Chapter 25

The Prince de T***, whom the Emperor often publicly reproached with having advised the seizure and death of the Duke d'Enghien, was directed to pacify the court of Baden, and to justify the violation of its territory in the eyes of Europe. M. de Caulincourt being at Strasbourg, the Emperor thought him more proper than any other person, to follow up a negotiation, if the turn of affairs should require it; and he was directed to send to the minister of Baden the despatch of the Prince de T***. But there was no need of having recourse to negotiations: the court, far from complaining of the violation of its territory, expressed itself well contented, that the step taken had saved it the disgrace of consenting, or the embarrassment of a refusal.

This is an exact and true recital of the circumstances, that preceded, followed, and accompanied, the carrying off and death of the last of the house of Condé.

The seizure of the Duke d'Enghien was long imputed to M. de Caulincourt, and is still imputed to him by persons uninformed of the truth.

Some assert, that he arrested him with his own hands:

Others, that he gave orders for the seizure of his person: both these imputations are equally false.

He did not arrest the Duke d'Enghien, for his seizure was executed and consummated by chef d'escadron Ch***.

Neither directly, nor indirectly, did he give orders for seizing the prince: for the particular mission, to carry him off, was confided to General Ord**, and this general had no orders to receive from M. de Caulincourt his equal, perhaps even his inferior.

What made it be supposed, at a time when it was not possible to explain the facts, that M. de Caulincourt had been employed to seize the Duke d'Enghien, or cause him to be seized, was, that M. de Caulincourt received, at the same moment as General Ord**, orders to repair to Strasbourg, to cause the emigrants and English agents, who had fixed the seat of their intrigues at Offenbourg, to be carried off. But this mission, for which it would be requisite to take measures in concert with General Ord**, and perhaps even to assist him in case of need; for a simultaneous proceeding was necessary, that one expedition might not cause the failure of the other; this mission, I say, though analogous to that of General Ord**, had no real connexion with it.

Their objects were different:

That of one was to carry off the Duke d'Enghien from Ettenheim;

That of the other, to seize the conspirators at Offenbourg, which was eight or ten leagues distant.

Perhaps it will be objected, that M. de Caulincourt was not ignorant of General Ord**'s being directed, to seize the Duke d'Enghien. Be it so: I cannot perceive the consequence, attempted to be drawn from this. But what I have _seen_ in the cabinet, and what I attest, is, that the order given to M. de Caulincourt said nothing of Ettenheim, and that the name of the Duke d'Enghien was not even mentioned in it: it related solely, in the first place, to the construction of a flotilla, that was preparing on the Rhine; and, secondly, to the expedition of Offenbourg; an expedition that terminated, as no doubt is still remembered, in the laughable flight of the minister Drake and his agents.

I have thought it my duty as a Frenchman and an historian, to enter into these details, and destroy for ever an error, which malevolence and the spirit of party have laid hold of, in order to tarnish the political life of one of the men, who do the greatest honour to the imperial government and to France.

M. de Caulincourt would not have been less irreproachable, had he committed the fatal seizure ascribed to him: he would have done his duty, as General Ord** did his. A soldier is not the judge of the orders he is to execute. The great Condé, covered with the laurels of Rocroy, Fribourg, Norlinguen, and Lenz, was arrested, in spite of the faith pledged to him, in the apartments of the King; yet neither his contemporaries, nor posterity, have charged Marshal d'Albret with this arrest as a crime.]

Will it be said, that Pichegru was strangled by his orders? The designs of Pichegru were so clearly substantiated, and the laws so clear, that he could not escape the scaffold: why, then, should he cause him to be murdered? The greatest criminals themselves do not commit useless crimes. Were apprehensions entertained of the disclosures he might make?... What could he disclose to the French people? That Napoleon aspired to the throne? Of this no one was ignorant.

A man, that Napoleon had reason to dread, was Moreau: was his life attempted? Yet it was less dangerous, to assassinate him, than to send to a tribunal, where guilt presided, a warrior at that time so dear to France and to the army.

No, Napoleon was not cruel, he was not sanguinary. If he were sometimes inexorable, it was because there are circumstances, in which the monarch must shut his heart to compassion, and leave the law free to act: but, if he knew how to punish, he was also capable of pardoning; and, at the moment when he gave up Georges[103] to the sword of justice, he spared the lives of Messrs. de Polignac and the Marquis de Rivière, whose courage and zeal he respected.

[Footnote 103: I have been assured, that Georges was three times offered his pardon by Napoleon, if he would promise, not to engage in any conspiracy again; and that it was not till after his third refusal, that his sentence was ordered to be carried into execution.]

The Emperor did not stop at the rigorous trial, to which he had delivered over the person of M. de Lascours: by a decree, dated the 18th of March, and published the 9th of April, he ordered the condemnation, and the sequestration of the property of

The Prince of Benevento, The Duke of Ragusa, The Duke of Alberg, The Abbé de Montesquiou, The Count de Jaucourt, The Count de Bournonville, and The Sieurs Lynch, Vitrolles, Alexis de Noailles, Bourienne, Bellard, La Roche-Jaquelin, and Sostène de la Rochefoucault[104];

[Footnote 104: Marshal Augereau, Duke de Castiglione, was also in this list. His name was struck out at the request of the duchess, and in consideration of the proclamation, which he published on the 23d of March.]

All of whom, as members of the provisional government, or agents of the royal party, had concurred in the subversion of the imperial government, previous to the abdication of Napoleon.

This decree, though supposed to have originated at Lyons, first saw the light at Paris; and was, as I have just said, the result of the ill humour, into which the plots of the royalists had thrown Napoleon. The terms, in which it was originally couched, too clearly attested its source: the first article said; "are declared traitors to their country, and shall be punished as such, &c."

It was I, who wrote this decree, from the dictation of the Emperor. When I had finished it, he ordered me, to go and get it signed by Count Bertrand, who had countersigned the decrees of Lyons. I went to the marshal. He read the decree, and returned it to me, saying: "I will never sign it: this is not what the Emperor promised us; they who advise him, to take such measures, are his bitterest enemies; I will speak to him about it." I related this firm and courageous answer to Napoleon word for word. He ordered me, to return to the grand Marshal, to endeavour to overcome his repugnance, and, if he still persisted, to bring him to him. Count Bertrand instantly followed me, with head erect, into the Emperor's closet. "I am astonished," said Napoleon to him in a dry tone, "that you make such difficulties about it to me. The severity I wish to display is necessary for the good of the state."--"I do not think so, Sire."--"I do, I tell you: and it is my business alone to judge of it. I did not ask your advice, but your signature, which is only a matter of form, and cannot in any way compromise you."--"Sire, a minister, who countersigns the act of a sovereign, is morally responsible for that act; and I should think myself wanting in my duty to your Majesty, and perhaps to myself, if I were weak enough to set my hand to such measures. If your Majesty choose to reign by the laws, you have no right, arbitrarily to pronounce, by a simple decree, sentence of death, and forfeiture of property, against your subjects. If you choose to act as a dictator, and to have no law but your own will, you have no need of the addition of my signature. Your Majesty has declared, by your proclamations, that you would grant a general amnesty. I countersigned them most cordially; and I will not countersign the decree, that revokes them."--"But you well know, I always told you, that I never would pardon Marmont, Talleyrand, and Augereau; and that I promised only to overlook, what had passed since my abdication. I know better than you, what I ought to do, to keep my promises, and ensure the tranquillity of the state. I begun with being indulgent, even to weakness and the royalists, instead of appreciating my moderation, have abused it: they bestir themselves, they conspire, and I ought and will bring them to their senses. I would rather have my blows fall on traitors, than on men who are misled. Besides, all those who are on the list, Augereau excepted, are out of France, or in concealment. I shall not seek for them: my intention is to terrify them more than harm them. You see, therefore," continued the Emperor, softening his voice, "you have not rightly considered the business: sign this for me, my dear Bertrand: you must."--"I cannot, Sire. I request your Majesty's permission, to submit my observations to you in writing."--"All that, my dear sir, will make us lose time: you are startled, I assure you, without any reason; sign, I tell you; I request you, you will do me pleasure."--"Permit me, Sire, to wait, till your Majesty has seen my observations." The marshal went away. This noble resistance did not offend the Emperor: the language of truth and honour never displeased him, when it issued from a pure heart.

General Bertrand delivered to Napoleon a statement of his reasons. It did not alter his resolution; it only determined him, to give it a legal form.

The Emperor, persuaded that General Bertrand would equally retain his opinion, would not have this new decree presented to him, and it appeared without being countersigned.

The effect it produced justified the apprehensions of the grand Marshal. It was considered as an act of despotism and vengeance; as the first infraction of the promises made to the nation. The murmurs of the public were echoed even within the walls of the imperial palace. Labedoyère, at a moment when Napoleon was passing by, said loud enough to be heard, "If the system of proscriptions and sequestrations begin again, all will soon be over."

The Emperor, according to his custom on such occasions, affected to be perfectly satisfied with himself, and appeared no way apprehensive of the storm. Being at table with several personages and ladies of distinction belonging to the court, he asked the Countess Duchâtel, if her husband, who was director-general of the domains, had executed the order for sequestrating the estates of Talleyrand and company. "There is no hurry for that," answered she drily. He made no reply, and changed the conversation.

The persons about him are incessantly reproached, with having basely crouched to his will and opinions: this anecdote, and many others that I might relate, prove, that all of them at least did not deserve this reproach. But, supposing it to be just with regard to some, is it as easy, as is commonly thought, to overcome the will of a sovereign?

From pride, and perhaps from a conviction of superiority, Napoleon did not readily endure counsel.

In affairs of state, he imposed upon himself the law of consulting his counsellors, and his ministers. Endowed by nature with the faculty of knowing every thing, or of divining every thing, he almost always took an active part in the discussion: and I must say, to the honour of the Emperor, his ministers, and his counsellors, in common, an inexpressible degree of confidence, frankness, and independence, prevailed in these discussions, highly animated as for the most part they were. The Emperor, far from being shocked when any one contradicted him, endured, nay provoked contradiction and adopted without resistance the advice of his opponents, when he thought it preferable to his own opinion.

When the question concerned those grand decisions, that influence the fate of empires, the case was different. He listened for a certain time to the objections of his ministers: but, when his attention had reached its bounds, he interrupted them, and supported his own opinion with so much fire, force, and perseverance, that he reduced them to silence.

This silence was less the effect of their passive obedience to the intentions of the monarch, than the result of the lessons taught by experience. They had seen, that the most rash, the most incomprehensible, I had almost said the most senseless, enterprises of Napoleon were invariably crowned with success; and they were convinced, that reason could not contend against the inspirations of genius, and the favours of fortune.

In fine, Napoleon often consulted only his own will; and his ministers then knew nothing of his resolves, till they received orders, to carry them into execution.

Such was, and such always will be the situation of ministers, in a monarchy, where the Prince governs for himself; and more especially when this Prince, like Napoleon, owes his throne merely to the ascendancy of his genius and his sword.

Besides, the time of flatterers and flattery was past with Napoleon. Every one was interested in telling him the truth, and no one was sparing of it to him.

The security inspired by this rare and valuable veracity was strengthened by the arrival of Prince Joseph and Prince Lucien. The moderation of the one, and the patriotism of the other, were well known; and the care of maintaining the liberal and pacific intentions of the Emperor was laid on them both.

Prince Lucien had been deeply afflicted in 1814 at the misfortunes of his brother, and was eager to offer him his fortune and his services. This, generous offer did not entirely efface from the heart of Napoleon the remembrance, of their ancient differences, but it softened the asperity of them; and it might be foreseen, that their enmity would not be eternal.

As soon as Prince Lucien heard of the entry of Napoleon into Paris, he wrote him a letter of congratulation. "Your return," said he, "fills up the measure of your military glory. But there is another glory still greater, and above all more desirable, civil glory. The sentiments and intentions, which you have solemnly promulgated, promise France, that you know how to acquire it," &c.

Prince Lucien, however, notwithstanding his desire of revisiting that country, the cause of which he pleaded, did not venture to approach it. But the invasion of the King of Naples having rendered his services necessary to the Sovereign Pontiff, the gratitude he owed to the Holy Father triumphed over his apprehensions. He departed under the title of secretary to the Pope's nuncio, and crossed the Alps without any obstacle. Arrived in the French territory, he wrote to Napoleon, to inform him of his mission, and to ask if his coming to Paris would be agreeable to him. Napoleon's first feeling was that of hesitating to receive him: his second, that of opening to him his arms. The intention of the Prince was to return quickly to Home, whither he was called by the concerns entrusted to him: but the interruption of the communications did not allow this. Obliged to return to Paris, he laid aside his incognito. His return was then publicly announced, and made an advantageous and agreeable impression on every mind.

A few days before, the Emperor had made the acquisition of another personage; less illustrious, it is true, but equally renowned for his patriotism and intelligence: I mean M. Benjamin Constant.

Napoleon, knowing the experience and reputation of this learned civilian, sent for him, to converse with him "on liberty and the constitution." Their conversation continued more than two hours. The Emperor, willing to attach M. Constant to his party, employed all his means of seduction; and I leave it to those Frenchmen, and those foreigners, who have had access to him, to say, whether it were possible to resist him.

When he wished to fix any one in his train, he studied and penetrated with extreme sagacity his way of thinking, his principles, his character, his ruling passions; and then with that familiar grace, that affability, that force and vivacity of expression, which gave so much value and such a charm to his conversations[105], he insinuated himself imperceptibly into your heart, made himself master of your passions, gently excited them, and artfully flattered them: then, displaying at once the magic resources of his genius, he plunged you into intoxication, into admiration, and subdued you so rapidly, so completely, that it seemed the effect of enchantment.

[Footnote 105: These conversations with persons, whose merit and opinion Napoleon esteemed, were always pleasing, instructive, interesting, always marked with strong thoughts, and bold, ingenious, or sublime expressions. With persons indifferent to him, or whose nullity he discerned, his phrases, scarcely begun, were never finished: his ideas turned only on insignificant, common-place matters, which, by way of amusing himself, he was apt to season with biting sarcasm, or jokes more whimsical than witty.

This explains the contradictions between the different opinions given of Napoleon's understanding by foreigners introduced at his court.]

Thus M. Benjamin Constant was subjugated: he arrived at the Tuileries with repugnance, he quitted the palace an enthusiast.

The next day he was named counsellor of state: and this favour he owed to no base submissions, as his enemies have pretended, but to his learning, and to the desire the Emperor had of giving to public opinion, and to M. B. Constant himself, a pledge of his having forgotten the past; a pledge so much the more meritorious, as the Emperor, independently of the Philippic launched against him by this writer on the 19th of March, had besides before his eyes a letter in his own hand to M. de Blacas, the subject and expressions of which were of a nature, to inspire Napoleon with something more than aversion for its author.

M. de Blacas had left in his boxes a great number of papers. The Emperor directed the Duke of Otranto to examine them. Of this he immediately repented, and sent for them again. Part fell to our share: the rest were delivered to the Duke of Vicenza. Their examination afforded nothing interesting. The Emperor, disappointed, accused M. Fouché of having removed the important papers. Those we inspected consisted only of private reports, and confidential and anonymous notes. The hatred of the revolution pervaded every line, every word. The writers did not dare to propose plainly the revocation of the Charter, and the abolition of the new institutions; but they declared without any circumlocution, that the dynasty of the Bourbons would never be secure with the existing laws; and that it was necessary, to distrust and get rid of the men of the revolution. More effectually to know and persecute these, M. de Blacas had caused to be disinterred from the archives of the cabinet, and of the ministers, the documents that might serve to make known their conduct ever since 1789, and he had directed biographical notices of each to be composed, which might easily have been taken for indictments drawn up by M. Bellart[106].

[Footnote 106: Attorney-general to the king, employed on certain occasions, to prosecute political crimes and misdemeanors.]

We found also a number of minutes of laws and ordinances, written by the hand of this minister, and attesting by their laborious corrections, how destitute he was of readiness and of imagination. Frequently he made three or four foul copies, before he could give any consistency or connection to his ideas. His familiar style was dry and turgid: if the style exhibit the man, how I pity M. de Blacas! He took extreme pains to vary, himself, the form of his appointments (_rendez-vous_): and the trouble he gave himself, to say the same thing in several different ways, wonderfully reminded us of the billet-doux of the Bourgeois Gentilhomme: "_Belle Marquise, vos beaux yeux me font mourir d'amour; d'amour mourir me font, belle Marquise, vos beaux yeux[107]._"

[Footnote 107: "Beautiful Marchioness, your beautiful eyes make me die of love; of love make me die, beautiful Marchioness, your beautiful eyes."]

In fine, we collected from the cabinet of this minister an ample collection of royal denunciations, petitions, justifications, and confessions, of those men, who, like Lockard, are always "the most humble servants of circumstances."