Carnot's Memorial on Public Affairs—Fouché joins the Jacobins—Projects of that Party; which finally joins the Buonapartists—Active Intrigues—Congress of Vienna—Murat, alarmed at its proceedings, opens an intercourse with Napoleon—Plans of the Conspirators—Buonaparte's Escape from Elba—He lands at Cannes—Is joined at Grenoble, by 3000 Troops—Halts at Lyons, appoints a Ministry, and issues several Decrees—Dismay of the Government—Intrigues of Fouché—Treachery of Ney—Revolt of the Royal Army at Melun—The King leaves Paris and Buonaparte arrives there—His Reception.
Carnot has been repeatedly mentioned in this history as having been the associate and colleague of Robespierre during the whole Reign of Terror. His admirers pretend, that charging himself only with the conduct of the foreign war, he left to his brethren of the Committee of Public Safety the sole charge of those measures, for which no human language affords epithets of sufficient horror, through which they originally rose to power, and by which they maintained it. According to these fond advocates, their hero held his course through the Reign of Terror, unsullied by a bloody spot, as Arethusa rolled her waters through the ocean without mingling with its waves; and the faith of most readers will swallow the ancient miracle as easily as the modern. Carnot, however, had the independence of spirit to oppose Napoleon's seizure of the throne, and remained in obscurity until 1814, when he employed his talents as an engineer in defence of Antwerp. He gave in, late and reluctantly, his adherence to the restoration, and was confirmed in his rank of inspector-general of engineers. But this did not prevent him from being extremely active in conspiring the downfall of the monarch to whose allegiance he had submitted himself, and who afforded him subsistence and rank.
CARNOT'S MEMORIAL.
Carnot gave his opinion upon public affairs in a "Memorial to his most Christian Majesty," made public in October, 1814, which was at once an apology for the Jacobin party, and a direct attack on the reigning dynasty. This document we must necessarily consider at some length, as it conveys the ostensible reasons on which the author, and many thousands besides, having in their anxious consideration the interests of the freedom of France, thought these interests would be best provided for by destroying the sway of a mild and somewhat feeble monarch, whose reign was identified with peace and tranquillity, in order to recall to the throne an absolute sovereign, ruling on military principles only, and whose first step under the canopy of state must necessarily be followed by war with all Europe.
In this singular, and, as it proved, too effective production, every fault committed by the restored family is exaggerated; and they, with the nobles, their personal adherents, are, under a thin and contemptuous veil of assumed respect towards the King, treated alike as fools, who did not understand how to govern France, and as villains, who meditated her ruin. The murder of the King is, with irony as envenomed as unjust, stated to have been occasioned, not by the violence and cruelty of his persecutors, but by the pusillanimity of his nobility, who first provoked the resentment of the nation, and then fled from the kingdom, when, if they had loved their sovereign, they should have rallied around him.[85] This plea, in the mouth of a regicide, is as if one of a band of robbers should impute an assassination not to their own guilty violence, but to the cowardice of the domestics of the murdered, by whom that violence might have been resisted.
No one also knew better than Carnot by what arts Louis XVI. was induced by degrees to abandon all means of defence which his situation afforded him, and to throw himself upon the sworn faith and allegiance of those by whom he was condemned to death. As whimsical and unlogical were the examples and arguments referred to by Carnot in support of the condemnation of Louis. Cicero, it seems, says in his Offices, "We hate all those we fear, and we wish for the death of those we hate." On this comprehensive ground, Carnot vindicates the orator's approbation of the death of Cæsar, notwithstanding the clemency of the usurper; "and Cato, indeed" (continues the colleague of Robespierre,) "went farther, and did not think it possible there should be a good king." Of course, not Louis XVI. alone, but all monarchs, might be justly put to death in Carnot's estimation; because they are naturally the objects of fear to their subjects—because we hate those we fear—and because, according to the kindred authority of Shylock, no man "hates the thing he would not kill."[86] The doctrine of regicide is said to be confirmed in the Old Testament; families were massacred—monarchs proscribed—intolerance promulgated, by the ministers of a merciful deity: Wherefore, then, should not the Jacobins put Louis XVI. to death? If it was alleged, that the persons of Kings were inviolable by the laws of all civil governments, those of usurpers certainly were not so protected; and what means were there, said Carnot, for positively distinguishing between an usurper and a legitimate king?—The difficulty of making such a distinction was no doubt a sufficient vindication of the judges of Louis XVI.
Trash like this had scarce been written since the club-room of the Jacobins was closed. But the object of Carnot's pamphlet was not to excuse a deed (which he would probably have rather boasted of as laudable,) but by the exaggerations of his eloquence, and the weight of his influence with the public, to animate the fury of the other parties against the Bourbons and their adherents. The King was charged with having been ungrateful to the call of the nation—(a call which assuredly he would never have heard but for the cannon of the allies,)—with having termed himself King by the grace of God—with resigning Belgium when Carnot was actually governor of Antwerp—with preferring Chouans, Vendéans, emigrants, Cossacks, or Englishmen, to the soldiers whose victories had kept him in exile, and in consequence of whose defeat alone he had regained the throne of his fathers. The emigrants are represented as an exasperated, yet a contemptible faction. The people, it is said, care little about the right of their rulers—about their quarrels—their private life, or even their political crimes, unless as they affect themselves. All government, of course, has its basis in popular opinion; but, alas! in actual history, "the people are only regarded," says M. Carnot, "as the victims of their chiefs; we witness nothing but the contest of subjects for the private interest of their princes—kings, who are themselves regicides and parricides—and priests who incite mankind to mutual slaughter. The eye can but repose on the generous efforts of some brave men who consecrate themselves to the deliverance of their fellow-countrymen; if they succeed, they are called heroes—if they fail, they are traitors and demagogues." In this and other passages, the author plainly intimated what spirits were at work, and what was the object of their machinations. The whole pamphlet was designed as a manifesto to the French public, darkly, yet distinctly, announcing the existence of a formidable conspiracy, the principles on which its members proceeded, and their grounds for expecting success.
CARNOT'S MEMORIAL—FOUCHÉ.
Carnot himself affected to say, that the Memorial was only designed for circulation among his private connexions.[87] But it would not have answered the intended purpose had it not been printed and dispersed with the most uncommon assiduity. Small carts traversed the boulevards, from which it was hawked about among the people, in order to avoid the penalties which booksellers and stationers might have incurred by dealing in an article so inflammatory. Notwithstanding these evasions, the printers and retailers of this diatribe were prosecuted by government; but the Cour d'Instruction refused to confirm the bill of indictment, and this failure served to encourage the Jacobin faction. The official proceedings, by which the ministers endeavoured to suppress the publication, irritated rather than intimidated those who took interest in it. It argued, they said, at once a timorous and a vindictive spirit to oppress the inferior agents in an alleged libel, while the ministers dared not bring to trial the avowed author.[88] In this unquestionably they argued justly; for the measures corresponded with that paltry policy, which would rather assail the liberty of the press, than bring to fair trial and open punishment those by whom it is misused.
It would have been as impossible for Fouché to have lived amid such a complicated scene of political intrigue, without mingling in it, as for the sparks to resist flying upwards. He was, however, ill-placed for the character he desired to act. After having lent Buonaparte his aid to betray and dethrone the Directors, he had long meditated how to dethrone and betray Buonaparte, and substitute in his place a regency, or some form of government under which he might expect to act as prime minister. In this undertaking, he more than once ran the peril of life, and was glad to escape with an honourable exile. We have already stated that he had missed the most favourable opportunity for availing himself of his political knowledge, by his absence from Paris when it was taken by the allies. Fouché endeavoured, however, to obtain the notice of the restored monarch and his government, and to render his services acceptable to Louis. When the celebrated Revolutionist appeared in the antechamber on his first attendance at court, he observed a sneer on the countenance of some Royalists who were in waiting, and took the hint to read them a lesson, showing, that a minister of police, even when he has lost his office, is not a person to be jested with. "You, sir," said he to a gentleman, "seem proud of the lilies with which you are adorned. Do you recollect the language you held respecting the Bourbon family some time since in such a company?—And you, madam," he continued, addressing a lady, "to whom I gave a passport to England, may perhaps wish to be reminded of what then passed betwixt us on the subject of Louis XVIII." The laughers were conscience-struck, and Fouché was introduced into the cabinet.