Intended by his father, the captain of a merchant vessel, for a maritime life, young Joseph was placed at one of the schools of the Oratory to learn the mathematical sciences. But the sea became his aversion; and indeed the delicacy of his constitution rendered him unfit for so boisterous an element. He selected a very different career of life: he became a professed member of the Congregation of the Oratory; and with the view of qualifying himself for public instruction, he forsook sines and tangents, for the subtleties of philosophy and scholastic learning, and removed to Paris to finish his studies. It is not true that he embraced Holy Orders. As a brother of the Congregation, he took the vows of chastity and obedience in common with the regular clergy; but such vows are obligatory, in the Romish Church, on the lay brethren who devote their lives to the instruction of youth*. He afterwards taught in several towns, and when the revolution broke out, he was one of the superiors in the college of Nantes.

The great political change in France was hailed by no one more heartily than by Fouché. While other men adopted the levelling principles, through impulse, or the natural force of example, it is his boast, that he did so from reflection and character. He soon gave a convincing proof that the prejudices of education had ceased to exercise any empire over him; he broke his vows by marrying, and thereby separated himself from his brethren of the order; he established a club, called the Patriotic Society, at the meetings of which he distinguished himself above the rest, by the boldness of his impiety, and the fury of his revolutionary opinions. His popularity was such, that he was returned Deputy to the National Convention for the lower Loire.

As nature had not furnished Fouché with the qualities necessary to ensure eminence in public speaking, he seldom mounted the tribune. On the trial of the unfortunate Louis, however, he was not contented to give a silent vote. On the proposal that the fate of the king should be decided by an appeal to the people, he said: -- "I had no expectation of being required to vote for any thing, but simply the death of the tyrant. We appear frightened at the courage with which we have abolished royalty; we tremble at the shadow of a king. Let us assume a republican attitude; let us make use of the ample powers with which the nation has invested us; let us discharge our duty in its widest sense: we are great enough to controul all human authorities and events; the times will aid us against all the kings of the earth." He concluded by voting for "death without repeal and without delay."

The zeal of the regicide caused him to be selected as a choice instrument to carry into effect the decrees of the Convention; and he acquitted himself of the commission to the satisfaction of the monsters. Confiscations, proscriptions, massacres, attended his path in the departments of the Aube and Nievre. His hostility seemed to be especially directed against the clergy, eighty-three of whom he sent to Nantes to figure in the famous noyades (drowning-matches!) of that ill-fated city; and the churches were every where plundered and laid waste. He did more: he assailed the doctrine on which Christianity was built, -- the immortality of the soul. "Death is but an eternal sleep," was the inscription which he caused to be placed in conspicuous characters over the entrance of each public cemetery.

But whatever might be the merit of his services at Nantes, it was far eclipsed by those he had soon afterwards the happiness to perform at Lyons. On his arrival there with Collot d'Herbois, he announced to the terrified citizens the reward they were to expect for having dared to resist the majesty of the people, and especially for having put to death some revolutionary agents. "The representatives of the people will be impassive in the execution of their mission. They have been intrusted with the thunderbolt of public vengeance, which they will not cease to hurl until the public enemies are crushed. They will have the courage to march over countless tombs of the conspirators, to traverse boundless ruins, that they may arrive at the happiness of nations,--at the regeneration of the world!" He wrote in like terms to his employers at Paris: "Nothing can disarm our severity: indulgence, we must say, is a dangerous weakness. We never cease to strike the enemies of the people; we annihilate them in a manner at once signal, terrible, and prompt. Their bloody corses, thrown into the Rhone, must appear both on the banks and at the mouth of that river, a spectacle of fear, and of the omnipotence of the people! Terror, salutary terror, is here in truth the order of the day; it represses all the efforts of the wicked; it divests crime of all covering and tinsel!" In accordance with his vows of vengeance, Fouché, and the wretch who accompanied him, caused lists of the royalists to be prepared daily, of whom all were consigned to instant execution. Not only was the guillotine kept constantly at work, but hundreds of victims were dispatched at once by grape-shot. "This very evening," says he in a letter (dated December 19th, 1793), "we expose two hundred and fifteen rebels to the thunderbolt." In short , he had some reason to boast (letter of February 13th, 1794) that "Lyons would offer to posterity a fearful picture of ruin, a monument of republican vengeance, and of democratic power!"

Soon after the regicide's triumphant return from this mission, he was accused by Robespierre as an enemy of liberty; and every one knows that an accusation from that quarter was death. How he fell under the displeasure of that kindred spirit is not very clear. Some accounts say that he was denounced as one who had dishonoured the revolution by his excesses! We are unwilling to load his memory with greater infamy than it ought to bear; we think it more likely that he was accused of being sometimes, however rarely, accessible to humanity. However this might be, he saw his destruction inevitable if Robespierre lived a few days longer. He hurried away to Tallien, Legendre, and others who were discontented with the despotism that held the axe suspended over their heads, and urged them to join with him in pulling down the tyrant. "Your names are inscribed on his black list as well as mine!" was the great argument he used. The sense of common danger united all in one common resistance, and down fell the monster whose name occupies the bloodiest page in the annals of crime.

No sooner did this wary democrat perceive that the public opinion was becoming daily more averse to these revolutionary horrors, than he eagerly chimed in with the cry of humanity. Notwithstanding his promptitude of compliance, however, the more moderate persons in authority regarded him with becoming indignation; and on more than one occasion he was denounced as a terrorist, and compelled to hide his guilty head far from the walls of the capital. Even after a general amnesty had been proclaimed by the Directorial Government, it was long before he could obtain any considerable charge in the affairs of state. As, however, he had been the firmest support of the revolution, and as his abilities were known to be of a high order, he was at length brought into employment by Barras. In 1798 he was dispatched on an embassy to Italy; and went subsequently in a similar capacity to Holland -- whence he was recalled to preside over the new police, -- the most formidable instrument ever devised in aid of despotism.

On the establishment of the Consular Power, the minister of police was retained: without him, indeed, Buonaparte would scarcely have consolidated his authority, or been defended against the assassin's knife. He alone could conjure the revolutionary spectre which still skulked in obscurity; and be alone could penetrate and thwart the plans of the royalists. Through him the First Consul could strike either, and, what was most agreeable, without implicating himself. Lists of such as were accounted dangerous were carefully prepared, and imprisonment or banishment followed. Death was seldom resorted to:--

Fouché was sagacious enough to perceive that if the unnecessary spilling of blood engendered fear, the twin-birth was indignation and horror, -- that, to use his own words, "it was worse than a crime; -- it was a blunder." How far such moderation guided his secret conduct -- and most of his proceedings were veiled in the utmost secresy -- is known only to the Omniscient. The tyranny which can reward is never without instruments enough; and it is scarcely just to fix on one the odium of every wicked act, merely because that one has been too often employed for such purposes.

The minister was so anxious to throw a shade over his past infamy, -- if possible to gain some portion of popularity -- that outwardly at least he did not long remain an ever-passive tool to work the despotic will of his master. Sure of the democratic party, of which he was the acknowledged head, he was desirous of securing the favour of the royalists of whom he had hitherto been the deadly opponent. He suddenly testified great regard for them; his drawing-rooms were opened to every old noble who chose to visit him. Some guarded the honour of their ancient race, and scorned to contaminate themselves by the contact of infamy; others, and we fear in much greater numbers, sacrificed their honour to their advantage, and lent their sanction to the new order of things. Nay, not a few of these noble names were among the number of his hired spies, -- spies on the motions of royalists no less than of democrats. What will surprise the reader more is, that Josephine herself was on the same list -- a spy on the proceedings of her own husband! It may, however, be readily supposed that neither did the minister require, nor she communicate, any thing to that husband's prejudice. But the most useful of his creatures was, if we may believe Fouché's Memoires, the confidential secretary of the First Consul!--

This man, whose talents are acknowledged, but whose avarice soon led to his disgrace, has always exhibited such a hankering after money that I need not name him *. Depository of the papers and secrets of his master, he discovered that I expended 100,000 francs a month in watching over the safety of the First Consul. The idea struck him that for a certain sum of money he could furnish me with information sufficient to direct me to the end I had in view. He called on me, and proposed to acquaint me with every movement of Buonaparte if I would give him 25,000 francs a month; and this he alleged would be a saving of 900,000 francs in the course of the year. I had no intention of letting slip such an occasion of hiring the confidential secretary of the Consul,--of him whose steps I was so anxious to trace, that I might know to a certainty not only what he had done, but what he purposed to do. I accepted the proposal, and every month he received an order on the police chest for his 25,000 francs. I had reason to praise his dexterity and the accuracy of his information." -- "I was by this means exactly acquainted with all I wished to know; I could correct the communications of the secretary by those of Josephine, and Josephine's by the secretary's. I was stronger than all my enemies put together." -- Memoires**, tom. i., p. 188.

The prudent conduct of Fouché had much of the effect he intended. His early crimes were imputed by many to the necessity of his situation, and his present forbearance to a real dislike of violence. The evils which he inflicted in his ministerial capacity were indeed severe enough, but fortunately for him they were generally unknown: not even the proceedings of the Inquisition itself were wrapt in greater mystery. The good which he did was open to all men, and was, perhaps, the more prized from its being wholly unexpected. But the reputation which he began to enjoy was by no means agreeable to the First Consul, who besides could not contemplate without alarm the tremendous powers with which he was invested. He who was so profoundly versed in the state of parties, -- who was obeyed by one, courted by another, and feared by all; who, by means of his countless agents, could at any time congregate the scattered elements of resistance to the authority of government, was too formidable to be allowed to continue for ever in so dangerous a post. To this we may add that Buonaparte well knew the channel through which the knowledge of his amours passed to Josephine. Of the extent to which the head of the state was subjected to this galling system of espionage, Fouché furnishes us with an amusing proof:--

One day Buonaparte observed that, considering my acknowledged ability, he was astonished I did not perform my functions better, -- that there were several things of which I was ignorant. 'Yes,' replied I, 'there certainly are things of which I was ignorant, but which I now know well enough. For instance, a little man muffled up in a grey cloak, and accompanied by a single servant, often steals out on a dark evening from a secret door of the Tuileries, enters a closed carriage, and drives off to Signora G----. This little man is yourself; and yet this fanciful songstress jilts you continually out of love for Rode the fiddler.' The Consul answered not a word: he turned his back, rung, and I immediately withdrew." -- Memoires, tom. i. p. 233.

For the reasons already mentioned, and others easily supposed, among which was doubtless the inability of Fouché to foresee and avert the explosion of the infernal machine (see the Life of Napoleon Buonaparte), the ministry of police was abolished after the peace of Amiens. But he had rendered many signal services to his master, and that master was too liberal to dismiss him unrewarded. He was invested with the senatorship of Aix, and presented with an enormous sum.

During his absence of nearly two years from the business of state, Fouché was not wholly inactive. His advice was often solicited by Buonaparte, and as eagerly given as required. No one knew human nature better than he, and no one so perfectly understood the characters of the individuals around him. He saw the subject of the Consul's incessant thoughts, whose flame of ambition he was not backward to fan. He saw the end to which every thing tended; and to secure the favour of the man who was soon to wield the destinies of Europe, he advised the establishment of the imperial power. He who had voted for the death of the amiable Louis, -- and added insult to the vote, -- on the ground that royalty was tyranny, and inconsistent with the general happiness, did not hesitate to recommend the enemy of all liberty to assume a dignity in itself infinitely more prejudicial to popular rights! The secret of this wonderful change of opinion is to be found in one pithy sentence: "Buonaparte was at that time the only man able to secure us in the possession of our property, dignities, and employments." Though, the same consideration will sufficiently account for most other revolutions, we do not often meet with the same candid acknowledgment of the fact.

The readiness with which the representative of the revolution sacrificed at the imperial shrine, and the conspiracy of Cadoudal, which proved that the head of the state had still need of a defence against the attacks of the disaffected; in other words, gratitude and policy combined -- brought about the re-establishment of the police in the hands of its old minister. Its powers were increased, and its constitution in various respects re-modelled.

Under Fouché were four councillors of state, who assembled once every week in his cabinet to lay their papers before him, and to receive his decisions. Their chief duty was to correspond with the prefects in the various departments; to watch over the public prisons and the proceedings of the Gens-d'armerie, and especially over strangers, emigrants, and all who were in any degree suspected. They could dispatch, on their own authority, affairs of trifling moment; but those of importance rested with their head.

The system itself was supported chiefly by hired spies in every condition of society, who reported their observations to the prefects, to the four councillors, or to Fouché himself. These spies were of both sexes, and rewarded according to their services and importance by fixed gratuities. Such as had cognizance of the more weighty affairs, received from one to two thousand francs per month, and despatched their communications direct to Fouché. Every communication was signed by the individual who sent it, but that signature was not his real, -- it was a conventional name. Every three months a list of these names was laid before the emperor, who adjudged places, or other recompenses, to such as had signalized themselves above the rest by their zeal and success.

These spies were not confined to France: at every foreign court, and in every foreign city, were individuals, natives of the country, who had sold themselves to the French ruler. Treachery often presided at the council-board of the sovereign, and still oftener within the walls of a besieged city. Foreign newspapers, intercepted letters, and other documents, both public and private, found their way to the cabinet of Fouché. The number of these despicable hirelings must have been immense; but despicable as was the profession, it was exercised by persons of high rank: at one time Fouché could (he says) boast of three princes among his devoted creatures.

The expense of such an establishment was enormous; it swallowed up some millions annually. It was chiefly defrayed by secret contributions, or regular taxes, levied on gambling-houses, public stews, and the delivery of passports.

Invested with these extraordinary powers, the minister exerted himself with success to rally round the new dynasty both his old friends the republicans, and the royalists who regarded the sceptre as usurped. His success was well rewarded: on the creation of the great feudatories he was not forgotten; his dukedom of Otranto was, as he himself observes, "a pretty good ticket in this imperial lottery."

Though the regicide always regarded the restoration of the old dynasty as at least possible, it may easily be supposed that he must have entertained much dread of such an event, and that he was willing to make any sacrifice to prevent it. The death of the infant son of Hortense Beauharnois, whom Napoleon probably destined as the successor to his magnificent heritage, and the certainty that the emperor would never have issue by Josephine, threw into considerable alarm all whose fortunes were connected with the fate of the ruling dynasty. Fouché was among the first to perceive how favourable an unsettled succession must be to the hopes of the Bourbons. Knowing the emperor's secret wishes on the subject, he made a bold stroke; he advised Napoleon to dissolve the marriage with Josephine, and to obtain the hand of some young princess. Nay, he had the unparalleled impudence to recommend the sacrifice to Josephine herself.

"Such an overture (says he) required some preparation. I waited for a suitable opportunity which I found at Fontainebleau one Sunday after mass. During our discourse, I led her aside to the embrasure of a window: with all the precautions my oratory could suggest, with all the delicacy possible, I gave her the first idea of a separation which I represented to her as the most sublime, and at the same time the most inevitable of sacrifices. At first her face coloured; she then grew pale, her lips swelled, and her whole appearance made me fear a fainting fit, or else some violent explosion. She asked me in a faltering voice, whether I had any instructions to make her so painful a proposal: I answered that I had received none; that I had spoken from no other cause than the necessity which I could clearly foresee."-- Memoires tom. i. p. 380.

Josephine complained to the emperor, who disavowed the step of his minister, and did all he could to pacify her. But he would not consent to dismiss him, -- a circumstance which might have shewn her that the question of divorce was no new one, -- nay, that it was already decided: but the thing which we wish we easily credit, and the empress soon forgot the mortification in the belief that no such separation was intended.

With all his boasted harangues in favour of popular liberty, Fouché was perhaps the firmest support of despotism in France. He did not scruple to fulfil the most tyrannical wishes of the emperor; still less to approve his most tyrannical pretensions. When the latter fulminated his famous admonition against the Legislative Body, which he would neither allow to be the organ of the nation, nor to possess the power of making laws, asserting that he (the emperor) alone was the true representative of the nation, the regicide was probably expected to oppose so monstrous a dogma. Napoleon himself seems to have thought so; for, on his return, he artfully sounded his minister on the subject. But that minister was more crafty than himself, and as supple as crafty. "This is the way your majesty should always govern. The Legislative Body arrogate to itself the right of representing the nation in place of the sovereign! Dissolve any body, sire, that thus dares to interfere with your royal prerogative. Had Louis XVI. done so, he would be living and reigning this very day!" The emperor stared: "How is this, Duke of Otranto! Are you not one of those who sent Louis to the scaffold?" "Yes, sire; and that is the first service I had the honour of rendering your majesty!"

Yet Fouché was never a favourite with Napoleon. He was suspected, perhaps justly, of being at the head of a party which worked in secret, and which only waited for some signal reverse of fortune to the imperial arms, to establish a republican form of government. Many of those who had possessed unbounded power immediately after the death of Louis, could ill bear their humiliating dependance on the most haughty and despotic of masters. But what most displeased the emperor, was the immense influence of his minister, whom he had never designed to be any other than a terror to the royalists, and his bulwark against revolutionary conspiracies; to see that minister caressed by both parties -- to see Fouché the idol instead of the dread of the Faubourg St. Germain -- had never entered his brain. His dissatisfaction was increased by an event which injustice deserved a shining recompense. While the emperor was engaged in the campaign of Austria (1809), the English seized Flushing, and threatened the invasion of Belgium; Fouché called out a levy of the National Guards, and despatched Bernadotte to protect the frontier of the empire, a measure eminently successful. From that moment his disgrace was resolved: a minister of such activity and influence -- who could raise armies and defeat numerous enemies -- was too powerful for Napoleon. All that was wanted was some decent pretext for his dismission, and one soon offered. By a strange coincidence, both the emperor and his minister had each despatched at the same time a secret emissary to sound the English ministry as to its disposition for peace. As these agents were unknown to each other, and could have no idea of acting in concert, the result was a difference in the proposals intended as the basis of pacification. This the Marquis Wellesley -- at that time Secretary for Foreign Affairs -- regarded as a snare, and in consequence broke off all negotiation. Napoleon soon learned how his overtures had been traversed, and he furiously inveighed in full council against the audacious minister: "So you make peace and war without consulting me!" Fouché was displaced by Savary, and compelled to retire to his country seat.

He had not been long at Ferrieres, before he learned, through one of his agents, that it was resolved to seize his papers. These papers contained the confidential correspondence which had passed between him and the emperor. To give them up, would be to part with his only justification for many arbitrary acts, for which, so long as he preserved the written orders of Napoleon, he feared no punishment. He determined not to surrender them--at least the more important ones, which he carefully hid, and awaited the event with a stoical air. Berthier, with the councillors Réal and Dubois, soon arrived. -- But let Fouché himself describe the scene:-- "From their embarrassment I perceived that I still imposed on them, and that their mission was conditional. In fact, Berthier being the first to address me, informed me with evident constraint, that he came by the emperors order to demand my correspondence; that it must be surrendered; and that in case of my refusal the prefect Dubois was enjoined to arrest me, and seal my papers. Réal, assuming a persuasive tone, and speaking with more emotion to an old friend, exhorted me, almost with tears in his eyes, to defer to the wishes of the emperor. 'I, Gentlemen!' was my calm and prompt reply, 'I resist the orders of the emperor! -- I who have always served him with so much zeal, although he has wounded me by unjust suspicions even when I served him the best! Come into my cabinet, examine everywhere. I will give you all my keys; I will, myself, deliver you all my papers.' The firmness with which I pronounced these words having had its effect, I continued: 'As to the private correspondence of the emperor and myself during the exercise of my functions -- correspondence of a nature to remain everlastingly secret -- I burned a portion of it at the time I resigned the portfolio: I had no wish to expose papers of such importance to any indiscreet investigation. With this exception, gentlemen, you will find the letters claimed by the emperor. Here they are in two packets, sealed and labelled!"

This unparalleled effrontery imposed on the agents; they seized some unimportant documents, and took a polite leave of the smiling duke. No sooner had they departed, than he prepared to follow them, and as night closed in, he could do so unobserved. In a cabriolet belonging to his steward, and accompanied by a single friend, he reached his hotel in Paris. There he learned, by means of his spies what had just transpired at court. The emperor had broken out into a violent fury; had called the commissioners a set of fools, and Berthier an old woman, for suffering himself to be duped by the most crafty fellow in the empire. He breathed vengeance against the audacious subject who thus trifled with his sovereign. All this was unfavourable enough, yet it did not much daunt this practised deceiver: he resolved to face Napoleon: he went to the palace, much to the surprise of Duroc, by whom he was introduced into the cabinet.

"No sooner did I see the emperor, than I divined his purpose from his very manner. Without allowing me time to utter a single word, he caressed, flattered me, testified something like repentance for his recent hastiness; then in a tone which seemed to convey a willingness to become reconciled, he ended by demanding his correspondence. 'Sire,' replied I firmly, 'I have destroyed it.' 'No such thing--I will have it!' rejoined he in great anger, and with a contraction of his brows. 'It is in ashes' -- 'Away!' (he pronounced the word with a fierce motion and look) 'Sire--' -- 'Leave me, I say!' (words delivered in a tone to dissuade me from remaining a moment longer.) I held in my hand a short memorial, but to the point, and as I retired I laid it with a respectful bow on the table. He seized the paper in a rage, and tore it to pieces." -- Memoires, tom, ii, p. 21-27.

Scarcely was Fouché returned to his hotel, when Berthier was announced. "Never did I see the emperor so furious," said the latter; " he persists that you have duped us, and have endeavoured to dupe him!" The other repeated the lie he had twice told, and said that, even if the papers were in his possession, he would not restore them. Berthier threatened: "Tell him," replied the bold ex-minister," that for twenty-five years I have been accustomed to sleep with my head upon the block; that I know his power but do not dread it: tell him he may make a Strafford of me if he pleases!" They parted, he more than ever resolved to preserve papers which bore the emperor's signature and seal, and the loss of which might one day make him alone responsible for the violent and iniquitous measures he had been the instrument of executing.

Reflection soon convinced him that he had reason to fear. In constant apprehension of arrest, he fled to Italy, whence he purposed to set sail for the United States. He embarked, but was so afflicted with sea-sickness, that be preferred encountering the worst evils on land, to a continuance on "that hateful element." Through the intercession of Eliza, the emperor's !sister, he obtained permission to return, on condition of his surrendering the contested papers, and of his receiving in lieu of them a written indemnification, for whatever unjustifiable acts he had performed during his ministerial career.

After the disastrous close of the Russian campaign, Fouché was summoned to attend the emperor, who knew his talents for intrigue, and who dreaded them the more since fortune had become unfavourable. He departed to take possession of the government of Illyria, at the express command of his master. But he could not stay there: he was driven out of the country by the Austrian invasion. He was on his return to France when he received an order to proceed to Naples, on pretence of his presence being necessary to confirm the wavering fidelity of Murat, but, in reality, that he might be as long removed as possible from the dangerous plots formed in the French capital. He did not reach Paris until Buonaparte had abdicated, nor until he had good reason to know, that even regicides would be unmolested by the new king.

The repentance of Fouché for the part he had taken in the death of Louis was apparently so sincere, his professions of devotedness to the royal cause so ardent, that he was suffered to retire unmolested to his estate at Ferrieres. But this did not satisfy him; he longed for power. In the hope of being called to the ministry, he wrote to Napoleon in Elba, urging the exile to remove from a scene in which, from its proximity, he must necessarily keep alive the intrigues of a powerful party. He recommended the United States as the only country where the ex-emperor could reside with honour to himself, and a just regard to the interests of France. He took care to enclose a copy of the letter to the king's brother; else his new flame of loyalty might have consumed itself in vain. The design was artful: it might fan the hopes of the very man against whom it was ostensibly directed; and it might be considered as an invitation to the Bourbons, to insist on the removal of Napoleon to North America. But it produced no effect: his talents were respected, but his character was held in just execration.

When news arrived of the disembarkation of Napoleon -- an event to which Fouché had probably contributed something -- an attempt was made to secure his person, and conduct him to Lille as a hostage. He escaped the danger. Under the pretext of protesting against his arrest, he left the Gens-d'armes outside the door of his cabinet, rapidly descended into his garden, and by means of a ladder, which he pulled up after him, passed over a high wall into the garden of Hortense, whose house lay contiguous to his own. He was thus thrown into the very focus of the Buonapartists, -- a circumstance which, though in this particular instance accidental, contributed to his being regarded as one of the devoted chiefs of that party.

During the Hundred Days, Fouché exercised his old functions as head of the police. This time he was trebly steeped in treachery. He in private caressed the revolutionists, who wished to have in Buonaparte not an emperor but a republican general; he corresponded with Metternich and Talleyrand as to the best mode of subverting Buonaparte's government; he communicated with the minister of Louis XVIII. at Ghent, to secure the support of that monarch in case the Bourbon dynasty should be a second time restored; and he gave secret information to the Duke of Wellington as to the military plans of Napoleon. He promised that general, indeed, a faithful plan of the whole campaign; but, according to his own acknowledgment, his conscience upbraided him for this treachery to his country. He sent the plan by a lady in his confidence; but caused her to be arrested on the Belgian frontier, so that it might not reach its destination before the fate of the campaign was decided. His agents at London, Ghent, and Vienna, faithfully obeyed his instructions, and represented him as one of the best supports of the royal cause; while he himself was busily occupied at Paris in exciting the hopes and efforts of every party, from the military creatures of the emperor down to the lowest dregs of the revolution.

The game which this unprincipled minister was now playing was indeed desperate. On one occasion he narrowly escaped the punishment he deserved. The emperor discovered the intrigue between him and Metternich; that each of these statesmen was to send a confidential agent to meet at Bâle for the purpose of arranging as to the measures necessary to rid France of Napoleon. Unknown to Fouché, Napoleon despatched Fleury de Chabollon to meet the emissary of the Austrian, and sufficient was elicited to render the treachery of Fouché more than probable. But in the mean time the crafty minister had discovered the circumstance. He went to the palace, transacted business with the emperor as usual, -- and, just as he was rising to leave the cabinet, recollected, as if by accident, that Metternich had requested him to send an agent to Bâle, -- for what purpose he could not tell -- but that in the pressure of so many and great occupations, he had forgot to lay that minister's letter before Napoleon! "Perhaps to save the horrors of a general war, the allies wish you to abdicate in favour of your son: such, I am convinced, is the opinion of Metternich, and such, I must say, is my own: your majesty cannot resist the arms of Europe." He left it to the emperor to say, whether an agent should be sent or not! And once more his cunning saved him.

On the return of Louis, Fouché, as a reward for the services he was supposed to have rendered in the royal cause, was continued in his dignity. But he soon perceived that his character was too thoroughly known -- his revolutionary deeds too distinctly remembered -- for him to enjoy the confidence of the king. The election of a new Chamber of Deputies, of whom nearly all were royalists, and the clamours daily raised against his profligacy and treachery, convinced him that it would be dangerous to continue in his post. He resigned, and was appointed ambassador to Dresden. The public vengeance pursued him. In January, 1816, he was denounced as a regicide by both Chambers, and condemned to death in case he re-entered the French territory. He settled first at Prague, and afterwards, with the consent of the Austrian government, at Lintz and Trieste. In the latter city he sickened and died in 1820.

Of Fouché's character it can only be said, that it was stained with blood, treachery, and avarice; and stained, too, as deeply as human nature could well be.