“A quid pro quo,” said Lebrun, again, thoughtfully. “Supposing the city of Le Havre declared itself against the Empire, declared itself for Louis XVIII?”
The possibility had occurred to Hornblower, but he had put it aside as being potentially too good to be true.
“Supposing it did?” he said cautiously.
“It might be the example for which the Empire is waiting. It might be infectious. Bonaparte could not survive such a blow.”
“He has survived many blows.”
“But none of this sort. And if Le Havre declared for the King the city would be in alliance with Great Britain. The blockade could not continue to apply. Or if it did a licence to import could be granted to the house of Momas Frères, could it not?”
“Possibly. Remember, I make no promises.”
“And when Louis XVIII was restored to the throne of his fathers he would look with kindness upon those who first declared for him,” said Lebrun. “The adjoint to Baron Momas might expect to find a great career open to him.”
“No doubt of that,” agreed Hornblower. “But — you have spoken of your own sentiments. Can you be sure of those of M. le Baron? And whatever may be M. le Baron’s sentiments, how can he be sure that the city would follow him should he declare himself?”
“I can answer for the Baron, I assure you, sir. I know — I have certain knowledge of his thoughts.”
Probably Lebrun had been spying on his master on behalf of the Imperial Government, and had no objection to applying his knowledge in another and more profitable cause.
“But the city? The other authorities?”
“The day you took me prisoner, sir,” said Lebrun, “there arrived from Paris some sample proclamations and advance notice of some Imperial decrees. The proclamations were to be printed — my last official act was to give the order — and next Monday the proclamations were to be posted and the decrees made public.”
“Yes?”
“They are the most drastic in the drastic history of the Empire. Conscription — the last of the class of 1815 is to be called, and the classes all the way back to that of 1802 are to be revised. Boys of seventeen, cripples, invalids, fathers of families, even those who have purchased exemption; they are all to be called.”
“France must have grown used to conscription.”
“France has grown weary of it, rather, sir. I have official knowledge of the number of deserters and the severity of the measures directed against them. But it’s not merely the conscription, sir. The other decrees are more drastic still. The taxes! The direct imposts, the indirect imposts, the droits réunis, and the others! Those of us who survive the war will be left beggars.”
“And you think publication of these decrees will rouse sufficient discontent to cause rebellion?”
“Perhaps not. But it would constitute an admirable starting-point for a determined leader.”
Lebrun was shrewd enough — this last remark was acute and might be true.
“But the other authorities in the town? The military governor? The Prefect of the Department?”
“Some of them would be safe. I know their sentiments as well as I know Baron Momas’. The others — a dozen well-timed arrests, carried out simultaneously, an appeal to the troops in the barracks, the arrival of British forces (your forces, sir), a heartening proclamation to the people, the declaration of a state of siege, the closing of the gates, and it would be all over. Le Havre is well fortified, as you know, sir. Only an army and a battering train could retake it, and Bonaparte has neither to spare. The news would spread like wildfire through the Empire, however Bonaparte tried to stop it.”
This man Lebrun had ideas and vision, whatever might be thought of his morals. That was a neat thumbnail sketch he had drawn of a typical coup d’état. If the attempt were successful the results would be profound. Even if it were to fail, loyalty throughout the Empire would be shaken. Treason was infectious, as Lebrun had said. Rats in a sinking ship were notoriously quick in following an example in leaving it. There would be little enough to risk losing in supporting Lebrun’s notions, and the gains might be immense.