CHAPTER FIVE

MINISTER OF T H E EMPEROR
1 8 0 4 - 1811

IN 1802, therefore, Joseph Fouche (or, rather. Son Ex-

cellence Monsieur le Senateur Joseph Fouche), com-
plying with the First Consul's gently emphatic wish,
retires into the private life whence he had emerged ten
years before. An almost incredible decade it has been, per-
ilous and murderous, weighty with destiny, and bring-
ing extensive changes in its train; but Joseph Fouche
has known how to turn such troublous times to account.
Now, when retirement is thrust upon him, he has not,
as in 1794, to seek asylum in a cold and narrow garret,
but buys a well-equipped house in the Rue Cerutti, which
may presumably have belonged in former days to one of
the "vile aristocrats" or "infamous rich." At Ferrieres,
in time to come to be the home of the Rothschilds, he
has a charmingly furnished country seat, and his domain
in Provence, the senatorship of Aix, supplies him with
ample funds. In other directions, too, he shows himself
an accomplished alchemist, or to be possessed of King
Midas's golden touch. His proteges on the stock ex-
change admit him to participation in their affairs, and he
buys land to good advantage. Within a few years the
writer of the first communist manifesto will be one of the
167

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l68 JOSEPH FOUCHE
richest of all the citizens of France and the greatest land-
owner in the country. The man who was the tiger o£
Lyons is no longer a ravening beast of prey, but a de-
mure and well-behaved creature, a thrifty capitalist,
and a master in the art of painlessly and unobtrusively
extracting surplus value. Yet with his fortune of fifteen
millions, Joseph Fouche lives much as he did in the gar-
ret when, with infinite labour and pains, he was able to
get together fifteen sous a day. H e does not smoke, does
not drink, does not gamble j he squanders no money on
loose women or on the vanities of life. With his wife
and children (three more have come to replace those
who succumbed in the years of privation), he passes his
days as a homely squire: goes for walks on his estatej
gives an unpretentious entertainment now and again j
listens attentively while friends play on his wife's piano-
forte} reads improving books and enjoys the pleasure of
conversation—^what time deep down, far below the fair
surface displayed by the respectable bourgeois, there con-
tinues to smoulder his elemental lust for the hazards of
political life, for the tensions of the game that is being
played in the great world. His neighbours see nothing
of this} they see only the sober and thrifty country gen-
tleman, the good father, the kind husband. No one who
had not known him in public life could ever have guessed
that behind the mask of cheerful taciturnity there lurked
an increasingly fervent passion to resume a leading part.
Power is like the Medusa's head. Whoever-has looked
on her countenance, can no longer turn his face away,
but remains for always under her spell. Whoever has

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once enjoyed the intoxication of holding sway over his

fellows, can never thenceforward renounce it altogether.
Flutter the pages of history in search for examples of the
voluntary renouncement of power. You will find among
thousands upon thousands of rulers, barely a dozen who,
merely from satiety and while still in the full possession
of their senses, have forgone the almost sacrilegious
pleasure of playing providence for millions. (Sulla and
Charles V are the most famous among the exceptions.)
As little as a gamester can abstain from the gaming-
table, the drunkard from drink, the hunter from the
chase, can Joseph Fouche abstain from political intrigue.
Rest is a torment to himj and although with a cheerful
visage, with well-simulated indifference, he can play
the part of Cincinnatus returned to the plough, in reality
his nerves are throbbing and his fingers twitching with
eagerness to hold the political cards once more. Al-
though he no longer wears official harness, he remains
in the police service as a volunteer, and, lest his pen
should forget its cunning, week by week he sends the
First Consul secret information. This provides him Avith
amusement and occupation, but cannot really satisfy his
craving, so that his pose of spectator is nothing more than
a febrile waiting until he can get the reins into his hands
once more, and feel that he is exerting power over his
fellows, power over the world's destinies, power for its
own sake!
Bonaparte is not unaware of the signs of Fouche's im-
patience, but he prefers to ignore them. The man is so
damnably clever, so damnably industrious, and must be

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kept away from the centre of things, must be kept in the

dark as long as possible. Once people have come to recog-
nize the overwhelming energy of will that activates
Fouche's underground activities, they are disinclined to
take him into their service unless they are very urgently
and very dangerously in need of his help. The Consul
shows him favour in various ways, employs him on all
sorts of minor jobs, thanks him for the information he
sends along, invites him from time to time to attend the
Privy Council, and above all (to keep him quiet) gives
him abundant opportunities for amassing wealth. But
there is one thing which Bonaparte obstinately refrains
from doing as long as he can, and that is from reviving
the Ministry of Police and reinstating Fouche in the old
post. While the dictator's position is still strong, and so
long as he does not make any mistakes, he has no need
for so formidable and so perilously clever a servant.
Luckily for Fouche, however, Bonaparte does make
mistakes. Above all he makes the mistake which proves
historically unpardonable of being no longer satisfied to
be Bonaparte. H e makes the greatest of his blunders in
that, over and above his justified self-confidence, in ad-
dition to the triumph of his uniqueness, he covets the
pale sheen of legitimacy, the vain splendours of an im-
perial title. The man whose natural gifts, the man whose
unexampled and overwhelmingly forcible personality,
might have relieved him of the need for being afraid
of anyone or anything, trembles before the shadow of
the past, before the impotent nimbus of the expelled
Bourbons. Thus it is that he allows himself to be misled

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by Talleyrand into a breaA of international law, when

he has the Duke of Enghien kidnapped by French gen-
darmes on neutral territory, brought to Paris, and shot
—a deed for the characterization of which Fouche coined
the famous phrase: " I t was worse than a crime, it was
a blunder." By this execution, Bonaparte creates around
himself an airless space filled only with fear and horror
and hatred. That is why it will soon seem to him desir-
able to put himself once more under the protection of
the hundred-eyed Argus, under the protection of the
police.
Besides, and this is even more instrumental in pro-
moting the recall of Fouche, in the year 1804 Consul
Bonaparte needs a shrewd and unscrupulous helper upon
the last stage of his ascent. Once again he needs a man to
hold his stirrup. That which two years ago seemed to
him the supreme fulfilment of his ambition, the Con-
sulate for Life, now proves insufficient. H e is no longer
content with being the first citizen among citizens, but
wants to be lord over subjects. Nothing but the golden
imperial crown can cool his fevered brow. H e who would
become Csesar, needs an Antony 5 and Fouche, although
for a long time he played the role of Brutus (in earlier
days even that of Catiline), shows himself, now that
he is made hungry by two years' political fasting, per-
fectly willing to inveigle the imperial crown out of the
Senate. Money and promises serve as lures, and thus
the world is able to enjoy the remarkable spectacle of
the sometime president of the Jacobin Club busily can-
vassing in the lobbies of the Senate, pulling this string

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and that in turn, until at length a pair of complaisant

Byzantines propose and second a motion to the effect
that there shall be established "institutions which will
destroy the hopes of the conspirators by ensuring the ex-
istence of the government beyond that of the life of
its present chief." Translating this verbiage into plain
words, the meaning is that Consul-for-Life Bonaparte
is to become Hereditary-Emperor Napoleon. Fouche,
who can dip his pen into oil as readily as he used to dip
it into blood, is presumably the author of that currishly
subservient petition from the Senate asking Bonaparte
"to complete his work by making it immortal." Few used
their spades more doughtily in digging the tomb of the
Republic than did Joseph Fouche of Nantes, ex-deputy
of the Convention, ex-president of the Jacobin Club, le
mitrailleur de Lyon, the destroyer of tyrants, and in for-
mer days the most republican of republicans.
H e gets his reward. Just as a few years earlier Citizen
Fouche by Citizen Consul Bonaparte, so now, in 1804,
after two years of golden exile. Son Excellence Mon-
sieur le Senateur Fouche is appointed minister by Sa
Majeste I'Empereur Napoleon. For the fifth time J o -
seph Fouche takes an oath of fealty: the first had been
to a government that was still monarchical 5 the second,
to the Republic; the third, to the Directory; the fourth,
tc the Consulate. When he takes the fifth, to the Empire,
he is but five-and-forty years of age. There is plenty of
time left for new oaths, new loyalties and disloyalties!
With energies recuperated by his long rest, he flings
himself once more into the old and beloved environ-

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ment of stormy wind and water, sworn servant of the

new-made Emperor, but in truth faithful to nothing but
his own restless craving.

For ten years thereafter we see them standing on the

stage of history, facing one another, these two figures,
Napoleon and Fouche, their destinies intertwined not-
withstanding their mutual clairvoyant resistance. Napo-
leon has no liking for Fouche, nor Fouche any for Na-
poleon. Filled with secret antipathy, each of them makes
use of the other, and they are bound together solely by
the attraction between hostile poles. Fouche knows the
elemental strength, the titanic and dangerous force of
Napoleon; he knows that for many, many years the
world may not again bring to life a man of such trans-
cendent genius, and a man so fitted to serve his turn.
Napoleon, on his side, knows that no one else under-
stands him so perfectly and so quickly as does Fouche,
the dispassionate and all-seeing spy, the man with un-
wearied industry, the man whose political talent can be
applied with- equal versatility and equal success to the
best and to the basest uses, the man who lacks only one
quality of the perfect servant—unconditional loyalty.
For, in truth, Fouche will never become anyone's
servant, and still less anyone's lackey. H e never sacri-
fices his intellectual independence, never wholly sur-
renders his own will in pursuit of another's ends. Far
from it, the more the other ex-republicans, decked out
as new nobles, are dazzled by the glories of the Impera-
tor, and the more they degenerate from counsellors into

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flatterers and lickspittles, the stiffer becomes Fouche'is
back. True, it is no longer possible to face the authorita-
rian Emperor, who grows ever more Cesarean, with
open contradiction, with blunt divergence of opinion, for
in the palace of the Tuileries frank comradeship and
free exchange of views between citizen and citizen have
long since been done away with. Emperor Napoleon has
now to be addressed by his old comrades-in-arms and
even by his brothers (how they must have smiled!) ex-
clusively as "Sire." No one but his wife may use the fa-
miliar "thou" in speaking to him. As an outcome of the
same megalomania, we find that he will no longer al-
low his ministers to advise him. Citizen Minister Fouche,
when he came to see Citizen Consul Bonaparte, could
wear comfortable bourgeois attire and could walk with-
out ceremony. But when Minister Joseph Fouche now
seeks audience of Emperor Napoleon, he must have his
neck cramped in a high and stiff gold-embroidered col-
lar, must be swathed in the imposing court-uniform with
black silk stockings and pumps, must be plastered with
orders, and must walk ceremoniously, hat in hand.
"Monsieur" Fouche must respectfully bow to those who
used to be his fellow-conspirators and comrades, before
he is permitted to address Napoleon as "Your Maijesty."
H e must present himself with an obeisance, and must
take leave with another obeisance; and without a word,
without any attempt at intimate conversation, he must
accept Napoleon's brusquely given commands. There
must be no opposition to the opinions of the most self-
willed of all self-willed men.

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At least, there must be no open opposition. Fouche

knows Napoleon too well to force a contrary opinion
upon his chief's notice. Me allows himself to be given
orders, like all the other flatterers and servile ministers
of the imperial epoch; but there is this little difference
between himself and those others, that he does not al-
ways do what he is told. If he is instructed to make cer-
tain arrests of which he does not approve, he gives timely
warning; or if he has no choice but to punish, he lets
every one know that he does so on the Emperor's express
order, and not of his own wish. But when any act of
clemency or grace comes through him, he represents it
as being done on his own initiative. The more masterful
Napoleon becomes (and it is interesting to note how this
man's temperament, dictatorial from the first, becomes
ever more and more autocratic through the exercise of
power), the more amiable, the more conciliatory, is the
demeanour of Fouche. Hence, without saying a word
against the Emperor, and only by hints, smiles, and an
expressive silence, he is able, unaided, to form a visible
and yet never palpable opposition to the new regime
by God's grace. H e never takes the dangerous course
of uttering unwelcome truths to His Majesty. H e knows
full well that kings and queens, even if at one time they
were called Bonaparte, have no use for unwelcome
truths. But he often succeeds in smuggling such truths
into his daily reports. Instead of saying " I think," or
" I believe," and thus exposing himself to a reprimand
for daring to think and believe on his own account, he
writes in his report " I t is said," or "There is common

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talk to the efiFect," or "One of the ambassadors has de-
clared." Thus the pate de foie gras of piquant novelties
he serves up day by day almost always contains a few
peppercorns about the imperial family. Biting his lips,
Napoleon has to read all the current scandal about his
sisters, presented in the form of "ill-natured rumours,"
together with caustic comments on his own sayings and
doings, acrid observations with which Fouche's adroit
hand has deliberately interspersed the bulletins. In this
way, without committing himself to anything, the queer
servant is able from time to time to serve up to his cross-
grained master unpalatable verities, and, looking on
politely and non-committally while Napoleon is reading,
he can watch how unpleasant is the taste of the dish.
Fouche has his own way of avenging himself on Lieu-
tenant Bonaparte, who, since assuming the imperial
mantle, has decreed that his former advisers are to ap-
proach him tremulously and with bent backs.

We see that the two men's feelings towards one an-

other are by no means friendly. Even as Fouche is an
unpleasant kind of servant for Napoleon, so is Napo-
leon an unpleasant kind of master for Fouche. The Em-
peror never accepts one of the minister's reports frankly
and uncritically. H e scans every line in search of the
most trifling discrepancies, the most insignificant signs
of neglect} and, having found them, he gives vent to
the native impetuosity of his unrestrained Corsican tem-
perament, and storms at Fouche like an angry head-
master "rowing" a schoolboy. Furthermore, colleagues.

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doorkeepers, and eavesdroppers are all agreed in de-

claring that the phlegm with which Fouche endured
these ill-mannered reprimands served only to inflame
Napoleon's wrath. But apart from the testimony of wit-
nesses (for all the memoirs of the period must be taken
with a grain of salt and must be read between the lines),
we could infer the state of affairs from a study of other
documents. W e hear the autocrat's drill-sergeant tone
echoing through his letters. " I find that the police are
not keeping a sufficiently careful eye upon the press" j
he writes to the man who is a past master in that very
sort of work J or, "One might think that not a soul in
the Ministry of Police has ever learned to read"} or,
again, "Let me impress upon you the need for minding
your own business, and not meddling in foreign affairs."
Nor does the Emperor hesitate to give his minister a
fierce dressing-down in the presence of onlookers, such
as aides-de-camp or members of the Council of State}
and at these times, when his anger seems to overleap all
bounds, he will speak openly of Fouche's terrorist past,
will talk of what happened in Lyons, and will interlard
the abuse with mouthings at the "regicide" and "trai-
tor." But Fouche, the frigid observer, who after ten
years knows every note in his master's keyboard, is well
aware that the outbursts of fury, while at times they are
perfectly genuine (being then the expression of a hot-
blooded man's utter lack of control), are at other times
simulated, and no more than clever play-acting. H e
therefore remains equally unmoved by the genuine an-
ger and by the spurious} he is neither perturbed nor

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humbugged; and he is not intimidated, as is, for in-

stance, the Austrian minister Count Cobenzl, who shakes
in his shoes when Napoleon seizes a costly vase and
dashes it to pieces on the floor. Pale and impassive as
ever, his face set like a mask, and without a sign of nerv-
ousness, Fouche holds his ground beneath this douche
of savage words—though we may well suppose that as
soon as he is outside the door, and when his master can
no longer see his face, he indulges in the luxury of a sar-
castic or malicious smile. When for the hundredth time
he is threatened with dismissal or banishment, he quietly
takes his leave, confident that next day the Emperor
will send for him as usual. And always his confidence is
justified by the result. For a whole decade Napoleon—
his distrust, his anger, and his secret detestation notwith-
standing—finds it impossible to dispense with the serv-
ices of Joseph Fouche.
Though the servant's power over the master was
an enigma to all their contemporaries, there was nothing
magical or hypnotic about it. It was acquired deliber-
ately, by diligence, shrewdness, and systematic observa-
tion. Fouche knew a great deal; he knew too much.
Partly owing to the Emperor's communicativeness, and
partly against his master's will, he had become acquainted
with all the imperial secrets, so that, thanks to the mar-
vellous extent of his information, the land and its ruler
were to a considerable degree under his thumb. From
Josephine he had learned every detail of Napoleon's do-
mestic life, and from Barras all the incidents of the great
adventurer's rise; thanks to his own close relations with

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the financiers, he was intimately acquainted with the con-

dition of the Emperor's private exchequer j and he was
aware of the hundred and one sordid doings of the other
Bonapartes, such as the brothers' gambling and the be-
haviour of Pauline as a modern Messalina. Nor were
Napoleon's extra-conjugal amours hidden from him.
When the Emperor, cloaked and muffled, slipped out
of a side-door in the Tuileries at an hour before mid-
night on his way to an assignation, Fouche knew next
morning to whose house the carriage had driven, how
long it had been kept waiting outside, the precise mo-
ment of the return—and was even able on one occasion
to shame the ruler of the world with a report which
showed that the chosen fair had betrayed Napoleon by
giving herself to the embraces of a far less distinguished
Thespian. Since one of the Emperor's secretaries is in
his pay, Fouche receives a copy of every one of his chief's
more important dispatches j and many of the court
lackeys (the uniformed as well as the liveried) draw
monthly bonuses from the secret funds of the Minister
of Police in return for trustworthy reports concerning
all that is said and done in the palace. By day and by
night, in bed and at board. Napoleon is watched by this
over-zealous servant. Since no secret can be hidden from
him, the Emperor must confide in him willy-nilly. It
is his all-embracing knowledge of private concerns, this
and nothing more, which gives Fouche the power over
his fellows that seems so wonderful to Balzac.
But Fouche, who thus keeps himself fully informed
about the Emperor's doings and plans, words and

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thoughts, is no less careful to keep his own privacies un-

revealed. Neither Napoleon nor anyone else is allowed
to know his true designs or his real activities} and of
the vast mass of information he assembles, he allows
only what he pleases to transpire. The rest remains
locked in the drawers of his writing-desk, an innermost
sanctuary into which none but himself may even peep
—for it is his master passion to remain inscrutable, im-
penetrable, unfathomable; one holding a position of the
first importance, but on whose behaviour no one can
count. It is futile, therefore, for Napoleon to set spies
to watch the watcher. Fouche makes fools of them; or is
able to exploit their services by using them to carry back
to their bamboozled employer reports that are oppro-
brious. As the years go by, the game of espionage and
counter-espionage played by this pair of adversaries
grows ever more crafty and spiteful, and their attitude
towards one another frankly insincere—^unless the epi-
thet "frankly" be regarded as a misnomer even here,
seeing that there could be no frankness, no clarity, be-
tween the man who wanted to be too much the master
and the man who wanted to be too little the servant. The
stronger Napoleon grew, the more of a nuisance did he
find Fouche; and the stronger Fouche became, the more
fiercely did he hate Napoleon.

By degrees this private enmity between two men of

conflicting temperaments came to have as a reinforcing
background the steadily increasing tensions of the epoch.
From year to year there showed themselves more and

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more clearly in France two opposing wills. The country
craved for peace, whereas Napoleon desired war and
again war and yet again war. The Bonaparte of the year
eighteen hundred, the heir and the orderer of the revo-
lution, was still in perfect harmony with his realm, his
people, and his ministers; the Napoleon of the year
eighteen hundred and four, the Emperor of the new dec-
ade, has long ceased to think of his realm or his peo-
ple, for his gaze is now fixed on Europe, on the world,
on immortal fame. Having performed in masterly fash-
ion the tasks entrusted to him when he became Consul,
the overflow of his energies leads him to impose upon
himself new tasks, more difiicult than those others, with
the result that the man who brought order forth from
chaos reverses his own achievement by reducing order
to chaos once more.
This does not mean that his intelligence, clear as a
diamond and as sharp, has become clouded or obtuse.
Though he was carried away by the onrush of his ele-
mental energy, his mind through it all remained mag-
nificently lucid down to the last hour of his life when
with tremulous hand he wrote his testament, the great-
est of all his works. But in his later years his reason had
lost its power to apply mundane standards of measure-
ment—and how could it be otherwise in a man who had
achieved the incredible? Was it not inevitable that one
whose winnings in the game of life had been so unprec-
edently huge, one who had become accustomed to play-
ing for such colossal stakes, should be dominated by the
craving to outdo himself through the performance of yet

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more incredible feats? But even in the maddest of his

adventures, his head was no more turned than had been
that of Alexander or Charles X I I or Cortes. Like them,
he had merely, in consequence of his amazing conquests,
got out of touch with the measuring-rod of reality, for-
gotten the standards of the possible j and it was precisely
this frenzy of action in one whose intellect remained
calm and keen (a spiritual drama as splendid as the
mistral blowing from a clear sky) which accounted for
deeds that were simultaneously crimes committed by one
man against hundreds of thousands, and stupendous en-
richments of the records of mankind. Alexander's cam-
paign from Greece to Hindustan, which still seems like
a fairy-tale of today when we follow his route on the
map} Cortes's invasion of Mexico} the march of Charles
X I I from Stockholm to Poltava} Napoleon's transfer-
ence of an army of six hundred thousand men from
Spain to Moscow—these manifestations of courage and
overweening pride are in modern history what the strug-
gles of Prometheus and the Titans were in Greek my-
thology} they are "hubris" and heroism conjoined, and
unquestionably the almost sacrilegious maximum of hu-
man achievement. Towards this uttermost extreme Na-
poleon presses forward as soon as the imperial crown
adorns his temples. His purposes expand with his suc-
cess} his audacity grows with each additional victory}
and at every new triumph over destiny there is intensi-
fied his determination to challenge destiny to do its
worst. What could be more natural, than that his associ-
ates, those among them who are not deafened by the fan-

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fare of the war bulletins and blinded by the glare of the

military achievements, those among them who like Tal-
leyrand and Fouche are both shrewd and thoughtful,
should begin to quiver with apprehension? They are
thinking of their own lifetime and of France} Napoleon
is thinking only of posthumous fame, of his place in
history.
This conflict between reason and passion, between
logical temperaments and daimonic (a perpetually re-
curring motif in the drama of human aflFairs), becomes
conspicuous once more in France soon after the turn of
the century. War has made Napoleon great, has lifted
him out of insignificance to place him on an imperial
throne. It is only to be expected, therefore, that he
should want to go on waging war, should be continually
on the look-out for mightier foes than those he has
hitherto defeated. The growth of his ambition is dis-
closed by the preposterous growth in the size of his
armies. At Marengo, in 1800, he had Won his victory
with the aid of thirty thousand menj five years later, he
has three hundred thousand in the field} and five years
later still, he is raising a levy of a million soldiers, is
draining all the young and virile blood from the war-
weary land. By reckoning on the fingers, it was easy
enough to make even the stupidest peasant or the most
illiterate servitor in the baggage-train of his army under-
stand that such "guerromanie" and "courromanie" (the
latter word we owe to Stendhal) could not fail in the
end to lead to disaster} and in conversation with Met-
ternich, five years before Moscow, Fouche said propheti-

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cally: "When he has defeated you, there will still be

Russia, and, after that, China."
One person only cannot, or will not, see the realities
of the situation—^Napoleon himself. The man who has
lived through the moments before Austerlitz, and there-
after those before Marengo and Eylau, moments into
which so much of the essence of history was compressed,
can no longer find agreeable tension or pleasant distrac-
tion in receiving uniformed toadies at court balls, in
watching the tinselled glories of the opera, in listening
to the tedious orations of deputies. H e can only provide
the requisite stimulus for his nerves by leading his troops
in forced marches across vast countries, by grinding hos-
tile armies to powder, by contemptuously moving kings
from place to place like chessmen, or by seeing to it
that the dome of the Invalides shall be resplendent with
captured flags and that the newly founded treasure-
house shall be crammed with the costly loot of Europe.
H e thinks now exclusively in regiments, in army corps,
in armies. France, other countries, the whole world, have
become for him mere stakes in his game, and France
is for him a piece' of property which he owns without
reserve (la France, c'est moi"). But some among his
people cling obstinately to the notion that France be-
longs to herself, and they object to the inhabitants of
that fair land being regarded only as instruments for
making all the members of a Corsican family into kings
and queens and for transforming Europe into a Bona-
partist entailed estate. With increasing anger they watch
year after year while the conscription lists are posted in

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every town, and while the lads o£ eighteen and nine-

teen are torn from their homes to perish on the torrid
frontiers of Portugal or in the snowy wastes of Poland
and of Russia—^to perish there for no reason, or at least
for none which any sane man can discover. Thus there is
a growing cleavage, an ever more embittered hostility,
between the ruler whose gaze is fixed on his star, and the
clear-sighted among his subjects, who see the weariness
and the impatience of their own land. Since he grows
more and more autocratic, and will no longer listen to
advice from anyone, they begin to meditate on the
possibility of stopping the mad circlings of this wheel
before it plunges into the abyss. Plainly the moment
must come when reason and passion will part company
to enter opposing camps, when open war will break out
between the Emperor and the ablest of his servants.

The veiled opposition to Napoleon's war-mania and

megalomania brings together in the end the two among
his councillors who are most fiercely at odds one with the
other: Fouche and Talleyrand. They are the most ca-
pable of his ministers; from the psychological standpoint
they are the two most interesting men of the day; and
if they do not love one another it is probably because
they are too much alike. Both are sober-minded realists,
lucid thinkers, cynics, and wholehearted disciples of
Machiavelli. They were both schooled in the Church
and subsequently annealed in the fires of the revolution;
they are characterized by the same cold-blooded un-
scrupulousness in matters of money and honour; and

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both of them serve with the same conscienceless dis-

loyalty the Republic, the Directory, the Consulate, the
Emperor, and the King. Arch-impersonators of incon-
stancy, these two players are continually encountering
one another on the stage of history, dressed now as
revolutionists, now as senators, now as ministers of State,
and now as servants of the King5 and just because they
are of the same spiritual calibre and because kindred
diplomatic roles are assigned to them, they hate one
another with the clear-sighted coolness and pertinacity
of rivals who know one another through and through.
Both of them are of a perfectly amoral type, and this
accounts for their likeness in character, whereas the
diflFerences between them depend upon differences in
origin. Talleyrand, as Duke of Perigord, was a member
of the old noblesse, and, becoming Bishop of Autun in
1788 when only thirty-four years of age, was wearing
the violet robe as spiritual lord of a French province
at a time when Joseph Fouche, sprung from the lower
middle class and clad in a shabby cassock, a young man of
no account, was no more than a semi-clerical usher earn-
ing a minimal salary, and trying to hammer a knowl-
edge of mathematics and Latin into the heads of a dozen
or two of youngsters within monastery walls. Talley-
rand was agent-general of the French clergy and French
envoy to England when Fouche, by cajolery and per-
severance, was managing to secure election as deputy to
the Convention. Talleyrand came from on high into the
revolution, a grandee stepping down from his chariot
into the third estate, and greeted there with respectful

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acclamations; but Fouche had laboriously to intrigue

his way upwards into that same estate. These differences
o£ origin dyed with differing tints two persons whose
fundamental qualities were identical. Talleyrand, the
man with distinguished manners, serves (when he has to
serve) with the cool and polished indifference of a grand
seigneur; but Fouche serves with the earnest and self-
interested zeal of an aspiring official. Even in their like-
nesses, they are different. Though they both love money,
Talleyrand loves it after the fashion of a man of blue
blood, that he may squander it at the gaming-table or
upon the fair sex; but Fouche loves it shopkeeper
fashion, that he may add piece to piece, and use it capi-
talistically to breed more. For Talleyrand, money and
power are only means to enjoyment, things which enable
him to become lord over all the pleasures of the senses,
luxury, women, art treasures, choice food, costly wines;
but Fouche, even after he has become a multi-
millionaire, is Spartan and monastic in his habits, and
continues to look after the pence. Neither of them can
wholly escape the influences of birth and early training.
In the wildest days of the Terror, the Duke of Perigord
never becomes a true man of the people, is never a typi-
cal republican; and Joseph Fouche, in later days, when
he is Duke of Otranto and wears court dress, never be-
comes a genuine "aristo."
Talleyrand alone is resplendent, is fascinating, and is
perhaps the more notable of the two—^who are both
men of great moment. Versatile, highly cultured, nour-
ished in the traditions of the eighteenth century, and

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with a taste for music and the fine arts, Talleyrand finds
the game of diplomacy an agreeable and stimulating
pastime (one among many)} but he detests work. H e
will never if he can help it write a letter for himself j a
refined voluptuary, he must have all the hodman's work
done for him by the sons of Martha, and will then in-
differently pick up the results with his slender, beringed
fingers; and he will not weary himself with the labour
of finical investigation, being satisfied with the intuition
which enables him at lightning speed to effect a com-
prehensive survey of the most involved situations. A
psychologist both by nature and by nurture, he is able,
as Napoleon said, to read every one's thoughts 3 and,
without giving direct advice, he can confirm people in
their inmost purposes. His specialties are bold changes
of front, swift flashes of insight, supple expedients in
moments of danger; and he contemptuously leaves to
others the detail work, the grunting and sweating under
heavy loads, the heat and burden of the day. In con-
formity with this fondness for the minimum of effort,
for the most concentrated form of intellectual mastery,
is his peculiar gift for the utterance of brilliant dicta, for
aphorism. H e never pens a long report, but sums up
a situation or describes a man in a pithy phrase. Fouche,
on the other hand, is utterly devoid of this talent for
rapid survey; flying industriously hither and thither like
a bee, he, with much labour and pains collects his ma-
terials from a thousand sources, and then sifts and ar-
ranges and resifts until he has secured irrefutable results.
His method is that of the analyst, whereas Talleyrand's

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is that o£ the clairvoyant j his supreme endowment is in-

dustry, whereas Talleyrand's is a faculty for swift pene-
tration. No playwright could have invented two such
perfect counterparts (unlike in their likeness, and akin
in their very differences) as history has staged for us
in the slothful and brilliant extemporizer Talleyrand
and the argus-eyed unsleeping calculator Fouche—has
staged beside Napoleon, beside the all-round genius who
combines the talents of both, wide range of view and
insight into details near at hand, aquiline passion and
ant-like industry, world-knowledge and world-vision.
But never does hatred flame up more fiercely than
between different species of the same race. That is why
Talleyrand and Fouche detest one another, under stress
of fundamental instinct and mutual understanding.
From the days of their first acquaintance, Talleyrand
the grand seigneur is hostile to Fouche the detail worker,
the busy collector of news, the unemotional talebearer
and spy; whilst Fouche is outraged by Talleyrand's
frivolous and spendthrift ways, and by the born noble-
man's contemptuous and negligently feminine indolence.
Their references to one another are envenomed dagger-
thrusts. Talleyrand says with a cutting smile: "One un-
derstands why Monsieur Fouche despises his fellow-
men; he has made so close a study of himself." Fouche,
in turn, when Talleyrand is made Vice-Grand-Elector
of the Empire, remarks mockingly: "That was the only
vice he lacked." When either can put a spoke in the
other's wheel, the chance is not to be missed; and each
seizes every opportunity of doing the other an ill turn.

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The importance of the two men, the agile one and the
diligent, to Napoleon as ministers is increased by the
way in which their qualities dovetail. It suits his book
admirably that they should loathe one another as they
do, for this makes them keep one another under observa-
tion more eflFectively than could a hundred paid spies.
Fouche promptly reports every fresh instance of Talley-
rand's venality, debauchery, or neglect; while Talley-
rand retaliates with accounts of Fouche's rascalities and
intrigues. Napoleon is well pleased, feeling that the
upshot is better service from this strange pair of re-
ciprocally critical servitors. His knowledge of psychology
enables him to turn their rivalry to good account, by
egging them on against one another and thus making
them hold one another in check.

For years, Paris is in ecstasies as it watches this long-

drawn-out duel between Fouche and Talleyrand. The
unending variations in the comedy staged on the steps
of the throne are as amusing as one of Moliere's plays.
How delicious it is when the Minister of Police and the
Minister for Foreign Affairs snarl and scratch and spit,
while their master looks down with Olympian serenity
upon the quarrel which helps him in his own game. But
whereas he and all the other onlookers are expecting this
lively cat-and-dog farce to have an indefinitely long run,
the two chief actors tire of their roles as antagonists, and
put their heads together for earnest collaboration. Their
common hostility to their master has become stronger
than their rivalry. Eighteen-eight has come, and Na-

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 M I N I S T E R OF T H E E M P E R O R I9I

poleon is beginning another war, the most useless, the

most purposeless, of all his wars, the raid into Spain. In
1805, he had defeated Austria and Russiaj in 1807, he
had shattered and subdued Prussia, and had reduced the
German and Italian States to vassalage3 and he had no
warrant whatever for hostility towards Spain. But dull-
witted Brother Joseph (in a few years, Napoleon will
frankly declare that he sacrificed himself for block-
heads) wants a throne like the rest of themj and, since
there is none vacant at the moment, the best thing will
be, in defiance of the law of nations, to seize that of
Spain. Once more, therefore, the drums rattle 5 once
more the battalions march; once more the arduously col-
lected funds stream forth from the treasury; and once
more Napoleon is fired by the lust for victory. Even the
stupidest and most insensitive are becoming aware of the
folly of incessant war-making. Both Fouche and Talley-
rand strongly disapprove of this utterly gratuitous war,
which will drain the blood of France for seven years
to come; and, since the Emperor will not listen to re-
monstrance from either of them, the two draw together
covertly. They know that letters of counsel will be
unavailing, for Napoleon will angrily throw them into
the waste-paper basket. It is a long time, now, since the
statesmen have been able to make headway against the
field-marshals, the generals, the men of the sword; or
against the members of the Corsican clan, every one of
whom aspires to conceal beneath an ermine robe the
vestiges of an inglorious past. They decide, therefore,
upon a public protest, which, since officially they are

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 192 JOSEPH FOUCHE

muzzled, is to take the form of a political pantomime,

a theatrical coup which shall proclaim that they have
not only sworn a peace but have entered into an alliance.
W e do not know whether it was Talleyrand or Fouche
who staged the scene so dramatically. This much is cer-
tain, that, while Napoleon was on the Spanish front,
Paris was making high festival, having got used to the
perpetual recurrence of hostilities as people get used
to the snows of winter and the thunderstorms of sum-
mer. Thus it comes to pass that one December evening
during the year 1808, when Napoleon, uncomfortably
housed in Valladolid, is writing army orders, the Grand
Chamberlain's mansion in the Rue Saint-Florentin is
ablaze with the light of a thousand candles and echoing
to the strains of music. Fair ladies (beloved of Talley-
rand), all the members of the smart set, leading states-
men, and foreign ambassadors, are assembled in full
force. There is a buzz of cheerful conversation among
the elders, while the younger folk are dancing merrily.
Then something happens which reduces the talkers to
silence and interrupts the dance. A new guest has en-
tered the room, and, to the general astonishment, it is
Fouche, the "lean Cassius," whom, as every one knows,
Talleyrand cannot abide, and who, therefore, has never
before appeared beneath this roof. But lo! with studied
courtesy the host limps to meet the Minister of Police
and greets him affectionately. Arm in arm they walk
across the hall to enter one of the side rooms, where
they seat themselves on a sofa and converse in low tones,
while the onlookers are agog with curiosity. Next morn-

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 MINISTER OF THE EMPEROR I93

ing all Paris has learned of the sensational event. Every

one is talking about the sudden and publicly paraded
reconciliation} and every one understands its signifi-
cance. When cat and dog enter into a pact, against whom
can it be directed if not the cook? Friendship between
Fouche and Talleyrand must mean that the servants
are in open revolt against their master. At once the spies
and the talebearers set busily to work, in the hope of
unravelling the threads of this conspiracy. In the em-
bassies, pens squeak in the writing of urgent reports}
Metternich sends an express to Vienna, bearing informa-
tion to the effect that "this reconciliation would seem to
harmonize with the wishes of a completely outwearied
nation"} while Napoleon's brothers and sisters sound
the alarm, and in their turn dispatch envoys hotfoot to
the Emperor.

The couriers make a quick journey of it to Spain}

and Napoleon, having read the news they bring, decides
on an even quicker journey of it back to Paris. H e con-
sults no one, but bites his lips, and orders preparations
to be made for a prompt departure. The information
that Fouche and Talleyrand have drawn together pricks
him more than any defeat on the field of battle. H e
races to his capital with crazy speed. Leaving Valladolid
on the 17th of the month, on the i8th he is in Burgos,
on the 19th in Bayonne. Halting nowhere, making the
postilions flog the post-horses to the top of their speed,
on the 22nd he drives up to the Tuileries like a whirl-
wind, and by the 23 rd he is ready to counter Talley-

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 194 JOSEPH FOUCHE
rand's witty comedy by a piece of his own staging. The
whole troop of gold-braided courtiers, ministers, and
generals must appear as supers, for there is to be a public
demonstration of the Emperor's forcible way of crush-
ing resistance to his will. Fouche has already been sum-
moned to his presence overnight, and given a rating
behind closed doors. The offender, who is used to his
master's tantrums, accepts the shower of abuse unpro-
testingly, being content to put in an adroit word of ex-
culpation now and again and to make his escape as soon
as possible. For this servile creature, thinks Napoleon,
a passing kick will suffice j but Talleyrand, being ac-
counted the mightier of the two culprits, must take his
gruelling in full view of the world. The scene has often
been described, and history scarcely knows any more
dramatic. At first the Emperor confines himself to vague
generalities concerning intrigues that have been going
on during his absence; but then, exasperated by Talley-
rand's impassivity, he makes a direct onslaught on this
chief object of his wrath, who is standing in an easy pose
near the fireplace, one arm gracefully resting on the
marble mantelpiece. The wording of the lecture has
been carefully chosen to produce its due effect upon the
assembled courtiers, and through them on the public at
large; but this is one of the occasions when wrath gets
the upper hand, and Napoleon belards the experienced
statesman, a man fifteen years his senior, with the foulest
abuse. Talleyrand is a thief and a renegade; he is for-
sworn; he is a venal wretch who would barter his own
father for pelf; he is the real author of the death of the

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 MINISTER O F T H E EMPEROR 195

Duke of Enghien and no less so of the Spanish war. Two

drunken fishwives quarrelling in the market-place could
not find choicer invectives than those spat forth by the
Emperor at the Duke of Perigord and Prince of Bene-
vento, the veteran of the revolution, and the doyen of
French statesmen.
The listeners are dumbfounded. Every one is uneasy.
All feel that it is Napoleon himself who is cutting a poor
figure. Talleyrand, however, has the hide of a rhinoceros.
Legend relates that on one occasion he fell asleep over a
pamphlet denouncing his own misdemeanours} and now
he gives no sign that a word of the tirade reaches his
ears, being far too proud to be ruffled by such a tempest.
When it has blown itself out, he limps across the bees-
waxed floor, and in the anteroom murmurs one of those
polished sarcasms which are far more deadly than the
bluster to which he has just been exposed. As the foot-
man is helping him on with his cloak, he says equably:
"What a pity that so great a man should have such bad
manners!"
That same evening, Talleyrand is deprived of the
office of Grand Chamberlain j and all who would like to
get their knives into Fouche look eagerly through the
ensuing numbers of the "Moniteur" for news of his dis-
missal from the post of Minister of Police. But they look
in vain. Fouche remains. As is his Invariable custom, he
has been careful to provide himself with a stalking-
horse. Collot d'Herbois, it will be remembered, his
associate as mitrailleur of Lyons, is sent to the fever-
stricken penal settlement in French Guiana; Fouche

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 196 JOSEPH FOUCHE

remains. Babeuf, his confederate in the struggle against

the Directory, is executed; Fouche remains. His pro-
tector Barras has to flee the country; Fouche remains.
This time, too, only Talleyrand, the front-rank man,
pays the scot by losing his job; Fouche remains. Govern-
ments, political forms, opinions, and incumbents of ofEce
change; everything crumbles to dust and is swept away
in the raging storms of the turn of the century; only
one man is to be found through it all occupying the same
post, under varying masters and amid manifold vicissi-
tudes of mood—^Joseph Fouche.

Fouche remains in a position of power. Nay more,

his influence is increased now that the ablest, the most
versatile, and the most independent of Napoleon's ad-
visers has been retired from office and replaced by a man
whose only thought is to do exactly what he is told. Still
more important is it, not only that Talleyrand, the rival,
is off the stage, but also that Napoleon, the troublesome
master, is absent for a while. Now that 1809 has come,
the Emperor has started a new war; with Austria this
time.
Nothing could suit Fouche better than that Napoleon
should be away from Paris, and no longer able to super-
vise everyday affairs. No matter whether it is Austria
or Spain or Poland. The farther, the better. If he would
betake himself to Egypt once more, that would be best of
all! H e shines with so strong a light, that he seems to put
every one and everything near him into the shade; and
his masterful superiority paralyses all lesser wills. But

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 MINISTER OF THE EMPEROR I97
when he is hundreds o£ miles away, commanding battles,
thinking out campaigns, Fouche, left to his own devices
at home, is to some extent his own master, can play
providence a little, and need no longer be a mere mari-
onette.
Besides, Fouche's chance has come at last. This year
1809 is fateful for Napoleon. Though he is ostensibly
successful, his military position is one of greater peril
than he has ever known before. In subjugated Prussia,
in imperfectly subdued Germany, there are scattered
in isolated garrisons tens of thousands of almost defence-
less Frenchmen to keep watch upon hundreds of thou-
sands of fighting men, who are only awaiting the call
to arms. Another Austrian victory like that at Aspern,
and there would have been a rising all over Germany,
and in France as well, for she, too, is weary of war. Nor
is all going well in the south. The rough way in which
the Pope has been handled has aroused ill-feeling
throughout Italy, just as the humiliation of Prussia has
aroused ill-feeling throughout Germany. If, then, a
shrewd thrust could now be delivered against the mili-
tarist imperial power, perhaps the iron colossus, uncer-
tainly balanced, astraddle from the Ebro to the Vistula,
might be overthrown. The British, Napoleon's arch-
enemies, are planning such a thrust. They determine
that, while the Emperor's troops are dispersed at As-
pern, Rome, and Lisbon, they will force their way into
the heart of France. First they will seize Dunkerque;
then they will occupy Antwerp and foment a rising in
Brabant. Napoleon and the best of the French fighting

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 198 JOSEPH FOUCHE

forces, with the most noted field-marshals and the heavy

guns, being all on foreign soil, France lies open to attack.
But Foucheisonthespotj Fouchewhoin 1793, under
the Convention, had learned how to get together tens of
thousands of recruits within a few weeks. H e has had
abundant energy throughout the intervening sixteen
years, but his only chance of displaying it has been in
the underground work of petty intrigue. Now his chance
has come. H e will be able to show the French nation
and the world that Joseph Fouche is something more
than Napoleon's puppet j that in case of need he can be
as resolute, as energetic, and as purposive in his activi-
ties as the Emperor himself. Seizing this heaven-sent
opportunity, he can give plain demonstration that the
power of shaping destiny, whether in the military field
or in the moral, is not entrusted to the Corsican ad-
venturer alone. In his proclamations, he boldly, chal-
lengingly, emphasizes the fact that the autocrat is not
indispensable. "Let us prove to Europe that, while the
genius of Napoleon confers glory on France, his pres-
ence is not necessary for driving back her enemies," he
writes to the mayor, and proceeds to suit his actions to
the words. Learning on August 31st that the English
have landed on the island of Walcheren, he uses his
powers as Minister of Police and acting Minister for
Home Affairs to call up the National Guards, who since
the active days of the revolution have been working
quietly in their villages as tailors and smiths, as boot-
makers and husbandmen. The other ministers are out-
raged. Does he dare to order such a step on his own

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initiative, without special instructions from the E m -

peror? The War Minister, above all, is greatly incensed
at this civilian's inroad into his sacred province. Fouche
ought to have asked permission in Schonbrunn prior to
ordering mobilization. Why not wait to hear what Na-
poleon has to say before disturbing the country? But it
will take a fortnight to get an answer from the Emperor,
and Fouche is not afraid of disturbing the country.
Surely Napoleon never hesitates to do that? (In his
innermost soul, Fouche wants to disturb the country,
and would not be sorry if there were an uproar!) Stead-
fastly he accepts full responsibility. In the Emperor's
name, all the able-bodied males in the threatened prov-
inces are summoned to make ready for the work of de-
fence—in the Emperor's name, though the Emperor has
not as yet heard a word of the matter. As a second piece
of audacity, Fouche, having thus improvised a northern
army, appoints to command it Bernadotte whom Na-
poleon hates, and whom he has ostracized, though Berna-
dotte is married to Joseph Bonaparte's sister-in-law. But
Fouche recalls him, regardless of the Emperor, his
fellow-ministers, and his own enemies. H e does not care
whether at this stage the Emperor would approve his
measures. H e is looking for justification by success.
Such boldness in decisive moments gives Fouche
something of true greatness. Capable, vigorous, and dili-
gent, he always craves for great enterprises, and is as-
signed only small ones, which are child's play to him.
It is natural, therefore, that his superfluous energy
should seek an outlet in malicious and usually senseless

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 2,00 JOSEPH FOUCHE

intrigues. But at moments when, as now, as formerly

in Lyons, and as subsequently in Paris after Napoleon's
fall, he is faced by a task momentous in history and
commensurate with his powers, he deals with it in mas-
terly fashion. The town of Flushing, which Napoleon
in his letters describes as impregnable, is, as Fouche has
foreseen, taken by the English in a few days. But mean-
while the army raised by the acting Minister for Home
Affairs on his own responsibility has had leisure to set
the defences of Antwerp upon a sound footing, and
consequently the British invasion of the Netherlands is a
disastrous failure. For the first time since Napoleon's
rise to power, one of his ministers has ventured of his
own free will to run up a flag, hoist sails, and set a course
—thus saving France in a critical hour. Thenceforward,
Fouche has enhanced self-confidence and holds a new
rank in the world.
At Schonbrunn, meanwhile, complaint after complaint
has come to hand from the Arch-Chancellor and from
the Minister for War, accusing Fouche of exceeding the
powers permissible to a civilian. H e has called up the
National Guards; and has put the country on a war
footing. But, surprisingly enough. Napoleon, before he
has heard of the successful results, writes to endorse
Fouche's actions, and to commend the energy and reso-
lution displayed. The Arch-Chancellor is severely rep-
rimanded: " I am extremely annoyed that, in these
extraordinary circumstances, you have made so little use
of the powers I entrusted to you. At the first rumour
of a raid you ought to have called up twenty thousand,

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 M I N I S T E R OF T H E E M P E R O R 201

forty thousand, or sixy thousand National Guards." To

the Minister for War he writes: " I have eyes only for
Monsieur Fouche, who did his best, and saw that it
would never do to persist in a dangerous and dishonour-
able inaction." Thus not merely has Fouche outdone
his over-cautious and incapable colleagues, but these
latter have been intimidated by Napoleon's approval of
Fouche's action. Despite all that Talleyrand and the
Arch-Chancellor can say, Fouche remains for a time,
under the Emperor, the leading man in France. H e
alone, among all subjects, has shown that he can com-
mand as well as obey.
Again and again we find evidence of Joseph Fouche's
capacity for rising to the occasion in moments of supreme
peril. Confront him with the most difficult situation,
and his boldness, his energy, and his comprehensive in-
sight will enable him to cope with it. Give him the most
tangled of knots, and he will find a way of loosening
the strings. But well as he knows how to take hold,
he is not a master of the sister art, that of letting go.
Having thrust his hand into an imbroglio, he cannot
withdraw it. As soon as he has untied a difficult knot,
his gambler's instinct drives him to complicate the issues
once more. So it happens on this occasion. Thanks to his
promptness, his nimbleness, and his resolution, the mis-
chievous flank attack has been repelled. After terrible
losses in men and material, and a still greater loss of
prestige, the British have re-embarked the shattered rem-
nants of the invading army and have sailed home across
the North Sea. Now the disband can be sounded, the

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 202 JOSEPH FOUCHE

National Guards can be thankfully and honourably dis-

missed. But Fouche's ambition has tasted blood. It was
splendid to play the emperor, to sound the call to the
colours in three provinces, to issue orders, to compose
stirring appeals, to give public addresses, to defy one's
pusillanimous colleagues. Is it all to be over and done
with now, just when one is beginning to develop one's
powers to the full, and to enjoy their exercise? Fouche
has no taste for such a return to the ordinary. Much
better to continue playing the game of attack and de-
fence—even if the attackers have to be conjured up out
of the imagination. H e wants to go on raising an alarm,
disturbing people's minds, arousing the country to a
stormy movement of self-protection. With this end in
view, he commands a fresh mobilization, to make ready
for an expected British landing at Marseilles. T h e Na-
tional Guards are levied throughout Piedmont and
Provence, and even in Paris—^to the general astonish-
ment, seeing that not a trace of an enemy can be dis-
cerned on any coast of France, nor even in the offing.
The only reason for all these tuckets and excursions is
that the fever has got into Fouche's blood; that he has
been bitten anew, after long abstinence, by the desire for
mobilizing men and organizing things; and that, in the
temporary absence of the ruler of the world, he is able
to give free vent to a long-repressed lust for action.
"But against whom are all these armies directed?"
asks the country, in growing bewilderment. There are
no signs of another British attempt at invasion. By de-
grees even those among his colleagues who are friendly

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 MINISTER OF THE EMPEROR 203

to him become uneasy, wondering what on earth the

inscrutable fellow can be up to with his crazy mobiliza-
tions. It never occurs to them that Fouche is merely in-
toxicated by the exercise of his craving for activity, that
he is amusing himself finely, and that the levyings have
no other meaning whatever. Since, look where you will,
not a glimmer of a hostile bayonet can be seen, not a sign
of an enemy against whom the daily increasing prepara-
tions for the use of armed force might be directed, people
begin to think, in spite of themselves, that the acting
Minister for Home Affairs must be animated by secret
ambition, or must entertain a far-reaching design. Some
suppose him to be planning a revolt. Others think that
his idea is, in the event of a second Aspern or of an
attempt on the Emperor's life more successful than that
of Friedrich Staps, to re-establish the Republic. The up-
shot of these musings is that letter after letter reaches
headquarters at Schonbrunn declaring that if Fouche
has not gone mad he must be a dangerous conspirator.
In the end Napoleon, despite his recent commendation,
begins to think there must be something wrong. The
man is suffering from an overweening sense of self-
importance, and his pride must be humbled. The tone
of the Emperor's letters abruptly changes. H e repri-
mands the minister sharply, calls him "a Don Quixote
tilting at windmills," and writes in the familiar harsh
strain: "All the reports which come to hand tell me that
the National Guards are being called up in Piedmont,
Languedoc, Provence, and Dauphine! What the devil is
this for, seeing that there is no urgent reason for any-

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 204 JOSEPH FOUCHE

thing of the sort, and that it ought never to have been

done without my orders?" Fouche, therefore, sore at
heart, must give up playing the master, must lay dovra
the reins of office as Minister for Home Affairs, and
must go back to the corner where he works inconspicu-
ously as police guardian to His Majesty the Emperor,
who is returning crowned with glory, but returning too
soon for Joseph Fouche.

Still, even though he has been over-zealous, there can

be no doubt that Fouche did the right thing at the most
timely moment, when the country was in danger and
his colleagues were afraid to lift a finger. Napoleon can
no longer withhold from him the honour which has
been granted to so many others. A new nobility is spring-
ing up from the blood-drenched soil of France; titles,
thick as blackberries, are being granted to generals, min-
isters, and understrappers as well; now it is the turn of
Fouche, the aristocratophobe of earlier days, to become
an aristocrat himself.
H e is, indeed, already a count, but no great to-do has
been made about this lesser title. Now the ex-Jacobin
is to climb to a much higher rung upon the airy ladder
of names. On August 15, 1809, at Schonbrunn, in the
splendid palace of His Apostolic Majesty the Emperor
of Austria, the sometime Corsican lieutenant signs, seals,
and delivers a complaisant sheet of donkey's hide, in
virtue of which parchment the ex-communist and ex-
seminary-teacher Joseph Fouche may henceforward
style himself (give respectful hearing!) Duke of

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 M I N I S T E R OF T H E E M P E R O R 205

Otranto. H e did not fight at Otranto and he has never

set eyes on the place, but the title has a rich foreign
resonance which makes it eminently fitted to cloak the
personality of the man who was once an ardent French
republican. When it is properly articulated, who is likely
to remember that it is only a new name for Joseph
Fouche, that the Duke of Otranto was the mitrailleur
of Lyons, the purveyor of pain de I'unite, and the con-
fiscator of private property? That nothing may be lack-
ing to his ennoblement, he is supplied also with the
insignia of dukedom, with a brand-new coat-of-arms.
Let us examine this coat-of-arms, for its symbolism
is remarkable. Are we to suppose that Napoleon himself
excogitated its allusions to the new duke's peculiarities,
or did the official heraldic expert permit himself the
luxury of a sly joke at the latter's expense? However
this may be, the arms of the Duke of Otranto display
as centrepiece a golden pillar, well suited to a man who
is so passionately fond of money. Round the aureate
column winds a snake, and surely this must have been
an allusion to our friend's diplomatic suppleness? Na-
poleon was well served in his Herald's College. More
characteristic armorial bearings could not possibly have
been found for Joseph Fouche.

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 C H A P T E R SIX

THE STRUGGLE WITH THE

EMPEROR
1810

A SALIENT example degrades or uplifts an entire gen-

eration. When such a man as Napoleon Bonaparte ap-
pears upon the stage of history, those who come near
him are offered a choice. Either they can dwindle intq>
insignificance in face of his greatness; or else, fired by,
his example, they can strain their own capacities to the
uttermost. Men who came into contact with Napoleon
had to be either his slaves or his rivals, for a man of
such stupendous proportions cannot, in the long run,
tolerate mediocrity among his associates.
Fouche was one of those whom Napoleon had thrown
off their balance. His spirit had been poisoned by the
unceasing spectacle of Insatiable ambition; he had suc-
cumbed to an elemental Impulse to outdo himself un-
remittingly; like his master, he wanted perpetually to
widen the limits of his power; for him, too, quiet con-
tent with the extant had become Impossible. Great, there-
fore, was his chagrin on the day when Napoleon re-
turned in triumph from Schonbrunn to take the reins
into his own hands once more. How delightful had these
last months been, when he could follow his own bent,
raise armies, issue proclamations, shape a bold course
206

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