TALLEYRAND.
For a week the emperor had scarcely left his cabinet; bending over
his maps, he anxiously examined the position of his army, and that
of the constantly advancing allies. Every day couriers with news of
fresh disasters arrived at Paris; rumors of invading armies
terrified the citizens, and disturbed the emperor's temper. It was
impossible for the government to conceal the misfortunes which had
befallen France from the beginning of the new year. The people knew
that Blucher had crossed the Rhine, and, victoriously penetrating
France, on the 16th of January had taken up his quarters at Nancy.
It was publicly known that a still larger army of the allies,
commanded by Prince Schwartzenberg, had advanced through
Switzerland, Lorraine, and Alsace, taken the fortresses, overcome
all resistance, and that both generals had sworn to appear in front
of Paris by February, and conquer the capital. All Paris knew this,
and longed for peace as the only way to put an end to the sufferings
of the nation. The strength and the superiority of the allied army
could not be concealed, and it was felt to be impossible to expel
the powerful invaders.
Napoleon himself at length saw the necessity of peace, and,
conquering his proud heart, he sent the Duke de Vicenza, his
faithful friend Caulaincourt, to the headquarters of the allies, to
request them to send plenipotentiaries to a peace congress. The
allies accepted this proposition, but they declared that, despite
the peace congress, the course of the war could not in the least be
interrupted; that the operations in the field must be vigorously
continued. Napoleon responded to this by decreeing a new
conscription, ordering all able-bodied men in France to be enrolled
in the national armies. The terrors of war were, therefore,
approaching, and yet Paris was in hope that peace would be
concluded; Caulaincourt was still at the headquarters of the allies,
treating with them about the congress.
Early on the morning of the 23d of January, another dispatch from
Caulaincourt to Maret was received at Paris, and the minister
immediately repaired to the Tuileries, to communicate it to the
emperor. This dispatch confirmed all the disastrous tidings which
had arrived from day to day, and convinced Napoleon and his minister
that the vast superiority of the allied armies rendered it
impossible for the emperor to rid his country of the formidable
invaders.
"Maret," said Napoleon, gloomily, "come and look at this map. What
do you see here?"
"Sire, a number of colored pins extending in all directions."
"And a small number of white pins. Well these are my troops; the
colored pins designate the armies of my enemies. They are allied;
but I--I have no longer a single ally at this hour; I stand alone,
and have to meet eight different armies. See here, Maret: there is,
in the first place, the grand army of the Russians, Austrians,
Bavarians, and Wurtembergers, commanded by Prince Schwartzenberg,
and accompanied by the allied monarchs; next, there is the grand
Prussian army, with the Russian and Saxon corps, under the command
of Blucher, the hussar; here stand the Swedes under Bernadotte,
reenforced by Russian and English corps, and the German troops of
the Confederation of the Rhine; there comes the Anglo-Batavian army;
here, farther to the South, is Wellington's army, composed of
English, Spaniards, and Portuguese; there, in Italy, is an Austrian
corps under Bellegarde; at no great distance from it, the Neapolitan
corps under the King of Naples; and, finally, here at Lyons, is
another Austrian corps under Bubna. The armies of Schwartzenberg,
Blucher, and Bernadotte, are about six hundred thousand strong. And
now see what forces I have--I cannot call them armies! Augereau's
corps is stationed near Lyons; Ney, Marmont, and Mortier, are with
their corps here between the Meuse and the Seine; Sebastiani and
Macdonald are with the remnants of their corps on the frontier of
the Netherlands. Maret, my troops are hardly one hundred thousand;
the allies, therefore, are six to one."
"Sire," said Maret, "even a military genius like that of your
majesty, will be unable to cope with such odds, and it reflects no
dishonor on the bravest to submit to the decrees of Fate."
"It is true," murmured Napoleon, throwing himself into his easy-
chair, with his arm leaning on the desk, and his head bent forward--
"it is true, I have no sufficient force to oppose them; their armies
are six times as strong as mine, and, unless fortune greatly favors
me, I must yield!"
"But fortune has forsaken us, sire, and we have no strength left.
Yield, therefore, sire; submit to a stern necessity; comply with the
anxious demand of France; restore peace to your people--to the
world! Do not endanger, without prospect of success, your precious
life, which is necessary to France--your throne, threatened by
foreign and domestic foes. All is at stake. Save France, save the
throne! Make peace at any cost!"
While Maret was speaking, Napoleon slowly raised his head, and sent
a flaming glance on his minister. Now that Maret was silent, the
emperor quickly took up an open book from his desk and handed it to
Maret. "I will not answer you, duke," said Napoleon, "but Marmontel
shall. Read this. Read it aloud."
Maret read: "'I know of nothing more sublime than the resolution
taken by a monarch living in our times, who would be buried under
the ruins of his throne rather than accept terms to which a king
should not listen; he was possessed of too proud a soul to descend
lower than unavoidable misfortune. He knew full well that courage
may restore strength and lustre to a crown, but that cowardice and
dishonor never can.'" [Footnote: Marmontel, "Grandeur et Decadence
des Romains," ch. v.]
"That is my reply, Maret," exclaimed Napoleon. "The example of Louis
XIV. shall teach me to perish rather than humiliate myself."
"Sire," said Maret, solemnly, "Marmontel is wrong; there is
something more sublime than to be buried under the ruins of a
throne--a king sacrificing his own greatness to the welfare of a
state that must perish with him."
"Never!" exclaimed the emperor, impetuously. "I can die beneath the
ruins of my throne, but I cannot sign my own humiliation! Maret, I
have made up my mind: I will continue this struggle to the last: I
will conquer or die! Tomorrow I set out for the army. Ah, I want to
see whether that drunken general of hussars, Blucher, shall not
yield to me, notwithstanding his crazy cavalry tricks; whether
Schwartzenberg, my faithless pupil, who had learned the art of war
from me, will meet me in a pitched battle; and whether Bernadotte,
my rebellious subject, dare look me in the face. Maret, the decisive
struggle is at hand. I will take the field, save Paris, and conquer
the enemy. I must call upon all the men of France to defend the
sacred soil of our country, and convert every house into a castle,
every village into a fortress, so that my enemies shall have to
wrest every inch of ground from us at a vast sacrifice. Not another
word about peace! Every thing is ready. Troops are hurrying forward
from Spain to fill up my army; in a few days they will be here.
Between the Seine and the Marne all my forces will unite and put a
stop to the advance of the allies upon Paris. We shall occupy a
position by which it will be easy for us to divide, disperse, and
crush the enemy. Here, in the plain between these rivers, I shall
march along the Aube, scatter the allied army, hurl most of my
troops at one of its wings, and, by skilful manoeuvres, compel the
other wing to fall back. The enemy must retreat; I shall profit by
it, and when I have gained a great battle over him, I can impose my
own terms; I have then conquered an HONORABLE peace for France--one
that we can subscribe to without blushing. Ah, I see a brilliant
future! It is time to begin. My eagles are ascending; they are not
ravens or bats--they are soaring to the sun." As the emperor uttered
these words his soul illuminated his face; he was again the
conqueror, confiding in his star.
Maret looked anxiously, but admiringly, at Napoleon's face, in which
great resolutions were beaming, and he read there an assurance and
determination that nothing could change. "You have made up your
mind, then, sire: the war is to go on, and the peace congress is not
to meet?"
"On the contrary," exclaimed Napoleon, smiling, "let it meet, if the
allies wish it. While Caulaincourt, Metternich, and Hardenberg, are
dictating terms of peace with their pens, we shall do so with our
swords, and we shall soon see which will make the more progress. But
let us now commence with some movements of peace. We must be on good
terms with Spain and Rome. Let Ferdinand return as King to Spain,
and as such become my ally. I shall also open the doors of Pope
Pius's prison at Fontainebleau; let him return as pope to Rome, and,
as God's vicegerent, be on my side. Maret, here are already two
allies. In order to conquer, but one is wanting; and it is for you,
Maret, to procure it."
"Sire, what is the name of this ally?" asked the Duke de Bassano, in
amazement.
"Money! money! and, for the third time, money! Procure me five
millions in cash, and I can add one hundred thousand men to my
army."
"Ah, sire, our chests are empty!" sighed Maret.
"But I must have money," replied Napoleon, vehemently. "Without it
no war can be waged--no victory gained. Five millions, Maret; I need
them; I must have them!"
Maret looked thoughtful. Suddenly his face kindled, and his whole
frame shook with joy. "Sire, your majesty asks for five millions?"
"Yes, five millions, to begin with."
"Well, then, sire, I can tell you where to find them, and perhaps
more."
"Where?"
"Sire, will you pledge me your imperial word not to betray that it
was I who told you where to find this money?"
"Certainly, Maret."
"Listen, sire; but permit me to whisper what I do not wish even the
walls to hear." He bent close to the emperor's ear.
Napoleon listened with breathless attention, and nodded repeatedly.
"You really believe this to be true, Maret?" he then asked, eagerly.
"Sire, I affirm it to be true. It is a secret known only to three
persons! It was betrayed to me to gain me over by an act of
treachery--but that is altogether another matter; the fact is
sufficient."
"And this fact is, that I shall find with my mother the millions
that I need?" said the emperor. "Maret, if that is so, I shall have
them this very day."
"Your majesty believes so? Madame Letitia--"
"My mother is avaricious, you wish to say? It is true, her extreme
economy has often vexed me; to-day it gladdens my heart; for, thanks
to her parsimony, I shall find with her what I need for my army. She
will deny these millions to me, to be sure; but you told me where to
look for them, and I pledge you my word I know how to find and take
them! Hush, not another word! I shall have what I want within an
hour. Go now, Maret. You will meet the Prince de Benevento in the
antechamber. Send him to me. I have to address a few parting words
to M. de Talleyrand."
The emperor stood in the middle of the magnificently furnished
cabinet when the Prince de Benevento slowly opened the door and
entered. The prince bore the emperor's piercing look with a
perfectly composed air. Not a feature of his aristocratic
countenance expressed any anxiety and his smile did not for an
instant vanish from his lips. With a sort of careless bearing he
approached the emperor, who allowed him to come near him, still
watching every expression of his countenance.
"I wished to see you," he said, "in order to tell you that I shall
set out for the army the day after to-morrow." Talleyrand bowed, but
made no reply. "Do you desire to accompany me?" asked the emperor,
vehemently.
"Sire, what should I do at the headquarters of the army?" said
Talleyrand, shrugging his shoulders. "Your majesty knows well that I
could be of very little service in the army--that I am able only to
wield the pen."
"And the tongue!" added Napoleon. "But before leaving Paris I will
give you some wholesome advice; bridle both your tongue and your pen
a little better than you have done of late. I know that you will not
shrink from any treachery, and that you are the first rat that will
desert the sinking ship; but consider what you are doing. The ship
is not yet in danger, and, spreading her sails, she will move
proudly on her way."
"I hope she will have favorable winds and deep water," said
Talleyrand, bowing carelessly.
Napoleon looked at him with hatred and rage. These equivocal words--
the calm, cold tone in which they were uttered, disturbed the
emperor, and his blood boiled. "I believe in the sincerity of your
wish," he said, "although there are many who assert that you are a
traitor. I have given you fair warning; now prove to those who are
accusing you, that they are doing you injustice. No intrigues! You
will be closely watched. Beware!" Talleyrand bowed again, and his
face still retained its indifferent, smiling expression. "Listen now
to what I have to say," added Napoleon. "Prior to my departure I
desire to put an end to the dissensions with Rome and Spain. The
pope will leave Fontainebleau to-morrow and return to Rome. The
Infante of Spain, too, is at liberty to return to his country and
ascend the throne of his ancestors. Go to-morrow to Valencay. It was
you who conveyed Ferdinand thither; you must, therefore, open the
doors of his prison that you locked."
"Sire, I thank your majesty for the favor which you desire to confer
on me," said Talleyrand, gravely. "But it was not I who arrested the
sacred person of the legitimate King of Spain; it was not I who
dared to deprive him of his rights--nay, his very liberty. I acted
only as the obedient servant of my master, for your majesty's orders
made me the jailer of the Infante of Spain."
Napoleon approached Talleyrand, and his flaming eyes seemed to
pierce his soul. "What!" he shouted, in a loud voice. "You wish to
give yourself now the semblance of innocence in this affair? What!
You only executed my orders, and I made you the jailer of the
infante! Who was it, then, that urged me to do this? Who was it that
told me it was indispensable for me to crush the head of this
Spanish hydra? Who wished even to persuade me to more energetic
measures than imprisonment, in order to get rid of the royal family
of Spain? Who told me at that time that it would be wiser and better
for the welfare of Europe to cut the Gordian knot instead of untying
it? Do you remember who did all this?"
Talleyrand made no reply. His countenance still exhibiting the same
indifferent composure, he seemed scarcely to have heard the rebukes
of the emperor. His head slightly bent forward, his eyes half
closed, his lips compressed, he stood leaning with one hand on the
back of a chair, and with the other playing with his lace-frill.
This conduct greatly augmented the emperor's anger. "Will you reply
to me?" thundered Napoleon, stamping the floor, and so near to
Talleyrand's foot that the prince softly drew it back. "Will you
reply to me?"
Talleyrand looked at the emperor with immovable calmness. "Sire," he
said, slowly, "I do not know what your majesty means."
"You do not know what I mean?" echoed Napoleon. "If you do not,
listen!" Unable longer to overcome his anger, he advanced toward
Talleyrand, and the prince drew back. As if beside himself, the
emperor raised his clinched fists, and held them toward the prince's
face, moving through the large room, while Talleyrand, looking the
emperor full in the face, retreated, taking care to get nearer the
door.
"I will tell you that you are a traitor," cried Napoleon, rushing
forward--"a traitor who would like to deny to-day what he did
yesterday, because he believes that another era is dawning, and that
he must betray his master before the cock crows for the first time.
You wish to deny that it was you who urged me to imprison the
Spanish prince? You are impudent enough to tell me that to my face?"
So saying, the emperor's clinched fists almost touched the cheek of
the prince, who was still receding, and now noticed with a feeling
of relief that he had reached the end of his dangerous promenade.
"Do you really dare deny your past in so barefaced a manner?" cried
Napoleon, still holding his fist so close to Talleyrand's cheek that
he almost felt it.
The prince softly put his hand behind his back, and fortunately
succeeded in seizing the door-knob. He opened the door with a hasty
jerk so wide that the gentlemen assembled in the anteroom enjoyed
the spectacle of Napoleon with uplifted fists threatening his
minister.
"Sire," said Talleyrand, in a calm voice, "I shall not dare say any
thing; for I know of no reply to what your majesty has said." The
prince pointed with a sarcastic smile to the clinched fists of the
emperor, and, without complying with the requirements of usual
ceremony, he hastened, more rapidly than his lame foot generally
permitted him to do, through the antechamber, saluting the gentlemen
as he passed with a wave of his hand and a smile. On stepping into
the outer room he accelerated his pace, gliding down-stairs as
softly as a cat, and hurrying across the hall to his carriage.
"Home," he said aloud, "at a gallop!" When the horses started,
Talleyrand leaned back, and said to himself, "This was our last
adieu! I shall take good care not to meet Napoleon again, provided
he is stupid enough to give me time for making my dispositions."
The emperor in the mean time, half ashamed of himself, reentered the
cabinet, and locked the door. Angry as a lion in his cage, he paced
to and fro with quick steps, when suddenly a gentle voice behind him
said, "Sire, pray be so gracious as to listen to me!"
The emperor turned with an angry gesture, and saw the Duke do Rovigo
standing near the open door of the antechamber. "Well, Savary, what
do yo want?" he asked in a faint voice. "Shut the door, and come
here. Speak! What do you want?"
"Sire, to implore you to be on your guard," said the duke. "Your
majesty has just had a violent scene with the Prince de Benevento."
"Who told you so?"
"Sire, we could distinctly hear your majesty's voice in the
antechamber; and, when the prince opened the door, the rest, like
myself, saw your threatening attitude. In an hour all Paris will
know it."
"Well?"
"Sire, the Prince de Benevento is not the man to forgot an insult,
and it will mortify him doubly that the world will hear of it."
"Let it mortify him!" cried Napoleon. "All of you have insinuated to
me that Talleyrand is a traitor, deserving punishment. I have
chastised him; that is all."
"Sire, the chastisement was either too severe, or not severe
enough," said Savary, gravely. "Had it been too severe, the generous
heart of your majesty would think of offering him some satisfaction;
but I know Talleyrand, and am firmly convinced of the truth of my
statement--I pronounce him a plotter of dangerous intrigues. Your
majesty therefore cannot chastise him too severely; and, having gone
so far, you must now go still farther."
"How so? What do you mean?"
"Sire, I mean that your majesty, instead of allowing the Prince de
Benevento to return home, ought to send him to Vincennes, and
recommend him to the special care of your friend General Daumesnil."
"Ah, I ought to have him arrested!" cried Napoleon, shrugging his
shoulders. "I ought to make a martyr out of a traitor!"
"No, sire, punish a traitor, neither more nor less! I know that
Talleyrand is one. He is in secret communication with the
legitimists, corresponding with the Bourbons, through other hands;
at his house, meetings of malcontents and secret royalists are held
every day; there the fires are kindled that will soon burst into
devouring energy, unless your majesty extinguish them in time. You
have disdained to regain Talleyrand by promises or honors. You have
insulted him, and he will revenge himself, if the power of doing so
be left him. Sire, I venture to remind your majesty of Machiavel,
'One ought never to make half an enemy.'"
"It is true," murmured Napoleon to himself, thoughtfully, "nothing
is more dangerous than such half enmities. Under the mask of
friendship they betray us the more surely."
"Hence, sire, pray tear this mask from Talleyrand's treacherous
face. Meet him as an open enemy. Then either his enmity will be
destroyed by terror, or he will betray his intentions."
"I lack proof to convict him," said Napoleon, in a hesitating and
wavering tone.
"Well, yes," exclaimed Savary, "you have no proof, but there cannot
be the least doubt as to the intrigues which he is bold enough to
plot. The opportunity is too favorable that he should not endeavor
to embrace it. Sire, I should like to urge the example of the great
police-minister of Louis XV. Whenever M. de Sartines was on the eve
of a festival, or any great public ceremony, he sent for all
suspicious persons to whom his attention was particularly directed,
and said to them, 'I have no charge against you at present, but to-
morrow it may be different. Habit you know has power over you, and
you are unlikely to resist temptation. It would be incumbent upon me
to treat you with extreme rigor. For your sake, as well as mine, be
kind enough therefore to repair for a few days to a prison, the
choice of which I leave to yourselves.' The suspected persons
willingly complied with his request, and no arrests were made."
"You may be right; M. de Sartines was undoubtedly a sagacious
police-minister," said the emperor, musingly. "His precaution is
good for those who are afraid; but I am not! If I conquer my
enemies, I thereby trample in the dust this vile serpent, too, that
would sting me, and then would crawl as a worm at my feet. If I
yield to my enemies, let the structure which I have built fall upon
me. It will not matter then whether Talleyrand's hand, too, broke
off a piece of the wall or not; it would have fallen without him.
Not another word about it, Savary! My carriage--I will ride to my
mother!"
On the evening of the same day, the Prince de Benevento left his
palace, entered a hackney-coach, and was driven to one of the remote
streets of the Faubourg St. Germain. He stopped in front of a small,
mean-looking house; and, when the coach had gone, the prince knocked
three times in a peculiar manner at the street door. It opened, and
he cautiously entered. No one was to be seen in the lighted hall;
but Talleyrand seemed perfectly familiar with the locality; and
crossing, without hesitation, a long passage, he ascended the
thickly-carpeted staircase. Here was another locked door, beside
which was a bell, which the prince rang three times. The door was
opened, and he walked through a long corridor. The passage widened,
and the prince was now in a brilliant hall, decorated with paintings
and gildings. The entrance through the small house was plainly but a
circuitous road to one of the palaces of the Faubourg St. Germain
where the royalists were plotting mischief. At the end of this hall
was a portiere, in front of which was a richly-liveried footman.
Talleyrand whispered a few words; the servant bowed and opened the
door. The prince now entered a saloon, furnished in the most
magnificent and tasteful style, where another liveried attendant was
waiting. "The Countess du Cayla?" asked the Prince de Benevento.
"She is in her cabinet. Shall I announce your highness?"
"It is unnecessary."
He quickly approached and knocked softly at the door of the cabinet.
A sweet voice bade him come in. Before him stood a young lady who
welcomed him with a charming smile, but with an air of ill-concealed
amazement. "Oh, the Prince de Benevento!" she exclaimed, merrily.
"You come to me to-day; but yesterday, when I went to you to bring
you greetings from our august master, King Louis XVIII., you feigned
not to understand whom I wished to speak of, and imposed silence."
"To-day I come to make amends for what I did yesterday, countess,"
said Talleyrand, with his graceful kindness. "Be good enough to
inform his majesty King Louis XVIII. that he may henceforth count
upon my services and my zealous devotedness. I shall assist him in
opening the road to Paris, and do all I can that his majesty may
soon be able to make his entrance into the capital of his kingdom."
"Then you have forsaken Napoleon openly and unreservedly!" exclaimed
the Countess du Cayla, the zealous agent of the Count de Lille, whom
at that time none but the royalists secretly called King Louis
XVIII. "You are, then, one of us, now and forever?"
"Yes, I consider myself a member of your party," said Talleyrand,
"and at heart I was always one of the most faithful and zealous
servants of the king. I can prove it, for it was I who led Napoleon,
step by step, frequently even in spite of his reluctance, to the
brink of ruin, on which he is standing now, and I am ready to give
him a last thrust to plunge him into the abyss. The emperor has been
guilty of great folly to-day. He ought to have had me arrested, but
he failed to do so. For this mistake I shall punish him by profiting
by my liberty in the service of his majesty the king. Let us
consider, therefore, countess, what we ought to do for the speedy
return of King Louis XVIII. to Paris."
"Yes, let us consider that," exclaimed the countess; "and if you
have no objection, prince, we shall allow the faithful friends of
his majesty to participate in the consultation. Upward of one
hundred friends are already assembled in the large saloon, and they
are doubtless astonished at my prolonged absence. Come, prince! You
will meet an old friend among your new friends."
"Who is it, countess?"
"The Duke d'Otranto!"
"What? Is he here? Has he dared to return?"
"He has, with the emperor's sister, the Princess Eliza Bacciochi;
and he is believed to be with her in the south of France, in order
to await the course of events. But he has secretly and in disguise
come to Paris, in order, like you, to offer his services to King
Louis. Late events seem to have converted him into a very zealous
royalist, and he openly admits his conversion. He boasts of having
said to the Princess Eliza: 'Madame, there is but one way of
salvation: the emperor must be killed on the spot.'" [Footnote:
"Memoires du Duo de Rovigo," vol. vi., p. 352.]
"In truth, he is right," said Talleyrand, smiling; "that would
speedily put an end to all embarrassments. Well, the emperor intends
to join the army; perhaps, a hostile bullet may become our ally, and
save us further trouble. If not, we shall speak of the matter
hereafter. Permit me, countess, to conduct you to the saloon."