Вальтер Скотт
Life of Napoleon Bonaparte. Volume III
GENERAL VIEW OF THE PROCEDURE
Looking over this whole procedure, with the eyes of one accustomed to juridical reasoning, it is impossible to resist the conviction, that a train of more gross inconsistencies, practised with a more barefaced audacity, or for a worse purpose, does not stain and disgrace the page of history. The arrest was against the law of nations; the constitution of the court was against the military law; the mode of conducting the trial was against the law of France; the sentence was contrary to the forms of every civilized nation; the execution was a contravention of the laws of God and man. It would be absurd to term the slaughter of the Duke d'Enghien a murder committed by the sword of justice, unless we understand Hogarth's parody of that allegorical figure, with one eye open, one scale depressed with a bribe, and a butcher's knife in her hand instead of the even-swayed sword.
Having endeavoured to trace this bloody and cruel proceeding in a legal point of view, we must, before leaving the subject, consider what apologies have been set up against the black charge which arises out of the details.
The first of these screens would have been doubly convenient, providing it could have been rendered plausible. It amounted to the transference of the more active part of the guilt from Napoleon himself to Talleyrand, whom it would have been delicious revenge to have overwhelmed with the odium of a crime which must have made an impassable gulf between the ex-imperial minister and the restored royal family. Napoleon therefore repeatedly hinted and expressed, that the measure of the Duke d'Enghien's death had been thrust upon him by the advice of Talleyrand, and that, without giving the matter due consideration, he had adopted the course recommended to him. It was afterwards still more broadly averred, that Talleyrand had intercepted a letter written by the prince from Strasburg, begging his life, and offering, in grateful return, to serve Napoleon in his armies. This boon Napoleon intimates he might have granted, if Talleyrand had delivered the letter; but by intercepting it, that statesman became the actual murderer of the unfortunate prince.
There are two modes of considering every allegation, that is, according to the presumptive, or the positive and direct evidence brought in support of it. If we look at the former, we cannot discern the shadow of a motive why Talleyrand, however unprincipled we may suppose him, should have led his master into the commission of a great and odious crime, of which he was likely to have the whole unpopularity thrown upon himself, so soon as it should be found too heavy for his principal. Talleyrand was a politician; but so far as we have ever heard, possessed of no bloodthirsty disposition, and being himself descended from a noble family, was unlikely, to say the least, to urge the catastrophe of a young prince, against whom, or his family, he is never believed to have had any especial enmity. On the other hand, if we suppose him guided to the step by foolish and misguided zeal for Buonaparte's own interest, we traduce Talleyrand's mental capacity as much in the one case, as we should do his natural disposition in the other. No man knew better than the Prince of Beneventum, that power is, in enlightened nations, dependent on public opinion, and that the blood of an innocent and high-spirited enemy might indeed stain his master's throne, but could not cement its basis. – Again, if we regard the spirit displayed by the Duke d'Enghien upon his mock trial, when he declared he would not recall his avowed enmity to the French, in conformity to the hints thrown out by the court-martial, how is it possible that the same individual can be supposed capable of having, two days before, crouched to Buonaparte for his life; or how are we to reconcile his having offered to accept service under the first consul, with his declaration that it did not become a Condé to enter France, save with arms in his hands? We must suppose him a madman, if, having endeavoured to creep to Buonaparte's favour by the means of submission, he should have assumed an air of contumacy and defiance towards the judges who were to report his conduct on his trial to the first consul. The existence of the letter, and the fact of its being intercepted by Talleyrand, is, therefore, disproved as far as it can be, both by the character of the alleged writer, and of the minister for foreign affairs.
But, farther, it is disproved not only by reasoning à priori, but directly and from the state of facts, as far as negative evidence possibly can go. The whole proceedings against the Duke d'Enghien took place under the Counsellor of State, Real, and was managed entirely by the police; those safe, silent agents, who acted by immediate directions from the supreme head of the government, like the mutes of the seraglio, and were not liable to the control of any subordinate minister. Talleyrand never interfered, nor indeed had an opportunity of interfering, in it.
It was an officer of the police who was sent to inquire into the state of things at Ettenheim; and his report was made not to Talleyrand, not even to his proper chief, Real – but to Buonaparte himself. This is proved by Savary's own narrative, who says expressly, that "the first inspector of the gendarmerie received the report from the officer, and carried it himself to the first consul, instead of giving it to M. Real." The troops employed in the act of seizing the Duke d'Enghien, were also gendarmes, that is, policemen; and had a letter been written by their prisoner at Strasburg, or any where else, it would certainly have gone, like the report above mentioned, to the first consul, and not to Talleyrand to the foreign department. 2dly, There is a sad, but minute memorial of his imprisonment, kept by the duke as a sort of diary. In this record is no mention of his having written such a letter. 3dly, As the Baron St. Jacques, secretary to the unfortunate prince, was with his master constantly until the duke was taken from Strasburg, he was in a situation to offer a formal testimony against the very allegation of such a letter having been written, since he must have become acquainted with it, if it had any real existence. 4thly, The gendarmes who collected the duke's few papers, and made an inventory of them, would not have failed to secure such a document, if, as we said before, there had been such a document to secure.
For all these reasons, the story of the suppressed letter must be considered, from beginning to end, as an absolute fiction, invented to absolve Napoleon of what he felt was generally considered as a great crime, and to transfer the odium to Talleyrand, whose active offices in behalf of the royal family, his former master could neither forget nor forgive.
But the story of the letter was not the only one to which Napoleon had recourse to qualify the public indignation, which was so generally directed against him as the author of this unhappy deed.
In the examination of the persons who were arrested on account of accession to the conspiracy of Pichegru and Georges, it appeared, according to a very apocryphal statement by Napoleon, that a person occasionally appeared among the conspirators, of noble mien and distinguished manners, to whom the principal conspirators showed such symptoms of homage and deference as are paid only to princes. "He appeared," says Savary, "36 years of age, his hair was fair, his forehead open, of a middle stature and size. When he entered the apartment, all present, even Messrs. de Polignac and De Riviere, rose and remained standing in his presence." The police considered who this mysterious personage could be, and agreed it must be the Duke d'Enghien. To the impression this supposed discovery made on the mind of the first consul, was to be imputed, according to his own account and General Savary's, the mission of the police officer to Strasburg, as already mentioned. The report of the spy concerning the frequent absences of the Duke d'Enghien from Ettenheim, was held sufficient to identify him with the mysterious stranger at Paris – the resolution to kidnap him was formed and executed; and although no circumstances occurred to show that he had been in Paris, or to identify him with the incognito above alluded to, and although they were not even at the trouble of confronting the duke with the persons who described that individual, to see if they could recognise them to be one and the same; yet he was put to death, we are called upon to believe, upon the conviction that he was the visitor and friend of Georges Cadoudal, and the person in whose presence all the world testified such profound respect. Hardly, however, had the duke been huddled into his bloody grave, than we are told it was discovered that the mysterious personage so often alluded to, was no other than Pichegru; and the blame of keeping up the mistake in the first consul's mind is imputed to Talleyrand, who is destined to be the scape-goat in every version of the story which comes from Napoleon or his favourers.
We submit that no author of a novel or romance, when compelled, at the conclusion of his tale, to assign a reason for the various incidents which he has placed before the reader, ever pressed into his service a string of such improbable and inconsistent circumstances. Was it credible that a prince of the blood, supposing him to have ventured to Paris during the consulate, and mingled with a band of conspirators, would have insisted upon, or would have permitted, the honours of his rank, and thus have betrayed his character to those who did not profess to know more of him than from that circumstance only? The very mention of a line of conduct so improbable, ought to have made the legend suspected at the very outset. Secondly, How could a mistake possibly occur betwixt the person of the Duke d'Enghien and that of General Pichegru? The former was fair, with light-coloured hair; the latter was dark, with a high-coloured complexion, and dark hair. The duke was slight and elegant in his form; Pichegru was stout-made, robust, and athletic. The prince was but just turned of thirty; Pichegru was forty years of age and upwards. There was scarcely a point of similarity between them. Thirdly, How was it possible for those circumstances to have occurred which occasioned the pretended mistake? Under what imaginable character was Pichegru to have commanded the respects paid to a prince of the blood, and that not only from the Chouan Georges, but from the Messieurs De Polignac and De Riviere, who, it is pretended, remained uncovered in his presence? Lastly, On the voluminous trial of Georges, which was published in the Moniteur, though several of his band were brought to bear witness against him, there was no evidence whatever of royal honours being rendered either to him or any one else. So that the whole legend seems to have been invented, ex post facto, as a screen, and a very frail one, behind which Napoleon might shelter himself. It is evident, indeed, even by his own most improbable account, that if the Duke d'Enghien died in consequence of a blunder, it was one which a moment's consideration must have led every one to doubt, and which a moment's inquiry would have explained, and that Napoleon's credulity can only be imputed to his determination to be deceived. How Talleyrand could have contributed to it, is not intimated; but General Savary informs us that the consul exclaimed – "Ah! wretched Talleyrand, what hast thou made me do!" This apostrophe, if made at all, must have been intended to support a future charge against his minister; for as to being led by the nose by Talleyrand, in a matter where his own passions were so deeply interested, it is totally inconsistent with all that is recorded of Napoleon, as well as with the character, and even the private interest, of his minister.
After this tedious dissertation, the reader may perhaps desire to know the real cause of the extraordinary outrage. Napoleon's interest seemed no way, or very slightly, concerned, as the sufferer was, of all the Bourbon family, the farthest removed from the succession to the throne. The odium which the deed was to occasion, without any corresponding advantage, was, it might have seemed, to the politic and calculating spirit which Napoleon usually evinced, a sufficient reason for averting an unnecessary outrage; nor was his temper by any means of that ferocious quality which takes delight in causing misery, or in shedding blood.
All these things admitted, we must remind our readers, that, as Napoleon was calm and moderate by policy, he was also by temperament fierce and ardent, and had in his blood a strain of the wild and revengeful disposition, for which his native Corsica has been famous since the days of the ancients. The temptation was strong on the present occasion. He felt himself exposed to the danger of assassination, to which his nerves seem to have been peculiarly sensible; he knew that the blow would be aimed by the partisans of the royal family; and he suspected that they were encouraged by the exiled princes. In such a case, what is the principle of the savage state, or that which approaches next to it? A North American Indian, injured by one white trader who escapes his vengeance, retaliates on the first European who falls within his power. A Scotch Highlander, wronged by an individual of another clan, took vengeance on the first of the sept which he happened to meet. The Corsicans are not less ruthless and indiscriminate in their feuds, which go from father to son, and affect the whole family, without the resentment being confined to the particular persons who have done the wrong. Upon this principle the first consul seems to have acted, when, conceiving his life aimed at by the friends of the Bourbons, he sprung like a tiger at the only one of the family who was within his reach and his power. The law of nations and those of society were alike forgotten in the thirst of revenge; and, to gratify an immediate feeling of vengeance, he stained his history with a crime of which no time can wash away the infamy.
The tendency to violence, arising out of a fierce and semi-barbaric resentment and love of revenge, might perhaps have shown itself in more instances than actually occurred, had it not been for Napoleon's policy, and his respect for public opinion, which would not have borne many such acts of vindictive cruelty. But though he was able in general to subdue this peculiar temper, he could not disguise it from those by whom he was closely observed. When some one, in the presence of Mounier, pronounced a eulogium upon Napoleon, and concluded by defying any of the listeners to produce a parallel character – "I think I could find something like him," said Mounier, "among the Montenegrins."