The unusual length of the Review of Segur's History of the Expedition to Russia has unavoidably led to the postponement of several Articles intended for publication in the present Number. We shall endeavour next month to clear off our arrears.

Printed by J. Ruthven & Son.

THE

EDINBURGH MAGAZINE,

AND

LITERARY MISCELLANY.

MARCH 1825.

THE MEMOIRS OF JOSEPH FOUCHE, DUKE OF OTRANTO, MINISTER OF THE GENERAL POLICE OF FRANCE, TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH. 2 vols. LONDON: CHARLES KNIGHT.

1825.

"INTRIGUE," said Napoleon, on one occasion, "was to Fouché a necessary of life. He intrigued at all times, in all places, in all ways, and with all persons. Nothing ever came to light but he was found to have had a hand in it. He made it his sole business to look out for something that he might be meddling with; his mania was to wish to be concerned in every thing; his ugly foot was sure to be thrust into everybody's shoes." Now here we have, in a few words, the character of the late Ex-Minister of General Police, as that character has been sketched by his own hand, in the volumes -before us. Naturally cold, mistrustful, crafty, vindictive, ambitious, he plunged headlong into the raging vortex of the Revolution, and narrowly escaped being swallowed up by that which he had aspired to govern and direct. The son of a privateer captain, and possessing a little education, with no fixed principles, he threw himself into the midst of the political fanatics and madmen who had overwhelmed the patriots of 1789, and got the Revolution into their hands; he became a Jacobin, a member of the Convention and the Committee of Public Safety, and a Regicide: he sat at the same board with Danton, Marat, Collot d'Herbois, Billaud de Varennes, Couthon, St. Just, and Robespierre; he abetted these sanguinary monsters in their unparalleled murders, proscriptions, and crimes; and if he avoided putting himself forward as a conspicuous leader of the infernal crew with which he was associated, it was not from any compunctious visitings of remorse, or from any indisposition to guilt, but because he partook not of the demoniacal fanaticism of the Terrorists, and quailed under the ascendancy of Robespierre, whose popularity seemed to increase in the direct ratio of the magnitude of his crimes. Nor, even by his own shewing, did he concert measures with Tallien, Vergniaud, and others, for the destruction of that Nero of Anarchy, till, after spilling the blood of so many innocent victims, something akin to an instinct of retributive justice prompted him to send Danton and Camille-Desmoulins to the guillotine,-a proceeding which clearly intimated to the rest of his colleagues the fate that awaited them, if they opposed his views of obtaining the dictatorship. Ever supple and subservient, Fouché flattered the miserable drivellers who formed the Directory, as he had cringed and trembled under the bloody anarchy of Robespierre; and after the 18th of Brumaire, to the success of which he would persuade us that he mainly contributed, he became the creature of the First Consul. By that haughty spirit he was first employed to hunt down his old friends the Jacobins, whom he nevertheless secretly encouraged; and afterwards by means of the Police-that terrible instrument of despotismthat mysterious power, always dreaded, and never felt but at the moment it

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strikes that eye which sees all, yet is unseen by all-that secret venom which festers at the core of domestic society, and corrodes the links by which it is held together-to strengthen the hands of the imperial government by diffusing a new Reign of Terror, in some respects more malignant and deadly than that of Robespierre. But he seems to have been capable of respiring only in an atmosphere tainted with treason. By his own confession, he occupied himself incessantly in attempts to counterwork his master-sold his secrets to foreign ministers-and, to use his own expressive phrase, slept with his head on the scaffold. He fomented conspiracies, that he might profit by their detection, secretly kept in his pay the miscreants employed by his former colleagues; and when his practices could no longer escape the penetrating eye of his master, and he was divested of his employment and disgraced, he went into retirement with a cool and deliberate purpose, to watch for the moment when fresh treason, combining with adverse fortune, might enable him at once to take his revenge, and to sell his hateful services to some new and less cunning purchaser. The course of events gave him the opportunity he had longed for. In 1814 he betrayed his master in the Illyrian Provinces and in Italy, paralyzing by his treachery both the Viceroy and the poor King of Naples, who seems to have been totally devoid of penetration; and in 1815, after he had once more accepted office under Napoleon, he agreed to sell the plan of the Campaign to the Duke of Wellington, intrigued with the Court of Louis XVIII., at Lisle, and, after the battle of Waterloo, prevented the Legislative Body from identifying itself with the army and the fallen Chief. Nay, one of the men who had voted for the death of Louis XVI. became a minister, and was entrusted with a portefeuille of office under the restored brother of that unfortunate monarch. But he was too slippery and dangerous a subject to be long suffered to possess even the shadow of power. He was once more disgraced and driven into exile, where, notwithstanding his enormous riches, he seems to have pined away in a state of the most forlorn wretchedness, consoling himself for the failure of all his intrigues, by writing these Memoirs, and bequeathing them as a legacy of posthumous revenge.

Such was the man of whose work we are now to render some account. But it must not be inferred, from the feeble sketch we have drawn of the character of this artful revolutionary ruffian, that his Memoirs are destitute of interest. Fouché, though more deeply tainted with the spirit of -Machiavelism than any man of modern times, was undoubtedly one of the strongest thinkers, and, where the predominating vice of his nature interfered not, one of the most clear-sighted politicians whom the Revolution produced. He had infinite tact in managing the most complicated intrigues, and exploring his way through the most tortuous mazes of affairs; and though, like the feline tribe, he saw best in the dark, and sometimes missed his prey in the broad blaze of noon-day, it should be remembered, that he was the minister of a government which loved to shroud itself in mystery, till the moment arrived when it was deemed expedient to strike, and to mask the deepest designs under the most smooth and plausible disguises. He was intimately acquainted with the secret springs of nearly all the extraordinary events which, in our times, have convulsed Europe, and shaken "the stable tyranny of thrones." Revolutionist and counter-revolutionist, Jacobin and Royalist, the circumstances which led to the establishment and overthrow of the Imperial Government, and at last to the restoration of the Bourbons, were unmasked to his observation. He knew almost every intrigue as well as the character of every one who figured in it, because, besides the knowledge he acquired as the head of the most ac tive and best-organized police in the world, he himself may be accurately described as a permanent conspirator. Mankind, too, as they present themselves to the eyes of a despotic minister-that is, base, selfish, venal, and profligate he had thoroughly studied, and could mould them to his pur pose with a skill little inferior to that of his imperial master, or divine their intentions and object with almost equal certainty of penetration. The revelations of such a man must necessarily possess a high value; especially

as, after proving himself a traitor to all parties, and finding himself rejected by all, he had no longer private reasons to keep terms with any, and to hesitate about disclosing a part at least of his knowledge of the interesting and chequered drama in which he figured as an actor. On this account, we are inclined to give credit to a great deal that is contained in these volumes; for though the author undoubtedly intended them to serve as a justificatory memorial of his own conduct, which they in almost every instance most conclusively impeach,-and though nobody will be so silly as to expect that the Duke of Otranto could possibly be honest or candid where he had any motive to be the reverse; yet as he undertook to make his disclosures for the purpose of soothing his mortified ambition, and gratifying his revenge, and as he must have been aware that he did not monopolize the knowledge of the secret springs and real causes of the events on which he dwells, it is reasonable to conclude, that he has given us as much truth as it was possible for him to tell; and it is certain that his Memoirs are a most valuable addition to the materials (daily accumulating) for the history of the eventful period to which they refer. And although we have only had access to the English translation, which is execrably bad, it is easy to perceive that they are written with great abi lity, and are less infected with the prevailing vices of French composition than any recent work of the kind, with the exception of the masterly Memoirs dictated by Napoleon. With these remarks we shall proceed to the Duke of Otranto; and as our readers will probably be better pleased with the confessions of that renowned personage than with any remarks we could offer in regard to them, we shall indulge as liberally in extracts as our limits will permit.

His Grace passes over the times of the Convention, and the Reign of Terror, with much brevity. This is provoking: it was in regard to these, that disclosures, such as Fouché had it in his power to make, would have been most interesting." By a singular chance," as he calls it, he first became acquainted with Robespierre, when he taught philosophy at Arras, and, it seems, afforded him pecuniary assistance to enable him to settle at Paris, when he was appointed deputy to the National Assembly. This is characteristic. The great instrument with which that artful man afterwards operated was the Mammon of unrighteousness, and this may be considered as his debut. They next met at the Convention, and saw each other frequently; but the Duke had the sagacity to divine, that violence, terror, and proscription, could not long endure. He commenced intriguing with the Girondins, and contributed to hasten the fall of a demon whose destruction was inevitable. His apology for the Convention is remarkable.

The Convention, notwithstanding its atrocities, excesses, and its furious decrees, or, perhaps, by those very decrees, saved the country beyond its integral limits. This is an incontestable fact, and for that reason I do not deny my participation in its labours. Each of its members, when accused before the tribunal of history, may confine himself to the limits of Scipio's defence, and say with that great man, "I have saved the republic-let us repair to the capitol, to thank the gods!"

We have next Fouché's account of the intrigues which accelerated the catastrophe of the Revolutionary dictator.

The paroxysm of Revolution and of terror was at hand. The guillotine was the only instrument of government. Suspicion and mistrust preyed upon every heart; fear cowered over all. Even those who held in their hands the instrument of terror were at times menaced with it. One man alone in the Convention appeared to enjoy an inexpugnable popularity: this was Robespierre, a man full of pride and cunning; an envious, malignant, and vindictive being, who was never satiated with the blood of his colleagues; and who, by his capacity, steadiness, the clearness of his head, and the obstinacy of his character, surmounted circumstances the most appalling. Availing himself of his preponderance in the committee of public safety, he openly aspired, not only to the tyranny of the decemviri, but to the despotism of the dicta torship of Marius and Sylla. One step more would have given him the masterdom of the Revolution, which it was his audacious ambition to govern at his will; but

thirty victims more were to be sacrificed, and he had marked them in the Convention. He well knew that I understood him; and I, therefore, was honoured by being inscribed upon his tablets at the head of those doomed to destruction. I was still on a mission, when he accused me of oppressing the patriots, and tampering with the aris. tocracy. Being recalled to Paris, I dared to call upon him from the tribune, to make good his accusation. He caused me to be expelled from the Jacobins, of whom he was the high-priest; this was for me equivalent to a decree of proscription. I did not trifle in contending for my head, nor in long and secret deliberations with such of my colleagues as were threatened with my own fate. I merely said to them, among others, to Legendre, Tallien, Dubois de Crancé, Daunou, and Chénier: "You are on the the list, you are on the list as well as myself; I am certain of it!" Tallien, Barras, Bourdon de l'Oise, and Dubois de Crancé, evinced some energy. Tallien contended for two lives, of which one was then dearer to him than his own: he therefore resolved upon assassinating the future dictator, even in the Convention itself. But what a hazardous chance was this! Robespierre's popularity would have survived him, and we should have been immolated to his manes. I therefore dissuaded Tallien from an isolated enterprise, which would have destroyed the man, but preserved his system. Convinced that other means must be resorted to, I went straight to those who shared with Robespierre the government of terror, and whom I knew to be envious or fearful of his immense popularity. I revealed to Collot d'Herbois, to Carnot, to Billaud de Varennes, the designs of the modern Appius; and I presented to each of them, separately, so lively and so true a picture of the danger of their situ. ation, I urged them with so much ability and success, that I insinuated into their breasts more than mistrust,-the courage of henceforth opposing the Tyrant in any further decimating of the Convention.Count the votes," said I to them," in your committee, and you will see, that when you are determined, he will be reduced to the powerless minority of a Couthon and a St. Just. Refuse him your votes, and reduce him to stand alone by your vis inertiæ.".

But what contrivances, what expedients were necessary to avoid exasperating the Jacobin club, the Seides, and the partisans of Robespierre! Sure of having succeeded, 1 had the courage to defy him, on the 20th Prairial, (June 8, 1794,) a day on which, actuated with the ridiculous idea of solemnly acknowledging the existence of the Supreme Being, he dared to proclaim himself both his will and agent, in presence of all the people assembled at the Tuileries. As he was ascending the steps of his lofty tribune, whence he was to proclaim his manifesto in favour of God, I predicted to him aloud, (twenty of my colleagues heard it,) that his fall was near. Five days after, in full committee, he demanded my head and that of eight of my friends, reserving to himself the destruction of twenty more at a later period. How great was his astonishment, and what was his rage, upon finding amongst the members of the committee an invincible opposition to his sanguinary designs against the national representation! It has already been too much mutilated, said they to him, and it is high time to put a stop to a proscription which at last will include ourselves.

Finding himself in a minority, he withdrew, choked with rage and disappointment, swearing never to set foot again in the committee, so long as his will should be opposed. He immediately sent for St. Just, who was with the army, rallied Couthon under his sanguinary banner, and by his influence over the Revolutionary tribunal, still made the Convention, and all those who were operated on by fear, to tremble. Being confident of the support of the Jacobin Club, of Henriot, the commander of the national guard, and of all the Revolutionary committees of the capital, he flat. tered himself that he had still adherents fully sufficient to carry him through. By thus keeping himself at a distance from the seat of power, he was desirous of throwing upon his adversaries the general execration of making them appear as the sole perpetrators of so many murders, and of delivering them up to the vengeance of a people which now began to murmur at the shedding of so much blood. But cowardly, mistrustful, and timid, he was incapable of action, and permitted five weeks to pass away between this secret secession and the crisis which was silently approaching.

I did not overlook his situation; and seeing him reduced to a single faction, I secretly urged such of his enemies as still adhered to the committee, at least to remove the artillery from Paris, who were all devoted to Robespierre and the commune, and to deprive Henriot of his command, or at least to suspend him. The first measure I obtained, thanks to the firmness of Carnot, who alleged the necessity of sending reinforcements of artillery to the army. As to depriving Henriot of his command, that appeared too hazardous; Henriot remained, and was near losing all, or rather, to speak the truth, it was he who, on the 9th Thermidor, (the 27th July,) ruined the