IN July, 1797, eight months before Godoy’s retirement from power at
Madrid, Talleyrand became Minister for Foreign Affairs to the French
Directory. If the Prince of Peace was a man of no morals, the ex-Bishop
of Autun was one of no morality. Colder than Pitt, and hardly less
corrupt than Godoy, he held theories in regard to the United States
which differed from those of other European statesmen only in being
more aggressive. Chateaubriand once said, “When M. Talleyrand is not
conspiring, he traffics.” The epigram was not an unfair description of
Talleyrand’s behavior toward the United States. He had wandered through
America in the year 1794, and found there but one congenial spirit.
“Hamilton avait deviné l’Europe,” was his phrase: Hamilton had felt by
instinct the problem of European conservatives. After returning from
America and obtaining readmission to France, Talleyrand made almost his
only appearance as an author by reading to the Institute, in April,
1797, a memoir upon America and the Colonial System.[91] This paper was
the clew to his ambition, preparing his return to power by laying the
foundation for a future policy. The United States, it said, were wholly
English, both by tastes and by commercial necessity; from them France
could expect nothing; she must build up a new colonial system of her
own,--but “to announce too much of what one means to do, is the way not
to do it at all.”
In Talleyrand’s new colonial scheme lay the germ of the ideas and
measures which were to occupy his life. From first to last, he had the
great purpose of restoring France to a career of sound and conservative
development. France had never ceased to regret the loss of Louisiana.
The creation of Louis XIV., whose name it bore, this province was
always French at heart, although in 1763 France ceded it to Spain in
order to reconcile the Spanish government to sacrifices in the treaty
of Paris. By the same treaty Florida was given by Spain to England,
and remained twenty years in English hands, until the close of the
Revolutionary War, when the treaty of 1783 restored it to Spain. The
Spanish government of 1783, in thus gaining possession of Florida
and Louisiana together, aimed at excluding the United States, not
France, from the Gulf. Indeed, when the Count de Vergennes wished to
recover Louisiana for France, Spain was willing to return it, but
asked a price which, although the mere reimbursement of expenses,
exceeded the means of the French treasury, and only for that reason
Louisiana remained a Spanish province. After Godoy’s war with France,
at the Peace of Bâle the French Republic again tried to obtain the
retrocession of Louisiana, but in vain. Nevertheless some progress
was made, for by that treaty, July 22, 1795, Spain consented to cede
to France the Spanish, or eastern, part of St. Domingo,--the cradle
of her Transatlantic power, and the cause of yearly deficits to the
Spanish treasury. Owing to the naval superiority of England, the French
republic did not ask for immediate possession. Fearing Toussaint
Louverture, whose personal authority in the French part of the island
already required forbearance, France retained the title, and waited
for peace. Again, in 1797, Carnot and Barthelemy caused the Directory
to offer the King of Spain a magnificent bribe for Louisiana.[92] They
proposed to take the three legations just wrung from the Pope, and
joining them with the Duchy of Parma, make a principality for the son
of the Duke of Parma, who had married a daughter of Don Carlos IV.
Although this offer would have given his daughter a splendid position,
Charles refused it, because he was too honest a churchman to share in
the spoils of the Church.
These repeated efforts proved that France, and especially the Foreign
Office, looked to the recovery of French power in America. A strong
party in the Government aimed at restoring peace in Europe and
extending French empire abroad. Of this party Talleyrand was, or
aspired to be, the head; and his memoir, read to the Institute in April
and July, 1797, was a cautious announcement of the principles to be
pursued in the administration of foreign affairs which he immediately
afterward assumed.
July 24, 1797, commissioners arrived from the United States to treat
for a settlement of the difficulties then existing between the two
countries; but Talleyrand refused to negotiate without a gift of twelve
hundred thousand francs,--amounting to about two hundred and fifty
thousand dollars. Two of the American commissioners, in the middle of
April, 1798, returned home, and war seemed inevitable.
Thus the month of April, 1798, was a moment of crisis in American
affairs. Talleyrand had succeeded in driving Godoy from office, and
in securing greater subservience from his successor, Don Mariano Luis
de Urquijo, who had been chief clerk in the Foreign Department, and
who acted as Minister for Foreign Affairs. Simultaneously Talleyrand
carried his quarrel with the United States to the verge of a rupture;
and at the same time Godoy’s orders compelled Governor Gayoso of
Louisiana to deliver Natchez to the United States. The actual delivery
of Natchez was hardly yet known in Europe; and the President of
the United States at Philadelphia had but lately heard that the
Spaniards were fairly gone, when Talleyrand drafted instructions for
the Citizen Guillemardet, whom he was sending as minister to Madrid.
These instructions offered a glimpse into the heart of Talleyrand’s
policy.[93]
“The Court of Madrid,” said he, “ever blind to its own interests, and
never docile to the lessons of experience, has again quite recently
adopted a measure which cannot fail to produce the worst effects upon
its political existence and on the preservation of its colonies. The
United States have been put in possession of the forts situated along
the Mississippi which the Spaniards had occupied as posts essential to
arrest the progress of the Americans in those countries.”
The Americans, he continued, meant at any cost to rule alone in
America, and to exercise a preponderating influence in the political
system of Europe, although twelve hundred leagues of ocean rolled
between.
“Moreover, their conduct ever since the moment of their independence
is enough to prove this truth: the Americans are devoured by pride,
ambition, and cupidity; the mercantile spirit of the city of London
ferments from Charleston to Boston, and the Cabinet of St. James
directs the Cabinet of the Federal Union.”
Chateaubriand’s epigram came here into pointed application. Down to
the moment of writing this despatch, Talleyrand had for some months
been engaged in trafficking with these Americans, who were devoured by
cupidity, and whom he had required to pay him two hundred and fifty
thousand dollars for peace. He next conspired.
“There are,” he continued, “no other means of putting an end to the
ambition of the Americans than that of shutting them up within the
limits which Nature seems to have traced for them; but Spain is not
in a condition to do this great work alone. She cannot, therefore,
hasten too quickly to engage the aid of a preponderating Power,
yielding to it a small part of her immense domains in order to
preserve the rest.”
This small gratuity consisted of the Floridas and Louisiana.
“Let the Court of Madrid cede these districts to France, and from that
moment the power of America is bounded by the limit which it may suit
the interests and the tranquillity of France and Spain to assign her.
The French Republic, mistress of these two provinces, will be a wall
of brass forever impenetrable to the combined efforts of England and
America. The Court of Madrid has nothing to fear from France.”
This scheme was destined to immediate failure, chiefly through the
mistakes of its author; for not only had Talleyrand, a few weeks
before, driven the United States to reprisals, and thus sacrificed
what was left of the French colonies in the West Indies, but at the
same moment he aided and encouraged young Bonaparte to carry a large
army to Egypt, with the idea, suggested by the Duc de Choiseul many
years before, that France might find there compensation for the loss
of her colonies in America. Two years were consumed in retrieving
these mistakes. Talleyrand first discovered that he could not afford
a war with the United States; and even at the moment of writing these
instructions to his minister at Madrid, he was engaged in conciliating
the American commissioner who still remained unwillingly at Paris. The
unexpected revelation by the United States government of his demands
for money roused him, May 30, to consciousness of his danger. He made
an effort to recover his lost ground.[94] “I do not see what delay
I could have prevented. I am mortified that circumstances have not
rendered our progress more rapid.” When Gerry coldly refused to hear
these entreaties, and insisted upon receiving his passport, Talleyrand
was in genuine despair. “You have not even given me an opportunity
of proving what liberality the executive Directory would use on the
occasion.”[95] He pursued Gerry with entreaties to use his influence on
the President for peace; he pledged himself that no obstacle should be
put in the path of negotiation if the American government would consent
to renew it. At first the Americans were inclined to think his humility
some new form of insult; but it was not only real, it was unexampled.
Talleyrand foresaw that his blunder would cost France her colonies,
and this he could bear; but it would also cost himself his office,
and this was more than he could endure. His fears proved true. A year
later, July 20, 1799, he was forced to retire, with little hope of soon
recovering his character and influence, except through subservience to
some coming adventurer.
Thus occurred a delay in French plans. By a sort of common agreement
among the discontented factions at Paris, Bonaparte was recalled from
Egypt. Landing at Fréjus early in October, 1799, a month afterward,
November 9, he effected the _coup d’état_ of the 18th Brumaire. He
feared to disgust the public by replacing Talleyrand immediately in
the office of foreign minister, and therefore delayed the appointment.
“The place was naturally due to Talleyrand,” said Napoleon in his
memoirs,[96] “but in order not too much to shock public opinion,
which was very antagonistic to him, especially on account of American
affairs, Reinhard was kept in office for a short time.” The delay
was of little consequence, for internal reorganization preceded the
establishment of a new foreign policy; and Talleyrand was in no haste
to recall the blunders of his first experiment.
Although Talleyrand had mismanaged the execution of his plan, the
policy itself was a great one. The man who could pacify Europe and turn
the energies of France toward the creation of an empire in the New
World was the more sure of success because, in the reactionary spirit
of the time, he commanded the sympathies of all Europe in checking the
power of republicanism in its last refuge. Even England would see with
pleasure France perform this duty, and Talleyrand might safely count
upon a tacit alliance to support him in curbing American democracy.
This scheme of uniting legitimate governments in peaceful combination
to crush the spirit of license ran through the rest of Talleyrand’s
political life, and wherever met, whether in France, Austria, or
England, was the mark of the school which found its ablest chief in him.
The first object of the new policy was to restore the peace of
Europe; and the energy of Bonaparte completed this great undertaking
within two years after the 18th Brumaire. France was at variance with
the United States, Great Britain, and Austria. Peace with Austria
could be obtained only by conquering it; and after passing a winter
in organizing his government, Bonaparte sent Moreau to attack the
Austrians on the line of the Danube, while he himself was to take
command in Italy. As yet diplomacy could not act with effect; but early
in the spring, March 1, 1800, before campaigning began, new American
commissioners reached Paris, rather as dictators than as suppliants,
and informed Talleyrand that the President of the United States was
still ready to take him at his word. They were received with marked
respect, and were instantly met by French commissioners, at whose
head was Joseph Bonaparte, the First Consul’s brother. While their
negotiations were beginning, Bonaparte left Paris, May 20, crossed the
Alps, and wrung from the Austrians, June 14, a victory at Marengo,
while Moreau on the Danube pressed from one brilliant success to
another. Hurrying back to Paris, July 2, Bonaparte instantly began the
negotiations for peace with Austria; and thus two problems were solved.
Yet Talleyrand’s precipitation in pledging France to prompt negotiation
with the United States became a source of annoyance to the First
Consul, whose shrewder calculation favored making peace first with
Europe, in order to deal with America alone, and dictate his own terms.
His brother Joseph, who was but an instrument in Napoleon’s hands, but
who felt a natural anxiety that his first diplomatic effort should
succeed, became alarmed at the First Consul’s coldness toward the
American treaty, and at the crisis of negotiation, when failure was
imminent, tried to persuade him that peace with the United States was
made necessary by the situation in Europe. Napoleon met this argument
by one of his characteristic rebuffs. “You understand nothing of the
matter,” he said;[97] “within two years we shall be the masters of the
world.” Within two years, in fact, the United States were isolated.
Nevertheless Joseph was allowed to have his way. The First Consul
obstinately refused to admit in the treaty any claim of indemnity for
French spoliations on American commerce; and the American commissioners
as resolutely refused to abandon the claim. They in their turn insisted
that the new treaty should abrogate the guaranties and obligations
imposed on the United States government by the old French treaty
of alliance in 1778; and although Bonaparte cared nothing for the
guaranty of the United States, he retained this advantage in order that
he might set it off against the claims. Thus the negotiators were at
last obliged to agree, by the second article of the treaty, that these
two subjects should be reserved for future negotiation; and Sept. 30,
1800, the Treaty of Morfontaine, as Joseph Bonaparte wished to call
it, was signed. It reached America in the confusion of a presidential
election which threatened to overthrow the government; but the Senate
voted, Feb. 3, 1801, to ratify it, with the omission of the second
article. The instrument, with this change, was then sent back to Paris,
where Bonaparte in his turn set terms upon his ratification. He agreed
to omit the second article, as the Senate wished, “provided that by
this retrenchment the two States renounced the respective pretensions
which are the object of the said article.” The treaty returned to
America with this condition imposed upon it, and Jefferson submitted it
to the Senate, which gave its final approval Dec. 19, 1801.
Thus Bonaparte gained his object, and won his first diplomatic success.
He followed an invariable rule to repudiate debts and claims wherever
repudiation was possible. For such demands he had one formula:[98]
“Give them a very civil answer,--that I will examine the claim, etc.;
but of course one never pays that sort of thing.” In this case he
meant to extinguish the spoliation claims; and nothing could be more
certain than that he would thenceforward peremptorily challenge and
resist any claim, direct or indirect, founded on French spoliations
before 1800, and would allege the renunciation of Article II. in the
treaty of Morfontaine as his justification. Equally certain was it
that he had offered, and the Senate had approved his offer, to set
off the guaranties of the treaty of alliance against the spoliation
claims,--which gave him additional reason for rejecting such claims in
future. The United States had received fair consideration from him for
whatever losses American citizens had suffered.
Meanwhile the First Consul took action which concerned America more
closely than any of the disputes with which Joseph Bonaparte was
busied. However little admiration a bystander might feel for Napoleon’s
judgment or morals, no one could deny the quickness of his execution.
Within six weeks after the battle of Marengo, without waiting for
peace with the United States, England, or Austria, convinced that
he held these countries in the hollow of his hand, he ordered[99]
Talleyrand to send a special courier to the Citizen Alquier, French
minister at Madrid, with powers for concluding a treaty by which Spain
should retrocede Louisiana to France, in return for an equivalent
aggrandizement of the Duchy of Parma. The courier was at once
despatched, and returned with a promptitude and success which ought to
have satisfied even the restlessness of Bonaparte. The Citizen Alquier
no sooner received his orders than he went to Señor Urquijo, the
Spanish Secretary for Foreign Relations, and passing abruptly over the
well-worn arguments in favor of retrocession, he bluntly told Urquijo
to oppose it if he dared.
“‘France expects from you,’ I said to him,[100] ‘what she asked in
vain from the Prince of Peace. I have dispersed the prejudice which
had been raised against you in the mind of the French government. You
are to-day distinguished by its esteem and its consideration. Do not
destroy my work; do not deprive yourself of the only counterpoise
which you can oppose to the force of your enemies. The Queen, as you
know, holds by affection as much as by vanity to the aggrandizement
of her house; she will never forgive you if you oppose an exchange
which can alone realize the projects of her ambition,--for I declare
to you formally that your action will decide the fate of the Duke
of Parma, and should you refuse to cede Louisiana you may count on
getting nothing for that Prince. You must bear in mind, too, that
your refusal will necessarily change my relations with you. Obliged
to serve the interests of my country and to obey the orders of the
First Consul, who attaches the highest value to this retrocession, I
shall be forced to receive for the first time the offers of service
that will inevitably be made to me; for you may be sure that your
enemies will not hesitate to profit by that occasion to increase
their strength--already a very real force--by the weight of the
French influence; they will do what you will not do, and you will be
abandoned at once by the Queen and by us.”
Urquijo’s reply measured the degradation of Spain:
“‘Eh! who told you that I would not give you Louisiana? But we must
first have an understanding, and you must help me to convince the
King.’”
At this reply, which sounded like Beaumarchais’ comedies, Alquier saw
that his game was safe. “Make yourself easy on that score,” he replied;
“the Queen will take that on herself.” So the conference ended.
Alquier was right. The Queen took the task on herself, and Urquijo soon
found that both King and Queen were anxious to part with Louisiana
for their daughter’s sake. They received the offer with enthusiasm,
and lavished praises upon Bonaparte. The only conditions suggested
by Urquijo were that the new Italian principality should be clearly
defined, and that Spain should be guaranteed against the objections
that might be made by other Governments.
Meanwhile Bonaparte reiterated his offer on a more definite scale.
August 3, immediately after the interview with Urquijo, Alquier put
the first demand on record in a note important chiefly because it laid
incidental stress on Talleyrand’s policy of restraining the United
States:[101]--
“The progress of the power and population of America, and her
relations of interest always maintained with England, may and must
some day bring these two powers to concert together the conquest of
the Spanish colonies. If national interest is the surest foundation
for political calculations, this conjecture must appear incontestable.
The Court of Spain will do, then, at once a wise and great act if it
calls the French to the defence of its colonies by ceding Louisiana
to them, and by replacing in their hands this outpost of its richest
possessions in the New World.”
Before this note was written, the First Consul had already decided
to supersede Alquier by a special agent who should take entire
charge of this negotiation. July 28 he notified Talleyrand[102]
that General Berthier, Bonaparte’s right hand in matters of secrecy
and importance, was to go upon the mission. Talleyrand drafted the
necessary instructions,[103] which were framed to meet the fears of
Spain lest the new arrangement should cause complications with other
Powers; and toward the end of August Berthier started for Madrid,
carrying a personal letter of introduction from the First Consul to
King Charles[104] and the _projet_ of a treaty of retrocession drawn
by Talleyrand. This _projet_ differed in one point from the scheme
hitherto put forward, and, if possible, was still more alarming to the
United States.[105]
“The French Republic,” it ran, “pledges itself to procure for the Duke
of Parma in Italy an aggrandizement of territory to contain at least
one million inhabitants; the Republic charges itself with procuring
the consent of Austria and the other States interested, so that the
Duke may be put in possession of his new territory at the coming
peace between France and Austria. Spain on her side pledges herself
to retrocede to the French Republic the colony of Louisiana, with the
same extent it actually has in the hands of Spain, and such as it
should be according to the treaties subsequently passed between Spain
and other States. Spain shall further join to this cession that of the
two Floridas, eastern and western, with their actual limits.”
Besides Louisiana and the two Floridas, Spain was to give France six
ships of war, and was to deliver the provinces to France whenever the
promised territory for the Duke of Parma should be delivered by France
to Spain. The two Powers were further to make common cause against any
person or persons who should attack or threaten them in consequence of
executing their engagement.
In the history of the United States hardly any document, domestic or
foreign, to be found in their archives has greater interest than this
_projet_; for from it the United States must trace whatever legal
title they obtained to the vast region west of the Mississippi.
The treaties which followed were made merely in pursuance of this
engagement, with such variations as seemed good for the purpose of
carrying out the central idea of restoring Louisiana to France.
That the recovery of colonial power was the first of all Bonaparte’s
objects was proved not only by its being the motive of his earliest
and most secret diplomatic step, but by the additional evidence that
every other decisive event in the next three years of his career was
subordinated to it. Berthier hastened to Madrid, and consumed the
month of September, 1800, in negotiations. Eager as both parties were
to conclude their bargain, difficulties soon appeared. So far as
these concerned America, they rose in part from the indiscretion of
the French Foreign Office, which announced the object of Berthier’s
mission in a Paris newspaper, and thus brought on Urquijo a demand from
the American minister at Madrid for a categorical denial. Urquijo and
Alquier could silence the attack only by denials not well calculated
to carry conviction. This was not all. Alquier had been told to ask
for Louisiana; Berthier was instructed to demand the Floridas and six
ships of war in addition. The demand for the Floridas should have
been made at first, if Bonaparte expected it to be successful. King
Charles was willing to give back to France a territory which was
French in character, and had come as the gift of France to his father;
but he was unwilling to alienate Florida, which was a part of the
national domain. Urquijo told Berthier[106] that “for the moment the
King had pronounced himself so strongly against the cession of any
portion whatever of Florida as to make it both useless and impolitic
to talk with him about it;” but he added that, “after the general
peace, the King might decide to cede a part of the Floridas between
the Mississippi and the Mobile, on the special demand which the First
Consul might make for it.” Berthier was embarrassed, and yielded.
Thus at last the bargain was put in shape. The French government
held out the hope of giving Tuscany as the equivalent for Louisiana
and six seventy-fours. If not Tuscany, the three legations, or their
equivalent, were stipulated. The suggestion of Tuscany delighted
the King and Queen. Thus far the secret was confined to the parties
directly interested; but after the principle had been fixed, another
person was intrusted with it. The Prince of Peace was suddenly called
to the Palace by a message marked “luego, luego, luego!”--the sign of
triple haste.[107] He found Don Carlos in a paroxysm of excitement; joy
sparkled in his eyes. “Congratulate me,” he cried, “on this brilliant
beginning of Bonaparte’s relations with Spain! The Prince-presumptive
of Parma, my son-in-law and nephew, a Bourbon, is invited by France
to reign, on the delightful banks of the Arno, over a people who
once spread their commerce through the known world, and who were
the controlling power of Italy,--a people mild, civilized, full of
humanity; the classical land of science and art!” The Prince of Peace
could only offer congratulations; his opinion was asked without being
followed, and a few days later the treaty was signed.[108]
On the last day of September, 1800, Joseph Bonaparte signed the
so-called Treaty of Morfontaine, which restored relations between
France and the United States. The next day, October 1, Berthier signed
at San Ildefonso the treaty of retrocession, which was equivalent to
a rupture of the relations established four-and-twenty hours earlier.
Talleyrand was aware that one of these treaties undid the work of the
other. The secrecy in which he enveloped the treaty of retrocession,
and the pertinacity with which he denied its existence showed his
belief that Bonaparte had won a double diplomatic triumph over the
United States.
Moreau’s great victory at Hohenlinden, December 3, next brought Austria
to her knees. Joseph Bonaparte was sent to Lunéville in Lorraine,
and in a few weeks negotiated the treaty which advanced another step
the cession of Louisiana. The fifth article of this treaty, signed
Feb. 9, 1801, deprived the actual Grand Duke of his Grand Duchy, and
established the young Duke of Parma in Tuscany. To complete the
transaction, Lucien Bonaparte was sent as ambassador to Madrid.
Lucien had the qualities of his race. Intelligent, vivacious, vain, he
had been a Jacobin of the deepest dye; and yet his hands were as red
with the crime of the 18th Brumaire as those of his brother Napoleon.
Too troublesome at Paris to suit the First Consul’s arbitrary views,
he was sent to Spain, partly to remove him, partly to flatter Don
Carlos IV. The choice was not wise; for Lucien neither could nor would
execute in good faith the wishes of his dictatorial brother, and had
no idea of subordinating his own interests to those of the man whose
blunders on the 18th Brumaire, in his opinion, nearly cost the lives
of both, and whose conduct since had turned every democrat in France
into a conspirator. To make the selection still more dangerous, Lucien
had scarcely reached Madrid before Urquijo was sent into retirement
and Godoy restored to power in some anomalous position of general
superintendence, supporting the burden, but leaving to Don Pedro
Cevallos the title of Foreign Secretary. The secret of this restoration
was told by Godoy himself with every appearance of truth.[109] The King
insisted on his return, because Godoy was the only man who could hold
his own against Bonaparte; and at that moment Bonaparte was threatening
to garrison Spain with a French army, under pretence of a war with
Portugal. The measure showed that Charles IV. was not wanting in
shrewdness, for Godoy was well suited to deal with Lucien. He was more
subtle, and not less corrupt.
Lucien’s first act was to negotiate a new treaty closing the bargain
in regard to Parma and Tuscany. Here Godoy offered no resistance. The
Prince of Parma was created King of Tuscany, and the sixth article
provided that the retrocession of Louisiana should at once be carried
out. This treaty was signed at Madrid, March 21, 1801. The young King
and Queen of Tuscany--or, according to their title, of Etruria--were
despatched to Paris. Lucien remained to overlook the affair of
Portugal. To the extreme irritation of Napoleon, news soon came that
the Prince of Peace had signed at Badajos, June 5, 1801, a treaty with
Portugal, to which Lucien had put his name as ambassador of France, and
which baffled Napoleon’s military designs in the Peninsula.
Lucien, with inimitable effrontery, wrote to his brother two days
later:[110] “For the treaty of Tuscany I have received twenty good
pictures out of the Gallery of the Retiro for my gallery, and diamonds
to the value of one hundred thousand crowns have been set for me. I
shall receive as much more for the Peace of Portugal.” Two hundred
thousand crowns and twenty pictures from the Retiro, besides flattery
that would have turned the head of Talleyrand himself, were what Lucien
acknowledged receiving; but there was reason to believe that this was
not all, and that the Prince of Peace gorged him with spoil, until he
carried back to France wealth which made him the richest member of his
family, and gave him an income of sixty or eighty thousand dollars a
year. Godoy paid this price to save Spain for seven years.
The treaty of Badajos into which Godoy thus drew Lucien not only
checked Napoleon’s schemes, but came on the heels of other reverses
which threatened to place the First Consul in an awkward position,
unless he should hasten the general pacification to which he was
tending. The assassination of his ally, the Czar Paul I. March 23,
1801, cost him the aid of Russia, as Godoy’s return to power cost
him the control of Spain. A few days after Paul’s murder, April 9,
1801, Nelson crushed the Danish fleet at Copenhagen, and tore Denmark
from his grasp. More serious than all, the fate of the French army
which Bonaparte had left in Egypt could not be long delayed, and its
capitulation would give a grave shock to his credit. All these reasons
forced the First Consul to accept the check he had received from Godoy
and Lucien, and to hasten peace with England; but he yielded with a
bad grace. He was furious with Godoy.[111] “If this prince, bought by
England, draws the King and Queen into measures contrary to the honor
and interests of the republic, the last hour of the Spanish monarchy
will have sounded.” So he wrote to Talleyrand in anger at finding
himself checked, and Talleyrand instructed Lucien accordingly.[112]
Within a fortnight Bonaparte sent orders to London which rendered peace
with England certain;[113] and without waiting to hear further, acting
at length on the conviction that nothing could be gained by delay, he
ordered Talleyrand to demand of the Court of Spain the authority to
take possession of Louisiana.[114]
Supple and tenacious as any Corsican, Godoy’s temper was perfect and
his manners charming; he eluded Bonaparte with the skill and coolness
of a picador. After causing the First Consul to stumble and fall
on the very threshold of Portugal, Godoy kept Louisiana out of his
control. As the affair then stood, surrender of Louisiana except at the
sword’s point would have been inexcusable. The young King of Etruria
had been entertained at Paris by the First Consul with a patronizing
hospitality that roused more suspicion than gratitude; he had been sent
to Italy, and had there been told that he possessed a kingdom and wore
a crown,--but French armies occupied the territory; French generals
administered the government; no foreign Power recognized the new
kingdom, and no vestige of royal authority went with the royal title.
Godoy and Cevallos gave it to be understood that they did not consider
the First Consul to have carried out his part of the bargain in such
a sense as to warrant Charles IV. in delivering Louisiana. They were
in the right; but Bonaparte was angrier than ever at their audacity,
and drafted with his own hand the note which Talleyrand was to send in
reply.[115]
“It is at the moment when the First Consul gives such strong proofs
of his consideration for the King of Spain, and places a prince of
his house on a throne which is fruit of the victories of French arms,
that a tone is taken toward the French Republic such as might be taken
with impunity toward the Republic of San Marino. The First Consul,
full of confidence in the personal character of his Catholic Majesty,
hopes that from the moment he is made aware of the bad conduct of some
of his ministers, he will look to it, and will recall them to the
sentiments of esteem and consideration which France does not cease
to entertain for Spain. The First Consul will never persuade himself
that his Catholic Majesty wishes to insult the French people and their
Government at the moment when these are doing so much for Spain. This
would suit neither his heart nor his loyalty, nor the interest of his
crown.”
In a note written the same day to Talleyrand,[116] Bonaparte spoke in
a still stronger tone of the “misérable” who was thus crossing his
path, and he ordered that Lucien should let the King and Queen know
“that I am long-suffering, but that already I am warmly affected by
this tone of contempt and deconsideration which is taken at Madrid; and
that if they continue to put the republic under the necessity either
of enduring the shame of the outrages publicly inflicted on it, or of
avenging them by arms, they may see things they do not expect.”
Nevertheless Godoy held his ground, well aware that the existence of
Spain was at stake, but confident that concession would merely tempt
encroachment. History might render what judgment it would of Godoy’s
character or policy,--with this moral or political question the
United States had nothing to do; but Bonaparte’s hatred of Godoy and
determination to crush him were among the reasons why Louisiana fell
at a sudden and unexpected moment into the hands of Jefferson, and no
picture of American history could be complete which did not show in the
background the figures of Bonaparte and Godoy, locked in struggle over
Don Carlos IV.