Napoleon had been undisputed sovereign of France for fourteen years,
Louis had been King of Holland for four years, Jerome was King of
Westphalia for six years, Caroline was Queen of Naples for seven years.
If Napoleon had forfeited all his rights by leaving Elba after the
conditions of his abdication had been broken by the Allies, still there
was no reason why the terms stipulated for the other members of the
family should not have been carried out, or at least an ordinary income
insured to them. With all Napoleon's faults he was always ready to
shower wealth on the victims of his policy:--The sovereigns of the
Continent had courted and intermarried with the Bonapartes in the tame of
that family's grandeur: there was neither generosity nor wisdom in
treating them as so many criminals the moment fortune had declared
against them. The conduct of the Allies was not influenced simply by the
principle of legitimacy, for the King of Saxony only kept his throne by
the monarchs falling out over the spoil. If sovereigns were to be
respected as of divine appointment, it was not well to make their
existence only depend on the fate of war.
Nothing in the history of the Cent Jours is more strange than the small
part played in it by the Marshals, the very men who are so identified in
our minds with the Emperor, that we might have expected to find that
brilliant band playing a most prominent part in his last great struggle,
no longer for mere victory, but for very existence. In recording how the
Guard came up the fatal hill at Waterloo for their last combat, it would
seem but natural to have to give a long roll of the old historic names as
leading or at least accompanying them; and the reader is apt to ask,
where were the men whose very titles recalled such glorious battle-
fields, such achievements, and such rewards showered down by the man who,
almost alone at the end of the day, rode forward to invite that death
from which it was such cruel kindness to save him?
Only three Marshals were in Belgium in 1815, and even of them one did but
count his promotion from that very year, so it is but natural for French
writers to dream of what might have been the course of the battle if
Murat's plume had waved with the cavalry, if Mortier had been with the
Guard, and if Davoust or one of his tried brethren had taken the place of
Grouchy. There is, however, little real ground for surprise at this
absence of the Marshals. Death, time, and hardships had all done their
work amongst that grand array of commanders. Some were old men, veterans
of the Revolutionary wars, when first created Marshals in 1804; others,
such as Massena, were now but the wreck of themselves; and even before
1812 Napoleon had been struck with the failing energy of some of his
original companions: indeed, it might have been better for him if he had
in 1813, as he half resolved, cast away his dislike to new faces, and
fought his last desperate campaigns with younger men who still had
fortunes to win, leaving "Berthier to hunt at Grosbois," and the other
Marshals to enjoy their well-deserved rest in their splendid hotels at
Paris.
Davoust, Duke of Auerstadt, Prince of Eckmuhl, whose name should be
properly spelt Davout, was one of the principal personages at the end of
the Cent Jours. Strict and severe, having his corps always in good
order, and displaying more character than most of the military men under
Napoleon, one is apt to believe that the conqueror at Auerstadt bade fair
to be the most prominent of all the Marshals. In 1814 he had returned
from defending Hamburg to find himself under a cloud of accusations, and
the Bourbons ungenerously and unwisely left him undefended for acts which
they must have known were part of his duty as governor of a besieged
place. At the time he was attacked as if his first duty was not to hold
the place for France, but to organise a system of outdoor relief for the
neighbouring population, and to surrender as soon as he had exhausted the
money in the Government chest and the provisions in the Government
stores. Sore and discontented, practically proscribed, still Davoust
would not join in the too hasty enterprise of the brothers Lallemand, who
wished him to lead the military rising on the approach of Napoleon; but
he was with the Emperor on the day after his arrival in Paris.
Davoust might have expected high command in the army, but, to his
annoyance, Napoleon fixed on him as War Minister. For several years the
War Minister had been little more than a clerk, and neither had nor was
expected to have much influence with the army. Napoleon now wanted a man
of tried devotion, and of stern enough character to overawe the capital
and the restless spirits in the army. Much against his will Davoust was
therefore forced to content himself with the organisation of the forces
being hastily raised, but he chafed in his position; and it is
characteristic of him that Napoleon was eventually forced to send him the
most formal orders before the surly Minister would carry out the
Emperor's unlucky intention of giving a command to Bourmont, whom Davoust
strongly and rightly suspected of treachery. When Napoleon left the
capital Davoust became its governor, and held his post unmoved by the
intrigues of the Republicans and the Royalists. When Napoleon returned
from the great disaster Davoust gave his voice for the only wise policy,
--resistance and the prorogation of the factious Chambers. On the
abdication of Napoleon the Provisional Government necessarily gave
Davoust the command of the army which was concentrated round Paris.
If Davoust had restricted himself less closely to his duty as a soldier,
if he had taken more on himself, with the 100,000 men he soon had under
him, he might have saved France from much of her subsequent humiliation,
or at least he might have preserved the lives of Ney and of the brave men
whom the Bourbons afterwards butchered. Outwitted by Fouche, and
unwilling to face the hostility of the Chambers, Davoust at last
consented to the capitulation of Paris, though he first gave the Prussian
cavalry a sharp lesson. While many of his comrades were engaged in the
great struggle for favour or safety, the stern Marshal gave up his
Ministry, and, doing the last service in his power to France, stopped all
further useless bloodshed by withdrawing the army, no easy task in their
then humour, behind the Loire, where he kept what the Royalists called
the "Brigands of the Loire" in subjection till relieved by Macdonald.
He was the only one of the younger Marshals who had not been tried in
Spain, and so far he was fortunate; but, though he was not popular with
the army, his character and services seem to point him out as the most
fit of all the Marshals for an independent command. Had Napoleon been
successful in 1812, Davoust was to have received the Viceroyalty of
Poland; and he would probably have left a higher name in history than the
other men placed by Napoleon to rule over his outlying kingdoms. In any
case it was fortunate for France and for the Allies that a man of his
character ruled the army after Napoleon abdicated; there would otherwise
have been wild work round Paris, as it was only with the greatest
difficulty and by the force of his authority and example that Davoust
succeeded in getting the army to withdraw from the capital, and to
gradually adopt the white cockade. When superseded by Macdonald he had
done a work no other man could have accomplished. He protested against
the proscription, but it was too late; his power had departed. In 1819
he was forgiven for his services to France, and was made a peer, but he
died in 1823, only fifty-three years old.
Among the Marshals who gave an active support to Napoleon Ney takes the
leading part in most eyes; if it were only for his fate, which is too
well known for much to be said here concerning it. In 1815 Ney was
commanding in Franche-Comte, and was called up to Paris and ordered to go
to Besancon to march so as to take Napoleon in flank. He started off,
not improbably using the rough brags afterwards attributed to him as most
grievous sins, such as that "he would bring back Napoleon in an iron
cage." It had been intended to have sent the Due de Berry, the second
son of the Comte d'Artois, with Ney; and it was most unfortunate for the
Marshal that this was not done. There can be no possible doubt that Ney
spoke and acted in good faith when he left Paris. One point alone seems
decisive of this. Ney found under him in command, as General of
Division, Bourmont, an officer of well-known Royalist opinions, who had
at one time served with the Vendean insurgents, and who afterwards
deserted Napoleon just before Waterloo, although he had entreated to be
employed in the campaign. Not only did Ney leave Bourmont in command,
but, requiring another Divisional General, instead of selecting a
Bonapartist, he urged Lecourbe to leave his retirement and join him.
Now, though Lecourbe was a distinguished General, specially famed for
mountain warfare--witness his services in 1799 among the Alps above
Lucerne--he had been long left unemployed by Napoleon on account of his
strong Republican opinions and his sympathy with Moreau. These two
Generals, Bourmont and Lecourbe, the two arms of Ney as commander,
through whom alone he could communicate with the troops, he not only kept
with him, but consulted to the last, before he declared for Napoleon.
This would have been too dangerous a thing for a tricky politician to
have attempted as a blind, but Ney was well known to be only too frank
and impulsive. Had the Due de Berry gone with him, had Ney carried with
him such a gage of the intention of the Bourbons to defend their throne,
it is probable that he would have behaved like Macdonald; and it is
certain that he would have had no better success. The Bonapartists
themselves dreaded what they called the wrong-headedness of Ney. It was,
however, thought better to keep the Due de Berry in safety.
Ney found himself put forward singly, as it were, to oppose the man whom
all France was joining; he found, as did every officer sent on a similar
mission, that the soldiers were simply waiting to meet Napoleon; and
while the Princes sought security, while the soldiers plotted against
their leaders, came the calls of the Emperor in the old trumpet tone.
The eagle was to fly--nay, it was flying from tower to tower, and victory
was advancing with a rush. Was Ney to be the one man to shoot down his
old leader? could he, as he asked, stop the sea with his hands? On his
trial his subordinate, Bourmont, who had by that time shown his devotion
to the Bourbons by sacrificing his military honour, and deserting to the
Allies, was asked whether Ney could have got the soldiers to act against
the Emperor. He could only suggest that if Ney had taken a musket and
himself charged, the men would have followed his example. "Still," said
Bourmont, "I would not dare to affirm that he (the Marshal) would have
won." And who was Ney to charge? We know how Napoleon approached the
forces sent to oppose him: he showed himself alone in the front of his
own troops. Was Ney to deliberately kill his old commander? was any
general ever expected to undergo such a test? and can it be believed
that the soldiers who carried off the reluctant Oudinot and chased the
flying Macdonald, had such a reverence for the "Rougeot," as they called
him, that they would have stood by while he committed this murder? The
whole idea is absurd: as Ney himself said at his trial, they would have
"pulverized" him. Undoubtedly the honourable course for Ney would have
been to have left his corps when he lost control over them; but to urge,
as was done afterwards, that he had acted on a preconceived scheme, and
that his example had such weight, was only malicious falsehood. The
Emperor himself knew well how little he owed to the free will of his
Marshal, and he soon had to send him from Paris, as Ney, sore at heart,
and discontented with himself and with both sides, uttered his mind with
his usual freedom. Ney was first ordered to inspect the frontier from
Dunkirk to Bale, and was then allowed to go to his home. He kept so
aloof from Napoleon that when he appeared on the Champ de Mai the Emperor
affected surprise, saying that he thought Ney had emigrated. At the last
moment Marshal Mortier fell ill. Ney had already been sent for. He
hurried up, buying Mortier's horses (presumably the ill-fated animals who
died under him at Waterloo), and reached the army just in time to be
given the command of the left wing.
It has been well remarked that the very qualities which made Ney
invaluable for defence or for the service of a rear-guard weighed against
him in such a combat as Quatre Bras. Splendid as a corps leader, he had
not the commander's eye to embrace the field and surmise the strength of
the enemy at a glance. At Bautzen in 1818 his staff had been unable to
prevent him from leaving the route which would have brought him on the
very rear of the enemy, because seeing the foe, and unable to resist the
desire of returning their fire, he turned off to engage immediately. At
Quatre Bras, not seeing the force he was engaged with, believing he had
the whole English army on his hands from the first, he let himself at the
beginning of the day be imposed upon by a mere screen of troops.
We cannot here go into Ney's behaviour at Waterloo except to point out
that too little importance is generally given to the fact of the English
cavalry having, in a happy moment, fallen on and destroyed the artillery
which was being brought up to sweep the English squares at close
quarters. At Waterloo, as in so many other combats, the account of Ney's
behaviour more resembles that of a Homeric hero than of a modern general.
To the ideal commander of to-day, watching the fight at a distance,
calmly weighing its course, undisturbed except by distant random shots,
it is strange to compare Ney staggering through the gate of Konigsberg
all covered with blood; smoke and snow, musket in hand, announcing
himself as the rear-guard of France, or appearing, a second Achilles, on
the ramparts of Smolensko to encourage the yielding troops on the glacis,
or amidst the flying troops at Waterloo, with uncovered head and broken
sword, black with powder, on foot, his fifth horse killed under him,
knowing that life, honour, and country were lost, still hoping against
hope and attempting one more last desperate rally. If he had died--ah!
if he had died there--what a glorious tomb might have risen, glorious for
France as well as for him, with the simple inscription, "The Bravest of
the Brave."
Early on the 19th June a small band of officers retreating from the field
found Ney asleep at Marchiennes, "the first repose he had had for four
days," and they did not disturb him for orders. "And indeed what order
could Marshal Ney have given? "The disaster of the day, the overwhelming
horror of the flight of the beaten army, simply crushed Ney morally as
well as physically. Rising in the Chambers he denounced all attempt at
further resistance. He did not know, he would not believe, that Grouchy
was safe, and that the army was fast rallying. Fresh from the field,
with all its traces on him, the authority of Ney was too great for the
Government. Frightened friends, plotting Royalists, echoed the wild
words of Ney brave only against physical dangers. Instead of dying on
the battle-field, he had lived to ensure the return of the Bourbons, the
fall of Bonaparte, his own death, and the ruin of France.
Before his exception from the amnesty was known Ney left Paris on the 6th
of July, and went into the country with but little attempt at
concealment, and with formal passports from Fouche. The capitulation of
Paris seemed to cover him, and he was so little aware of the thirst of
the Royalists for his blood that he let his presence be known by leaving
about a splendid sabre presented to him by the Emperor on his marriage,
and recognised by mere report by an old soldier as belonging to Ney or
Murat; and Ney himself let into the house the party sent to arrest him on
the 5th of August, and actually refused the offer of Excelmans, through
whose troops he passed, to set him free. No one at the time, except the
wretched refugees of Ghent, could have suspected, after the capitulation,
that there was any special danger for Ney, and it is very difficult to
see on what principle the Bourbons chose their victims or intended
victims. Drouot, for example, had never served Louis XVIII., he had
never worn the white cockade, he had left France with Napoleon for Elba,
and had served the Emperor there. In 1815 he had fought under his own
sovereign. After Waterloo he had exerted all his great influence, the
greater from his position, to induce the Guard to retire behind the
Loire, and to submit to the Bourbons. It was because Davoust so needed
him that Drouot remained with the army. Stilt Drouot was selected for
death, but the evidence of his position was too strong to enable the
Court to condemn him. Cambronne, another selection, had also gone with
Napoleon to Elba. Savory, another selection, had, as was eventually
acknowledged, only joined Napoleon when he was in full possession of the
reins of Government. Bertrend, who was condemned while at St. Helena,
was in the same position as Drouot. In fact, if any one were to draw up
a list of probable proscriptions and compare it with those of the 24th of
July 1815, there would probably be few names common to both except
Labedoyere, Mouton Duvernet, etc. The truth is that the Bourbons, and,
to do them justice, still more the rancorous band of mediocrities who
surrounded them, thirsted for blood. Even they could feel the full
ignominy of the flight to Ghent.
While they had been chanting the glories of the Restoration, the devotion
of the people, the valour of the Princes, Napoleon had landed, the
Restoration had vanished like a bad dream, and the Princes were the first
to lead the way to the frontier. To protest that there had been a
conspiracy, and that the conspirators must suffer, was the only possible
cloak for the shame of the Royalists, who could not see that the only
conspiracy was the universal one of the nation against the miserable men
who knew not how to govern a high-spirited people.
Ney, arrested on the 5th of August, was first brought before a Military
Court on the 9th of November composed of Marshal Jourdan (President),
Marshals Massena, Augereau, and Mortier, Lieutenants-General Gazan,
Claparede, and Vilatte (members). Moncey had refused to sit, and Massena
urged to the Court his own quarrels with Ney in Spain to get rid of the
task, but was forced to remain. Defended by both the Berryers, Ney
unfortunately denied the jurisdiction of the court-martial over him as a
peer. In all probability the Military Court would have acquitted him.
Too glad at the moment to be free from the trial of their old comrade,
not understanding the danger of the proceeding, the Court, by a majority
of five against two, declared themselves non-competent, and on the 21st
of November Ney was sent before the Chamber of Peers, which condemned him
on the 6th of December.
To beg the life of his brave adversary would have been such an obvious
act of generosity on the part of the Duke of Wellington that we maybe
pardoned for examining his reasons for not interfering. First, the Duke
seems to have laid weight on the fact that if Ney had believed the
capitulation had covered him he would not have hidden. Now, even before
Ney knew of his exception from the amnesty, to appear in Paris would have
been a foolish piece of bravado. Further, the Royalist reaction was in
full vigour, and when the Royalist mobs, with the connivance of the
authorities, were murdering Marshal Brune and attacking any prominent
adherents of Napoleon, it was hardly the time for Ney to travel in full
pomp. It cannot be said that, apart from the capitulation, the Duke had
no responsibility. Generally a Government executing a prisoner, may,
with some force, if rather brutally, urge that the fact of their being
able to try and execute him in itself shows their authority to do so.
The Bourbons could not even use this argument. If the Allies had
evacuated France Louis le Desiree would have ordered his carriage and
have been at the frontier before they had reached it. If Frenchmen
actually fired the shots which killed Ney, the Allies at least shared the
responsibility with the French Government. Lastly, it would seem that
the Duke would have asked for the life of Ney if the King, clever at such
small artifices, had not purposely affected a temporary coldness to him.
Few men would have been so deterred from asking for the life of a dog.
The fact is, the Duke of Wellington was a great general, he was a single-
hearted and patriotic statesman, he had a thousand virtues, but he was
never generous. It cannot be said that he simply shared the feelings of
his army, for there was preparation among some of his officers to enable
Ney to escape, and Ney had to be guarded by men of good position
disguised in the uniform of privates. Ney had written to his wife when
he joined Napoleon, thinking of the little vexations the Royalists loved
to inflict on the men who had conquered the Continent. "You will no
longer weep when you leave the Tuileries." The unfortunate lady wept now
as she vainly sought some mercy for her husband. Arrested on the 5th of
August, sentenced on the 6th of December, Ney was shot on the 7th of
December, and the very manner of his execution shows that, in taking his
life there was much more of revenge than of justice.
If Ney were to be shot, it is obvious that it should have been as a high
act of justice. If neither the rank nor the services of the criminal
were to save him, his death could not be too formal, too solemn, too
public. Even an ordinary military execution is always carried out with
grave and striking forms: there is a grand parade of the troops, that all
may see with their own eyes the last act of the law. After the execution
the troops defile past the body, that all may see the criminal actually
dead: There was nothing of all this in the execution of Ney. A few
chance passers, in the early morning of the 7th of December 1815, saw a
small body of troops waiting by the wall of the garden of the Luxemburg.
A fiacre drove up, out of which got Marshal Ney in plain clothes, himself
surprised by the everyday aspect of the place. Then, when the officer of
the firing party (for such the spectators now knew it to be) saw whom it
was he was to fire on, he became, it is said, perfectly petrified; and a
peer, one of the judges of Ney, the Duke de la Force, took his place.
Ney fell at the first volley with six balls in his breast, three in the
head and neck, and one in the arm, and in a quarter of an hour the body
was removed; "plain Michel Ney" as he had said to the secretary
enunciating his title in reading his sentence, "plain Michel Ney, soon to
be a little dust."
The Communists caught red-handed in the streets of Paris in 1870 died
with hardly less formality than was observed at the death-scene of the
Prince of the Moskowa and Duke of Elchingen, and the truth then became
plain. The Bourbons could not, dared not, attempt to carry out the
sentence of the law with the forms of the law. The Government did not
venture to let the troops or the people face the Marshal. The forms of
the law could not be carried out, the demands of revenge could be. And
if this be thought any exaggeration, the proof of the ill effects of this
murder, for its form makes it difficult to call it anything else, is
ready to our hands. It was impossible to get the public to believe that
Ney had really been killed in this manner, and nearly to this day we have
had fresh stories recurring of the real Ney being discovered in America.
The deed, however, had really been done. The Marshals now knew that when
the Princes fled they themselves must remain to die for the Royal cause;
and Louis had at last succeeded in preventing his return to his kingdom
amongst the baggage waggons of the Allies from being considered as a mere
subject for jeers. One detail of the execution of Ney, however, we are
told nothing of: we do not know if his widow, like Madame Labedoyere, had
to pay three francs a head to the soldiers of the firing party which shot
her husband. Whatever were the faults of the Bourbons, they at least
carried out their executions economically.