish towards the

State and me.

Given at the Palace of St. Cloud, 28th Floreal, an XII.

(18th May 1804).

(Signed) NAPOLEON.

By the Emperor.

H. B. MARET.

I have quoted this first letter of the Emperor because it is

characteristic of Bonaparte's art in managing transitions. It was to the

Citizen Consul that the Emperor addressed himself, and it was dated

according to the Republican calendar. That calendar, together with the

delusive inscription on the coin, were all that now remained of the

Republic. Next day the Emperor came to Paris to hold a grand levee at

the Tuileries, for he was not the man to postpone the gratification that

vanity derived from his new dignity and title. The assembly was more

numerous and brilliant than on any former occasion. Bessieres having

addressed the Emperor on the part of the Guards, the Emperor replied in

the following terms: "I know the sentiments the Guards cherish towards

me. I repose perfect confidence in their courage and fidelity. I

constantly see, with renewed pleasure, companions in arms who have

escaped so many dangers, and are covered with so many honourable wounds.

I experience a sentiment of satisfaction when I look at the Guards, and

think that there has not, for the last fifteen years, in any of the four

quarters of the world, been a battle in which some of them have not taken

part."

On the same day all the generals and colonels in Paris were presented to

the Emperor by Louis Bonaparte, who had already begun to exercise his

functions of Constable. In a few days everything assumed a new aspect;

but in spite of the admiration which was openly expressed the Parisians

secretly ridiculed the new courtiers. This greatly displeased Bonaparte,

who was very charitably informed of it in order to check his

prepossession in favour of the men of the old Court, such as the Comte de

Segur, and at a later period Comte Louis de Narbonne.

To give all possible solemnity to his accession Napoleon ordered that the

Senate itself should proclaim in Paris the organic 'Senates-consulte',

which entirely changed the Constitution of the State. By one of those

anomalies which I have frequently had occasion to remark, the Emperor

fixed for this ceremony Sunday, the 30th Floral. That day was a festival

in all Paris, while the unfortunate prisoners were languishing in the

dungeons of the Temple.

On the day after Bonaparte's accession the old formulae were restored.

The Emperor determined that the French Princes and Princesses should

receive the title of Imperial Highness; that his sisters should take the

same title; that the grand dignitaries of the Empire should be called

Serene Highnesses; that the Princes and titularies of the grand

dignitaries should be addressed by the title of Monseigneur; that M.

Maret, the Secretary of State, should have the rank of Minister; that the

ministers should retain the title of Excellency, to which should be added

that of Monseigneur in the petitions addressed to them; and that the

title of Excellency should be given to the President of the Senate.

At the same time Napoleon appointed the first Marshals of the Empire,

and determined that they should be called Monsieur le Marechal when

addressed verbally, and Monseigneur in writing. The following are the

names of these sons of the Republic transformed into props of the Empire:

Berthier, Murat, Moncey, Jourdan, Massena, Augereau, Bernadotte, Soult,

Brune, Lannes, Mortier, Ney, Davoust, and Besaieres. The title of

Marshal of the Empire was also granted to the generals Kellerman,

Lefebvre, Perignon, and Serrurier, as having served as

commander-in-chief.

The reader cannot have failed to observe that the name of Lucien has not

been mentioned among the individuals of Bonaparte's family on whom

dignities were conferred. The fact is, the two brothers were no longer

on good terms with each other. Not, as it has been alleged, because

Lucien wished to play the part of a Republican, but because he would not

submit to the imperious will of Napoleon in a circumstance in which the

latter counted on his brother's docility to serve the interests of his

policy. In the conferences which preceded the great change in the form

of government it was not Lucien but Joseph who, probably for the sake of

sounding opinion, affected an opposition, which was by some mistaken for

Republicanism. With regard to Lucien, as he had really rendered great

services to Napoleon on the 19th Brumaire at St. Cloud, and as he himself

exaggerated the value of those services, he saw no reward worthy of his

ambition but a throne independent of his brother. It is certain that

when at Madrid he had aspired to win the good graces of a Spanish

Infanta, and on that subject reports were circulated with which I have

nothing to do, because I never had any opportunity of ascertaining their

truth. All I know is that, Lucien's first wife being dead, Bonaparte,

wished him to marry a German Princess, by way of forming the first great

alliance in the family. Lucien, however, refused to comply with

Napoleon's wishes, and he secretly married the wife of an agent, named,

I believe, Joubertou, who for the sake of convenience was sent to the

West Indies, where he: died shortly after. When Bonaparte heard of this

marriage from the priest by whom it had been clandestinely performed, he

fell into a furious passion, and resolved not to confer on Lucien the

title of French Prince, on account of what he termed his unequal match.

Lucien, therefore, obtained no other dignity than that of Senator.

--[According to Lucien himself, Napoleon wished him to marry the

Queen of Etruria Maria-Louise, daughter of Charles IV. of Spain, who

had married, 1795 Louie de Bourbon, Prince of Parma, son of the Duke

of Parma, to whom Napoleon had given Tuscany in 1801 as the Kingdom

of, Etruria. Her husband had died in May 1808, and she governed in

the name of her son. Lucien, whose first wife, Anne Christine

Boyer, had died in 1801, had married his second wife, Alexandrine

Laurence de Bleschamps, who had married, but who had divorced, a M.

Jonberthon. When Lucien had been ambassador in Spain in 1801,

charged among other things with obtaining Elba, the Queen, he says,

wished Napoleon should marry an Infanta,--Donna Isabella, her

youngest daughter, afterwards Queen of Naples, an overture to which

Napoleon seems not to have made any answer. As for Lucien, he

objected to his brother that the Queen was ugly, and laughed at

Napoleon's representations as to her being "propre": but at last he

acknowledged his marriage with Madame Jouberthon. This made a

complete break between the brothers, and on hearing of the execution

of the Due d'Enghien, Lucien said to his wife, "Alexandrine, let us

go; he has tasted blood." He went to Italy, and in 1810 tried to go

to the United States. Taken prisoner by the English, he was

detained first at Malta, and then in England, at Ludlow Castle and

at Thorngrove, till 1814, when he went to Rome. The Pope, who ever

showed a kindly feeling towards the Bonapartes, made the

ex-"Brutus" Bonaparte Prince de Canino and Due de Musignano.

In 1815 he joined Napoleon and on the final fall of the Empire

he was interned at Rome till the death of his brother.]--

Jerome, who pursued an opposite line of conduct, was afterwards made a

King. As to Lucien's Republicanism, it did not survive the 18th

Brumaire, and he was always a warm partisan of hereditary succession.

But I pass on to relate what I know respecting the almost incredible

influence which, on the foundation of the Empire, Bonaparte exercised

over the powers which did not yet dare to declare war against him.

I studied Bonaparte's policy closely, and I came to this conclusion on

the subject, that he was governed by ambition, by the passion of

dominion, and that no relations, on a footing of equality, between

himself and any other power, could be of long duration. The other States

of Europe had only to choose one of two things--submission or war. As to

secondary States, they might thenceforth be considered as fiefs of the

French Government; and as they could not resist, Bonaparte easily

accustomed them to bend to his yoke. Can there be a stronger proof of

this arbitrary influence than what occurred at Carlsruhe, after the

violation of the territory of Baden, by the arrest of the Due d'Enghien?

Far from venturing to make any observation on that violation, so contrary

to the rights of nations, the Grand Duke of Baden was obliged to publish,

in his own State, a decree evidently dictated by Bonaparte. The decree

stated, that many individuals formerly belonging to the army of Conde

having come to the neighbourhood of Carlsruhe, his Electoral Highness had

felt it his duty to direct that no individual coming from Conde's army,

nor indeed any French emigrant, should, unless he had permission

previously to the place, make a longer sojourn than was allowed to

foreign travellers. Such was already the influence which Bonaparte

exercised over Germany, whose Princes, to use an expression which he

employed in a later decree, were crushed by the grand measures of the

Empire.

But to be just, without however justifying Bonaparte, I must acknowledge

that the intrigues which England fomented in all parts of the Continent

were calculated to excite his natural irritability to the utmost degree.

The agents of England were spread over the whole of Europe, and they

varied the rumours which they were commissioned to circulate, according

to the chances of credit which the different places afforded. Their

reports were generally false; but credulity gave ear to them, and

speculators endeavoured, each according to his interest, to give them

support. The headquarters of all this plotting was Munich, where Drake,

who was sent from England, had the supreme direction. His

correspondence, which was seized by the French Government, was at first

placed amongst the documents to be produced on the trial of Georges,

Moreau, and the other prisoners; but in the course of the preliminary

proceedings the Grand Judge received directions to detach them, and make

them the subject of a special report to the First Consul, in order that

their publication beforehand might influence public opinion, and render

it unfavourable to those who were doomed to be sacrificed. The

instructions given by Drake to his agents render it impossible to doubt

that England wished to overthrow the Government of Bonaparte. Drake

wrote as follows to a man who was appointed to travel through France:--

The principal object of your journey being the overthrow of the

existing Government, one of the means of effecting it is to acquire

a knowledge of the enemy's plans. For this purpose it is of the

highest importance to begin, in the first place, by establishing

communications with persons who may be depended upon in the

different Government offices in order to obtain exact information of

all plans with respect to foreign or internal affairs. The

knowledge of these plans will supply the best means of defeating

them; and failure is the way to bring the Government into complete

discredit--the first and most important step towards the end

proposed. Try to gain over trustworthy agents in the different

Government departments. Endeavour, also, to learn what passes in

the secret committee, which is supposed to be established at St

Cloud, and composed of the friends of the First Consul. Be careful

to furnish information of the various projects which Bonaparte may

entertain relative to Turkey and Ireland. Likewise send

intelligence respecting the movements of troops, respecting vessels

and ship-building, and all military preparations.

Drake, in his instructions, also recommended that the subversion of

Bonaparte's Government should, for the time, be the only object in view,

and that nothing should be said about the King's intentions until certain

information could be obtained respecting his views; but most of his

letters and instructions were anterior to 1804. The whole bearing of the

seized documents proved what Bonaparte could not be ignorant of, namely,

that England was his constant enemy; but after examining them, I was of

opinion that they contained nothing which could justify the belief that

the Government of Great Britain authorised any attempt at assassination.

When the First Consul received the report of the Grand Judge relative to

Drake's plots' against his Government he transmitted a copy of it to the

Senate, and it was in reply to this communication that the Senate made

those first overtures which Bonaparte thought vague, but which,

nevertheless, led to the formation of the Empire. Notwithstanding this

important circumstance, I have not hitherto mentioned Drake, because his

intrigues for Bonaparte's overthrow appeared to me to be more immediately

connected with the preliminaries of the trial of Georges and Moreau,

which I shall notice in my next chapter.

--[These were not plots for assassination. Bonaparte, in the same

way, had his secret agents in every country of Europe, without

excepting England. Alison (chap. xxxvii. par. 89) says on this

matter of Drake that, though the English agents were certainly

attempting a counter-revolution, they had no idea of encouraging the

assassination of Napoleon, while "England was no match for the

French police agents in a transaction of this description, for the

publication of Regular revealed the mortifying fact that the whole

correspondence both of Drake and Spencer Smith had been regularly

transmitted, as fast as it took place, to the police of Paris, and

that their principal corresponded in that city, M. Mehu de la

Tonche, was himself an agent of the police, employed to tempt the

British envoys into this perilous enterprise."]--

At the same time that Bonaparte communicated to the Senate the report of

the Grand Judge, the Minister for Foreign Affairs addressed the following

circular letter to the members of the Diplomatic Body:

The First Consul has commanded me to forward to your Excellency a

copy of a report which has been presented to him, respecting a

conspiracy formed in France by Mr. Drake, his Britannic Majesty's

Minister at the Court of Munich, which, by its object as well as its

date, is evidently connected with the infamous plot now in the

course of investigation.

The printed copy of Mr. Drake's letters and authentic documents is

annexed to the report. The originals will be immediately sent, by

order of the First Consul, to the Elector of Bavaria.

Such a prostitution of the most honourable function which can be

intrusted to a man is unexampled in the history of civilised

nations. It will astonish and afflict Europe as an unheard of

crime, which hitherto the most perverse Governments have not dared

to meditate. The First Consul is too well acquainted with

sentiments of the Diplomatic Body accredited to him not to be fully

convinced that every one of its members will behold, with profound

regret, the profanation of the sacred character of Ambassador,

basely transformed into a minister of plots, snares, and corruption.

All the ambassadors, ministers, plenipotentiaries, envoys, ordinary or

extraordinary, whatever might be their denomination, addressed answers to

the Minister for Foreign Affairs, in which they expressed horror and

indignation at the conduct of England and Drake's machinations. These

answers were returned only five days after the Duc d'Enghien's death;

and here one cannot help admiring the adroitness of Bonaparte, who thus

compelled all the representatives of the European Governments to give

official testimonies of regard for his person and Government.

CHAPTER XXYI.

1804.

Trial of Moreau, Georges, and others--Public interest excited by

Moreau--Arraignment of the prisoners--Moreau's letter to Bonaparte--

Violence of the President of the Court towards the prisoners--

Lajolais and Rolland--Examinations intended to criminate Moreau--

Remarkable observations--Speech written by M. Garat--Bonaparte's

opinion of Garat's eloquence--General Lecourbe and Moreau's son--

Respect shown to Moreau by the military--Different sentiments

excited by Georges and Moreau--Thoriot and 'Tui-roi'--Georges'

answers to the interrogatories--He refuses an offer of pardon--

Coster St. Victor--Napoleon and an actress--Captain Wright--

M. de Riviere and the medal of the Comte d'Artois--Generous struggle

between MM. de Polignac--Sentence on the prisoners--Bonaparte's

remark--Pardons and executions.

On the 28th of May, about ten days after Napoleon had been declared

Emperor, the trials of Moreau and others commenced. No similar event

that has since occurred can convey an idea of the fermentation which then

prevailed in Paris. The indignation excited by Moreau's arrest was

openly manifested, and braved the observation of the police. Endeavours

had been successfully made to mislead public opinion with respect to

Georges and some others among the accused, who were looked upon as

assassins in the pay of England, at least by that numerous portion of the

public who lent implicit faith to declarations presented to them as

official. But the case was different with regard to those individuals

who were particularly the objects of public interest,--viz. MM. de

Polignac, de Riviere, Charles d'Hozier, and, above all, Moreau. The name

of Moreau towered above all the rest, and with respect to him the

Government found itself not a little perplexed. It was necessary on the

one hand to surround him with a guard sufficiently imposing, to repress

the eagerness of the people and of his friends, and yet on the other hand

care was required that this guard should not be so strong as to admit of

the possibility of making it a rallying-point, should the voice of a

chief so honoured by the army appeal to it for defence. A rising of the

populace in favour of Moreau was considered as a very possible

event,--some hoped for it, others dreaded it. When I reflect on the

state of feeling which then prevailed, I am certain that a movement in

his favour would infallibly have taken place had judges more complying

than even those who presided at the trial condemned Moreau to capital

punishment.

It is impossible to form an idea of the crowd that choked up the avenues

of the Palace of Justice on the day the trials commenced. This crowd

continued during the twelve days the proceedings lasted, and was

exceedingly great on the day the sentence was pronounced. Persons of the

highest class were anxious to be present.

I was one of the first in the Hall, being determined to watch the course

of these solemn proceedings. The Court being assembled, the President

ordered the prisoners to be brought in. They entered in a file, and

ranged themselves on the benches each between two gendarmes. They

appeared composed and collected, and resignation was depicted on the

countenances of all except Bouvet de Lozier, who did not dare to raise

his eyes to his companions in misfortune, whom his weakness, rather than

his will, had betrayed. I did not recognise him until the President

proceeded to call over the prisoners, and to put the usual questions

respecting their names, professions, and places of abode. Of the

forty-nine prisoners, among whom were several females, only two were

personally known to me; namely, Moreau, whose presence on the prisoner's

bench seemed to wring every heart, and Georges, whom I had seen at the

Tuileries in the First Consul's cabinet.

The first sitting of the Court was occupied with the reading of the act

of accusation or indictment, and the voices of the ushers, commanding

silence, could scarce suppress the buzz which pervaded the Court at the

mention of Moreau's name. All eyes were turned towards the conqueror of

Hohenlinden, and while the Procureur Imperial read over the long

indictment and invoked the vengeance of the law on an attempt against the

head of the Republic, it was easy to perceive how he tortured his

ingenuity to fasten apparent guilt on the laurels of Moreau. The good

sense of the public discerned proofs of his innocence in the very

circumstances brought forward against him. I shall never forget the

effect produced--so contrary to what was anticipated by the

prosecutors--by the reading of a letter addressed by Moreau from his

prison in the Temple to the First Consul, when the judges appointed to

interrogate him sought to make his past conduct the subject of

accusation, on account of M. de Klinglin's papers having fallen into his

hands. He was reproached with having too long delayed transmitting

these documents to the Directory; and it was curious to see the Emperor

Napoleon become the avenger of pretended offences committed against the

Directory which he had overthrown.

In the letter here alluded to Moreau said to Bonaparte, then First

Consul--

"In the short campaign of the year V. (from the 20th to the 23d of

March 1797) we took the papers belonging to the staff of the enemy's

army, and a number of documents were brought to me which General

Desaix, then wounded, amused himself by perusing. It appeared from

this correspondence that General Pichegru had maintained

communications with the French Princes. This discovery was very

painful, and particularly to me, and we agreed to say nothing of the

matter. Pichegru, as a member of the Legislative Body, could do but

little to injure the public cause, since peace was established. I

nevertheless took every precaution for protecting the army against

the ill effects of a system of espionage. . . . The events of

the 18th Fructidor occasioned so much anxiety that two officers, who

knew of the existence of the correspondence, prevailed on me to

communicate it to the Government. . . . I felt that, as a

public functionary, I could no longer remain silent. . . .

During the two last campaigns in Germany, and since the peace,

distant overtures have been made to me, with the view of drawing me

into connection with the French Princes. This appeared so absurd

that I took no notice of these overtures. As to the present

conspiracy, I can assure you I have been far from taking any share

in it. I repeat to you, General, that whatever proposition to that

effect was made me, I rejected it, and regarded it as the height of

madness. When it was represented to me that the invasion of England

would offer a favourable opportunity for effecting a change in the

French Government, I invariably answered that the Senate was the

authority to which the whole of France would naturally cling in the

time of trouble, and that I would be the first to place myself under

its orders. To such overtures made to a private individual, who

wished to preserve no connection either with the army, of whom

nine-tenths have served under me, or any constituted authority, the

only possible answer was a refusal. Betrayal of confidence I

disdained. Such a step, which is always base, becomes doubly odious

when the treachery is committed against those to whom we owe

gratitude, or have been bound by old friendship.

"This, General, is all I have to tell you respecting my relations

with Pichegru, and it must convince you that very false and hasty

inferences have been drawn from conduct which, though perhaps

imprudent, was far from being criminal."

Moreau fulfilled his duty as a public functionary by communicating to the

Directory the papers which unfolded a plot against the Government, and

which the chances of war had thrown into his hands. He fulfilled his

duty as a man of honour by not voluntarily incurring the infamy which can

never be wiped from the character of an informer. Bonaparte in Moreau's

situation would have acted the same part, for I never knew a man express

stronger indignation than himself against informers, until he began to

consider everything a virtue which served his ambition, and everything a

crime which opposed it.

The two facts which most forcibly obtruded themselves on my attention

during the trial were the inveterate violence of the President of the

Court towards the prisoners and the innocence of Moreau.

--[It is strange that Bourrienne does not acknowledge that he was

charged by Napoleon with the duty of attending this trial of Moreau,

and of sending in a daily report of the proceedings.]--

But, in spite of the most insidious examinations which can be conceived,

Moreau never once fell into the least contradiction. If my memory fail

me not, it was on the fourth day that he was examined by Thuriot, one of

the judges. The result, clear as day to all present, was, that Moreau

was a total stranger to all the plots, all the intrigues which had been

set on foot in London. In fact, during the whole course of the trial, to

which I listened with as much attention as interest, I did not discover

the shadow of a circumstance which could in the least commit him, or

which had the least reference to him. Scarcely one of the hundred and

thirty-nine witnesses who were heard for the prosecution knew him, and he

himself declared on the fourth sitting, which took place on the 31st of

May, that there was not an individual among the accused whom he

knew,--not one whom he had ever seen. In the course of the long

proceedings, notwithstanding the manifest efforts of Thuriot to extort

false admissions and force contradictions, no fact of any consequence

was elicited to the prejudice of Moreau. His appearance was as calm as

his conscience; and as he sat on the bench he had the appearance of one

led by curiosity to be present at this interesting trial, rather than of

an accused person, to whom the proceedings might end in condemnation and

death. But for the fall of Moreau in the ranks of the enemy,--but for

the foreign cockade which disgraced the cap of the conqueror of

Hohenlinden, his complete innocence would long since have been put

beyond doubt, and it would have been acknowledged that the most infamous

machinations were employed for his destruction. It is evident that

Lajolais, who had passed from London to Paris, and from Paris to London,

had been acting the part of an intriguer rather than of a conspirator;

and that the object of his missions was not so much to reconcile Moreau

and Pichegru as to make Pichegru the instrument of implicating Moreau.

Those who supposed Lajolais to be in the pay of the British Government

were egregiously imposed on. Lajolais was only in the pay of the secret

police; he was condemned to death, as was expected, but he received his

pardon, as was agreed upon. Here was one of the disclosures which

Pichegru might have made; hence the necessity of getting him out of the

way before the trial. As to the evidence of the man named Rolland, it

was clear to everybody that Moreau was right when he said to the

President, "In my opinion, Rolland is either a creature of the police,

or he has given his evidence under the influence of fear." Rolland made

two declarations the first contained nothing at all; the second was in

answer to the following observations: "You see you stand in a terrible

situation; you must either be held to be an accomplice in the

conspiracy, or you must be taken as evidence. If you say nothing, you

will be considered in the light of an accomplice; if you confess, you

will be saved." This single circumstance may serve to give an idea of

the way the trials were conducted so as to criminate Moreau. On his

part the general repelled the attacks, of which he was the object, with

calm composure and modest confidence, though flashes of just indignation

would occasionally burst from him. I recollect the effect he produced

upon the Court and the auditors at one of the sittings, when the

President had accused him of the design of making himself Dictator. He

exclaimed, "I Dictator! What, make myself Dictator at the head of the

partisans of the Bourbons! Point out my partisans! My partisans would

naturally be the soldiers of France, of whom I have commanded

nine-tenths, and saved more than fifty thousand. These are the

partisans I should look to! All my aides de camp, all the officers of

my acquaintance, have been arrested; not the shadow of a suspicion could

be found against any of them, and they have been set at liberty. Why,

then, attribute to me the madness of aiming to get myself made Dictator

by the aid of the adherents of the old French Princes, of persons who

have fought in their cause since 1792? You allege that these men, in

the space of four-and-twenty hours, formed the project of raising me to

the Dictatorship! It is madness to think of it! My fortune and my pay

have been alluded to; I began the world with nothing; I might have had

by this time fifty millions; I have merely a house and a bit of ground;

as to my pay, it is forty thousand francs. Surely that sum will not be

compared with my services."

During the trial Moreau delivered a defence, which I knew had been

written by his friend Garat, whose eloquence I well remember was always

disliked by Bonaparte. Of this I had a proof on the occasion of a grand

ceremony which took place in the Place des Victoires, on laying the first

stone of a monument which was to have been erected to the memory of

Desaix, but which was never executed. The First Consul returned home in

very ill-humour, and said to me, "Bourrienne, what a brute that Garat is!

What a stringer of words! I have been obliged to listen to him for

three-quarters of an hour. There are people who never know when to hold

their tongues!"

Whatever might be the character of Garat's eloquence or Bonaparte's

opinion of it, his conduct was noble on the occasion of Moreau's trial;

for he might be sure Bonaparte would bear him a grudge for lending the

aid of his pen to the only man whose military glory, though not equal to

that of the First Consul, might entitle him to be looked upon as his

rival in fame. At one of the sittings a circumstance occurred which

produced an almost electrical effect. I think I still see General

Lecourbe, the worthy friend of Moreau, entering unexpectedly into the

Court, leading a little boy. Raising the child in his arms, he exclaimed

aloud, and with considerable emotion, "Soldiers, behold the son of your

general!"

--[This action of Lecourbe, together with the part played in this

trial by his brother, one of the judges, was most unfortunate, not

only for Lecourbe but for France, which consequently lost the

services of its best general of mountain warfare. His campaigns of

Switzerland in 1799 on the St. Gothard against Suwarrow are well

known. Naturally disgraced for the part he took with Moreau, he was

not again employed till the Cent Jours, when he did good service,

although he had disapproved of the defection of Ney from the

Royalist cause. He died in 1816; his brother, the judge, had a most

furious reception from Napoleon, who called him a prevaricating

judge, and dismissed him from his office (Remusat, tome ii. p.

8).]--

At this unexpected movement all the military present spontaneously rose

and presented arms; while a murmur of approbation from the spectators

applauded the act. It is certain that had Moreau at that moment said but

one word, such was the enthusiasm in his favour, the tribunal would have

been broken up and the prisoners liberated. Moreau, however, was silent,

and indeed appeared the only unconcerned person in Court. Throughout the

whole course of the trial Moreau inspired so much respect that when he

was asked a question and rose to reply the gendarmes appointed to guard

him rose at the same time and stood uncovered while he spoke.

Georges was far from exciting the interest inspired by Moreau. He was an

object of curiosity rather than of interest. The difference of their

previous conduct was in itself sufficient to occasion a great contrast in

their situation before the Court. Moreau was full of confidence and

Georges full of resignation. The latter regarded his fate with a fierce

kind of resolution. He occasionally resumed the caustic tone which he

seemed to have renounced when he harangued his associates before their

departure from the Temple. With the most sarcastic bitterness he alluded

to the name and vote of Thuriot, one of the most violent of the judges,

often terming him 'Tue-roi';

--[Thuriot and the President Hemart both voted for the death of the

King. Merlin, the imperial Procureur-General, was one of the

regicides.--Bourrienne.]--

and after pronouncing his name, or being forced to reply to his

interrogatories, he would ask for a glass of brandy to wash his mouth.

Georges had the manners and bearing of a rude soldier; but under his

coarse exterior he concealed the soul of a hero. When the witnesses of

his arrest had answered the questions of the President Hemart, this judge

turned towards the accused, and inquired whether he had anything to say

in reply.--"No."--"Do you admit the facts?"--"Yes." Here Georges busied

himself in looking over the papers which lay before him, when Hemart

warned him to desist, and attend to the questions. The following

dialogue then commenced. "Do you confess having been arrested in the

place designated by the witness?"--"I do not know the name of the

place."--"Do you confess having been arrested?"--"Yes."--"Did you twice

fire a pistol?"--"Yes."--"Did you kill a man?"--"Indeed I do not know."--

"Had you a poniard?"--"Yes."--"And two pistols?"--"Yes."--"Who was in

company with you?"--"I do not know the person."--"Where did you lodge in

Paris?"--"Nowhere."--"At the time of your arrest did you not reside in

the house of a fruiterer in the Rue de la Montagne St. Genevieve?"--

"At the time of my arrest I was in a cabriolet. I lodged nowhere."--

"Where did you sleep on the evening of your arrest?"--"Nowhere."--"What

were you doing in Paris?"--"I was walking about."--"Whom have you seen

in Paris?"--"I shall name no one; I know no one."

From this short specimen of the manner in which Georges replied to the

questions of the President we may judge of his unshaken firmness during

the proceedings. In all that concerned himself he was perfectly open;

but in regard to whatever tended to endanger his associates he maintained

the most obstinate silence, notwithstanding every attempt to overcome his

firmness.

That I was not the only one who justly appreciated the noble character of

Georges is rendered evident by the following circumstance. Having

accompanied M. Carbonnet to the police, where he went to demand his

papers, on the day of his removal to St. Pelagic, we were obliged to

await the return of M. Real, who was absent. M. Desmarets and several

other persons were also in attendance. M. Real had been at the

Conciergerie, where he had seen Georges Cadoudal, and on his entrance

observed to M. Desmarets and the others, sufficiently loud to be

distinctly heard by M. Carbonnet and myself, "I have had an interview

with Georges who is an extraordinary man. I told him that I was disposed

to offer him a pardon if he would promise to renounce the conspiracy and

accept of employment under Government. But to my arguments and

persuasions he only replied, 'My comrades followed me to France, and I

shall fellow them, to death.'" In this he kept his word.

Were we to judge these memorable proceedings from the official documents

published in the Moniteur and other journals of that period, we should

form a very erroneous opinion. Those falsities were even the object of a

very serious complaint on the part of Cosier St. Victor, one of the

accused.

After the speech of M. Gauthier, the advocate of Coster St. Victor, the

President inquired of the accused whether he had anything further to say

in his defence, to which he replied, "I have only to add that the

witnesses necessary to my exculpation have not yet appeared. I must

besides express my surprise at the means which have been employed to lead

astray public opinion, and to load with infamy not only the accused but

also their intrepid defenders. I have read with pain in the journals of

to-day that the proceedings--" Here the President interrupting, observed

that "these were circumstances foreign to the case."--"Not in the

least," replied Cosier St. Victor; "on the contrary, they bear very

materially on the cause, since mangling and misrepresenting our defence

is a practice assuredly calculated to ruin us in the estimation of the

public. In the journals of to-day the speech of M. Gauthier is

shamefully garbled, and I should be deficient in gratitude were I not

here to bear testimony to the zeal and courage which he has displayed in

my defence. I protest against the puerilities and absurdities which have

been put into his mouth, and I entreat him not to relax in his generous

efforts. It is not on his account that I make this observation; he does

not require it at my hands; it is for 'myself, it is for the accused,

whom such arts tend to injure in the estimation of the public."

Coster St. Victor had something chivalrous in his language and manners

which spoke greatly in his favour; he conveyed no bad idea of one of the

Fiesco conspirators, or of those leaders of the Fronds who intermingled

gallantry with their politics.

An anecdote to this effect was current about the period of the trial.

Coster St. Victor, it is related, being unable any longer to find a

secure asylum in Paris, sought refuge for a single night in the house of

a beautiful actress, formerly in the good graces of the First Consul; and

it is added that Bonaparte, on the same night, having secretly arrived on

a visit to the lady, found himself unexpectedly in the presence of Coster

St. Victor, who might have taken his life; but that only an interchange

of courtesy took place betwixt the rival gallants.

This ridiculous story was doubtless intended to throw additional odium on

the First Consul, if Cosier St. Victor should be condemned and not obtain

a pardon, in which case malignity would not fail to attribute his

execution to the vengeance of a jealous lover.

I should blush to relate such stories, equally destitute of probability

and truth, had they not obtained some credit at the time. Whilst I was

with Bonaparte he never went abroad during the night; and it was not

surely at a moment when the saying of Fouche, "The air is full of

poniards," was fully explained that he would have risked such nocturnal

adventures.

Wright was heard in the sixth sitting, on the 2d of June, as the hundred

and thirty-fourth witness in support of the prosecution. He, however,

refused to answer any interrogatories put to him, declaring that, as a

prisoner of war, he considered himself only amenable to his own

Government.

The Procureur-General requested the President to order the examinations

of Captain Wright on the 21st of May' and at a later period to be read

over to him; which heing done, the witness replied, that it was omitted

to be stated that on these occasions the questions had been accompanied

with the threat of transferring him to a military tribunal, in order to

be shot, if he did not betray the secrets of his country.

In the course of the trial the most lively interest was felt for MM. de

Polignac--

--[The eldest of the Polignacs, Armand (1771-1847), condemned to

death, had that penalty remitted, but was imprisoned in Ham till

permitted to escape m 1813. He became Duc de Richelieu in 1817.

His younger brother, Jules (1780-1847) was also imprisoned and

escaped. In 1814 he was one of the first to display the white flag

in Paris. In 1829 he became Minister of Charles X. and was

responsible for the ordinances which oust his master his throne in

1830. Imprisoned, nominally for life, he was released in 1836, and

after passing some time in England returned to France. The

remission of the sentence of death on Prince Armand was obtained by

the Empress Josephine. Time after time, urged on by Madame de

Remusat, she implored mercy from Napoleon, who at last consented to

see the wife of the Prince. Unlike the Bourbon Louis XVIII., who

could see Madame de Lavalette only to refuse the wretched woman's

prayer for her husband, for Napoleon to grant the interview was to

concede the pardon. The Prince escaped death, and his wife who had

obtained the interview by applying to Madame de Remusat, when she

met her benefactress in the times of the Restoration, displayed a

really grand forgetfulness of what had passed (see Remusat, tome ii.

chap. i.).]--

Charles d'Hozier, and de Riviere. So short a period had elapsed since

the proscription of the nobility that, independently of every feeling of

humanity, it was certainly impolitic to exhibit before the public the

heirs of an illustrious name, endowed with that devoted heroism which

could not fail to extort admiration even from those who condemned their

opinions and principles.

The prisoners were all young, and their situation create universal

sympathy. The greatest number of them disdained to have recourse to a

denial, and seemed less anxious for the preservation of their own lives

than for the honour of the cause in which they had embarked, not with the

view of assassination, as had been demonstrated, but for the purpose of

ascertaining the true state of the public feeling, which had been

represented by some factious intriguers as favourable to the Bourbons.

Even when the sword of the law was suspended over their heads the

faithful adherents of the Bourbons displayed on every occasion their

attachment and fidelity to the royal cause. I recollect that the Court

was dissolved in tears when the President adduced as a proof of the guilt

of M. de Riviere his having worn a medal of the Comte d'Artois, which the

prisoner requested to examine; and, on its being handed to him by an

officer, M. de Riviere pressed it to his lips and his heart, then

returning it, he said that he only wished to render homage to the Prince

whom he loved.

The Court was still more deeply affected on witnessing the generous

fraternal struggle which took place during the last sitting between the

two De Polignacs. The emotion was general when the eldest of the

brothers, after having observed that his always going out alone and

during the day did not look like a conspirator anxious for concealment,

added these remarkable words which will remain indelibly engraven on my

memory: "I have now only one wish, which is that, as the sword is

suspended over our heads, and threatens to cut short the existence of

several of the accused, you would, in consideration of his youth if not

of his innocence, spare my brother, and shower down upon me the whole

weight of your vengeance." It was during the last sitting but one, on

Friday the 8th of June, that M. Armand de Polignac made the above

affecting appeal in favour of his brother. The following day, before the

fatal sentence was pronounced, M. Jules de Polignac addressed the judges,

saying, "I was so deeply affected yesterday, while my brother was

speaking, as not fully to have attended to what I read in my own defence:

but being now perfectly tranquil, I entreat, gentlemen, that you will not

regard what he urged in my behalf. I repeat, on the contrary, and with

most justice, if one of us must fall a sacrifice, if there be yet time,

save him, restore him to the tears of his wife; I have no tie like him, I

can meet death unappalled;--too young to have tasted the pleasures of the

world, I cannot regret their loss."--"No, no," exclaimed his brother,

"you are still in the outset of your career; it is I who ought to fall."

At eight in the morning the members of the Tribunal withdrew to the

council-chamber. Since the commencement of the proceedings the crowd,

far from diminishing, seemed each day to increase; this morning it was

immense, and, though the sentence was not expected to be pronounced till

a late hour, no one quitted the Court for fear of not being able to find

a place when the Tribunal should resume its sitting.

Sentence of death was passed upon Georges Caudoudal, Bouvet de Lozier,

Rusillon, Rochelle, Armand de Polignac, Charles d'Hozier, De Riviere,

Louis Ducorps, Picot, Lajolais, Roger, Coster St. Victor, Deville,

Gaillard, Joyaub, Burban; Lemercier, Jean Cadudol, Lelan, and Merille;

while Lies de Polignac, Leridant, General Moreau,--[General Moreau's

sentence was remitted, and he was allowed to go to America.]--Rolland,

and Hisay were only condemned to two years' imprisonment.

This decree was heard with consternation by the assembly, and soon spread

throughout Paris. I may well affirm it to have been a day of public

mourning; even though it was Sunday every place of amusement was nearly

deserted. To the horror inspired by a sentence of death passed so

wantonly, and of which the greater number of the victims belonged to the

most distinguished class of society, was joined the ridicule inspired by

the condemnation of Moreau; of the absurdity of which no one seemed more

sensible than Bonaparte himself, and respecting which he expressed

himself in the most pointed terms. I am persuaded that every one who

narrowly watched the proceedings of this celebrated trial must have been

convinced that all means were resorted to in order that Moreau, once

accused, should not appear entirely free from guilt.

Bonaparte is reported to have said, "Gentlemen, I have no control over

your proceedings; it is your duty strictly to examine the evidence before

presenting a report to me. But when it has once the sanction of your

signatures, woe to you if an innocent man be condemned." This remark is

in strict conformity with his usual language, and bears a striking

similarity to the conversation I held with him on the following Thursday;

but though this language might be appropriate from the lips of a

sovereign whose ministers are responsible, it appears but a lame excuse

in the mouth of Bonaparte, the possessor of absolute power.

The condemned busied themselves in endeavouring to procure a repeal of

their sentence, the greatest number of them yielded in this respect to

the entreaties of their friends, who lost no time in taking the steps

requisite to obtain the pardon of those in whom they were most

interested. Moreau at first also determined to appeal; but he

relinquished his purpose before the Court of Cessation commenced its

sittings.

As soon as the decree of the special Tribunal was delivered, Murat,

Governor of Paris, and brother-in-law to the Emperor, sought his presence

and conjured him in the most urgent manner to pardon all the criminals,

observing that such an act of clemency would redound greatly to his

honour in the opinion of France and all Europe, that it would be said the

Emperor pardoned the attempt against the life of the First Consul, that

this act of mercy would shed more glory over the commencement of his

reign than any security which could accrue from the execution of the

prisoners. Such was the conduct of Murat; but he did not solicit, as

has been reported, the pardon of any one in particular.

Those who obtained the imperial pardon were Bouvet de Lozier, who

expected it from the disclosures he had made; Rusillon, de Riviere,

Rochelle, Armand de Polignac, d'Hozier, Lajolais, who had beforehand

received a promise to that effect, and Armand Gaillard.

The other ill-fated victims of a sanguinary police underwent their

sentence on the 25th of June, two days after the promulgation of the

pardon of their associates.

Their courage and resignation never forsook them even for a moment, and

Georges, knowing that it was rumoured he had obtained a pardon,

entreated that he might die the first, in order that his companions in

their last moments might be assured he had not survived them.

CHAPTER XXVII.

1804.

Clavier and Hemart--Singular Proposal of Corvisart-M. Desmaisons--

Project of influencing the judges--Visit to the Tuileries--Rapp in

attendance--Long conversation with the Emperor--His opinion on the

trial of Moreau--English assassins and Mr. Fox--Complaints against

the English Government--Bonaparte and Lacuee--Affectionate

behaviour--Arrest of Pichegru--Method employed by the First Consul

to discover his presence in Paris--Character of Moreau--Measures of

Bonaparte regarding him--Lauriston sent to the Temple--Silence

respecting the Duc d'Enghien--Napoleon's opinion of Moreau and

Georges--Admiration of Georges--Offers of employment and dismissal--

Recital of former vexations--Audience of the Empress--Melancholy

forebodings--What Bonaparte said concerning himself--Marks of

kindness.

The judges composing the Tribunal which condemned Moreau were not all

like Thuriot and Hemart. History has recorded an honourable contrast to

the general meanness of the period in the reply given by M. Clavier, when

urged by Hemart to vote for the condemnation of Moreau. "Ah, Monsieur,

if we condemn him, how shall we be able to acquit ourselves?" I have,

besides, the best reason for asserting that the judges were tampered

with, from, a circumstance which occurred to myself.

Bonaparte knew that I was intimately connected with M. Desmaisons, one of

the members of the Tribunal, and brother in-law to Corvisart; he also

knew that Desmaisons was inclined to believe in Moreau's innocence, and

favourable to his acquittal. During the progress of the trial Corvisart

arrived at my house one morning at a very early hour, in a state of such

evident embarrassment that, before he had time to utter a word, I said to

him, "What is the matter? Have you heard any bad news?"

"No," replied Corvisart, "but I came by the Emperor's order. He wishes

you to see my brother-in-law. 'He is,' said he to me, 'the senior judge,

and a man of considerable eminence; his opinion will carry with it great

weight, and I know that he is favourable to Moreau; he is in the wrong.

Visit Bourrienne, said the Emperor, and concert with him respecting the

best method of convincing Desmaisons of his error, for I repeat he is

wrong, he is deceived.' This is the mission with which I am entrusted."

"How," said I, with thorough astonishment, "how came you to be employed

in this affair? Could you believe for one moment that I would tamper

with a magistrate in order to induce him to exercise an unjust rigour?"

"No, rest assured," replied Corvisart, "I merely visited you this morning

in obedience to the order of the Emperor; but I knew beforehand in what

manner you would regard the proposition with which I was charged. I knew

your opinions and your character too well to entertain the smallest doubt

in this respect, and I was convinced that I ran no risk in becoming the

bearer of a commission which would be attended with no effect. Besides,

had I refused to obey the Emperor, it would have proved prejudicial to

your interest, and confirmed him in the opinion that you were favourable

to the acquittal of Moreau. For myself," added Corvisart, "it is

needless to affirm that I have no intention of attempting to influence

the opinion of my brother-in-law; and if I had, you know him sufficiently

well to be convinced in what light he would regard such a proceeding."

Such were the object and result of Corvisart's visit, and I am thence led

to believe that similar attempts must have been made to influence other

members of the Tribunal.

--["The judges had been pressed and acted on in a thousand ways by

the hangers on of the Palace and especially by Real, the natural

intermediary between justice and the Government. Ambition,

servility, fear, every motive capable of influencing them, had been

used: even their humane scruples were employed" (Lanfrey tome iii.

p. 193, who goes on to say that the judges were urged to sentence

Moreau to death in order that the Emperor might fully pardon him).]

But however this may be, prudence led me to discontinue visiting

M. Desmaisons, with whom I was in habits of the strictest friendship.

About this period I paid a visit which occupies an important place in my

recollections. On the 14th of June 1804, four days after the

condemnation of Georges and his accomplices, I received a summons to

attend the Emperor at St. Cloud. It was Thursday, and as I thought on

the great events and tragic scenes about to be acted, I was rather uneasy

respecting his intentions.

But I was fortunate enough to find my friend Rapp in waiting, who said to

me as I entered, "Be not alarmed; he is in the best of humours at

present, and wishes to have some conversation with you."

Rapp then announced me to the Emperor, and I was immediately admitted to

his presence. After pinching my ear and asking his usual questions, such

as, "What does the world say? How are your children? What are you

about? etc.," he said to me, "By the by, have you attended the

proceedings against Moreau?"--"Yes, Sire, I have not been absent during

one of the sittings."--"Well, Bourrienne, are you of the opinion that

Moreau is innocent?"--"Yes, Sire; at least I am certain that nothing has

come out in the course of the trial tending to criminate him; I am even

surprised how he came to be implicated in this conspiracy, since nothing

has appeared against him which has the most remote connexion with the

affair."--"I know your opinion on this subject; Duroc related to me the

conversation you held with him at the Tuileries; experience has shown

that you were correct; but how could I act otherwise? You know that

Bouvet de Lozier hanged himself in prison, and was only saved by

accident. Real hurried to the Temple in order to interrogate him, and in

his first confessions he criminated Moreau, affirming that he had held

repeated conferences with Pichegru. Real immediately reported to me this

fact, and proposed that Moreau should be arrested, since the rumours

against him seemed to be well founded; he had previously made the same

proposition. I at first refused my sanction to this measure; but after

the charge made against him by Bouvet de Lozier, how could I act

otherwise than I did? Could I suffer such open conspiracies against the

Government? Could I doubt the truth of Bouvet de Lozier's declaration,

under the circumstances in which it was made? Could I foresee that he

would deny his first declaration when brought before the Court? There

was a chain of circumstances which human sagacity could not penetrate,

and I consented to the arrest of Moreau when it was proved that he was in

league with Pichegru. Has not England sent assassins?"--"Sire," said I,

"permit me to call to your recollection the conversation you had in my

presence with Mr. Fox, after which you said to me, 'Bourrienne, I am very

happy at having heard from the mouth of a man of honour that the British

Government is incapable of seeking my life; I always wish to esteem my

enemies."--"Bah! you are a fool! Parbleu! I did not say that the

English Minister sent over an assassin, and that he said to him, 'Here is

gold and a poniard; go and kill the First Consul.' No, I did not believe

that; but it cannot be denied that all those foreign conspirators against

my Government were serving England, and receiving pay from that power.

Have I agents in London to disturb the Government of Great Britain?

I have waged with it honourable warfare; I have not attempted to awaken a

remembrance of the Stuarts amongst their old partisans. Is not Wright,

who landed Georges and his accomplices at Dieppe, a captain in the

British navy? But rest assured that, with the exception of a few

babblers, whom I can easily silence, the hearts of the French people are

with me; everywhere public opinion has been declared in my favour, so

that I have nothing to apprehend from giving the greatest publicity to

these plots, and bringing the accused to a solemn trial. The greater

number of those gentlemen wished me to bring the prisoners before a

military commission, that summary judgment might be obtained; but I

refused my consent to this measure. It might have been said that I

dreaded public opinion; and I fear it not. People may talk as much as

they please, well and good, I am not obliged to hear them; but I do not

like those who are attached to my person to blame what I have done."

As I could not wholly conceal an involuntary emotion, in which the

Emperor saw something more than mere surprise, he paused, took me by the

ear, and, smiling in the most affectionate manner, said, "I had no

reference to you in what I said, but I have to complain of Lacuee. Could

you believe that during the trial he went about clamouring in behalf of

Moreau? He, my aide de camp--a man who owes everything to me! As for

you, I have said that you acted very well in this affair."--"I know not,

Sire, what has either been done or said by Lacuee,--whom I have not seen

for a long time; what I said to Duroc is what history teaches in every

page."--"By the by," resumed the Emperor, after a short silence, "do you

know that it was I myself who discovered that Pichegru was in Paris.

Everyone said to me, Pichegru is in Paris; Fouche, Real, harped on the

same string, but could give me no proof of their assertion. 'What a fool

you are,' said I to Real, when in an instant you may ascertain the fact.

Pichegru has a brother, an aged ecclesiastic, who resides in Paris; let

his dwelling be searched, and should he be absent, it will warrant a

suspicion that Pichegru is here; if, on the contrary, his brother should

be at home, let him be arrested: he is a simple-minded man, and in the

first moments of agitation will betray the truth. Everything happened as

I had foreseen, for no sooner was he arrested than, without waiting to be

questioned, he inquired if it was a crime to have received his brother

into his house. Thus every doubt was removed, and a miscreant in the

house in which Pichegru lodged betrayed him to the police. What horrid

degradation to betray a friend for the sake of gold."

Then reverting to Moreau, the Emperor talked a great deal respecting that

general. "Moreau," he said, "possesses many good qualities; his bravery

is undoubted; but he has more courage than energy; he is indolent and

effeminate. When with the army he lived like a pasha; he smoked, was

almost constantly in bed, and gave himself up to the pleasures of the

table. His dispositions are naturally good; but he is too indolent for

study; he does not read, and since he has been tied to his wife's

apronstrings is fit for nothing. He sees only with the eyes of his wife

and her mother, who have had a hand in all these late plots; and then,

Bourrienne, is it not very strange that it was by my advice that he

entered into this union? I was told that Mademoiselle Hulot was a

creole, and I believed that he would find in her a second Josephine; how

greatly was I mistaken! It is these women who have estranged us from

each other, and I regret that he should have acted so unworthily. You

must remember my observing to you more than two years ago that Moreau

would one day run his head against the gate of the Tuileries; that he has

done so was no fault of mine, for you know how much I did to secure his

attachment. You cannot have forgotten the reception I gave him at

Malmaison. On the 18th Brumaire I conferred on him the charge of the

Luxembourg, and in that situation he fully justified my, choice. But

since that period he has behaved towards me with the utmost

ingratitude--entered into all the silly cabala against me, blamed all my

measures, and turned into ridicule the Legion of Honour. Have not some

of the intriguers put it into his head that I regard him with jealousy?

You must be aware of that. You must also know as well as I how anxious

the members of the Directory were to exalt the reputation of Moreau.

Alarmed at my success in Italy, they wished to have in the armies a

general to serve as a counterpoise to my renown. I have ascended the

throne and he is the inmate of a prison! You are aware of the incessant

clamouring raised against me by the whole family, at which I confess I

was very much displeased; coming from those whom I had treated so well!

Had he attached himself to me, I would doubtless have conferred on him

the title of First Marshal of the Empire; but what could I do? He

constantly depreciated my campaigns and my government. From discontent

to revolt there is frequently only one step, especially when a man of a

weak character becomes the tool of popular clubs; and therefore when I

was first informed that Moreau was implicated in the conspiracy of

Georges I believed him to be guilty, but hesitated to issue an order for

his arrest till I had taken the opinion of my Council. The members

having assembled, I ordered the different documents to be laid before

them, with an injunction to examine them with the utmost care, since

they related to an affair of importance, and I urged them candidly to

inform me whether, in their opinion, any of the charges against Moreau

were sufficiently strong to endanger his life. The fools! their reply

was in the affirmative; I believe they were even unanimous! Then I had

no alternative but to suffer the proceedings to take their course. It is

unnecessary to affirm to you, Bourrienne, that Moreau never should have

perished on a scaffold! Most assuredly I would have pardoned him; but

with the sentence of death hanging over his head he could no longer have

proved dangerous; and his name would have ceased to be a rallying-point

for disaffected Republicans or imbecile Royalists. Had the Council

expressed any doubts respecting his guilt I would have intimated to him

that the suspicions against him were so strong as to render any further

connection between us impossible; and that the best course he could

pursue would be to leave France for three years, under the pretext of

visiting some of the places rendered celebrated during the late wars;

but that if he preferred a diplomatic mission I would make a suitable

provision for his expenses; and the great innovator, Time, might effect

great changes during the period of his absence. But my foolish Council

affirmed to me that his guilt, as a principal, being evident, it was

absolutely necessary to bring him to trial; and now his sentence is only

that of a pickpocket. What think you I ought to do? Detain him? He might

still prove a rallying-point. No. Let him sell his property and quit?

Can I confine him in the Temple? It is full enough without him. Still,

if this had been the only great error they had led me to commit--"

"Sire, how greatly you have been deceived."

"Oh yes, I have been so; but I cannot see everything with my own eyes."

At this part of our conversation, of which I have suppressed my own share

as much as possible, I conceived that the last words of Bonaparte alluded

to the death of the Duc d'Enghien; and I fancied he was about to mention

that event but he again spoke of Moreau.

"He is very much mistaken," resumed the Emperor, "if he conceives I bore

any ill-will towards him. After his arrest I sent Lauriston to the

Temple, whom I chose because he was of an amiable and conciliating

disposition; I charged him to tell Moreau to confess he had only seen

Pichegru, and I would cause the proceedings against him to be suspended.

Instead of receiving this act of generosity as he ought to have done, he

replied to it with great haughtiness, so much was he elated that Pichegru

had not been arrested; he afterwards, however, lowered his tone. He wrote

to me a letter of excuse respecting his anterior conduct, which I caused

to be produced on the trial. He was the author of his own ruin; besides,

it would have required men of a different stamp from Moreau to conspire

against me. Amoung, the conspirators, for example, was an individual

whose fate I regret; this Georges in my hands might have achieved great

things. I can duly appreciate the firmness of character he displayed,

and to which I could have given a proper direction. I caused Real to

intimate to him that, if he would attach himself to me, not only should

he be pardoned, but that I would give him the command of a regiment.

Perhaps I might even have made him my aide de camp. Complaints would

have been made, but, parbleu, I should not have cared. Georges refused

all my offers; he was as inflexible as iron. What could I do? he

underwent his fate, for he was a dangerous man; circumstances rendered

his death a matter of necessity. Examples of severity were called for,

when England was pouring into France the whole offscouring of the

emigration; but patience, patience! I have a long arm, and shall be able

to reach them, when necessary. Moreau regarded Georges merely as a

ruffian--I viewed him in a different light. You may remember the

conversation I had with him at the Tuileries--you and Rapp were in an

adjoining cabinet. I tried in vain to influence him--some of his

associates were affected at the mention of country and of glory; he alone

stood cold and unmoved. I addressed myself to his feelings, but in vain;

he was insensible to everything I said. At that period Georges appeared

to me little ambitious of power; his whole wishes seemed to centre in

commanding the Vendeans. It was not till I had exhausted every means of

conciliation that I assumed the tone and language of the first

magistrate. I dismissed him with a strong injunction to live

retired--to be peaceable and obedient--not to misinterpret the motives

of my conduct towards himself--nor attribute to weakness what was merely

the result of moderation and strength. 'Rest assured,' I added, 'and

repeat to your associates, that while I hold the reins of authority

there will be neither chance nor salvation for those who dare to

conspire against me: How he conformed to this injunction the event has

shown. Real told me that when Moreau and Georges found themselves in

the presence of Pichegru they could not come to any understanding,

because Georges would not act against the Bourbons. Well, he had a

plan, but Moreau had none; he merely wished for my overthrow, without

having formed any ulterior views whatever. This showed that he was

destitute of even common sense. Apropos, Bourrienne, have you seen

Corvisart?"--"Yes, Sire."--"Well!" "He delivered to me the message with

which you entrusted him."--"And Desmaisons!--I wager that you have not

spoken to him in conformity to my wishes."--"Sire, the estimation in

which I hold Desmaisons deterred me from a course so injurious to him;

for in what other light could he have considered what I should have said

to him? I have never visited at his house since the commencement of the

trial."--"Well! well! Be prudent and discreet, I shall not forget you."

He then waved a very gracious salute with his hand, and withdrew into

his cabinet.

The Emperor had detained me more than an hour. On leaving the

audience-chamber I passed through the outer salon, where a number of

individuals were waiting; and I perceived that an observance of

etiquette was fast gaining ground, though the Emperor had not yet

adopted the admirable institution of Court Chamberlains.

I cannot deny that I was much gratified with my reception; besides I was

beginning to be weary of an inactive life, and was anxious to obtain a

place, of which I stood in great need, from the losses I had sustained

and the unjust resumption which Bonaparte had made of his gifts. Being

desirous to speak of Napoleon with the strictest impartiality, I prefer

drawing my conclusions from those actions in which I had no personal

concern. I shall therefore only relate here, even before giving an

account of my visit to the Empress on leaving the audience-chamber, the

former conduct of Napoleon towards myself and Madame de Bourrienne, which

will justify the momentary alarm with which I was seized when summoned to

the Tuileries, and the satisfaction I felt at my reception. I had a

proof of what Rapp said of the Emperor being in good-humour, and was

flattered by the confidential manner in which he spoke to me concerning

some of the great political secrets of his Government. On seeing me come

out Rapp observed, "You have had a long audience."--"Yes, not amiss;" and

this circumstance procured for me a courtly salutation from all persons

waiting in the antechamber.'

I shall now relate how I spent the two preceding years. The month after

I tendered my resignation to the First Consul, and which he refused to

accept, the house at St. Cloud belonging to Madame Deville was offered to

me; it was that in which the Due d'Angouleme and the Due de Berri were

inoculated. I visited this mansion, thinking it might be suitable for my

family; but, notwithstanding the beauty of its situation, it seemed far

too splendid either for my taste or my fortune. Except the outer walls,

it was in a very dilapidated state, and would require numerous and

expensive repairs. Josephine, being informed that Madame de Bourrienne

had set her face against the purchase, expressed a wish to see the

mansion, and accompanied us for that purpose. She was so much delighted

with it that she blamed my wife for starting any objections to my

becoming, its possessor. "With regard to the expense," Josephine replied

to her, "ah, we shall arrange that." On our return to Malmaison she

spoke of it in such high terms that Bonaparte said to me, "Why don't you

purchase it, Bourrienne, since the price is so reasonable?"

The house was accordingly purchased. An outlay of 20,000 francs was

immediately required to render it habitable. Furniture was also

necessary for this large mansion, and orders for it were accordingly

given. But no sooner were repairs begun than everything crumbled to

pieces, which rendered many additional expenses necessary.

About this period Bonaparte hurried forward the works at St. Cloud,

to which place he immediately removed. My services being constantly

required, I found it so fatiguing to go twice or thrice a day from Ruel

to St. Cloud that I took possession of my new mansion, though it was

still filled with workmen. Scarcely eight days had elapsed from this

period when Bonaparte intimated that he no longer had occasion for my

services. When my wife went to take leave Napoleon spoke to her in a

flattering manner of my good qualities, my merit, and the utility of my

labours, saying that he was himself the most unfortunate of the three,

and that my loss could never be replaced. He then added, "I shall be

absent for a month, but Bourrienne may be quite easy; let him remain in

retirement, and on my return I shall reward his services, should I even

create a place on purpose for him."

Madame de Bourrienne then requested leave to retain the apartments

appropriated to her in the Tuileries till after her accouchement, which

was not far distant, to which he replied, "You may keep them as long as

you please; for it will be some time before I again reside in Paris."

Bonaparte set out on his journey, and shortly afterwards I went with my

family to visit Madame de Coubertin, my cousin-german, who received us

with her usual kindness. We passed the time of the First Consul's

absence at her country seat, and only returned to St. Cloud on the day

Bonaparte was expected.

Scarcely a quarter of an hour had elapsed after his arrival when I

received an intimation to give up, in twenty-four hours, the apartments

in the Tuileries, which he had promised my wife should retain till after

her confinement. He reclaimed at the same time the furniture of Ruel,

which he presented to me two years before, when I purchased that small

house on purpose to be near him.

I addressed several memorials to him on this subject, stating that I had

replaced the worn-out furniture with new and superior articles; but this

he wholly disregarded, compelling me to give up everything, even to the

greatest trifle. It may be right to say that on his return the Emperor

found his table covered with information respecting my conduct in Paris,

though I had not held the smallest communication with any one in the

capital, nor once entered it during his absence.

After my departure for Hamburg, Bonaparte took possession of my stables

and coach-house, which he filled with horses. Even the very avenues and

walks were converted into stabling. A handsome house at the entrance to

the park was also appropriated to similar purposes; in fact, he spared

nothing. Everything was done in the true military style; I neither had

previous intimation of the proceedings nor received any remuneration for

my loss. The Emperor seemed to regard the property as his own; but

though he all but ordered me to make the purchase, he did not furnish the

money that was paid for it. In this way it was occupied for more than

four years.

The recollection of those arbitrary and vexatious proceedings on the part

of Bonaparte has led me farther than I intended. I shall therefore

return to the imperial residence of St. Cloud. On leaving the

audience-chamber, as already stated, I repaired to the apartments of the

Empress, who, knowing that I was in the Palace, had intimated her wishes

for my attendance. No command could have been more agreeable to me, for

every one was certain of a gracious reception from Josephine. I do not

recollect which of the ladies in waiting was in attendance when my name

was announced; but she immediately retired, and left me alone with

Josephine. Her recent elevation had not changed the usual amenity of

her disposition. After some conversation respecting the change in her

situation, I gave her an account of what had passed between the Emperor

and myself.

I faithfully related all that he had said of Moreau, observing that at

one moment I imagined he was about to speak of the Due d'Enghien, when he

suddenly reverted to what he had been saying, and never made the

slightest allusion to the subject.

Madame Bonaparte replied to me, "Napoleon has spoken the truth respecting

Moreau. He was grossly deceived by those who believed they could best

pay their court to him by calumniating that general. His silence on the

subject of the Due d'Enghien does not surprise me; he says as little

respecting it as possible, and always in a vague manner, and with

manifest repugnance. When you see Bonaparte again be silent on the

subject, and should chance bring it forward, avoid every expression in

the smallest degree indicative of reproach; he would not suffer it; you

would ruin yourself for ever in his estimation, and the evil is, alas!

without remedy. When you came to Malmaison I told you that I had vainly

endeavoured to turn him from his fatal purpose, and how he had treated

me. Since then he has experienced but little internal satisfaction; it

is only in the presence of his courtiers that he affects a calm and

tranquil deportment; but I perceive his sufferings are the greater from

thus endeavouring to conceal them. By the by, I forgot to mention that

he knew of the visit you paid me on the day after the catastrophe. I

dreaded that your enemies, the greater number of whom are also mine,

might have misrepresented that interview; but, fortunately, he paid

little attention to it. He merely said, 'So you have seen Bourrienne?

Does he sulk at me? Nevertheless I must do something for him.' He has

again spoken in the same strain, and repeated nearly the same expressions

three days ago; and since he has commanded your presence to-day, I have

not a doubt but he has something in view for your advantage."--"May I

presume to inquire what it is?"--"I do not yet know; but I would

recommend to you, in the meantime, to be more strictly on your guard than

ever; he is so suspicious, and so well informed of all that is done or

said respecting himself. I have suffered so much since I last saw you;

never can I forget the unkind manner in which he rejected my entreaties!

For several days I laboured under a depression of spirits which greatly

irritated him, because he clearly saw whence it proceeded. I am not

dazzled by the title of Empress; I dread some evil will result from this

step to him, to my children, and to myself. The miscreants ought to be

satisfied; see to what they have driven us! This death embitters every

moment of my life. I need not say to you, Bourrienne, that I speak this

in confidence."--"You cannot doubt my prudence."--"No, certainly not,

Bourrienne. I do not doubt it. My confidence in you is unbounded. Rest

assured that I shall never forget what you have done for me, under

various circumstances, and the devotedness you evinced to me on your

return from Egypt.--Adieu, my friend. Let me see you soon again."

It was on the 14th of June 1804 that I had this audience of the Emperor,

and afterwards attended the Empress.

On my return home I spent three hours in making notes of all that was

said to me by these two personages; and the substance of these notes I

have now given to the reader.

CHAPTER XXVIII.

1804.

Curious disclosures of Fouche--Remarkable words of Bonaparte

respecting the protest of Louis XVIII--Secret document inserted in

the Moniteur--Announcement from Bonaparte to Regnier--Fouche

appointed Minister of Police--Error of Regnier respecting the

conspiracy of Georges--Undeserved praise bestowed on Fouche--

Indication of the return of the Bourbons--Variation between the

words and conduct of Bonaparte--The iron crown--Celebration of the

14th of July--Church festivals and loss of time--Grand ceremonial at

the Invalides--Recollections of the 18th Brumaire--New oath of the

Legion of Honour--General enthusiasm--Departure for Boulogne--Visits

to Josephine at St. Cloud and Malmaison--Josephine and Madame de

Remusat--Pardons granted by the Emperor--Anniversary of the 14th of

July--Departure for the camp of Boulogne--General error respecting

Napoleon's designs--Caesar's Tower--Distribution of the crosses of

the Legion of Honour--The military throne--Bonaparte's charlatanism

--Intrepidity of two English sailors--The decennial prizes and the

Polytechnic School--Meeting of the Emperor and Empress--First

negotiation with the Holy Sea--The Prefect of Arras and Comte Louis

de Narbonne--Change in the French Ministry.

Louis XVIII., being at Warsaw when he was informed of the elevation of

Napoleon to the Imperial dignity, addressed to the sovereigns of Europe a

protest against that usurpation of his throne. Fouche, being the first

who heard of this protest, immediately communicated the circumstance to

the Emperor, observing that doubtless the copies would be multiplied and

distributed amongst the enemies of his Government, in the Faubourg St.

Germain, which might produce the worst effects, and that he therefore

deemed it his duty to inform him that orders might be given to Regnier

and Real to keep a strict watch over those engaged in distributing this

document.

"You may judge of my surprise," added Fouche, "you who know so well that

formerly the very mention of the Bourbons rendered Bonaparte furious,

when, after perusing the protest, he returned it to me, saying, 'Ah, ah,

so the Comte de Lille makes his protest! Well, well, all in good time.

I hold my right by the voice of the French nation, and while I wear a

sword I will maintain it! The Bourbons ought to know that I do not fear

them; let them, therefore, leave me in tranquillity. Did you say that

the fools of the Faubourg St. Germain would multiply the copies of this

protest of Comte de Lille? well, they shall read it at their ease. Send

it to the Moniteur, Fouche; and let it be inserted to-morrow morning.'"

This passed on the 30th of June, and the next day the protest of Louis

XVIII. did actually appear in that paper.

Fouche was wholly indifferent respecting the circulation of this protest;

he merely wished to show the Emperor that he was better informed of

passing events than Regnier, and to afford Napoleon another proof of the

inexperience and inability of the Grand Judge in police; and Fouche was

not long in receiving the reward which he expected from this step. In

fact, ten days after the publication of the protest, the Emperor

announced to Regnier the re-establishment of the Ministry of General

Police.

The formula, I Pray God to have you in His holy keeping, with which the

letter to Regnier closed, was another step of Napoleon in the knowledge

of ancient usages, with which he was not sufficiently familiar when he

wrote Cambaceres on the day succeeding his elevation to the Imperial

throne; at the same time it must be confessed that this formula assorted

awkwardly with the month of "Messidor," and the "twelfth year of the

Republic!"

The errors which Regnier had committed in the affair of Georges were the

cause which determined Bonaparte to re-establish the Ministry of Police,

and to bestow it on a man who had created a belief in the necessity of

that measure, by a monstrous accumulation of plots and intrigues. I am

also certain that the Emperor was swayed by the probability of a war

breaking out, which would force him to leave France; and that he

considered Fouche as the most proper person to maintain the public

tranquillity during his absence, and detect any cabala that might be

formed in favour of the Bourbons.

At this period, when Bonaparte had given the finishing blow to the

Republic, which had only been a shadow since the 19th Brumaire, it was

not difficult to foresee that the Bourbons would one day remount the

throne of their ancestors; and this presentiment was not, perhaps,

without its influence in rendering the majority greater in favour of the

foundation of the Empire than for the establishment of a Consulate for

life. The reestablishment of the throne was a most important step in

favour of the Bourbons, for that was the thing most difficult to be done.

But Bonaparte undertook the task; and, as if by the aid of a magic rod,

the ancient order of things was restored in the twinkling of an eye. The

distinctions of rank--orders--titles, the noblesse--decorations--all the

baubles of vanity--in short, all the burlesque tattooing which the vulgar

regard as an indispensable attribute of royalty, reappeared in an

instant. The question no longer regarded the form of government, but the

individual who should be placed at its head. By restoring the ancient

order of things, the Republicans had themselves decided the question, and

it could no longer be doubted that when an occasion presented itself the

majority of the nation would prefer the ancient royal family, to whom

France owed her civilisation, her greatness, and her power, and who had

exalted her to such a high degree of glory and prosperity.

It was not one of the least singular traits in Napoleon's character that

during the first year of his reign he retained the fete of the 14th of

July. It was not indeed strictly a Republican fate, but it recalled the

recollection of two great popular triumphs,--the taking of the Bastille

and the first Federation. This year the 14th of July fell on a Saturday,

and the Emperor ordered its celebration to be delayed till the following

day, because it was Sunday; which was in conformity with the sentiments

he delivered respecting the Concordat. "What renders me," he said, "most

hostile to the re-establishment of the Catholic worship is the number of

festivals formerly observed. A saint's day is a day of indolence, and I

wish not for that; the people must labour in order to live. I consent to

four holidays in the year, but no more; if the gentlemen from Rome are

not satisfied with this, they may take their departure."

The loss of time seemed to him so great a calamity that he seldom failed

to order an indispensable solemnity to be held on the succeeding holiday.

Thus he postponed the Corpus Christi to the following Sunday.

On Sunday, the 15th of July 1804, the Emperor appeared for the first time

before the Parisians surrounded by all the pomp of royalty. The members

of the Legion of Honour, then in Paris, took the oath prescribed by the

new Constitution, and on this occasion the Emperor and Empress appeared

attended for the first time by a separate and numerous retinue.

The carriages in the train of the Empress crossed the garden of the

Tuileries, hitherto exclusively appropriated to the public; then followed

the cavalcade of the Emperor, who appeared on horseback, surrounded by

his principal generals, whom he had created Marshals of the Empire.

M. de Segur, who held the office of Grand Master of Ceremonies, had the

direction of the ceremonial to be observed on this occasion, and with,

the Governor received the Emperor on the threshold of the Hotel des

Invalides. They conducted the Empress to a tribune prepared for her

reception, opposite the Imperial throne which Napoleon alone occupied, to

the right of the altar. I was present at this ceremony, notwithstanding

the repugnance I have to such brilliant exhibitions; but as Duroc had two

days before presented me with tickets, I deemed it prudent to attend on

the occasion, lest the keen eye of Bonaparte should have remarked my

absence if Duroc had acted by his order.

I spent about an hour contemplating the proud and sometimes almost

ludicrous demeanour of the new grandees of the Empire; I marked the

manoeuvring of the clergy, who, with Cardinal Belloy at their head,

proceeded to receive the Emperor on his entrance into the church. What a

singular train of ideas was called up to my mind when I beheld my former

comrade at the school of Brienne seated upon an elevated throne,

surrounded by his brilliant staff, the great dignitaries of his

Empire--his Ministers and Marshals! I involuntarily recurred to the

19th Brumaire, and all this splendid scene vanished; when I thought of

Bonaparte stammering to such a degree that I was obliged to pull the

skirt of his coat to induce him to withdraw.

It was neither a feeling of animosity nor of jealousy which called up

such reflections; at no period of our career would I have exchanged my

situation for his; but whoever can reflect, whoever has witnessed the

unexpected elevation of a former equal, may perhaps be able to conceive

the strange thoughts that assailed my mind, for the first time, on this

occasion.

When the religious part of the ceremony terminated, the church assumed,

in some measure, the appearance of a profane temple. The congregation

displayed more devotion to the Emperor than towards the God of the

Christians,--more enthusiasm than fervour. The mass had been heard with

little attention; but when M. de Lacepede, Grand Chancellor of the Legion

of Honour, after pronouncing a flattering discourse, finished the call of

the Grand Officers of the Legion, Bonaparte covered, as did the ancient

kings of France when they held a bed of justice. A profound silence, a

sort of religious awe, then reigned throughout the assembly, and

Napoleon, who did not now stammer as in the Council of the Five Hundred,

said in a firm voice:

"Commanders, officers, legionaries, citizens, soldiers; swear upon your

honour to devote yourselves to the service of the Empire--to the

preservation of the integrity of the French territory--to the defence of

the Emperor, of the laws of the Republic, and of the property which they

have made sacred--to combat by all the means which justice, reason, and

the laws authorise every attempt to reestablish the feudal system; in

short, swear to concur with all your might in maintaining liberty and

equality, which are the bases of all our institutions. Do you swear?"

Each member of the Legion of Honour exclaimed, "I swear;" adding, "Vive

l'Empereur!" with an enthusiasm it is impossible to describe, and in which

all present joined.

What, after all, was this new oath? It only differed from that taken by

the Legion of Honour, under the Consulate, in putting the defence of the

Emperor before that of the laws of the Republic; and this was not merely

a form. It was, besides, sufficiently laughable and somewhat audacious,

to make them swear to support equality at the moment so many titles and

monarchical distinctions had been re-established.

On the 18th of July, three days after this ceremony, the Emperor left

Paris to visit the camp at Boulogne. He was not accompanied by the

Empress on this journey, which was merely to examine the progress of the

military operations. Availing myself of the invitation Josephine had

given me, I presented myself at St. Cloud a few days after the departure

of Napoleon; as she did not expect my visit, I found her surrounded by

four or five of the ladies in waiting, occupied in examining some of the

elegant productions of the famous Leroi and Madame Despeaux; for amidst

the host of painful feelings experienced by Josephine she was too much of

a woman not to devote some attention to the toilet.

On my introduction they were discussing the serious question of the

costume to be worn by the Empress on her journey to Belgium to meet

Napoleon at the Palace of Lacken, near Brussels. Notwithstanding those

discussions respecting the form of hats, the colour and shape of dresses,

etc., Josephine received me in her usual gracious manner. But not being

able to converse with me, she said, without giving it an appearance of

invitation but in a manner sufficiently evident to be understood, that

she intended to pass the following morning at Malmaison.

I shortened my visit, and at noon next day repaired to that delightful

abode, which always created in my mind deep emotion. Not an alley, not a

grove but teemed with interesting recollections; all recalled to me the

period when I was the confidant of Bonaparte. But the time was past when

he minutely calculated how much a residence at Malmaison would cost, and

concluded by saying that an income of 30,000 livres would be necessary.

When I arrived Madame Bonaparte was in the garden with Madame de Remusat,

who was her favourite from the similarity of disposition which existed

between them.

Madame de Remusat was the daughter of the Minister Vergennes, and sister

to Madame de Nansouty, whom I had sometimes seen with Josephine, but not

so frequently as her elder sister. I found the ladies in the avenue

which leads to Ruel, and saluted Josephine by inquiring respecting the

health of Her Majesty. Never can I forget the tone in which she replied:

"Ah! Bourrienne, I entreat that you will suffer me, at least here, to

forget that I am an Empress." As she had not a thought concealed from

Madame de Remusat except some domestic vexations, of which probably I was

the only confidant, we conversed with the same freedom as if alone, and

it is easy to define that the subject of our discourse regarded

Bonaparte.

After having spoken of her intended journey to Belgium, Josephine said

tome, "What a pity, Bourrienne, that the past cannot be recalled!

He departed in the happiest disposition: he has bestowed some pardons

and I am satisfied that but for those accursed politics he would have

pardoned a far greater number. I would have said much more, but I

endeavoured to conceal my chagrin because the slightest contradiction

only renders him the more obstinate. Now, when in the midst of his army,

he will forget everything. How much have I been afflicted that I was not

able to obtain a favourable answer to all the petitions which were

addressed to me. That good Madame de Monteason came from Romainville to

St. Cloud to solicit the pardon of MM. de Riviere and de Polignac; we

succeeded in gaining an audience for Madame de Polignac; . . . how

beautiful she is! Bonaparte was greatly affected on beholding her; he

said to her, 'Madame, since it was only my life your husband menaced, I

may pardon him.' You know Napoleon, Bourrienne; you know that he is not

naturally cruel; it is his counsellors and flatterers who have induced

him to commit so many villainous actions. Rapp has behaved extremely

well; he went to the Emperor, and would not leave him till he had

obtained the pardon of another of the condemned, whose name I do not

recollect. How much these Polignacs have interested me! There will be

then at least some families who will owe him gratitude! Strive, if it be

possible, to throw a veil over the past; I am sufficiently miserable in

my anticipations of the future. Rest assured, my dear Bourrienne, that I

shall not fail to exert myself during our stay in Belgium in your behalf,

and inform you of the result. Adieu!"

During the festival in celebration of the 14th of July, which I have

already alluded to, the Emperor before leaving the Hotel des Invalides

had announced that he would go in person to distribute the decorations of

the Legion of Honour to the army assembled in the camp of Boulogne. He

was not long before he fulfilled his promise. He left St. Cloud on the

18th and travelled with such rapidity that the next morning, whilst every

one was busy with preparations for his reception, he was already at that

port, in the midst of the labourers, examining the works. He seemed to

multiply himself by his inconceivable activity, and one might say that he

was present everywhere.

At the Emperor's departure it was generally believed at Paris that the

distribution of the crosses at the camp of Boulogne was only a pretext,

and that Bonaparte had at length gone to carry into execution the project

of an invasion of England, which every body supposed he contemplated. It

was, indeed, a pretext. The Emperor wished to excite more and more the

enthusiasm of the army--to show himself to the military invested in his

new dignity, to be present at some grand manoeuvres, and dispose the army

to obey the first signal he might give. How indeed, on beholding such

great preparations, so many transports created, as it were, by

enchantment, could any one have supposed that he did not really intend to

attempt a descent on England? People almost fancied him already in

London; it was known that all the army corps echelloned on the coast from

Maples to Ostend were ready to embark. Napoleon's arrival in the midst

of his troops inspired them, if possible, with a new impulse. The French

ports on the Channel had for a long period been converted into dockyards

and arsenals, where works were carried on with that inconceivable

activity which Napoleon knew so well how to inspire. An almost

incredible degree of emulation prevailed amongst the commanders of the

different camps, and it descended from rank to rank to the common

soldiers and even to the labourers.

As every one was eager to take advantage of the slightest effects of

chance, and exercised his ingenuity in converting them into prognostics

of good fortune for the Emperor, those who had access to him did not fail

to call his attention to some remains of a Roman camp which had been

discovered at the Tour d'Ordre, where the Emperor's tent was pitched.

This was considered an evident proof that the French Caesar occupied the

camp which the Roman Caesar had formerly constructed to menace Great

Britain. To give additional force to this allusion, the Tour d'Ordre

resumed the name of Caesar's Tower. Some medals of William the

Conqueror, found in another spot, where, perhaps, they had been buried

for the purpose of being dug up, could not fail to satisfy the most

incredulous that Napoleon must conquer England.

It was not far from Caesar's Tower that 80,000 men of the camps of

Boulogne and Montreuil, under the command of Marshal Soult, were

assembled in a vast plain to witness the distribution of the crosses of

the Legion of Honour impressed with the Imperial effigy. This plain,

which I saw with Bonaparte in our first journey to the coast, before our

departure to Egypt, was circular and hollow; and in the centre was a

little hill. This hill formed the Imperial throne of Bonaparte in the

midst of his soldiers. There he stationed himself with his staff and

around this centre of glory the regiments were drawn up in lines and

looked like so many diverging rays. From this throne, which had been

erected by the hand of nature, Bonaparte delivered in a loud voice the

same form of oath which he had pronounced at the Hotel des Invalides a

few days before. It was the signal for a general burst of enthusiasm,

and Rapp, alluding to this ceremony, told me that he never saw the

Emperor appear more pleased. How could he be otherwise? Fortune then

seemed obedient to his wishes. A storm came on during this brilliant

day, and it was apprehended that part of the flotilla would have

suffered.

Bonaparte quitted the hill from which he had distributed the crosses and

proceeded to the port to direct what measures should be taken, when upon

his arrival the storm--

--[The following description of the incident when Napoleon nearly

occasioned the destruction of the Boulogne flotilla was forwarded to

the 'Revue Politique et Litteraire' from a private memoir. The

writer, who was an eye-witness, says--

One morning, when the Emperor was mounting his horse, he announced

that he intended to hold a review of his naval forces, and gave the

order that the vessels which lay in the harbour should alter their

positions, as the review was to be held on the open sea. He started

on his usual ride, giving orders that everything should be arranged

on his return, the time of which he indicted. His wish was

communicated to Admiral Bruix, who responded with imperturbable

coolness that he was very sorry, but that the review could not take

place that day. Consequently not a vessel was moved. On his return

back from his ride the Emperor asked whether all was ready. He was

told what the Admiral had said. Twice the answer had to be repeated

to him before he could realise its nature, and then, violently

stamping his foot on the ground, he sent for the Admiral. The

Emperor met him halfway. With eyes burning with rage, he exclaimed

in an excited voice, "Why have my orders not been executed?" With

respectful firmness Admiral Bruix replied, "Sire, a terrible storm

is brewing. Your Majesty may convince yourself of it; would you

without need expose the lives of so many men?" The heaviness of the

atmosphere and the sound of thunder in the distance more than

justified the fears of the Admiral. "Sir, said the Emperor, getting

more and more irritated, "I have given the orders once more; why

have they not been executed? The consequences concern me alone.

Obey!" 'Sire, I will not obey,' replied the Admiral. "You are

insolent!" And the Emperor, who still held his riding-whip in his

hand, advanced towards the admiral with a threatening gesture.

Admiral Bruix stepped back and put his hand on the sheath of his

sword and said, growing very pale, "sire, take care!" The whole

suite stood paralysed with fear. The Emperor remained motionless

for some time, his hand lifted up, his eyes fixed on the Admiral,

who still retained his menacing attitude. At last the Emperor threw

his whip on the floor. M. Bruix took his hand off his sword, and

with uncovered head awaited in silence the result of the painful

scene. Rear-Admiral Magon was then ordered to see that the

Emperor's orders were instantly executed. "As for you, sir," said

the Emperor, fixing his eyes on Admiral Bruix, you leave Boulogne

within twenty-four hours and depart for Holland. Go!" M. Magon

ordered the fatal movement of the fleet on which the Emperor had

insisted. The first arrangements had scarcely been made when the

sea because very high. The black sky was pierced by lightning, the

thunder rolled and every moment the line of vessels was broken by

the wind, and shortly after, that which the Admiral had foreseen

came to pass, and the most frightful storm dispersed the vessels in

each a way that it seamed impossible to save them. With bent head,

arms crossed, and a sorrowful look in his face, the Emperor walked

up and down on the beach, when suddenly the most terrible cries were

heard. More than twenty gunboats filled with soldiers and sailors

were being driven towards the shore, and the unfortunate men were

vainly fighting against the furious waves, calling for help which

nobody could give them. Deeply touched by the spectacle and the

heart-rending cries and lamentations of the multitude which had

assembled on the beach, the Emperor, seeing his generals and

officers tremble with horror, attempted to set an example of

devotion, and, in spite of all efforts to keep him back, he threw

himself into a boat, saying, "Let me go! let me go! they must be

brought out of this." In a moment the boat was filled with water.

The waves poured over it again and again, and the Emperor was

drenched. One wave larger than the others almost threw him

overboard and his hat was carried sway. Inspired by so much

courage, officers, soldiers, seamen, and citizens tried to succour

the drowning, some in boats, some swimming. But, alas! only a small

number could be saved of the unfortunate men. The following day

more than 200 bodies were thrown ashore, and with them the hat of

the conqueror of Marengo. That sad day was one of desolation for

Boulogne and for the camp. The Emperor groaned under the burden of

an accident which he had to attribute solely to his own obstinacy.

Agents were despatched to all parts of the town to subdue with gold

the murmurs which ware ready to break out into a tumult.]--

--ceased as if by enchantment. The flotilla entered the port safe and

sound and he went back to the camp, where the sports and amusements

prepared for the soldiers commenced, and in the evening the brilliant

fireworks which were let off rose in a luminous column, which was

distinctly seen from the English coast.--[It appears that Napoleon was

so well able to cover up this fiasco that not even Bourrienne ever heard

the true story. D.W.]

When he reviewed the troops he asked the officers, and often the

soldiers, in what battles they had been engaged, and to those who had

received serious wounds he gave the cross. Here, I think, I may

appropriately mention a singular piece of charlatanism to which the

Emperor had recourse, and which powerfully contributed to augment the

enthusiasm of his troops. He would say to one of his aides decamp,

"Ascertain from the colonel of such a regiment whether he has in his

corps a man who has served in the campaigns of Italy or the campaigns of

Egypt. Ascertain his name, where he was born, the particulars of his

family, and what he has done. Learn his number in the ranks, and to what

company he belongs, and furnish me with the information."

On the day of the review Bonaparte, at a single glance, could perceive

the man who had been described to him. He would go up to him as if he

recognised him, address him by his name, and say, "Oh! so you are here!

You area brave fellow--I saw you at Aboukir--how is your old father?

What! have you not got the Cross? Stay, I will give it you." Then the

delighted soldiers would say to each other, "You see the Emperor knows us

all; he knows our families; he knows where we have served." What a

stimulus was this to soldiers, whom he succeeded in persuading that they

would all some time or other become Marshals of the Empire!

Lauriston told me, amongst other anecdotes relating to Napoleon's sojourn

at the camp at Boulogne, a remarkable instance of intrepidity on the part

of two English sailors. These men had been prisoners at Verdun, which

was the most considerable depot of English prisoners in France at the

rupture of the peace of Amiens. They effected their escape from Verdun,

and arrived at Boulogne without having been discovered on the road,

notwithstanding the vigilance with which all the English were watched

They remained at Boulogne for some time, destitute of money, and without

being able to effect their escape. They had no hope of getting aboard a

boat, on account of the strict watch that was kept upon vessels of every

kind. These two sailors made a boat of little pieces of wood, which they

put together as well as they could, having no other tools than their

knives. They covered it with a piece of sail-cloth. It was only three

or four feet wide, and not much longer, and was so light that a man could

easily carry it on his shoulders,--so powerful a passion is the love of

home and liberty! Sure of being shot if they were discovered, almost

equally sure of being drowned if they effected their escape, they,

nevertheless, resolved to attempt crossing the Channel in their fragile

skiff. Perceiving an English frigate within sight of the coast, they

pushed off and endeavoured to reach her. They had not gone a hundred

toises from the shore when they were perceived by the custom-house

officers, who set out in pursuit of them, and brought them back again.

The news of this adventure spread through the camp, where the

extraordinary courage of the two sailors was the subject of general

remark. The circumstance reached the Emperor's ears. He wished to see

the men, and they were conducted to his presence, along with their little

boat. Napoleon, whose imagination was struck by everything

extraordinary, could not conceal his surprise at so bold a project,

undertaken with such feeble means of execution. "Is it really true,"

said the Emperor to them, "that you thought of crossing the sea in

this?"--"Sire," said they, "if you doubt it, give us leave to go, and you

shall see us depart."--"I will. You are bold and enterprising men--I

admire courage wherever I meet it. But you shall not hazard your lives.

You are at liberty; and more than that, I will cause you to be put on

board an English ship. When you return to London tell how I esteem brave

men, even when they are my enemies." Rapp, who with Lauriaton, Duroc,

and many others were present at this scene, were not a little astonished

at the Emperor's generosity. If the men had not been brought before him,

they would have been shot as spies, instead of which they obtained their

liberty, and Napoleon gave several pieces of gold to each. This

circumstance was one of those which made the strongest impression on

Napoleon, and he recollected it when at St. Helena, in one of his

conversations with M. de Las Casas.

No man was ever so fond of contrasts as Bonaparte. He liked, above

everything, to direct the affairs of war whilst seated in his easy chair,

in the cabinet of St. Cloud, and to dictate in the camp his decrees

relative to civil administration. Thus, at the camp of Boulogne, he

founded the decennial premiums, the first distribution of which he

intended should take place five years afterwards, on the anniversary of

the 18th Brumaire, which was an innocent compliment to the date of the

foundation of the Consular Republic. This measure also seemed to promise

to the Republican calendar a longevity which it did not attain. All

these little circumstances passed unobserved; but Bonaparte had so often

developed to me his theory of the art of deceiving mankind that I knew

their true value. It was likewise at the camp of Boulogne that, by a

decree emanating from his individual will, he destroyed the noblest

institution of the Republic, the Polytechnic School, by converting it

into a purely military academy. He knew that in that sanctuary of high

study a Republican spirit was fostered; and whilst I was with him he had

often told me it was necessary that all schools, colleges, and

establishments for public instruction should be subject to military

discipline. I frequently endeavoured to controvert this idea, but

without success.

It was arranged that Josephine and the Emperor should meet in Belgium.

He proceeded thither from the camp of Boulogne, to the astonishment of

those who believed that the moment for the invasion of England had at

length arrived. He joined the Empress at the Palace of Lacken, which the

Emperor had ordered to be repaired and newly furnished with great

magnificence.

The Emperor continued his journey by the towns bordering on the Rhine.

He stopped first in the town of Charlemagne, passed through the three

bishoprics,

--[There are two or three little circumstances in connection with

this journey that seem worth inserting here:

Mademoiselle Avrillion was the 'femme de chambre' of Josephine, and

was constantly about her person from the time of the first

Consulship to the death of the Empress in 1814. In all such matters

as we shall quote from them, her memoirs seem worthy of credit.

According to Mademoiselle, the Empress during her stay at Aix-la-

Chapelle, drank the waters with much eagerness and some hope. As

the theatre there was only supplied with some German singers who

were not to Josephine's taste, she had part of a French operatic

company sent to her from Paris. The amiable creole had always a

most royal disregard of expense. When Bonaparte joined her, he

renewed his old custom of visiting his wife now and then at her

toilet, and according to Mademoiselle Avrillion, he took great

interest in the subject of her dressing. She says, "It was a most

extraordinary thing for us to see the man whose head was filled with

such vast affairs enter into the most minute details of the female

toilet and of what dresses, what robes, and what jewels the Empress

should wear on such and such an occasion. One day he daubed her

dress with ink because he did not like it, and wanted her to put on

another. Whenever he looked into her wardrobe he was sure to throw

everything topsy-turvy."

This characteristic anecdote perfectly agrees with what we have

heard from other persons. When the Neapolitan Princess di----- was

at the Tuileries as 'dame d'honneur' to Bonaparte's sister Caroline

Murat, then Queen of Naples, on the grand occasion of the marriage

with Maria Louisa, the, Princess, to her astonishment, saw the

Emperor go up to a lady of the Court and address her thus: "This is

the same gown you wore the day before yesterday! What's the meaning

of this, madame? This is not right, madame!"

Josephine never gave him a similar cause of complaint, but even when

he was Emperor she often made him murmur at the profusion of her

expenditure under this head. The next anecdote will give some idea

of the quantity of dresses which she wore for a day or so, and then

gave away to her attendants, who appear to have carried on a very

active trade in them.

"While we were at Mayence the Palace was literally besieged by Jews,

who continually brought manufactured and other goods to show to the

followers of the Court; and we had the greatest difficulty to avoid

buying them. At last they proposed that we should barter with them;

and when Her Majesty had given us dresses that were far too rich for

us to wear ourselves, we exchanged them with the Jews for

piecegoods. The robes we thus bartered did not long remain in the

hands of the Jews, and there must have been a great demand for them

among the belles of Mayence, for I remember a ball there at which

the Empress might have seen all the ladies of a quadrille party

dressed in her cast-off clothes.--I even saw German Princesses

wearing them" (Memoires de Mademoiselle Avrillion).]

--on his way Cologne and Coblentz, which the emigration had rendered so

famous, and arrived at Mayence, where his sojourn was distinguished by the

first attempt at negotiation with the Holy See, in order to induce the

Pope to come to France to crown the new Emperor, and consolidate his

power by supporting it with the sanction of the Church. This journey of

Napoleon occupied three months, and he did not return to St. Cloud till

October. Amongst the flattering addresses which the Emperor received in

the course of his journey I cannot pass over unnoticed the speech of M.

de la Chaise, Prefect of Arras, who said, "God made Bonaparte, and then

rested." This occasioned Comte Louis de Narbonne, who was not yet

attached to the Imperial system, to remark "That it would have been well

had God rested a little sooner."

During the Emperor's absence a partial change took place in the Ministry.

M. de Champagny succeeded M. Chaptal as Minister of the Interior. At the

camp of Boulogne the pacific Joseph found himself, by his brother's

wish, transformed into a warrior, and placed in command of a regiment of

dragoons, which was a subject of laughter with a great number of

generals. I recollect that one day Lannes, speaking to me of the

circumstance in his usual downright and energetic way, said, "He had

better not place him under my orders, for upon the first fault I will put

the scamp under arrest."

CHAPTER XXIX.

1804.

England deceived by Napoleon--Admirals Missiessy and Villeneuve--

Command given to Lauriston--Napoleon's opinion of Madame de Stael--

Her letters to Napoleon--Her enthusiasm converted into hatred--

Bonaparte's opinion of the power of the Church--The Pope's arrival

at Fontainebleau--Napoleon's first interview with Pius VII.--

The Pope and the Emperor on a footing of equality--Honours rendered

to the Pope--His apartments at the Tuileries--His visit to the

Imperial printing office--Paternal rebuke--Effect produced in

England by the Pope's presence in Paris--Preparations for Napoleon's

coronation--Votes in favour of hereditary succession--Convocation of

the Legislative Body--The presidents of cantons--Anecdote related by

Michot the actor--Comparisons--Influence of the Coronation on the

trade of Paris--The insignia of Napoleon and the insignia of

Charlemagne--The Pope's mule--Anecdote of the notary Raguideau--

Distribution of eagles in the Champ de Mars--Remarkable coincidence.

England was never so much deceived by Bonaparte as during the period of

the encampment at Boulogne. The English really believed that an invasion

was intended, and the Government exhausted itself in efforts for raising

men and money to guard against the danger of being taken by surprise.

Such, indeed, is the advantage always possessed by the assailant. He can

choose the point on which he thinks it most convenient to act, while the

party which stands on the defence, and is afraid of being attacked, is

compelled to be prepared in every point. However, Napoleon, who was then

in the full vigour of his genius and activity, had always his eyes fixed

on objects remote from those which surrounded him, and which seemed to

absorb his whole attention. Thus, during the journey of which I have

spoken, the ostensible object of which was the organisation of the

departments on the Rhine, he despatched two squadrons from Rochefort and

Boulogne, one commanded by Missiessy, the other by Villeneuve--I shall

not enter into any details about those squadrons; I shall merely mention

with respect to them that, while the Emperor was still in Belgium,

Lauriston paid me a sudden and unexpected visit. He was on his way to

Toulon to take command of the troops which were to be embarked on

Villeneuve's squadron, and he was not much pleased with the service to

which he had been appointed.

Lauriston's visit was a piece of good fortune for me. We were always on

friendly terms, and I received much information from him, particularly

with respect to the manner in which the Emperor spent his time. "You can

have no idea," said he, "how much the Emperor does, and the sort of

enthusiasm which his presence excites in the army. But his anger at the

contractors is greater than ever, and he has been very severe with some

of them." These words of Lauriaton did not at all surprise me, for I

well knew Napoleon's dislike to contractors, and all men who had

mercantile transactions with the army. I have often heard him say that

they were a curse and a leprosy to nations; that whatever power he might

attain, he never would grant honours to any of them, and that of all

aristocracies, theirs was to him the most insupportable. After his

accession to the Empire the contractors were no longer the important

persons they had been under the Directory, or even during the two first

years of the Consulate. Bonaparte sometimes acted with them as he had

before done with the Beya of Egypt, when he drew from them forced

contributions.

--[Lauriston, one of Napoleon's aides de camp, who was with him at

the Military School of Paris, and who had been commissioned in the

artillery at the same time as Napoleon, considered that he should

have had the post of Grand Ecuyer which Caulaincourt had obtained.

He had complained angrily to the Emperor, and after a stormy

interview was ordered to join the fleet of Villeneuve--In

consequence he was at Trafalgar. On his return after Austerlitz

his temporary disgrace was forgotten, and he was sent as governor to

Venice. He became marshal under the Restoration.]--

I recollect another somewhat curious circumstance respecting the visit of

Lauriston, who had left the Emperor and Empress at Aix-la-Chapelle.

Lauriston was the best educated of the aides de camp, and Napoleon often

conversed with him on such literary works as he chose to notice.

"He sent for me one day," said Lauriston, "when I was on duty at the

Palace of Lacken, and spoke to me of the decennial prizes, and the

tragedy of 'Carion de Nisas', and a novel by Madame de Stael, which he

had just read, but which I had not seen, and was therefore rather

embarrassed in replying to him. Respecting Madame de Stael and her

Delphine, he said some remarkable things. 'I do not like women,' he

observed, 'who make men of themselves, any more than I like effeminate

men. There is a proper part for every one to play in the world. What

does all this flight of imagination mean? What is the result of it?

Nothing. It is all sentimental metaphysics and disorder of the mind. I

cannot endure that woman; for one reason, that I cannot bear women who

make a set at me, and God knows how often she has tried to cajole me!'"