The day but one after the events which we have just related took place, two men were walking side by side up and down the grand salon1 of the Tuileries. They were talking eagerly, accompanying their words with hasty and animated2 gestures. These men were the First Consul3, Bonaparte, and Cadoudal.
Cadoudal, impelled4 by the misery5 that might be entailed6 by a prolonged struggle in Brittany, had just signed a peace with Brune. It was after this signing of the peace that he had released the Companions of Jehu from their obligations. Unhappily, this release had reached them, as we have seen, twenty-four hours too late.
When treating with Brune, Cadoudal had asked nothing for himself save the liberty to go immediately to England. But Brune had been so insistent7, that he had consented to an interview with the First Consul. He had, in consequence, come to Paris. The very morning of his arrival he went to the Tuileries, sent in his name, and had been received. It was Rapp who, in Roland’s absence, introduced him. As the aide-de-camp withdrew, he left both doors open, so as to see everything from Bourrienne’s room, and to be able to go to the assistance of the First Consul if necessary.
But Bonaparte, who perfectly8 understood Rapp’s motive9, closed the door. Then, returning hastily to Cadoudal’s side, he said: “Ah! so it is you at last! One of your enemies, my aide-de-camp, Roland de Montrevel, has told me fine things of you.”
“That does not surprise me,” replied Cadoudal. “During the short time I saw M. de Montrevel, I recognized in him a most chivalrous10 nature.”
“Yes; and that touched you?” asked the First Consul, fixing his falcon11 eye on the royalist chief. “Listen, Georges. I need energetic men like you to accomplish the work I have undertaken. Will you be one of them? I have already offered you the rank of colonel, but you are worth more than that. I now offer you the rank of general of division.”
“I thank you from the bottom of my heart, citizen First Consul,” replied Cadoudal; “but you would despise me if I accepted.”
“Why so?” queried12 Bonaparte, hastily.
“Because I have pledged myself to the House of Bourbon; and I shall remain faithful to it under all circumstances.”
“Let us discuss the matter,” resumed the First Consul. “Is there no way to bind13 you?”
“General,” replied the royalist leader, “may I be permitted to repeat to you what has been said to me?”
“Why not?”
“Because it touches upon the deepest political interests.”
“Pooh! some nonsense,” said the First Consul, smiling uneasily.
Cadoudal stopped short and looked fixedly14 at his companion.
“It is said that an agreement was made between you and Commodore Sidney Smith at Alexandria, the purport15 of which was to allow you to return to France on the condition, accepted by you, of restoring the throne to our former kings.”
Bonaparte burst out laughing.
“How astonishing you are, you plebeians16!” he said, “with your love for your former kings! Suppose that I did re-establish the throne (a thing, I assure you, I have not the smallest desire to do), what return will you get, you who have shed your blood for the cause? Not even the confirmation17 of the rank you have won in it, colonel. Have you ever known in the royalist ranks a colonel who was not a noble? Did you ever hear of any man rising by his merits into that class of people? Whereas with me, Georges, you can attain18 to what you will. The higher I raise myself, the higher I shall raise those who surround me. As for seeing me play the part of Monk19, dismiss that from your mind. Monk lived in an age in which the prejudices we fought and overthrew20 in 1789 were in full force. Had Monk wished to make himself king, he could not have done so. Dictator? No! It needed a Cromwell for that! Richard could not have maintained himself. It is true that he was the true son of a great man—in other words a fool. If I had wished to make myself king, there was nothing to hinder me; and if ever the wish takes me there will be nothing to hinder. Now, if you have an answer to that, give it.”
“You tell me, citizen First Consul, that the situation in France in 1800 is not the same as England in 1660. Charles I. was beheaded in 1649, Louis XVI. in 1793. Eleven years elapsed in England between the death of the king and the restoration of his son. Seven years have already elapsed in France since the death of Louis XVI. Will you tell me that the English revolution was a religious one, whereas the French revolution was a political one? To that I reply that a charter is as easy to make as an abjuration21.”
Bonaparte smiled.
“No,” he said, “I should not tell you that. I should say to you simply this: that Cromwell was fifty years old when Charles I. died. I was twenty-four at the death of Louis XVI. Cromwell died at the age of fifty-nine. In ten years’ time he was able to undertake much, but to accomplish little. Besides, his reform was a total one—a vast political reform by the substitution of a republican government for a monarchical22 one. Well, grant that I live to be Cromwell’s age, fifty-nine; that is not too much to expect; I shall still have twenty years, just the double of Cromwell. And remark, I change nothing, I progress; I do not overthrow23, I build up. Suppose that Cæsar, at thirty years of age, instead of being merely the first roué of Rome, had been its greatest citizen; suppose his campaign in Gaul had been made; that his campaign in Egypt was over, his campaign in Spain happily concluded; suppose that he was thirty years old instead of fifty—don’t you think he would have been both Cæsar and Augustus?”
“Yes, unless he found Brutus, Cassius, and Casca on his path.”
“So,” said Bonaparte, sadly, “my enemies are reckoning on assassination24, are they? In that case the thing is easy, and you, my enemy, have the first chance. What hinders you at ............