While the events we have just recorded were transpiring1, and occupying the minds and newspapers of the provinces, other events, of very different import, were maturing in Paris, which were destined2 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 memorandum3 for the First Consul4. 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 Majesty5, 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 esteem6, your very
humble7 and obedient servant, GRENVILLE.
The letter was dry; the memorandum curt8. 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 disorder9, 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 syllable10.”
“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 cordon11 sanitaire which can prevent it from crossing our frontiers; and that if the volcano of war is lighted in France, France will spread like lava12 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 Delta13 to the third Cataract14; 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 precipitately15, and Bourrienne rushed in, his face terrified, as though he thought Bonaparte were calling for help. But when he saw him highly excited, crumpling16 the diplomatic memorandum in one hand and striking with the other on his desk, while Lord Tanlay was standing17 calm, erect18 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 dictated19 the following proclamation:
SOLDIERS!—In promising20 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 astounded21 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 crumpled22 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 negotiations23
and peace; it would guarantee to France the tranquil24 possession
of her former territory, and procure25 for all the other nations of
Europe, through a like tranquillity26 and peace, that security which
they are now obliged to seek by other means.
“Well,” said Bonaparte, impatiently, “I have read all that, and perfectly27 understood it. Be Monk28, labor29 for another man, and your victories, your renown30, 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 impatience31.
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 pacification32.
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 f............