No. II.
FURTHER PARTICULARS CONCERNING THE ARREST, TRIAL, AND DEATH OF THE DUKE D'ENGHIEN.
[See p. [52].]
This most melancholy history appears to deserve farther notice than we had it in our power to bestow, without too long interrupting the course of our narrative. It has been, and must for ever remain, the most marked and indelible blot upon the character of Napoleon Buonaparte. "A young prince," says the author of a well-reasoned dissertation on this subject, "in the flower of his age, treacherously seized in a neutral country, where he reposed under the protection of the law of nations, dragged into France, brought before judges, who had no pretension to assume that character, accused of supposed crimes, deprived of the assistance of a legal advocate or defender, put to death by night in the ditches of a state-prison;—so many virtues misconstrued, so many fond hopes crushed in the bud, will always render that catastrophe one of the most revolting acts which absolute power has been tempted to consummate."
The Duke d'Enghien was one of the most active and determined of the exiled princes of the House of Bourbon, to whom the emigrants and the Royalists who remained within France were alike devotedly attached. He was master of many of their secrets; and in July 1799, when the affairs of the Republic were in a very perilous state, and the Royalists were adjusting a general rising through all the south of France, his name was used upon the following extraordinary occasion.
A former member of the Representation, known as much by his character as a Royalist, as by his worth and probity, requested a private interview with General Bernadotte, then minister at war. The audience being granted by the minister, with whom he had some connexion, the representative entered into a long argument to prove what could not be denied—the disastrous and dangerous state of France, and then proceeded thus: "The republican system being no longer able to support itself, a general movement is about to take place for the restoration of the King, and is so well organised, that it can scarce fail to be successful. The Duke d'Enghien, lieutenant-general of the royal army, is at Paris at this very moment while I speak to you, and I am deputed by one of his most faithful adherents, to make known these circumstances to General Bernadotte. The prince esteems you, confides his safety to your loyalty, reckons on your assistance, and is ready to grant any conditions which you may attach to your services." Bernadotte replied to this unexpected communication, "That the Duke d'Enghien should have no reason to repent the confidence which he had reposed in him: but that the loyalty which the duke had ascribed to him prevented his complying with the prince's wishes and request." He proceeded to state, that his own fame and personal interests were alike interested in his adherence to a government sprung from the will of the people; and that he was incapable of violating his oath of fidelity, or overthrowing the constitution to which he had sworn. "Make haste," he continued, "to convey my sentiments to him who sent you; tell him they are sincere and unalterable. But let him know, that for three days I will keep the secret which I have just learned, most profoundly. During that time he must find means of placing himself in security, by repassing the frontiers: but on the fourth morning, the secret will be mine no longer. This very morning, the term of three days will commence; make haste—and remember that the least imprudence on your part will be attended with fatal consequences."
It was afterwards ascertained that the deputy was mistaken, when he averred that the Duke d'Enghien was in Paris. It was pretty certain that he had never crossed the Rhine, and only waited the favourable reply of the minister at war to make the attempt. But in the light in which the case was presented to Bernadotte, his generous and firm conduct does not the less honour that eminent person, especially when contrasted with that of Napoleon. There might have been a strong temptation, and even a show of right, to have seized on the unfortunate Prince, supposing him to be in Paris, negotiating plans against the existing government, and tempting the fidelity of their principal ministers;—there could be none to kidnap him in foreign parts, when, however it might be suspected, it could not be shown by proof, that the unfortunate duke was concerned in any of the political intrigues which were laid to his charge. The tottering state of public affairs requiring so much vigilance and vigour on the part of the government, might also have been pleaded in excuse of Bernadotte, had he delivered up the Duke d'Enghien to dungeon or scaffold; while Napoleon, on the contrary, took the unhappy prince's life at a moment when his own power was so firmly established, as rather to incur danger than to acquire safety by the indulgence of a cruel revenge. The above anecdote, not, we believe, generally known, may be relied upon as authentic.
Napoleon, four years later, adopted towards the unfortunate prince that line of severity with which the world is acquainted. His broad vindication uniformly was stated to be, that the duke had offended against the laws of the country, and that, to put a stop to conspiracies, he had, from the beginning, determined to let the law take its course against him. He alleged, as we shall hereafter notice, various pleas in palliation or excuse; but his chief defence uniformly consisted in an appeal to the laws; and it is therefore just to the memory of Napoleon and his victim, that we should examine whether, in a legal sense, the procedure against the Duke d'Enghien is vindicated in whole or in part. The labours of Monsieur Dupin, the learned author of a pamphlet already quoted, have furnished us with an excellent work on this subject.
The case of the unfortunate duke must always be admitted to be a hard one. This is not denied by Buonaparte himself; and, on that account, it is the more necessary to the vindication of those upon whom his fate depended, to bring their procedure within the pale of the law. We are not now talking of reconciling the tragedy to the general rules of justice, generosity, or humanity; but in resigning the arguments which these afford, we are the more entitled to expect that the procedure which we impugn should, however harsh or cruel, be at least in strict conformity with the existing laws of France at the time, and such as could be carried on and vindicated by daylight, and in an open court. This is surely limiting our inquiry to the narrowest possible ground; and we shall prosecute the subject by examining the process in detail.