We have seen that Roland, on returning to the Luxembourg, asked for the First Consul1 and was told that he was engaged with Fouché, the minister of police.
Roland was a privileged person; no matter what functionary2 was with Bonaparte, he was in the habit, on his return from a journey, or merely from an errand, of half opening the door and putting in his head. The First Consul was often so busy that he paid no attention to this head. When that was the case, Roland would say “General!” which meant, in the close intimacy3 which still existed between the two schoolmates: “General, I am here; do you need me? I’m at your orders.” If the First Consul did not need him, he replied: “Very good.” If on the contrary he did need him, he said, simply: “Come in.” Then Roland would enter, and wait in the recess4 of a window until the general told him what he wanted.
On this occasion, Roland put his head in as usual, saying: “General!”
“Come in,” replied the First Consul, with visible satisfaction; “come in, come in!”
Roland entered. Bonaparte was, as he had been told, busy with the minister of police. The affair on which the First Consul was engaged, and which seemed to absorb him a great deal, had also its interest for Roland.
It concerned the recent stoppages of diligences by the Companions of Jehu.
On the table lay three procès-verbaux relating the stoppage of one diligence and two mail-coaches. Tribier, the paymaster of the Army of Italy, was in one of the latter. The stoppages had occurred, one on the highroad between Meximieux and Montluel, on that part of the road which crosses the commune of Bellignieux; the second, at the extremity5 of the lake of Silans, in the direction of Nantua; the third, on the highroad between Saint-Etienne and Bourg, at a spot called Les Carronnières.
A curious fact was connected with these stoppages. A sum of four thousand francs and a case of jewelry6 had been mixed up by mistake with the money-bags belonging to the government. The owners of the money had thought them lost, when the justice of the peace at Nantua received an unsigned letter telling him the place where these objects had been buried, and requesting him to return them to their rightful owners, as the Companions of Jehu made war upon the government and not against private individuals.
In another case; that of the Carronnières—where the robbers, in order to stop the mail-coach, which had continued on its way with increased speed in spite of the order to stop, were forced to fire at a horse—the Companions of Jehu had felt themselves obliged to make good this loss to the postmaster, who had received five hundred francs for the dead horse. That was exactly what the animal had cost eight days before; and this valuation proved that they were dealing7 with men who understood horses.
The procès-verbaux sent by the local authorities were accompanied by the affidavits8 of the travellers.
Bonaparte was singing that mysterious tune9 of which we have spoken; which showed that he was furious. So, as Roland might be expected to bring him fresh information, he had called him three times to come in.
“Well,” said he, “your part of the country is certainly in revolt against me; just look at that.”
Roland glanced at the papers and understood at once.
“Exactly what I came to speak to you about, general,” said he.
“Then begin at once; but first go ask Bourrienne for my department atlas10.”
Roland fetched the atlas, and, guessing what Bonaparte desired to look at, opened it at the department of the Ain.
“That’s it,” said Bonaparte; “show me where these affairs happened.”
Roland laid his finger on the edge of the map, in the neighborhood of Lyons.
“There, general, that’s the exact place of the first attack, near the village of Bellignieux.”
“And the second?”
“Here,” said Roland, pointing to the other side of the department, toward Geneva; “there’s the lake of Nantua, and here’s that of Silans.”
“Now the third?”
Roland laid his finger on the centre of the map.
“General, there’s the exact spot. Les Carronnières are not marked on the map because of their slight importance.”
“What are Les Carronnières?” asked the First Consul.
“General, in our part of the country the manufactories of tiles are called carronnières; they belong to citizen Terrier. That’s the place they ought to be on the map.”
And Roland made a pencil mark on the paper to show the exact spot where the stoppage occurred.
“What!” exclaimed Bonaparte; “why, it happened less than a mile and a half from Bourg!”
“Scarcely that, general; that explains why the wounded horse was taken back to Bourg and died in the stables of the Belle-Alliance.”
“Do you hear all these details, sir!” said Bonaparte, addressing the minister of police.
“Yes, citizen First Consul,” answered the latter.
“You know I want this brigandage11 to stop?”
“I shall use every effort—”
“It’s not a question of your efforts, but of its being done.”
The minister bowed.
“It is only on that condition,” said Bonaparte, “that I shall admit you are the able man you claim to be.”
“I’ll help you, citizen,” said Roland.
“I did not venture to ask for your assistance,” said the minister.
“Yes, but I offer it; don’t do anything that we have not planned together.”
The minister looked at Bonaparte.
“Quite right,” said Bonaparte; “you can go. Roland will follow you to the ministry12.”
Fouché bowed and left the room.
“Now,” continued the First Consul, “your honor depends upon your exterminating13 these bandits, Roland. In the first place, the thing is being carried on in your department; and next, they seem to have some particular grudge14 against you and your family.”
“On the contrary,” said Roland, “that’s what makes me so furious; they spare me and my family.”
“Let’s go over it again, Roland. Every detail is of importance; it’s a war of Bedouins over again.”
“Just notice this, general. I spend a night in the Chartreuse of Seillon, because I have been told that it was haunted by ghosts. Sure enough, a ghost appears, but a perfectly15 inoffensive one. I fire at it twice, and it doesn’t even turn around. My mother is in a diligence that is stopped, and faints away. One of the robbers pays her the most delicate attentions, bathes her temples with vinegar, and gives her smelling-salts. My brother Edouard fights them as best he can; they take him in their arms, kiss him, and make him all sorts of compliments on his courage; a little more and they would have given him sugar-plums as a reward for his gallant16 conduct. Now, just the reverse; my friend Sir John follows my example, goes where I have been; he is treated as a spy and stabbed, as they thought, to death.”
“But he didn’t die.”
“No. On the contrary, he is so well that he wants to marry my sister.”
“Ah ha! Has he asked for her?”
“Officially.”
“And you answered?”
“I answered that the matter depended on two persons.”
“Your mother and you; that’s true.”
“No; my sister herself—and you.”
“Your sister I understand; but I?”
“Didn’t you tell me general, that you would take charge of marrying her?”
Bonaparte walked up and down the room with his arms crossed; then, suddenly stopping before Roland, he said: “What is your Englishman like?”
“You have seen him, general.”
“I don’t mean physically18; all Englishmen are alike—blue eyes, red hair, white skin, long jaws19.”
“That’s their th,” said Roland, gravely.
“Their th?”
“Yes. Did you ever learn English, general?”
“Faith! I tried to learn it.”
“Your teacher must have told you that the th was sounded by pressing the tongue against the teeth. Well, by dint20 of punching their teeth with their tongues the English have ended by getting those elongated21 jaws, which, as you said just now, is one of the distinctive22 characteristics of their physiognomy.”
Bonaparte looked at Roland to see if that incorrigible23 jester were laughing or speaking seriously. Roland was imperturbable24.
“Is that your opinion?” said Bonaparte.
“Yes, general, and I think that physiologically25 it is as good as any other. I have a lot of opinions like it, which I bring to light as the occasion offers.”
“Come back to your Englishman.”
“Certainly, general.”
“I asked you what he was like.”
“Well, he is a gentleman; very brave, very calm, very impassible, very noble, very rich, and, moreover—which may not be a recommendation to you—a nephew of Lord Grenville, prime minister to his Britannic Majesty26.”
“What’s that?”
“I said, prime minister to his Britannic Majesty.”
Bonaparte resumed his walk; then, presently returning to Roland, he said: “Can I see your Englishman?”
“You know, general, that you can do anything.”
“Where is he?”
“In Paris.”
“Go find him and bring him here.”
Roland was in the habit of obeying without reply; he took his hat and went toward the door.
“Send Bourrienne to me,” said the First Consul, just as Roland passed into the secretary’s room.
Five minutes later Bourrienne appeared.
“Sit down there, Bourrienne,” said the First Consul, “and write.”
Bourrienne sat down, arranged his paper, dipped his pen in the ink, and waited.
“Ready?” asked the First Consul, sitting down upon the writing table, which was another of his habits; a habit that reduced his secretary to despair, for Bonaparte never ceased swinging himself back and forth27 all the time he dictated28—a motion that shook the table as much as if it had been in the middle of the ocean with a heaving sea.
“I’m ready,” replied Bourrienne, who had ended by forcing himself to endure, with more or less patience, all Bonaparte’s eccentricities29.
“Then write.” And he dictated:
Bonaparte, First Consul of the Republic, to his Majesty the King
of Great Britain and Ireland.
Called by the will of the French nation to the chief magistracy
of the Republic, I think it proper to inform your Majesty
personally of this fact.
Must the war, which for two years has ravaged30 the four quarters
of the globe, be perpetuated31? Is there no means of staying it?
How is it that two nations, the most enlightened of Europe,
more powerful and strong than their own safety and
independence require; how is it that they sacrifice to their
ideas of empty grandeur33 or bigoted34 antipathies35 the welfare
of commerce, eternal prosperity, the happiness of families?
How is it that they do not recognize that peace is the first
of needs and the first of a nation’s glories?
These sentiments cannot be foreign to the heart of a king who
governs a free nation with the sole object of rendering36 it happy.
Your Majesty will see in this overture37 my sincere desire to
contribute efficaciously, for the second time, to a general
pacification38, by an advance frankly39 made and free of those
formalities which, necessary perhaps to disguise the dependence32
of feeble states, only disclose in powerful nations a mutual40
desire to deceive.
France and England can, for a long time yet, by the abuse of
their powers, and to the misery41 of their people, carry on the
struggle without exhaustion42; but, and I dare say it, the fate
of all the civilized43 nations depends on the conclusion of a
war which involves the universe.
Bonaparte paused. “I think that will do,” said he. “Read it over, Bourrienne.”
Bourrienne read the letter he had just written. After each paragraph the First Consul nodded approvingly; and said: “Go on.”
Before the last words were fairly uttered, he took the letter from Bourrienne’s hands and signed it with a new pen. It was a habit of his never to use the same pen twice. Nothing could be more disagreeable to him than a spot of ink on his fingers.
“That’s good,” said he. “Seal it and put on the address: ‘To Lord Grenville.’”
Bou............