BAD NEWS.
A moment of repose had interrupted the great contest. Napoleon had
offered an armistice to the allies prior to the battle of Bautzen;
they rejected it, full of confidence in their strength. After the
battle of Bautzen, the offer was repeated, and accepted. Time was
needed for levying additional troops, organizing new regiments, and
concentrating new corps. But Napoleon, deceived by his victories,
relying on his good luck, and on the mistakes of his enemies, was
fully satisfied that this armistice was but the forerunner of peace;
and that the allies, warned by the two lost battles, would be eager
to accept any peace not altogether dishonorable. The negotiations
were opened at Prague. France, Prussia, and Russia, sent their
plenipotentiaries to that city; and Austria, having taken upon
herself the part of a mediator, instructed her envoy, Minister
Metternich, to participate in the congress. The armistice was from
the 4th of June to the 24th of July--time enough for agreeing on a
peace equally advantageous to both sides--time enough, too, in case
it should not be concluded, to concentrate the armies and bring
reinforcements from France.
So soon as the armistice was signed, Napoleon returned to Dresden,
to await there the result of the negotiations. At the Marcolini
Palace the emperor again established his headquarters; but no
brilliant festivals were given, as previous to his expedition to
Russia; the kings and princes of Germany did not gather round the
powerful conqueror. The Emperor of Austria remained quietly but
sullenly at Vienna; the King of Prussia was at Reichenbach, and was
now the enemy of Napoleon, and all the princes of the German
Confederation of the Rhine, who, but a year before, were humble
courtiers of Napoleon, kept aloof in morose silence, or refused
obedience to their former master, and raised difficulties when
called upon to furnish new troops and open additional resources.
None of them came to offer homage to him whom they had just feared
as the most powerful ruler in the world. Only the old, feeble King
of Saxony (who, at the commencement of the war had fled with his
millions, and the diamonds of the Green Vault, to Plauen, in the
most remote corner of his territories), [Footnote: Lebensbilder,
"vol. iii., p. 466."] returned at the rather imperious request of
Napoleon to Dresden. The emperor dined with him sometimes, but only
in the most intimate family circle, and without any outward
splendor; at night he went to the French theatre, which had been
ordered to Dresden during the armistice. Sometimes, his favorites,
the ladies Mars and Georges, and the great Talma, were allowed to
sup with the emperor after the performance, and the beautiful Mars,
the impassioned fervor of the gifted Georges, and the conversation
of the no less genial than adroit Talma, succeeded in dispelling the
emperor's discontent. But no sooner was he alone with his thoughts,
his labors, his plans, than his countenance assumed its sombre
expression. Thus days and weeks elapsed, and the congress was still
assembled at Prague; the end of the armistice was drawing nigh, and
the plenipotentiaries had not yet been able to agree on the
conditions of peace.
It was on the morning of the 28th of June. Napoleon had just
finished his breakfast, and entered his map-room to conceive there
the plans of future campaigns, when the door of the reception-room
opened, and Minister Maret, Duke de Bassano, came in. Maret belonged
to the few men in whom his master placed implicit confidence, and
whose fidelity he never doubted; to those who had at all times free
access to him, and were permitted to enter his apartments without
being announced. Nevertheless, his arrival seemed to surprise
Napoleon. Never before had the duke entered his room at so early an
hour, for he knew well that the emperor, engaged in examining his
maps and devising plans, did not like to be disturbed. It was
undoubtedly something unusual that induced the Duke de Bassano to
come to him at such a time.
Napoleon cast a quick glance on Maret's face. Standing up beside the
map-table, and leaning his hand upon it, he asked, vehemently,
"Well, Maret, what is it?"
"Sire, I have come only to deliver to your majesty a few letters
which the courier has just brought from Paris," said the duke,
handing him some sealed packages.
"Is a letter from the empress among them?" asked Napoleon, hastily.
"Yes, sire."
The emperor had already found it, and, throwing the others upon the
table, he hastily opened the one from his wife and read it. His
face, which until then had been so stern and gloomy, gradually
assumed a milder and kindlier expression.
"Ah, dear Louisa," he said, when he had read it, "how affectionately
she writes, how she is yearning for me, and how well she knows how
to tell me of the King of Rome, who is constantly inquiring for his
father, and every night, when he goes to bed, calls aloud, 'Dear
papa emperor come back soon!'"
"A call, sire, in which, I am satisfied, all France joins," said
Maret, quickly.
"Ah!" exclaimed the emperor, contemptuously shrugging his shoulders,
"I know well that France--that even my marshals join in it, not from
any devotion to myself, but because they want peace. The little King
of Rome, however, is longing for me, and the empress, too, is
wishing for my return, without caring much whether there is war or
peace. These two love me! Ah, what a happy family would we three be
if a lasting peace could be established! I am tired of war; like all
of you, I am yearning to return home, and to enjoy a little the
fruits of our numerous victories."
"Sire," said Maret, in a low, entreating voice, "it is easy for your
majesty to do so, and to restore peace to Europe."
"Do you wish also to join in the nonsense asserted by the fools?"
asked Napoleon, sharply. "Always the same air--the same strain! You
at least, Maret, ought not to sing it, for you alone are aware of
the proposals and negotiations between me and my enemies, and should
know that it does not depend on me alone to restore peace, but that
I shall, perhaps, only be he who must receive it."
"Still, sire, a few concessions on the part of your majesty would be
sufficient to bring about peace," Maret ventured to say.
"What do you mean?" inquired Napoleon, whose voice now assumed an
angry tone. "Do you intend to intimate, by your longing for
concessions, that I should submit to the disgraceful and humiliating
terms on which Austria gives me hopes of her further friendship and
alliance? She dares ask of me the restoration of Illyria and the
territory annexed to the grand-duchy of Warsaw; she demands for
Prussia the evacuation of her fortresses, the restitution of
Dantzic, and the restoration of the whole sea-shore of Northern
Germany. And Austria, in making these proposals to me, in her
equivocal part as mediator, does not do so with the friendliness of
an ally, but she dares to threaten me, to say to me, 'If France does
not accept, Austria will be obliged to side with the enemies of
France, and make common cause with them.' I am ready to make peace,
but I shall die sword in hand rather than sign conditions forced
upon me. I will negotiate, but will not allow them to dictate laws
to me." [Footnote: Napoleon's words.--Vide Beitzke, vol. i., p.
560.]
"Sire, none would dare dictate laws to your majesty. On the
contrary, Austria will be glad if you merely declare that you are
ready to negotiate, and she will not have much to ask. She will be
content if you restore Illyria to her; and I am convinced of it,
never will the Emperor Francis ally himself seriously with the
enemies of his son-in-law."
"But the Emperor Francis is not his cabinet," exclaimed Napoleon. "I
might, perhaps, repose confidence in the personal attachment of my
father-in-law, but this could not blind me to the policy of his
cabinet. This policy never changes. Treaties of alliance and
marriages may somewhat retard its course, but never deflect it.
Austria never renounces what she was compelled to cede. When she is
weaker than her enemy, she resorts to peace, but this is always only
an armistice for her, and, in signing it, she thinks of a new war.
Such has been her conduct during the long series of years during
which I have been fighting and negotiating with her. When closely
pressed, she always accepted peace, and offered me her hand for the
conclusion of an alliance; but whenever a reverse befell me, she
withdrew her hand and broke the alliance. Now believing that she
sees her own interest, she immediately resumes a hostile attitude
toward me. She will open the passes of Bohemia to the allies, and
thereby permit them to turn the positions of the French army, attack
us in the rear, and cut us off from France. In a word, Austria ia
unable to forget any thing! She will remain our enemy, not only so
long as she has losses to make up, but so long as the power of
France might threaten her with new humiliations. This instinct of
jealousy is more powerful than her attachment; she will always
strive to aggrandize herself and to weaken France, and if I should
grant her Illyria to-day, she would, perhaps, to-morrow claim the
whole of Lombardy, and her former provinces in the Netherlands.
[Footnote: Napoleon's words.--Vide "The Emperor Francis and
Metternich," p. 80.] Do not deceive yourself about it, Maret, and
do not think that Austria wants peace with us because the Emperor
Francis is my father-in-law. I must dictate peace to them sword in
hand, and then they will hasten to remind me that I am the son-in-
law of the emperor, and in consideration of this relationship they
will ask of me favorable terms."
"But this, it seems to me, is the very situation in which your
majesty is placed now," exclaimed Maret. "Your majesty has recently
achieved two new victories."
"But what victories!" said Napoleon, gloomily; "they have cost me as
many soldiers as the enemy, and procured me no advantages. I had
hoped to gain many trophies; but in the battles of Lutzen and
Bautzen not a cannon, not a flag, but a few insignificant prisoners
fell into our hands. After two dreadful massacres, we have obtained
no results whatever--and those men have not left me a single nail to
pick up. [Footnote: Napoleon's words.--Constant, vol. v.] They are
no longer the soldiers of Jena, you may be sure of it, Maret;
another spirit animates them and their commanders. The Prussians
fought like lions in those battles, and their commander, General
Blucher, is like a chieftain in the Illiad. He is at the same time a
general and a private soldier, a madcap and a Ulysses. The army
loves him, and the king confides in him. He hates me, and has an
excellent memory for his defeats of Auerstadt and Lubeck, and wants
to take revenge for them."
"But it is unnecessary for Russia to take revenge," said Maret.
"Yes," murmured Napoleon, gloomily. "On her snow-fields I lost my
army, and perhaps also my luck. But, no matter; I shall struggle on
to the end, and compel Fortune to become again my friend, that I may
do without other allies. She surely owes me attachment and fidelity,
for have I not again paid her a heavy tribute? was it not necessary
for me to act like Polycrates to keep out of bad luck? He sacrificed
only a ring to the gods, while I sacrificed two friends to Fortune,
and one of them my best friend--Duroc. The victory of Lutzen cost me
Bessieres; that of Bautzen, Duroc. It was a heavy sacrifice, Maret;
my heart is still bleeding in consequence of it, and this wound will
never heal."
Maret made no reply, but turned his head aside, and his face had a
strange expression of uneasiness and embarrassment.
Napoleon noticed it, and slightly shrugged his shoulders. "You think
that I grow sentimental, duke," he said, rudely, "and you mean that
my long military experience should have rendered me insensible to
such accidents. You are right; let us refer to them no more. Let us
rather read what the courier has brought."
He stretched out his hand for the other letters, and took up the
first one without looking at it. When he saw the superscription, his
face brightened, and, fixing a quick, reproachful glance upon Maret,
he said: "Fate is less rigorous than you are, Maret. It reminds me
that faithful friends still remain, and that all the companions of
my youth are not yet dead. There is a letter from Junot! He is one
of my faithful friends!" Opening it, he read hastily, and his face
darkened. "Maret," he cried, in an angry voice, "read--see what
Junot dares write to me!" He handed the letter to Maret. "Read it
aloud," he cried, "otherwise I shall be afraid lest my eyes deceive
me, and I mistake his words. Not the commencement, but the last page
is what I want to hear."
Maret read in a tremulous voice: "'I, who love your majesty with the
fervor which the savage feels for the sun--I, who belong to you with
body and soul--must tell you the truth; and this is: we must wage an
eternal war for you, BUT _I_ WILL DO SO NO MORE! I want peace! I
want at length to be able to rest my weary head and aching limbs in
my house, in the midst of my family, to enjoy their devotion, and no
longer to be a stranger to them--to enjoy what I have purchased with
a treasure that is more precious than all the riches of India--with
my blood, with the blood of a man of honor, a good Frenchman, a true
patriot. Well, then, I ask--I demand--the repose that I have
purchased by twenty-two years of active service, and by seventeen
wounds, from which my blood has welled, first for my country, and
then for your glory. It is enough!--my country needs repose, and
your glory is as radiant as the sun. I repeat, therefore, I want
peace. I speak in the name of all your marshals and generals, in the
name of your army, in the name of all France: WE DEMAND PEACE; give
it to us, then!--JUNOT, Duke d'Abrantes.'" [Footnote: "Memoirs of
the Duchess d'Abrantes," b. xvi., p. 323.]
"Well!" inquired Napoleon, when Maret had read the letter, "what do
you think of this impudence?"
"Sire," said Maret, in a low, tremulous voice, "your majesty knows
well that the Duke d'Abrantes is very dangerously ill, and that he
is said to be subject to frequent fits of insanity."
"It is true, it is the language of a madman, but one who knows very
well what he says. For he is right; he dares utter what all my
marshals are thinking, and gives utterance to their thoughts,
because he imagines that my friendship for him gives him that right.
The fool! I shall prove to him that I am, first and above all, the
emperor, and that the emperor will, without regard to the person,
punish the man who is so audacious as to threaten him. Oh, I am glad
that it is Junot who has made himself the mouth-piece of my generals
and marshals! I shall punish him with inexorable rigor, and that
will silence the others forever. They will not dare that which not
even Junot was permitted to do with impunity; they will obey when my
first anger has crushed this traitor Junot. For he is a traitor, a--
"
"Oh, sire, I implore you, do not proceed!" interposed Maret; "have
mercy upon him who stands already before a higher Judge, to receive
his sentence!"
"What do you mean?" asked Napoleon.
"I mean, sire," replied Maret, solemnly, "that I came to bring you a
sad message, and that your majesty, therefore, just now did me
injustice. Sire, when you deplored the death of your lamented
friend, the Duke de Frioul, I was silent and embarrassed, not
because I deemed such regrets unbecoming, but because I was filled
with unbounded grief at the thought that I had come to communicate a
similar affliction. The courier brought me also a letter from M.
Albert de Comminges, Junot's brother-in-law. He requests me therein
to inform your majesty of a melancholy occurrence--the Duke
d'Abrantes is dead! Here is a letter from M. de Comminges to your
majesty."
The emperor made no reply, but his face, which generally seemed
immovable, commenced quivering, and his lips trembled. He took the
letter in silence, and, opening it with a hasty hand, began to read
it. But suddenly he dropped it, and, pressing both his hands to his
forehead, he groaned aloud. Then he quickly stooped down, picked up
the letter and read it through. "Junot!" he then cried in a tone of
profound woe--"Junot!" He crumpled the letter in his hands, and,
with an expression from the depths of his heart, he repeated,
"Junot! Oh, my God, Junot, too!"
At this moment his wandering eye fell upon Maret, who was gazing at
him, pale and filled with profound compassion. Napoleon started and
concealed the tears which came to his eyes. Before an observer he
was not accustomed to show himself a man overcome by grief. He
smiled, but with an indescribably mournful expression, and said in a
firm voice, "Another brave soldier gone! The third victim that the
war has required of me, Maret! It takes the very men who were
indispensable to me, because they set so shining an example of
bravery and fidelity to the whole army. That is the only reason why
I complain!"
"Your majesty has a twofold right to complain," said Maret, in his
calm voice; "Junot loved your majesty with the obedience of a
servant, the submissiveness of a child, the enthusiasm of a pupil,
the ardor of a friend. He would have gone through fire for you, and
he was justified in saying that he loved your majesty with the love
the savage feels for the sun. Your majesty was his sun!"
"Yes, he loved me," said Napoleon, in a low voice, dropping his head
on his breast, "and I could count upon his fidelity. We had spent
our youth together, had overcome together a thousand dangers, and
courageously braved the vicissitudes of fate. His star had risen
with mine. Will not mine sink with his? Oh, Junot, how could you
leave me now, when you knew that I stood so greatly in need of you?
Junot, this is the first time that you desert me, and forget your
plighted faith. I am on the eve of a great and doubtful war,
surrounded by enemies--and my friends are deserting me and escaping
into the grave!" He paused, bowing his head lower upon his breast,
and wrinkling his forehead in his grief. A sad silence ensued, which
Maret dared not interrupt, by a motion or a word. At length, the
emperor raised his, face again, resuming his usual coldness and
indifference. "Maret," he said, in a firm voice, "I have no one in
Illyria now, since Junot, governor of that province, has died. I
must send another governor. But whom?"
"Sire," said Maret, in a timid voice, "will you not take the
proposals of Austria into consideration? She demands nothing but
Illyria as the price of her alliance and friendship. Fate itself
seems to give us a sign to grant this demand, for it has removed the
governor of Illyria."
"Fate!" cried Napoleon, shrugging his shoulders, "you only
acknowledge its hints when it suits your purposes; you deny its
existence when it would seem to be contrary to your wishes. Fate
caused the governor of Illyria to die, because, as you yourself
said, he was subject to fits of insanity; it has thereby given me an
opportunity to place a sensible and prudent man in Junot's stead, a
man who will not dare tell me such impudent things as you read to me
from his letter. Well, then, I will obey the hint of Fate. Write
immediately to Fouche. He is at Naples; tell him to set out at once
and come to Dresden. I intend to appoint him governor of Illyria.
Dispatch a courier with the letter. But wait! I have not yet read
all the dispatches brought from Paris."
He stepped back to the table, and took one of the letters from it.
"A letter from the Duke de Rovigo," he said, in a contemptuous tone,
"from the police minister of Paris! He will tell me a great many
stories; he will pretend to have seen many evil spirits, and, after
all, not know half of what he ought to know, and what Fouche would
have known if he still held that position. There, read it, Maret,
and communicate the most important passages to me." He threw himself
into the chair that stood in front of his desk, and, taking a
penknife, commenced whittling the wooden side-arm, while Maret
unfolded the dispatch and quickly glanced over its contents.
"Sire," he said, "this dispatch contains surprising news. It speaks
of a new enemy who might rise against your majesty."
"Well," said Napoleon, who was just cutting a large splinter from
the chair, "what new enemy is it?"
"Sire," said Maret, shrugging his shoulders, "it is Louis XVIII."
Napoleon started, and looked at his minister with a flash of anger.
"What do you mean?" he asked, sternly. "Who is Louis XVIII.? Where
is the country over which he rules?"
"Sire, I merely intended to designate the brother of the unfortunate
King Louis XVI."
"My uncle!" said Napoleon, with a proud smile, driving his knife
again into the back of the chair. "Well, what then? Whereby has the
Count de Lille surprised the world with the news of his existence?"
"Sire, by a proclamation addressed to the French, and in which he
implores them to return to their legitimate lord and king, making
them many promises, which, however, do not contain any thing but
what the French possess already by the grace of your majesty."
Napoleon shrugged his shoulders. "Savary, then, has at length seen a
copy of the English newspapers which published this proclamation,"
he said. "I read it several weeks ago."
"No, sire, it seems that the proclamation has not only appeared in
the English newspapers, but is circulating throughout France. The
Duke de Rovigo reports that secret agents of the Count de Lille are
actively at work in France. They are scattering every day thousands
of printed copies of the proclamation among the people. They are
circulated at night in the streets, secretly pushed under the doors
into the houses and rooms so that the police agents are unable to
take them away. These copies, it appears, are printed on hand-
presses, for their lines are often irregular and slanting, and
indicate an unpractised hand, but those who receive them try to
decipher them, and deliver them to the police only after having read
them." [Footnote: "Memoires du Duc Kovigo," vol. vi., p. 351.]
Napoleon said nothing; he was still whittling the back of his chair,
and did not once look up to his minister, who stood before him in
reverential silence. "I thought I had crashed this serpent of
legitimacy under my foot," he murmured at last to himself, "but it
still lives, and tries again to rise against me. Ah, I despise it,
and I have reason to do so. I alone am now the legitimate ruler of
France; the fifty battles in which I have fought and conquered for
France are my ancestors; the will of the French people has made me
emperor, and the voice of all the sovereign princes of Europe has
recognized my throne. The daughter of an emperor is my partner; and
the King of Rome, the future emperor of the French, will be more of
a legitimate ruler than any other prince, for the battles of his
father and the ancestors of the Hapsburgs form his pedigree. Let the
Count de Lille, then, flood France with copies of his proclamation,
I shall in the mean time win battles for France, and with the
bulletins of my victories drive his proclamations from the field. I-
-"
At this moment the door opened, and Roustan's black face looked in.
"Sire, the Duke de Vicenza requests an audience," he said.
"Caulaincourt!" exclaimed Napoleon, surprised, rising and throwing
the penknife on the floor. "Caulaincourt! Let him come in!"