“Where is he now?”
“I have no idea. I know he passed through Philadelphia on his way to San Domingo. I don’t know whether he ever got there or whether he returned.”
“When was he at Philadelphia?”
“He must have been there or somewhere in the United States not more than two years ago.”
Thus no effort was made in the second inquiry any more than in the first to search into his past. It should be mentioned that immediately on his return Cormier had made haste to destroy all documents that could compromise him in any way.
After a detention of three weeks he was set free, his age and infirmities doubtless having won him some sympathy. He and his son—for Achille had been arrested at the same time—were, however, not accorded complete liberty, being placed en surveillance, and obliged to live outside Paris. On September 20 they were provided with a passport taking them to Etampes, whence they were not to move away without permission from the police.
At this period Fouché had immense powers, and was organizing and regulating the enormous administrative machine which developed under his rule into the Ministry of Police. The prisons overflowed with men under arrest who had never appeared before the ordinary tribunal, “on account of the danger there was of their being acquitted in the absence of legal evidence against them.” He was reduced to keeping the rest under what was styled “une demi-surveillance.” His army of spies and secret agents enabled him to keep au courant with their every step.
The reports furnished as to Cormier’s behaviour seem to have satisfied the authorities, for at the end of a certain time he was enabled to return to Paris. Having learnt by experience how unsatisfactory it was to be continually at the mercy of informers, he now set himself energetically to trying to secure a regular and complete amnesty. His petition was addressed to the First Consul on June 18, 1803, and in it he described himself as “crippled with infirmities,” and it was covered with marginal notes strongly recommending him to the mercy of the chief of the state.
At last, on October 10, the Minister of Police acceded to his request, and Cormier received a certificate of amnesty, freeing him henceforth from all prosecution “on the score of emigration.” With what a sense of relief must not this document have been welcomed in the Rue Basse-du-Rempart! Bent under the weight of his sufferings, Cormier enjoyed the most devoted care at the hands of his family. His younger son, Patrice, had returned to Paris after an existence not less adventurous than his father’s. He had thrown himself into the insurrection in La Vendée, and for three years had served in the Royalist army of the Maine. Benefiting, like his father, by the general amnesty, he found his way back to the paternal roof in Paris, and went into business, so as to throw a veil over his past, until the day should come when he might appear in uniform again.
Achille, the elder, devoted himself entirely to his father, but the old man was not to enjoy much longer the peace he had at length secured for himself. The loss of almost all his income forced him, moreover, to quit his residence in the Rue Basse-du-Rempart, and to betake himself to a modest pension in the Faubourg Saint Antoine, in which he occupied a single room, in which he kept only a few items from the furniture of his old home—some rose-wood chairs, a writing-table, a desk with a marble top, a prie-dieu, and a small wooden desk, “dit à la Tronchin.” The rest of his furniture he sold. It was in this humble lodging that he died on April 16, 1805, aged sixty-five. Some months later Mme. Cormier died at the house in Rue Basse-du-Rempart.