CHAPTER XLIII
LORD GRENVILLE'S REPLY
While the events we have just recorded were transpiring, and
occupying the minds and newspapers of the provinces, other events,
of very different import, were maturing in Paris, which were
destined to occupy the minds and newspapers of the whole world.
Lord Tanlay had returned, bringing the reply of his uncle, Lord
Grenville. This reply consisted of a letter addressed to M. de
Talleyrand, inclosing a memorandum for the First Consul. The
letter was couched in the following terms:
DOWNING STREET, February 14, 1800
Sir--I have received and placed before the King the letter
which you transmitted to me through my nephew, Lord Tanlay.
His Majesty, seeing no reason to depart from the
long-established customs of Europe in treating with foreign
states, directs me to forward you in his name the official
reply which is herewith inclosed.
I have the honor to be, with the highest esteem, your very
humble and obedient servant, GRENVILLE.
The letter was dry; the memorandum curt. Moreover, the First
Consul's letter to King George was autographic, and King George,
not "departing from the long-established customs of Europe in
treating with foreign States," replied by a simple memorandum
written by a secretary.
True, the memorandum was signed "Grenville." It was a long
recrimination against France; against the spirit of disorder,
which disturbed the nation; against the fears which that spirit
of disorder inspired in all Europe; and on the necessity imposed
on the sovereigns of Europe, for the sake of their own safety, to
repress it. In short, the memorandum was virtually a continuation
of the war.
The reading of such a dictum made Bonaparte's eyes flash with the
flame which, in him, preceded his great decisions, as lightning
precedes thunder.
"So, sir," said he, turning to Lord Tanlay, "this is all you have
obtained?"
"Yes, citizen First Consul."
"Then you did not repeat verbally to your uncle all that I charged
you to say to him?"
"I did not omit a syllable."
"Did you tell him that you had lived in France three years, that
you had seen her, had studied her; that she was strong, powerful,
prosperous and desirous of peace while prepared for war?"
"I told him all that."
"Did you add that the war which England is making against France
is a senseless war; that the spirit of disorder of which they
speak, and which, at the worst, is only the effervescence of
freedom too long restrained, which it were wiser to confine to
France by means of a general peace; that that peace is the sole
_cordon sanitaire_ which can prevent it from crossing our
frontiers; and that if the volcano of war is lighted in France,
France will spread like lava over foreign lands. Italy is delivered,
says the King of England; but from whom? From her liberators.
Italy is delivered, but why? Because I conquered Egypt from the
Delta to the third Cataract; Italy is delivered because I was no
longer in Italy. But--I am here: in a month I can be in Italy.
What do I need to win her back from the Alps to the Adriatic? A
single battle. Do you know what Masséna is doing in defending
Genoa? Waiting for me. Ha! the sovereigns of Europe need war
to protect their crowns? Well, my lord, I tell you that I will
shake Europe until their crowns tremble on their heads. Want
war, do they? Just wait--Bourrienne! Bourrienne!"
The door between the First Consul's study and the secretary's
office opened precipitately, and Bourrienne rushed in, his face
terrified, as though he thought Bonaparte were calling for help.
But when he saw him highly excited, crumpling the diplomatic
memorandum in one hand and striking with the other on his desk,
while Lord Tanlay was standing calm, erect and silent near him,
he understood immediately that England's answer had irritated
the First Consul.
"Did you call me, general?" he asked.
"Yes," said the First Consul, "sit down there and write."
Then in a harsh, jerky voice, without seeking his words, which,
on the contrary, seemed to crowd through the portal of his brain,
he dictated the following proclamation:
SOLDIERS!--In promising peace to the French people, I was your
mouthpiece; I know your power.
You are the same men who conquered the Rhine, Holland and Italy,
and granted peace beneath the walls of astounded Vienna.
Soldiers, it is no longer our own frontiers that you have to
defend; it is the enemy's country you must now invade.
Soldiers, when the time comes, I shall be among you, and
astounded Europe shall remember that you belong to the race
of heroes!
Bourrienne raised his head, expectant, after writing the last
words.
"Well, that's all," said Bonaparte.
"Shall I add the sacramental words: 'Vive la République!'?"
"Why do you ask that?"
"Because we have issued no proclamation during the last four
months, and something may be changed in the ordinary formulas."
"The proclamation will do as it is," said Bonaparte, "add nothing
to it."
Taking a pen, he dashed rather than wrote his signature at the
bottom of the paper, then handing it to Bourrienne, he said:
"See that it appears in the 'Moniteur' to-morrow."
Bourrienne left the room, carrying the proclamation with him.
Bonaparte, left alone with Lord Tanlay, walked up and down the
room for a moment, as though he had forgotten the Englishman's
presence; then he stopped suddenly before him.
"My lord," he asked, "do you think you obtained from your uncle
all that another man might have obtained in your place?"
"More, citizen First Consul."
"More! more! Pray, what have you obtained?"
"I think that the citizen First Consul did not read the royal
memorandum with all the attention it deserves."
"Heavens!" exclaimed Bonaparte, "I know it by heart."
"Then the citizen First Consul cannot have weighed the meaning
and the wording of a certain paragraph."
"You think so?"
"I am sure of it; and if the citizen First Consul will permit
me to read him the paragraph to which I allude--"
Bonaparte relaxed his hold upon the crumpled note, and handed
it to Lord Tanlay, saying: "Read it."
Sir John cast his eyes over the document, with which he seemed
to be familiar, paused at the tenth paragraph, and read:
The best and surest means for peace and security, and for their
continuance, would be the restoration of that line of princes who
for so many centuries have preserved to the French nation its
internal prosperity and the respect and consideration of foreign
countries. Such an event would have removed, and at any time will
remove, the obstacles which are now in the way of negotiations
and peace; it would guarantee to France the tranquil possession
of her former territory, and procure for all the other nations of
Europe, through a like tranquillity and peace, that security which
they are now obliged to seek by other means.
"Well," said Bonaparte, impatiently, "I have read all that, and
perfectly understood it. Be Monk, labor for another man, and
your victories, your renown, your genius will be forgiven you;
humble yourself, and you shall be allowed to remain great!"
"Citizen First Consul," said Lord Tanlay, "no one knows better
than I the difference between you and Monk, and how far you surpass
him in genius and renown."
"Then why do you read me that?"
"I only read that paragraph," replied Sir John, "to lead you
to give to the one following its due significance."
"Let's hear it," said Bonaparte, with repressed impatience.
Sir John continued:
But, however desirable such an event may be for France and for
the world, it is not to this means alone that his Majesty
restricts the possibility of a safe and sure pacification.
Sir John emphasized the last words.
"Ah! ah!" exclaimed Bonaparte, stepping hastily to Sir John's
side.
The Englishman continued:
His Majesty does not presume to prescribe to France her form
of government, nor the hands into which she may place the
necessary authority to conduct the affairs of a great and
powerful nation.
"Read that again, sir," said Bonaparte, eagerly.
"Read it yourself," replied Sir John.
He handed him the note, and Bonaparte re-read it.
"Was it you, sir," he asked, "who added that paragraph?"
"I certainly insisted on it."
Bonaparte reflected.
"You are right," he said; "a great step has been taken; the return
of the Bourbons is no longer a condition _sine quâ non_.
I am accepted, not only as a military, but also as a political
power." Then, holding out his hand to Sir John, he added: "Have
you anything to ask of me, sir?"
"The only thing I seek has been asked of you by my friend Roland."
"And I answered, sir, that I shall be pleased to see you the
husband of his sister. If I were richer, or if you were less
so, I would offer to dower her"--Sir John made a motion--"but
as I know your fortune will suffice for two," added Bonaparte,
smiling, "or even more, I leave you the joy of giving not only
happiness, but also wealth to the woman you love. Bourrienne!"
he called.
Bourrienne appeared.
"I have sent it, general," he said.
"Very good," replied the First Consul; "but that is not what I
called you for."
"I await your orders."
"At whatever hour of the day or night Lord Tanlay presents himself,
I shall be happy to receive him without delay; you hear me, my dear
Bourrienne? You hear me, my lord?"
Lord Tanlay bowed his thanks.
"And now," said Bonaparte, "I presume you are in a hurry to be
off to the Château des Noires-Fontaines. I won't detain you,
but there is one condition I impose."
"And that is, general?"
"If I need you for another mission--"
"That is not a condition, citizen First Consul; it is a favor."
Lord Tanlay bowed and withdrew.
Bourrienne prepared to follow him, but Bonaparte called him back.
"Is there a carriage below?" he asked.
Bourrienne looked into the courtyard. "Yes, general."
"Then get ready and come with me."
"I am ready, general; I have only my hat and overcoat to get,
and they are in the office."
"Then let us go," said Bonaparte.
He took up his hat and coat, went down the private staircase, and
signed to the carriage to come up. Notwithstanding Bourrienne's
haste, he got down after him. A footman opened the door; Bonaparte
sprang in.
"Where are we going, general?" asked Bourrienne.
"To the Tuileries," replied Bonaparte.
Bourrienne, amazed, repeated the order, and looked at the First
Consul as if to seek an explanation; but the latter was plunged
in thought, and the secretary, who at this time was still the
friend, thought it best not to disturb him.
The horses started at gallop--Bonaparte's usual mode of
progression--and took the way to the Tuileries.
The Tuileries, inhabited by Louis XVI. after the days of the 5th
and 6th of October, and occupied successively by the Convention
and the Council of Five Hundred, had remained empty and devastated
since the 18th Brumaire. Since that day Bonaparte had more than
once cast his eyes on that ancient palace of royalty; but he knew
the importance of not arousing any suspicion that a future king
might dwell in the palace of the abolished monarchy.
Bonaparte had brought back from Italy a magnificent bust of Junius
Brutus; there was no suitable place for it at the Luxembourg, and
toward the end of November, Bonaparte had sent for the Republican,
David, and ordered him to place the bust in the gallery of the
Tuileries. Who could suppose that David, the friend of Marat,
was preparing the dwelling of a future emperor by placing the
bust of Cæsar's murderer in the gallery of the Tuileries? No one
did suppose, nor even suspect it.
When Bonaparte went to see if the bust were properly placed,
he noticed the havoc committed in the palace of Catherine of
Medicis. The Tuileries were no longer the abode of kings, it
is true, but they were a national palace, and the nation could
not allow one of its palaces to become dilapidated. Bonaparte
sent for citizen Lecomte, the architect, and ordered him to
_clean_ the Tuileries. The word might be taken in both senses
--moral and physical.
The architect was requested to send in an estimate of the cost
of the cleaning. It amounted to five hundred thousand francs.
Bonaparte asked if for that sum, the Tuileries could be converted
into a suitable "palace for the government." The architect replied
that the sum named would suffice not only to restore the Tuileries
to their former condition, but to make them habitable.
A habitable palace, that was all Bonaparte wanted. How should he,
a Republican, need regal luxury? The "palace of the government"
ought to be severely plain, decorated with marbles and statues
only. But what ought those statues to be? It was the First Consul's
duty to select them.
Accordingly, Bonaparte chose them from the three great ages and
the three great nations: from the Greeks, from the Romans, from
France and her rivals. From the Greeks he chose Alexander and
Demosthenes; the genius of conquest and the genius of eloquence.
From the Romans he chose Scipio, Cicero, Cato, Brutus and Cæsar,
placing the great victim side by side with the murderer, as great
almost as himself. From the modern world he chose Gustavus Adolphus,
Turenne, the great Condé, Duguay-Trouin, Marlborough, Prince
Eugene, and the Maréchal de Saxe; and, finally, the great Frederick
and George Washington--false philosophy upon a throne, and true
wisdom founding a free state.
To these he added warlike heroes--Dampierre, Dugommier, Joubert--to
prove that, while he did not fear the memory of a Bourbon in the
great Condé, neither was he jealous of his brothers-in-arms, the
victims of a cause already no longer his.
Matters were in this state at the period of which we are now
speaking; that is, the last of February, 1800. The Tuileries had
been cleaned, the busts were in their niches, the statues were
on their pedestals; and only a favorable occasion was wanting.
That occasion came when the news of Washington's death was received.
The founder of the liberty of the United States had ceased to
breathe on the 14th of December, 1799.
It was that event of which Bonaparte was thinking, when Bourrienne
saw by the expression of his face that he must be left entirely
to the reflections which absorbed him.
The carriage stopped before the Tuileries. Bonaparte sprang out
with the same haste with which he had entered it; went rapidly
up the stairs, and through the apartments, examining more
particularly those which had been inhabited by Louis XVI. and
Marie-Antoinette. In the private study of Louis XVI. he stopped
short.
"Here's where we will live, Bourrienne," he said, suddenly, as
if the latter had followed him through the mental labyrinth in
which he wandered, following the thread of Ariadne which we call
thought. "Yes, we will lodge here; the Third Consul can have the
Pavilion of Flora, and Cambacérès will remain at the Chancellerie."
"In that way," said Bourrienne, "when the time comes, you will
have only one to turn out."
"Come, come," said Bonaparte, catching Bourrienne by the ear,
"that's not bad."
"When shall we move in, general?" asked Bourrienne.
"Oh, not to-morrow; it will take at least a week to prepare the
Parisians to see me leave the Luxembourg for the Tuileries."
"Eight days," exclaimed Bourrienne; "that will do."
"Especially if we begin at once. Come, Bourrienne, to the
Luxembourg."
With the rapidity that characterized all his movements when serious
matters were in question, he passed through the suites of apartments
he had already visited, ran down the stairs, and sprang into the
carriage, calling out: "To the Luxembourg!"
"Wait, wait," cried Bourrienne, still in the vestibule; "general,
won't you wait for me?"
"Laggard!" exclaimed Bonaparte. And the carriage started, as it
had come, at a gallop.
When Bonaparte re-entered his study he found the minister of police
awaiting him.
"Well, what now, citizen Fouché? You look upset. Have I, perchance,
been assassinated?"
"Citizen First Consul," said the minister, "you seemed to attach
the utmost importance to the destruction of those bands who call
themselves the Companions of Jehu."
"Evidently, since I sent Roland himself to pursue them. Have you
any news of them?"
"We have."
"From whom?"
"Their leader himself."
"Their leader?"
"He has had the audacity to send me a report of their last exploit."
"Against whom?"
"The fifty thousand francs you sent to the Saint-Bernard fathers."
"What became of them?"
"The fifty thousand francs?"
"Yes."
"They are in the possession of those brigands, and their leader
informs me he will transfer them shortly to Cadoudal."
"Then Roland is killed?"
"No."
"How do you mean, no?"
"My agent is killed; Colonel Maurice is killed; but your aide-de-camp
is safe and sound."
"Then he will hang himself," said Bonaparte.
"What good would that do? The rope would break; you know his luck."
"Or his misfortune, yes--Where is the report?"
"You mean the letter?"
"Letter, report, thing--whatever it was that told you this news."
The minister handed the First Consul a paper inclosed in a perfumed
envelope.
"What's this?"
"The thing you asked for."
Bonaparte read the address: "To the citizen Fouché, minister
of police. Paris." Then he opened the letter, which contained
the following.
CITIZEN MINISTER--I have the honor to inform you that the fifty
thousand francs intended for the monks of Saint-Bernard came
into our hands on the night of February 25, 1800 (old style),
and that they will reach those of citizen Cadoudal within the
week.
The affair was well-managed, save for the deaths of your agent
and Colonel Saint-Maurice. As for M. Roland de Montrevel, I have
the satisfaction of informing you that nothing distressing has
befallen him. I did not forget that he was good enough to receive
me at the Luxembourg.
I write you, citizen minister, because I presume that M. Roland
de Montrevel is just now too much occupied in pursuing us to
write you himself. But I am sure that at his first leisure moment
you will receive from him a report containing all the details
into which I cannot enter for lack of time and facilities for
writing.
In exchange for the service I render you, citizen minister, I
will ask you to do one for me; namely, inform Madame de Montrevel,
without delay, that her son is in safety. MORGAN.
Maison-Blanche, on the road from Mâcon to Lyons, Saturday, 9 P.M.
"Ha, the devil!" said Bonaparte; "a bold scamp!" Then he added,
with a sigh: "What colonels and captains those men would make me!"
"What are your orders, citizen First Consul?" asked the minister
of police.
"None; that concerns Roland. His honor is at stake; and, as he
is not killed, he will take his revenge."
"Then the First Consul will take no further notice of the affair?"
"Not for the present, at any rate." Then, turning to his secretary,
he added, "We have other fish to fry, haven't we, Bourrienne?"
Bourrienne nodded affirmatively.
"When does the First Consul wish to see me again?" asked the
minister.
"To-night, at ten o'clock. We move out in eight days."
"Where are you going?"
"To the Tuileries."
Fouché gave a start of amazement.
"Against your opinion, I know," said the First Consul; "but I'll
take the whole business on myself; you have only to obey."
Fouché bowed, and prepared to leave the room.
"By the way!" exclaimed Bonaparte.
Fouché turned round.
"Don't forget to notify Madame de Montrevel that her son is safe
and sound; that's the least you can do for citizen Morgan after
the service he has rendered you."
And he turned his back on the minister of police, who retired,
biting his lips till the blood came.
