Life of Napoleon Bonaparte. Volume III

At the same time that they occupied Hanover, the French failed not to make a further use of their invasion of Germany, by laying forced loans on the Hanseatic towns, and by other encroachments.

The Prince Royal of Denmark was the only sovereign who showed an honourable sense of these outrages, by assembling in Holstein an army of thirty thousand men; but being unsupported by any other power, he was soon glad to lay aside the attitude which he had assumed. Austria accepted, as current payment, the declaration of France, that by her occupation of Hanover she did not intend any act of conquest, or annexation of territory, but merely proposed to retain the electorate as a pledge for the isle of Malta, which the English, contrary, as was alleged, to the faith of treaties, refused to surrender. Prussia, naturally dissatisfied at seeing the aggressions of France extend to the neighbourhood of her own territories, was nevertheless obliged to rest contented with the same excuse.

The French ruler did not confine himself to the occupation of Hanover. Tarentum, and other seaports of the King of Naples's dominions, were seized upon, under the same pretext of their being a pledge for the restoration of Malta. In fact, by thus quartering his troops upon neutral territories, by whom he took care that they should be paid and clothed, Napoleon made the war support itself, and spared France the burden of maintaining a great proportion of his immense army; while large exactions, not only on the commercial towns, but on Spain, Portugal, and Naples, and other neutral countries, in the name of loans, filled his treasury, and enabled him to carry on the expensive plans which he meditated.

Any one of the separate manœuvres which we have mentioned, would, before this eventful war, have been considered as a sufficient object for a long campaign. But the whole united was regarded by Buonaparte only as side-blows, affecting Britain indirectly through the occupation of her monarch's family dominions, the embarrassment offered to her commerce, and the destruction of such independence as had been left to the continental powers. His great and decisive game remained to be played – that scheme of invasion to which he had so strongly pledged himself in his angry dialogue with Lord Whitworth. Here, perhaps, if ever in his life, Buonaparte, from considerations of prudence, suffered the period to elapse which would have afforded the best chance for execution of his venturous project.

It must be in the memory of most who recollect the period, that the kingdom of Great Britain was seldom less provided against invasion than at the commencement of this second war; and that an embarkation from the ports of Holland, if undertaken instantly after the war had broken out, might have escaped our blockading squadrons, and have at least shown what a French army could have done on British ground, at a moment when the alarm was general, and the country in an unprepared state. But it is probable that Buonaparte himself was as much unprovided as England for the sudden breach of the treaty of Amiens – an event brought about more by the influence of passion than of policy; so that its consequences were as unexpected in his calculations as in those of Great Britain. Besides, he had not diminished to himself the dangers of the undertaking, by which he must have staked his military renown, his power, which he held chiefly as the consequence of his reputation, perhaps his life, upon a desperate game, which, though he had already twice contemplated it, he had not yet found hardihood enough seriously to enter upon.

He now, however, at length bent himself, with the whole strength of his mind, and the whole force of his empire, to prepare for this final and decisive undertaking. The gun-boats in the bay of Gibraltar, where calms are frequent, had sometimes in the course of the former war been able to do considerable damage to the English vessels of war, when they could not use their sails. Such small craft, therefore, were supposed the proper force for covering the intended descent. They were built in different harbours, and brought together by crawling along the French shore, and keeping under the protection of the batteries, which were now established on every cape, almost as if the sea-coast of the Channel on the French side had been the lines of a besieged city, no one point of which could with prudence be left undefended by cannon. Boulogne was pitched upon as the centre port, from which the expedition was to sail. By incredible exertions, Buonaparte had rendered its harbour and roads capable of containing two thousand vessels of various descriptions. The smaller seaports of Vimereux, Ambleteuse, and Etaples, Dieppe, Havre, St. Valeri, Caen, Gravelines, and Dunkirk, were likewise filled with shipping. Flushing and Ostend were occupied by a separate flotilla. Brest, Toulon, and Rochefort, were each the station of as strong a naval squadron as France had still the means to send to sea.

ARMY OF ENGLAND.

A land army was assembled of the most formidable description, whether we regard the high military character of the troops, the extent and perfection of their appointments, or their numerical strength. The coast, from the mouth of the Seine to the Texel, was covered with forces; and Soult, Ney, Davoust, and Victor, names that were then the pride and the dread of war, were appointed to command the army of England, (for that menacing title was once more assumed,) and execute those manœuvres, planned and superintended by Buonaparte, the issue of which was to be the blotting out of Britain from the rank of independent nations.

Far from being alarmed at this formidable demonstration of force, England prepared for her resistance with an energy becoming her ancient rank in Europe, and far surpassing in its efforts any extent of military preparation before heard of in her history. To nearly one hundred thousand troops of the line, were added eighty thousand and upwards of militia, which scarce yielded to the regulars in point of discipline. The volunteer force, by which every citizen was permitted and invited to add his efforts to the defence of the country, was far more numerous than during the last war, was better officered also, and rendered every way more effective. It was computed to amount to three hundred and fifty thousand men, who, if we regard the shortness of the time and the nature of the service, had attained considerable practice in the use and management of their arms. Other classes of men were embodied, and destined to act as pioneers, drivers of waggons, and in the like services. On a sudden, the land seemed converted to an immense camp, the whole nation into soldiers, and the good old King himself into a general-in-chief. All peaceful considerations appeared for a time to be thrown aside; and the voice, calling the nation to defend their dearest rights, sounded not only in Parliament, and in meetings convoked to second the measures of defence, but was heard in the places of public amusement, and mingled even with the voice of devotion – not unbecomingly surely, since to defend our country is to defend our religion.

Beacons were erected in conspicuous points, corresponding with each other, all around and all through the island; and morning and evening, one might have said, every eye was turned towards them to watch for the fatal and momentous signal. Partial alarms were given in different places from the mistakes to which such arrangements must necessarily be liable; and the ready spirit which animated every species of troops where such signals called to arms, was of the most satisfactory description, and afforded the most perfect assurance, that the heart of every man was in the cause of his country.

Amidst her preparations by land, England did not neglect or relax her precautions on the element she calls her own. She covered the ocean with five hundred and seventy ships of war of various descriptions. Divisions of her fleet blocked up every French port in the Channel; and the army destined to invade our shores, might see the British flag flying in every direction on the horizon, waiting for their issuing from the harbour, as birds of prey may be seen floating in the air above the animal which they design to pounce upon. Sometimes the British frigates and sloops of war stood in, and cannonaded or threw shells into Havre, Dieppe, Granville, and Boulogne itself. Sometimes the seamen and marines landed, cut out vessels, destroyed signal-posts, and dismantled batteries. Such events were trifling, and it was to be regretted that they cost the lives of gallant men; but although they produced no direct results of consequence, yet they had their use in encouraging the spirits of our sailors, and damping the confidence of the enemy, who must at length have looked forward with more doubt than hope to the invasion of the English coast, when the utmost vigilance could not prevent their experiencing insults upon their own.

During this period of menaced attack and arranged defence, Buonaparte visited Boulogne, and seemed active in preparing his soldiers for the grand effort. He reviewed them in an unusual manner, teaching them to execute several manœuvres by night; and experiments were also made upon the best mode of arranging the soldiers in the flat-bottomed boats, and of embarking and disembarking them with celerity. Omens were resorted to for keeping up the enthusiasm which the presence of the first consul naturally inspired. A Roman battle-axe was said to be found when they removed the earth to pitch Buonaparte's tent or barrack; and medals of William the Conqueror were produced, as having been dug up upon the same honoured spot. These were pleasant bodings, yet perhaps did not altogether, in the minds of the soldiers, counterbalance the sense of insecurity impressed on them by the prospect of being packed together in these miserable chaloupes, and exposed to the fire of an enemy so superior at sea, that during the chief consul's review of the fortifications, their frigates stood in shore with composure, and fired at him and his suite as at a mark. The men who had braved the perils of the Alps and of the Egyptian deserts, might yet be allowed to feel alarm at a species of danger which seemed so inevitable, and which they had no adequate means of repelling by force of arms.

BOULOGNE FLOTILLA.

A circumstance which seemed to render the expedition in a great measure hopeless, was the ease with which the English could maintain a constant watch upon their operations within the port of Boulogne. The least appearance of stir or preparation, to embark troops, or get ready for sea, was promptly sent by signal to the English coast, and the numerous British cruisers were instantly on the alert to attend their motions. Nelson had, in fact, during the last war, declared the sailing of a hostile armament from Boulogne to be a most forlorn undertaking, on account of cross tides and other disadvantages, together with the certainty of the flotilla being lost if there were the least wind west-north-west. "As for rowing," he adds, "that is impossible. – It is perfectly right to be prepared for a mad government," continued this most incontestible judge of maritime possibilities; "but with the active force which has been given me, I may pronounce it almost impracticable."

Buonaparte himself continued to the last to affirm that he was serious in his attempts to invade Great Britain, and that the scheme was very practicable. He did not, however, latterly, talk of forcing his way by means of armed small craft and gun-boats, while the naval forces on each side were in their present degree of comparative strength, the allowed risk of miscarriage being as ten to one to that of success; – this bravade, which he had uttered to Lord Whitworth, involved too much uncertainty to be really acted upon. At times, long after, he talked slightingly to his attendants of the causes which prevented his accomplishing his project of invasion;[39 - "On what trifles does the fate of empires depend! How petty and insignificant are our revolutions in the grand organization of the earth! If, instead of entering upon the Egyptian expedition, I had invaded Ireland; if some slight derangement of my plans had not thrown obstacles in the way of my Boulogne enterprise, what would England have been to-day? What would have been the situation of the Continent, and the whole political world?" – Napoleon, Las Cases, tom. iii., p. 330.] but when speaking seriously and in detail, he shows plainly that his sole hope of effecting the invasion was by assembling such a fleet as should give him the temporary command of the Channel. This fleet was to consist of fifty vessels, which, despatched from the various ports of France and Spain, were to rendezvous at Martinico, and, returning from thence to the British Channel, protect the flotilla, upon which were to embark one hundred and fifty thousand men.[40 - See Montholon, tom. ii., p. 224. "The invasion of England," adds Napoleon, "was always regarded as practicable; and, if once the descent had been effected, London must infallibly have been taken. The French being in possession of that capital, a very powerful party would have arisen against the oligarchy. Did Hannibal look behind him when he passed the Alps? or Cæsar when he landed in Epirus, or Africa? London is situated only a few marches from Calais; and the English army, scattered for the purpose of defending the coasts, could not have joined in time to have covered that capital after once the descent had been actually made."] Napoleon was disappointed in his combinations respecting the shipping; for as it happened, Admiral Cornwallis lay before Brest; Pellew observed the harbours of Spain; Nelson watched Toulon and Genoa; and it would have been necessary for the French and Spanish navy to fight their way through these impediments, in order to form a union at Martinico.

It is wonderful to observe how incapable the best understandings become of forming a rational judgment, where their vanity and self-interest are concerned, in slurring over the total failure of a favourite scheme. While talking of the miscarriage of this plan of invasion, Napoleon gravely exclaimed to Las Cases, "And yet the obstacles which made me fail were not of human origin – they were the work of the elements. In the south, the sea undid my plans; in the north, it was the conflagration of Moscow, the snows and ice that destroyed me. Thus, water, air, fire, all nature, in short, have been the enemies of a universal regeneration, commanded by Nature herself. The problems of Providence are inscrutable."[41 - Las Cases, tom. ii., p. 263.]

Independent of the presumptuousness of expressions, by which an individual being, of the first-rate talents doubtless, but yet born of a woman, seems to raise himself above the rest of his species, and deem himself unconquerable save by elementary resistance, the inaccuracy of the reasoning is worth remarking. Was it the sea which prevented his crossing to England, or was it the English ships and sailors? He might as well have affirmed that the hill of Mount St. John, and the wood of Soignies, and not the army of Wellington, were the obstacles which prevented him from marching to Brussels.

Before quitting the subject, we may notice, that Buonaparte seems not to have entertained the least doubts of success, could he have succeeded in disembarking his army. A single general action was to decide the fate of England. Five days were to bring Napoleon to London, where he was to perform the part of William the Third; but with more generosity and disinterestedness. He was to call a meeting of the inhabitants, restore them what he calls their rights, and destroy the oligarchical faction. A few months would not, according to his account, have elapsed, ere the two nations, late such determined enemies, would have been identified by their principles, their maxims, their interests. The full explanation of this gibberish, (for it can be termed no better, even proceeding from the lips of Napoleon,) is to be found elsewhere, when he spoke a language more genuine than that of the Moniteur and the bulletins. "England," he said, "must have ended, by becoming an appendage to the France of my system. Nature has made it one of our islands, as well as Oleron and Corsica."[42 - Las Cases, tom. iii., p. 330.]

It is impossible not to pursue the train of reflections which Buonaparte continued to pour forth to the companion of his exile, on the rock of Saint Helena. When England was conquered, and identified with France in maxims and principles, according to one form of expression, or rendered an appendage and dependency, according to another phrase, the reader may suppose that Buonaparte would have considered his mission as accomplished. Alas! it was not much more than commenced. "I would have departed from thence [from subjugated Britain] to carry the work of European regeneration [that is, the extension of his own arbitrary authority] from south to north, under the Republican colours, for I was then chief consul, in the same manner which I was more lately on the point of achieving it under the monarchical forms."[43 - Las Cases, tom. ii., p. 263.] When we find such ideas retaining hold of Napoleon's imagination, and arising to his tongue after his irretrievable fall, it is impossible to avoid exclaiming, Did ambition ever conceive so wild a dream, and had so wild a vision ever a termination so disastrous and humiliating!

DEFENSIVE MEASURES OF ENGLAND.

It may be expected that something should be here said, upon the chances which Britain would have had of defending herself successfully against the army of invaders. We are willing to acknowledge that the risk must have been dreadful; and that Buonaparte, with his genius and his army, must have inflicted severe calamities upon a country which had so long enjoyed the blessings of peace. But the people were unanimous in their purpose of defence, and their forces composed of materials to which Buonaparte did more justice when he came to be better acquainted with them. Of the three British nations, the English have since shown themselves possessed of the same steady valour which won the fields of Cressy and Agincourt, Blenheim and Minden – the Irish have not lost the fiery enthusiasm which has distinguished them in all the countries of Europe – nor have the Scots degenerated from the stubborn courage with which their ancestors, for two thousand years, maintained their independence against a superior enemy. Even if London had been lost, we would not, under so great a calamity, have despaired of the freedom of the country; for the war would, in all probability, have assumed that popular and national character which, sooner or later, wears out an invading army. Neither does the confidence with which Buonaparte affirms the conviction of his winning the first battle, appear so certainly well-founded. This, at least, we know, that the resolution of the country was fully bent up to the hazard; and those who remember the period will bear us witness, that the desire that the French would make the attempt, was a general feeling through all classes, because they had every reason to hope that the issue might be such as for ever to silence the threat of invasion.[44 - "I commanded a brigade of the army of the coasts, united at this period against England, and I remember that, when called upon to give my opinion upon this expedition, I replied, that 'a maritime expedition, unless it had the superiority at sea, appeared to me to be a contradiction.' Nevertheless, let any one imagine a French army of 200,000 men, landing upon the English territory, and seizing upon the immense city of London – would he deny that, even if the liberty of the country had not been lost, England would have suffered an immense and perhaps irreparable injury? It cannot be denied that the plan was well conceived; that the combined fleets of France and Spain were sufficient to sweep the Channel, and to command there during the time necessary to seize upon London, and even to have conveyed the whole army back to France." – Louis Buonaparte, p. 40.]

CHAPTER XXVIII

Disaffection begins to arise against Napoleon among the Soldiery – Purpose of setting up Moreau against him – Character of Moreau – Causes of his Estrangement from Buonaparte – Pichegru – The Duke d'Enghien – Georges Cadoudal, Pichegru, and other Royalists, landed in France – Desperate Enterprise of Georges – Defeated – Arrest of Moreau – of Pichegru – and Georges – Captain Wright – Duke d'Enghien seized at Strasburg – Hurried to Paris – Transferred to Vincennes – Tried by a Military Commission – Condemned – and Executed – Universal Horror of France and Europe – Buonaparte's Vindication of his Conduct – His Defence considered – Pichegru found dead in his Prison – Attempt to explain his Death by charging him with Suicide – Captain Wright found with his Throat cut – A similar Attempt made – Georges and other Conspirators Tried – Condemned – and Executed – Royalists Silenced – Moreau sent into Exile.

DISAFFECTION OF THE SOLDIERY.

While Buonaparte was meditating the regeneration of Europe, by means of conquering, first Britain, and then the northern powers, a course of opposition to his government, and disaffection to his person, was beginning to arise even among the soldiers themselves. The acquisition of the consulate for life was naturally considered as a deathblow to the Republic; and to that name many of the principal officers of the army, who had advanced themselves to promotion by means of the Revolution, still held a grateful attachment. The dissatisfaction of these military men was the more natural, as some of them might see in Buonaparte nothing more than a successful adventurer, who had raised himself high above the heads of his comrades, and now exacted their homage. As soldiers, they quickly passed from murmurs to threats; and at a festive meeting, which was prolonged beyond the limits of sobriety, a colonel of hussars proposed himself as the Brutus to remove this new Cæsar. Being expert at the use of the pistol, he undertook to hit his mark at fifty yards distance, during one of those reviews which were perpetually taking place in presence of the first consul. The affair became known to the police, but was hushed up as much as possible by the address of Fouché, who saw that Buonaparte might be prejudiced by the bare act of making public that such a thing had been agitated, however unthinkingly.[45 - Fouché, tom. i., p. 231.]

The discontent spread wide, and was secretly augmented by the agents of the house of Bourbon; and, besides the constitutional Opposition, whose voice was at times heard in the Legislative Body and the Tribunate, there existed malecontents without doors, composed of two parties, one of whom considered Buonaparte as the enemy of public liberty, whilst the other regarded him as the sole obstacle to the restoration of the Bourbons; and the most eager partisans of both began to meditate on the practicability of removing him by any means, the most violent and the most secret not excepted. Those among the furious Republicans, or enthusiastic Royalists, who entertained such sentiments, excused them, doubtless, to their conscience, by Napoleon's having destroyed the liberties, and usurped the supreme authority, of the country; thus palliating the complexion of a crime which can never be vindicated.

These zealots, however, bore no proportion to the great body of Frenchmen, who, displeased with the usurpation of Buonaparte, and disposed to overthrow it, if possible, held themselves yet obliged to refrain from all crooked and indirect practices against his life. Proposing to destroy his power in the same way in which it had been built, the first and most necessary task of the discontented party was to find some military chief, whose reputation might bear to be balanced against that of Napoleon; and no one could claim such distinction excepting Moreau. If his campaigns were inferior to those of his great rival in the lightning-like brilliancy and celerity of their operations, and in the boldness of combination on which they were founded, they were executed at smaller loss to his troops, and were less calculated to expose him to disastrous consequences if they chanced to miscarry. Moreau was no less celebrated for his retreat through the defiles of the Black Forest, in 1796, than for the splendid and decisive victory of Hohenlinden.

Moreau's natural temper was mild, gentle, and accessible to persuasion – a man of great abilities certainly, but scarcely displaying the bold and decisive character which he ought to possess, who, in such times as we write of, aspires to place himself at the head of a faction in the state. Indeed, it rather would seem that he was forced into that situation of eminence by the influence of general opinion, joined to concurring circumstances, than that he deliberately aspired to place himself there. He was the son of a lawyer of Bretagne,[46 - Moreau was born at Morlaix in 1763.] and in every respect a man who had risen by the Revolution. He was not, therefore, naturally inclined towards the Bourbons; yet when Pichegru's communications with the exiled family in 1795 became known to him by the correspondence which he intercepted, Moreau kept the secret until some months after,[47 - "If Moreau's friendship for Pichegru led him into this culpable compromise, he ought not to have communicated these papers at a time when a knowledge of their contents could no longer be serviceable to the state; for, after the transactions of the 18th Fructidor, that party was defeated, and Pichegru was in chains." – Napoleon, Montholon, tom. i., p. 43.] when Pichegru had, with the rest of his party, fallen under the Revolution of 18th Fructidor, which installed the Directory of Barras, Reubel, and La Raveillière. After this period, Moreau's marriage with a lady[48 - "The Empress Josephine married Moreau to Mademoiselle Hulot, a creole of the Isle of France. This young lady had an ambitious mother, who governed her, and soon governed her husband also. She changed his character; he was no longer the same man; he began to intrigue; his house became the rendezvous of all the disaffected. For a long time the first consul refused to notice this imprudent conduct; but at length he said, 'I wash my hands of him; let him run his head against the pillars of the Tuileries.'" – Napoleon, Montholon, tom. i., p. 53.] who entertained sentiments favourable to the Bourbons, seems to have gone some length in deciding his own political opinions.

Moreau had lent Buonaparte his sword and countenance on 18th Brumaire; but he was soon dissatisfied with the engrossing ambition of the new ruler of France, and they became gradually estranged from each other. This was not the fault of Buonaparte, who, naturally desirous of attaching to himself so great a general, showed him considerable attention, and complained that it was received with coldness. On one occasion, a most splendid pair of pistols had been sent to the first consul. "They arrive in a happy time," he said, and presented them to Moreau, who at that instant entered his presence chamber.[49 - "Moreau went to Paris during the armistice of Pahrsdorff, and alighted unexpectedly at the Tuileries. Whilst he was engaged with the first consul, the minister at war, Carnot, arrived from Versailles with a pair of pistols, enriched with diamonds, of very great value: they were intended for the first consul, who, taking the pistols, presented them to Moreau, saying, 'They come very opportunely.' This was not a thing contrived for effect." – Napoleon, Montholon, tom. i., p. 52.] Moreau received the civility as one which he would willingly have dispensed with. He made no other acknowledgment than a cold bow, and instantly left the levee.

Upon the institution of the Legion of Honour, one of the grand crosses was offered to him. "The fool!" said Moreau, "does he not know that I have belonged to the ranks of honour for these twelve years?" Another pleasantry on this topic, upon which Buonaparte was very sensitive, was a company of officers, who dined together with Moreau, voting a sauce-pan of honour to the general's cook, on account of his merits in dressing some particular dish. Thus, living estranged from Buonaparte, Moreau came to be gradually regarded as the head of the disaffected party in France; and the eyes of all those who disliked Napoleon or his government, were fixed upon him, as the only individual whose influence might be capable of balancing that of the chief consul.

Meantime, the peace of Amiens being broken, the British Government, with natural policy, resolved once more to avail themselves of the state of public feeling in France, and engage the partisans of royalty in a fresh attack upon the Consular Government. They were probably in some degree deceived concerning the strength of that party, which had been much reduced under Buonaparte's management, and had listened too implicitly to the promises and projects of agents, who, themselves sanguine beyond what was warranted, exaggerated even their own hopes in communicating them to the British ministers. It seems to have been acknowledged, that little success was to be hoped for, unless Moreau could be brought to join the conspiracy. This, however, was esteemed possible; and notwithstanding the disagreement, personal as well as political, which had subsisted betwixt him and Pichegru, the latter seems to have undertaken to become the medium of communication betwixt Moreau and the Royalists. Escaped from the deserts of Cayenne, to which he had been exiled, Pichegru had for some time found refuge and support in London, and there openly professed his principles as a Royalist, upon which he had for a long time acted in secret.

THE DUKE D'ENGHIEN.

A scheme was in agitation for raising the Royalists in the west, and the Duke de Berri was to make a descent on the coast of Picardy, to favour the insurrection. The Duke d'Enghien, grandson of the Prince of Condé, fixed his residence under the protection of the Margrave of Baden, at the chateau of Ettenheim, with the purpose, doubtless, of being ready to put himself at the head of the Royalists in the east of France, or, if occasion should offer, in Paris itself. This prince of the house of Bourbon, the destined inheritor of the name of the great Condé, was in the flower of youth, handsome, brave, and high-minded. He had been distinguished for his courage in the emigrant army, which his grandfather commanded. He gained by his valour the battle of Bortsheim; and when his army, to whom the French Republicans showed no quarter, desired to execute reprisals on their prisoners, he threw himself among them to prevent their violence. "These men," he said "are Frenchmen – they are unfortunate – I place them under the guardianship of your honour and your humanity." Such was the princely youth, whose name must now be written in bloody characters in this part of Napoleon's history.

Whilst the French princes expected on the frontier the effect of commotions in the interior of France, Pichegru, Georges Cadoudal, and about thirty other Royalists of the most determined character, were secretly landed in France, made their way to the metropolis, and contrived to find lurking places invisible to the all-seeing police. There can be no reason to doubt that a part of those agents, and Georges in particular, saw the greatest obstacle of their enterprise in the existence of Buonaparte, and were resolved to commence by his assassination. Pichegru, who was constantly in company with Georges, cannot well be supposed ignorant of this purpose, although better befitting the fierce chief of a band of Chouans than the conqueror of Holland.

In the meantime, Pichegru effected the desired communication with Moreau, then, as we have said, considered as the chief of the discontented military men, and the declared enemy of Buonaparte. They met at least twice; and it is certain that on one of these occasions Pichegru carried with him Georges Cadoudal, at whose person and plans Moreau expressed horror, and desired that Pichegru would not again bring that irrational savage into his company. The cause of his dislike we must naturally suppose to have been the nature of the measures Georges proposed, being the last to which a brave and loyal soldier like Moreau would willingly have resorted to; but Buonaparte, when pretending to give an exact account of what passed betwixt Moreau and Pichegru, represents the conduct of the former in a very different point of view. Moreau, according to this account, informed Pichegru, that while the first consul lived, he had not the slightest interest in the army, and that not even his own aides-de-camp would follow him against Napoleon; but were Napoleon removed, Moreau assured them all eyes would be fixed on himself alone – that he would then become first consul – that Pichegru should be second; and was proceeding to make farther arrangements, when Georges broke in on their deliberations with fury, accused the generals of scheming their own grandeur, not the restoration of the king, and declared that to choose betwixt blue and blue, (a phrase by which the Vendéans distinguished the Republicans,)[50 - See Mémoires de Savary, tom. ii., p. 52.] he would as soon have Buonaparte as Moreau at the head of affairs, and concluded by stating his own pretensions to be third consul at least. According to this account, therefore, Moreau was not shocked at the atrocity of Georges' enterprise, of which he himself had been the first to admit the necessity, but only disgusted at the share which the Chouan chief assorted to himself in the partition of the spoil. But we give no credit whatever to this story. Though nothing could have been so important to the first consul at the time as to produce proof of Moreau's direct accession to the plot on his life, no such proof was ever brought forward; and therefore the statement, we have little doubt, was made up afterwards, and contains what Buonaparte might think probable, and desire that others should believe, not what he knew from certain information, or was able to prove by credible testimony.

The police was speedily alarmed, and in action. Notice had been received that a band of Royalists had introduced themselves into the capital, though it was for some time very difficult to apprehend them. Georges, meanwhile, prosecuted his attempt against the chief consul, and is believed at one time to have insinuated himself in the disguise of a menial into the Tuileries, and even into Buonaparte's apartment; but without finding any opportunity to strike the blow, which his uncommon strength and desperate resolution might otherwise have rendered decisive. All the barriers were closed, and a division of Buonaparte's guards maintained the closest watch, to prevent any one escaping from the city. By degrees sufficient light was obtained to enable the government to make a communication to the public upon the existence and tendency of the conspiracy, which became more especially necessary, when it was resolved to arrest Moreau himself. This took place on the 15th February, 1804. He was seized without difficulty or resistance, while residing quietly at his country-house. On the day following, an order of the day, signed by Murat, then Governor of Paris, announced the fact to the citizens, with the additional information, that Moreau was engaged in a conspiracy with Pichegru, Georges, and others, who were closely pursued by the police.

The news of Moreau's imprisonment produced the deepest sensation in Paris; and the reports which were circulated on the subject were by no means favourable to Buonaparte. Some disbelieved the plot entirely, while others, less sceptical, considered the chief consul as making a pretext of the abortive attempt of Pichegru and Georges for the purpose of sacrificing Moreau, who was at once his rival in military fame, and the declared opponent of his government. It was even asserted, that secret agents of Buonaparte in London had been active in encouraging the attempts of the original conspirators, for the sake of implicating a man whom the first consul both hated and feared. Of this there was no proof; but these and other dark suspicions pervaded men's minds, and all eyes were turned with anxiety upon the issue of the legal investigations which were about to take place.

Upon the 17th February, the great judge of police, by a report[51 - See Annual Register, vol. xlvi., p. 616.] which was communicated to the Senate, the Legislative Body, and the Tribunate, denounced Pichegru, Georges, and others, as having returned to France from their exile, with the purpose of overthrowing the government, and assassinating the chief consul, and implicated Moreau as having held communication with them. When the report was read in the Tribunate, the brother of Moreau arose, and, recalling the merits and services of his relative, complained of the cruelty of calumniating him without proof, and demanded for him the privilege of an open and public trial.

"This is a fine display of sensibility," said Curee, one of the tribunes, in ridicule of the sensation naturally produced by this affecting incident.

"It is a display of indignation," replied the brother of Moreau, and left the assembly.

The public bodies, however, did what was doubtless expected of them, and carried to the foot of the consular throne the most exaggerated expressions of their interest in the life and safety of him by whom it was occupied.

ARREST OF PICHEGRU AND GEORGES.

Meanwhile, the vigilance of the police, and the extraordinary means employed by them, accomplished the arrest of almost all the persons concerned in the plot. A false friend, whom Pichegru had trusted to the highest degree, betrayed his confidence for a large bribe, and introduced the gendarmes into his apartment while he was asleep. They first secured the arms which lay beside him, and then his person, after a severe struggle. Georges Cadoudal, perhaps a yet more important capture, fell into the hands of the police soon after. He had been traced so closely, that at length he dared not enter a house, but spent many hours of the day and night in driving about Paris in a cabriolet. On being arrested, he shot one of the gendarmes dead, mortally wounded another, and had nearly escaped from them all. The other conspirators, and those accused of countenancing their enterprise, were arrested to the number of forty persons, who were of very different characters and conditions; some followers or associates of Georges, and others belonging to the ancient nobility. Among the latter were Messrs. Armand and Jules Polignac, Charles de la Rivière, and other Royalists of distinction. Chance had also thrown into Buonaparte's power a victim of another description. Captain Wright, the commander of a British brig of war, had been engaged in putting ashore on the coast of Morbihan, Pichegru and some of his companions. Shortly afterwards, his vessel was captured by a French vessel of superior force. Under pretence that his evidence was necessary to the conviction of the French conspirators, he was brought up to Paris, committed to the Temple, and treated with a rigour which became a prelude to the subsequent tragedy.

It might have been supposed, that among so many prisoners, enough of victims might have been selected to atone with their lives for the insurrection which they were accused of meditating; nay, for the attempt which was alleged to be designed against the person of the first consul. Most unhappily for his fame, Napoleon thought otherwise; and, from causes which we shall hereafter endeavour to appreciate, sought to give a fuller scope to the gratification of his revenge, than the list of his captives, though containing several men of high rank, enabled him to accomplish.

THE DUKE D'ENGHIEN.

We have observed, that the residence of the Duke d'Enghien upon the French frontier was to a certain degree connected with the enterprise undertaken by Pichegru, so far as concerned the proposed insurrection of the royalists in Paris. This we infer from the duke's admission, that he resided at Ettenheim in the expectation of having soon a part of importance to play in France.[52 - The passage alluded to is in the Duke of Rovigo's (Savary's) Vindication of his own Conduct. At the same time, no traces of such an admission are to be found in the interrogations, as printed elsewhere. It is also said, that when the duke (then at Ettenheim) first heard of the conspiracy of Pichegru, he alleged that it must have been only a pretended discovery. "Had there been such an intrigue in reality," he said, "my father and grandfather would have let me know something of the matter, that I might provide for my safety." It may be added, that if he had been really engaged in that conspiracy, it is probable that he would have retired from the vicinity of the French territory on the scheme being discovered. – S.] This was perfectly vindicated by his situation and connexions. But that the duke participated in, or countenanced in the slightest degree, the meditated attempt on Buonaparte's life, has never even been alleged, and is contrary to all the proof led in the case, and especially to the sentiments impressed upon him by his grandfather, the Prince of Condé.[53 - A remarkable letter from the Prince of Condé to the Comte d'Artois, dated 24th January, 1802, contains the following passage, which we translate literally: – "The Chevalier de Roll will give you an account of what has passed here yesterday. A man of a very simple and gentle exterior arrived the night before, and having travelled, as he affirmed, on foot, from Paris to Calais, had an audience of me about eleven in the forenoon, and distinctly offered to rid us of the usurper by the shortest method possible. I did not give him time to finish the details of his project, but rejected the proposal with horror, assuring him that you, if present, would do the same. I told him, we should always be the enemies of him who had arrogated to himself the power and the throne of our Sovereign, until he should make restitution: that we had combated the usurper by open force, and would do so again if opportunity offered; but that we would never employ that species of means which only became the Jacobin party; and if that faction should meditate such a crime, assuredly we would not be their accomplices." This discourse the prince renewed to the secret agent in the presence of the Chevalier de Roll, as a confidential friend of the Comte d'Artois, and, finally, advised the man instantly to leave England, as, in case of his being arrested, the prince would afford him no countenance or protection. The person to whom the Prince of Condé addressed sentiments so worthy of himself and of his great ancestor, afterwards proved to be an agent of Buonaparte, despatched to sound the opinions of the Princes of the House of Bourbon, and if possible to implicate them in such a nefarious project as should justly excite public indignation against them. – S.] He lived in great privacy, and amused himself principally with hunting. A pension allowed him by England was his only means of support.

On the evening of the 14th March, a body of French soldiers and gendarmes, commanded by Colonel Ordenner, acting under the direction of Caulaincourt, afterwards called Duke of Vicenza, suddenly entered the territory of Baden, a power with whom France was in profound peace, and surrounded the chateau in which the unfortunate prince resided. The descendant of Condé sprung to his arms, but was prevented from using them by one of his attendants, who represented the force of the assailants as too great to be resisted. The soldiers rushed into the apartment, and, presenting their pistols, demanded to know which was the Duke d'Enghien. "If you desire to arrest him," said the Duke, "you ought to have his description in your warrant." – "Then we must seize on you all," replied the officer in command; and the prince, with his little household, were arrested and carried to a mill at some distance from the house, where he was permitted to receive some clothes and necessaries. Being now recognised, he was transferred, with his attendants, to the citadel of Strasburg, and presently afterwards separated from the gentlemen of his household, with the exception of his aide-de-camp, the Baron de St. Jacques. He was allowed to communicate with no one. He remained a close prisoner for three days; but on the 18th, betwixt one and two in the morning, he was obliged to rise and dress himself hastily, being only informed that he was about to commence a journey. He requested the attendance of his valet-de-chambre, but was answered that it was unnecessary. The linen which he was permitted to take with him amounted to two shirts only; so nicely had his worldly wants been calculated and ascertained. He was transported with the utmost speed and secrecy towards Paris, where he arrived on the 20th; and, after having been committed for a few hours to the Temple, was transferred to the ancient Gothic castle of Vincennes, about a mile from the city, long used as a state prison, but whose walls never received a more illustrious or a more innocent victim. There he was permitted to take some repose; and, as if the favour had only been granted for the purpose of being withdrawn, he was awaked at midnight, and called upon to sustain an interrogatory on which his life depended, and to which he replied with the utmost composure. On the ensuing night, at the same dead hour, he was brought before the pretended court. The law enjoined that he should have had a defender appointed to plead his cause. But none such was allotted to him.

The inquisitors before whom he was hurried, formed a military commission of eight officers, having General Hulin as their president. They were, as the proceedings express it, named by Buonaparte's brother-in-law Murat, then governor of Paris. Though necessarily exhausted with fatigue and want of rest, the Duke d'Enghien performed in this melancholy scene a part worthy of the last descendant of the great Condé. He avowed his name and rank, and the share which he had taken in the war against France, but denied all knowledge of Pichegru or of his conspiracy. The interrogations ended by his demanding an audience of the chief consul. "My name," he said, "my rank, my sentiments, and the peculiar distress of my situation, lead me to hope that my request will not be refused."

The military commissioners paused and hesitated – nay, though selected doubtless as fitted for the office, they were even affected by the whole behaviour, and especially by the intrepidity, of the unhappy prince. But Savary, then chief of the police, stood behind the president's chair, and controlled their sentiments of compassion. When they proposed to further the prisoner's request of an audience of the first consul, Savary cut the discussion short, by saying, that was inexpedient. At length they reported their opinion, that the Duke d'Enghien was guilty of having fought against the Republic, intrigued with England, and maintained intelligence in Strasburg, for the purpose of seizing the place; – great part of which allegations, and especially the last, was in express contradiction to the only proof adduced, the admission, namely, of the prisoner himself. The report being sent to Buonaparte to know his farther pleasure, the court received for answer their own letter, marked with the emphatic words, "Condemned to death." Napoleon was obeyed by his satraps with Persian devotion. The sentence was pronounced, and the prisoner received it with the same intrepid gallantry which distinguished him through the whole of the bloody scene. He requested the aid of a confessor. "Would you die like a monk?" is said to have been the insulting reply. The duke, without noticing the insult, knelt down for a minute, and seemed absorbed in profound devotion.

"Let us go," he said, when he arose from his knees. All was in readiness for the execution; and, as if to stamp the trial as a mere mockery, the grave had been prepared ere the judgment of the court was pronounced.[54 - Savary has denied this. It is not of much consequence. The illegal arrest – the precipitation of the mock trial – the disconformity of the sentence from the proof – the hurry of the execution – all prove that the unfortunate prince was doomed to die long before he was brought before the military commission. – S. – See, in Savary's Memoirs, tom. ii, p. 221, the Supplementary Chapter, "On the Catastrophe of the Duke d'Enghien."] Upon quitting the apartment in which the pretended trial had taken place, the prince was conducted by torch-light down a winding-stair, which seemed to descend to the dungeons of the ancient castle.