Bonaparte's wish to negotiate with England and Austria—
An emigrant's letter—Domestic details—The bell—Conspiracy of
Ceracchi, Arena, Harrel, and others—Bonaparte's visit to the opera
—Arrests—Rariel appointed commandant of Vincennes—The Duc
d'Enghien's foster-sister—The 3d Nivoise—First performance of
Haydn's "Creation"—The infernal machine—Congratulatory addresses—
Arbitrary condemnations—M. Tissot erased from the list of the
banished—M. Truguet—Bonapartes' hatred of the Jacobins explained—
The real criminals discovered—Justification of Fouché—Execution of
St. Regent and Carbon—Caesar, Cromwell, and Bonaparte—Conversation
between Bonaparte and Fouché—Pretended anger—Fouché's
dissimulation—Lucien's resignation—His embassy to Spain—War
between Spain and Portugal—Dinner at Fouché's—Treachery of Joseph
Bonaparte—A trick upon the First Consul—A three days' coolness—
Reconciliation.
The happy events of the campaign of Italy had been crowned by the armistice, concluded on the 6th of July. This armistice was broken on the 1st of September, and renewed after the battle of Hohenlinden. On his return from Marengo Bonaparte was received with more enthusiasm than ever. The rapidity with which, in a campaign of less than two months, he had restored the triumph of the French standard, excited universal astonishment. He then actively endeavoured to open negotiations with England and Austria; but difficulties opposed him in every direction. He frequently visited the theatre, where his presence attracted prodigious throngs of persons, all eager to see and applaud him.
The immense number of letters which were at this time addressed to the First Consul is scarcely conceivable. They contained requests for places, protestations of fidelity, and, in short, they were those petitionary circulars that are addressed to all persons in power. These letters were often exceedingly curious, and I have preserved many of them; among the rest was one from Durosel Beaumanoir, an emigrant who had fled to Jersey. This letter contains some interesting particulars relative to Bonaparte's family. It is dated Jersey, 12th July 1800, and the following are the most remarkable passages it contains:
I trust; General, that I may, without indiscretion, intrude upon
your notice, to remind you of what, I flatter myself, you have not
totally forgotten, after having lived eighteen or nineteen years at
Ajaccio. But you will, perhaps, be surprised that so trifling an
item should be the subject of the letter which I have the honour to
address to you. You cannot have forgotten, General, that when your
late father was obliged to take your brothers from the college of
Autun, from whence he went to see you at Brienne, he was unprovided
with money, and he asked me for twenty-five louis, which I lent him
with pleasure. After his return he had no opportunity of paying me,
and when I left Ajaccio your mother offered to dispose of some plate
in order to pay the debt. To this I objected, and told her that I
would wait until she could pay me at her convenience, and previous
to the breaking out of the revolution I believe it was not in her
power to fulfil her wish of discharging the debt.
I am sorry, General, to be obliged to trouble you about such a
trifle. But such is my unfortunate situation that even this trifle
is of some importance to me. Driven from my country, and obliged to
take refuge in this island, where everything is exceedingly
expensive, the little sum I have mentioned, which was formerly a
matter of indifference, would now be of great service to me.
You will understand, General, that at the age of eighty-six, after
serving served my country well for sixty years, without the least
interruption, not counting the time of emigration, chased from every
place, I have been obliged to take refuge here, to subsist on the
scanty succour given by the English Government to the French
emigrant. I say emigrant because I have been forced to be one.
I had no intention of being one, but a horde of brigands, who came
from Caen to my house to assassinate me, considered I had committed
the great crime in being the senior general of the canton and in
having the Grand Cross of St. Louis: this was too much for them; if
it had not been for the cries of my neighbours, my door would have
been broken open, and I should have been assassinated; and I had but
time to fly by a door at the back, only carrying away what I had on
me. At first I retired to Paris, but there they told me that I
could do nothing but go into a foreign country, so great was the
hate entertained for me by my fellow-citizens, although I lived in
retirement, never having any discussion with any one. Thus,
General; I have abandoned all I possessed, money and goods, leaving
them at the mercy of what they call the nation, which has profited a
good deal by this, as I have nothing left in the world, not even a
spot to put my foot on. If even a horse had been reserved for me,
General, I could ask for what depends on you, for I have heard it
said that some emigrants have been allowed to return home. I do not
even ask this favour, not having a place to rest my foot. And,
besides, I have with me here an exiled brother, older than I am,
very ill and in perfect second childhood, whom I could not abandon.
I am resigned to my own unhappy fate, but my sole and great grief is
that not only I myself have been ill-treated, but that my fate has,
contrary to the law, injured relations whom I love and respect. I
have a mother-in-law, eighty years old, who has been refused the
dower I had given her from my property, and this will make me die a
bankrupt if nothing is changed, which makes me miserable.
I acknowledge, General, that I know little of the new style, but,
according to the old form, I am your humble servant,
DUROSEL BEAUMANOIR.
I read this letter to the First Consul, who immediately said, "Bourrienne, this is sacred! Do not lose a minute. Send the old man ten times the sum. Write to General Durosel that he shall be immediately erased from the list of emigrants. What mischief those brigands of the Convention have done! I can never repair it all." Bonaparte uttered these words with a degree of emotion which I rarely saw him evince. In the evening he asked me whether I had executed his orders, which I had done without losing a moment. The death of M. Froth had given me a lesson as to the value of time!
Availing myself of the privilege I have already frequently taken of making abrupt transitions from one subject to another, according as the recollection of past circumstances occurs to my mind, I shall here note down a few details, which may not improperly be called domestic, and afterwards describe a conspiracy which was protected by the very man against whom it was hatched.
At the Tuileries, where the First Consul always resided during the winter and sometimes a part of the summer, the grand salon was situated between his cabinet and the Room in which he received the persons with whom he had appointed audiences. When in this audience-chamber, if he wanted anything or had occasion to speak to anybody, he pulled a bell which was answered by a confidential servant named Landoire, who was the messenger of the First Consul's cabinet. When Bonaparte's bell rung it was usually for the purpose of making some inquiry of me respecting a paper, a name, a date, or some matter of that sort; and then Landoire had to pass through the cabinet and salon to answer the bell and afterwards to return and to tell me I was wanted. Impatient at the delay occasioned by this running about, Bonaparte, without saying anything to me, ordered the bell to be altered so that it should ring within the cabinet; and exactly above my table. Next morning when I entered the cabinet I saw a man mounted-upon a ladder. "What are you doing here?" said I. "I am hanging a bell, sir." I called Landoire and asked him who had given the order. "The First Consul," he replied. I immediately ordered the man to come down and remove the ladder, which he accordingly did. When I went, according to custom, to awaken the First Consul and read the newspapers to him I said, "General, I found a man this morning hanging a bell in your cabinet. I was told it was by your orders; but being convinced there must be some mistake I sent him away. Surely the bell was not intended for you, and I cannot imagine it was intended for me: who then could it be for?—" "What a stupid fellow that Landoire is!" said Bonaparte. "Yesterday, when Cambacérès was with me, I wanted you. Landoire did not come when I touched the bell. I thought it was broken, and ordered him to get it repaired. I suppose the bell-hanger was doing it when you saw him, for you know the wire passes through the cabinet." I was satisfied with this explanation, though I was not deceived, by it. For the sake of appearance he reproved Landoire, who, however, had done nothing more than execute the order he had received. How could he imagine I would submit to such treatment, considering that we had been friends since our boyhood, and that I was now living on full terms of confidence and familiarity with him?
Before I speak of the conspiracy of Ceracchi, Arena, Topino-Lebrun, and others, I must notice a remark made by Napoleon at St. Helena. He said, or is alleged to have said, "The two attempts which placed me in the greatest danger were those of the sculptor Ceracchi and of the fanatic of Schoenbrun." I was not at Schoenbrun at the time; but I am convinced that Bonaparte was in the most imminent danger. I have been informed on unquestionable authority that Staps set out from Erfurth with the intention of assassinating the Emperor; but he wanted the necessary courage for executing the design. He was armed with a large dagger, and was twice sufficiently near Napoleon to have struck him. I heard this from Rapp, who seized Stags, and felt the hilt of the dagger under his coat. On that occasion Bonaparte owed his life only to the irresolution of the young 'illuminato' who wished to sacrifice him to his fanatical fury. It is equally certain that on another occasion, respecting which the author of the St. Helena narrative observes complete silence, another fanatic—more dangerous than Steps attempted the life of Napoleon.
—[At the time of this attempt I was not with Napoleon; but he
directed me to see the madmen who had formed the design of
assassinating him. It will be seen in the course of these Memoirs
what were his plans, and what was the result of them—Bourrienne]—
The following is a correct statement of the facts relative to Ceracchi's conspiracy. The plot itself was a mere shadow; but it was deemed advisable to give it substance, to exaggerate, at least in appearance, the danger to which the First Consul had been exposed:—