course of my voyage.]
This reasoning produced its effect; and his Eminence ordered, though
he continued grumbling, that my demand was to be granted. "What are
you going to do at Milan?" said he, and I think he muttered an oath
between his teeth: "I am going," I answered, "relative to the
dotations which were assigned to us upon the 'Mont Napoleon.'" He was
satisfied with my answer, and so was I. I wrote to M. ****, the
Neapolitan consul, transmitting my letter; and I requested him to send
to the island an account of my new route.
I continued my journey. My passport was headed by the imperial arms.
The name of Napoleon, and his title of Emperor, were inscribed in
large letters. I was the first Frenchman from the island who had been
able or who had dared to traverse Italy. How many things there were
which roused curiosity and commanded attention! I was overwhelmed with
questions relative to Porto Ferrajo and its illustrious sovereign. I
answered as fully as they wished. Whilst they were busying themselves
about the Emperor, they did not think of me, and that was what I
wanted. In order to avoid troublesome examinations, I took care to
pass through the towns at night, and never to stop in them. At length,
thanks to my address and good fortune, I arrived safe and sound at
Milan; there I found my friend and his colonel, and every thing was
settled admirably.
I set off again for Turin with all possible speed. When I arrived on
the Place of ... I perceived several numerous groups of persons, who
appeared exceedingly animated. How great was my surprise when I found
that they were talking of Napoleon, and his escape from the isle of
Elba. This piece of intelligence, which had been just received, put me
in a violent passion: I accused the Emperor of perfidiousness. I
reproached him with having misled, deceived, and sacrificed me.
When my first fit of ill humour was calmed, I considered the conduct
of the Emperor under another aspect. I thought that unexpected
considerations might have induced him to embark precipitately. I was
ashamed of my suspicions and of my violence, and I only wished to fly
to his footsteps; but already orders had been given to prevent
communication. I passed eight days, which appeared so many ages, in
soliciting permission to return to France; and at last I obtained it.
I arrived at Paris on the 25th of March: on the 26th M. X*** presented
me to the Emperor: he embraced me, and said, "I have weighty reasons
for wishing that you and X*** may both forget whatever passed at the
isle of Elba. I alone will not forget it. Rely on my esteem and
protection on all occasions[39]."
[Footnote 39: This narrative evidently shows, that
the revolution of the 20th of March was not the
effect of a conspiracy, but, strange to say, the
work of two men, and a few words.
The share that M. Z*** had in the return of
Napoleon will, perhaps, call down upon his head the
censures of those who judge events only from their
results. Will this opinion be well founded? Are men
responsible for the caprice of fate? Is it not to
fortune, rather than to M. Z***, that we must
impute the disastrous end of this revolution, begun
under such happy auspices?
More fortunate than Napoleon, M. Z*** was killed on
Mount St. Jean, the moment when our troops
penetrated thither amidst the plaudits of the army.
He was permitted to draw his last breath on the
standards, which the conquerors of Ligny had just
snatched from the English; and, far from foreseeing
that his visit to the island of Elba would at some
future day be a reproach to his memory, he died
with the persuasion, that victory had irrevocably
fixed his destiny, and that his name, cherished by
the French, cherished by the hero whom he had
restored to them, would be for ever hallowed by the
gratitude of France, become once more the great
nation.
I shall not prematurely rob his manes of this
consoling illusion; I shall not inform them, that
... no! it will be time enough hereafter to disturb
their repose, and I shall await the attack before I
begin the defence.]
Here ends the memoir of M. Z****.
This officer had scarcely quitted the island of Elba, when the Emperor
(and I had the particulars from his Majesty himself) acknowledged and
deplored the imprudence of which he had been guilty, in sending Z***
to the continent. The character and firmness of this faithful servant
were sufficiently known to him, to prevent his feeling any anxiety on
his account. He was certain (I use his own words), that he would
suffer himself to be cut to pieces, before he would open his mouth:
but he was afraid, that the inquiries he had directed him to make on
the road, the letters he might address to him, or the conferences he
might have at Paris with M. X*** and his friends, would excite the
suspicions of the police; and that the Bourbons would station
cruizers, so as to render an escape from the island of Elba, and a
landing on the coast of France, altogether impossible.
Thus the Emperor felt that there was but one way of preventing the
danger, that of departing immediately.
On this point he did not hesitate. From that moment every thing
assumed a different aspect in the island of Elba.
This island, but the moment before the abode of philosophy and peace,
became in an instant the imperial head-quarters. Couriers, orders, and
counter-orders, were incessantly going and returning from Porto
Ferrajo to Longone, and from Longone to Porto Ferrajo. Napoleon,
whose fiery activity had been so long enchained, gave himself up,
with infinite delight, to all the cares, that his audacious enterprise
demanded. But in whatever mystery he fancied he had shrouded himself,
the unusual accounts he had caused to be delivered in, the particular
attention he had paid to his old grenadiers, had excited their
suspicion; and they scarcely doubted, that he had it in contemplation
to quit the island. Every one supposed, that he would land at Naples,
or in some other port of Italy: no one ventured even to imagine, that
his plan was to go and expel Louis XVIII. from the throne.
On the 26th of February, at one o'clock, the guard and the officers of
his household received orders to hold themselves in readiness to
depart. Every thing was in motion: the grenadiers with joy resumed
their arms, that so long had lain idle, and spontaneously swore, never
to quit them but with life. The whole population of the country,
crowds of old men, women, and children, eagerly rushed to the shore;
the most affecting scenes were exhibited on all sides. They thronged
round the faithful companions of Napoleon in his exile, and contended
with each other for the pleasure, the honour, of touching them, seeing
them, embracing them for the last time. The younger members of the
families of the first distinction in the island solicited as a
favour, the danger of sharing in the perils of the Emperor. Joy,
glory, hope, sparkled in every eye. They knew not whither they were
going, but Napoleon was present, and with him could they doubt of
victory?
At eight in the evening a gun gave the signal for departure. A
thousand times embraces were immediately lavished and returned. The
French rushed into their boats; martial music struck up; and Napoleon
and his followers sailed majestically from the shore, amid the shouts
of "Long live the Emperor!" a thousand times repeated[40].
[Footnote 40: The flotilla of Napoleon consisted of
the brig Inconstant, carrying twenty-six guns and
four hundred grenadiers, and six other light
vessels, on board which were two hundred foot, two
hundred Corsican chasseurs, and about a hundred
Polish light horse. The feluccas and the brigs had
been so fitted up, as to show no signs of the
troops, and to have the appearance of mere
merchantmen.]
Napoleon, when he set foot on board his vessel, exclaimed with Caesar,
"The die is cast!" His countenance was calm, his brow serene: he
appeared to think less of the success of his enterprise, than of the
means of promptly attaining his object. The eyes of Count Bertrand
sparkled with hope and joy: General Drouot was pensive and serious:
Cambronne appeared to care little about the future, and to think only
of doing his duty well. The old grenadiers had resumed their martial
and menacing aspect. The Emperor chatted and joked with them
incessantly: he pulled their ears and their mustachios, reminded them
of their dangers and their glory, and inspired their minds with that
confidence, with which his own was animated.
All were burning to know their destination: respect did not allow any
one to ask the question: at length Napoleon broke silence.
"Grenadiers," said he, "we are going to France, we are going to
Paris." At these words every countenance expanded, their joy ceased to
be mingled with anxiety, and stifled cries of "France for ever!"
attested to the Emperor, that in the heart of a Frenchman the love of
his country is never extinct.
An English sloop of war, commanded by Captain Campbell, appeared to
have the charge of watching the island of Elba[41]: she was
continually sailing from Porto Ferrajo to Leghorn, and from Leghorn
to Porto Ferrajo. At the moment of embarkation she was at Leghorn, and
could occasion no alarm; but several vessels were descried in the
channel, and their presence gave room for just apprehensions. It was
hoped, however, that the night breeze would favour the progress of the
flotilla, and that before daybreak it would be out of sight. This hope
was frustrated. ""Scarcely had it doubled Cape St. Andrew, in the
island of Elba, when the wind fell and the sea became calm. At
daybreak it had advanced only six leagues, and was still between the
islands of Elba and Capraea.
[Footnote 41: People are pretty generally of
opinion, that the escape of the Emperor from the
Island of Elba was favoured by Captain Campbell. I
do not think so: but every thing leads to the
belief, that this officer had received orders from
his government, not to prevent such a step.--(_Note
by the author of the Memoirs._)]
""The danger appeared imminent: several of the seamen were for
returning to Porto Ferrajo. The Emperor ordered them to hold on their
course, as, at the worst, he had the chance either of capturing the
French cruiser, or of taking refuge in the island of Corsica, where he
was assured of being well received. To facilitate their manoeuvres,
he ordered all the luggage embarked to be thrown overboard, which was
cheerfully executed at the instant.""
About noon the wind freshened a little. At four o'clock they were off
Leghorn. One frigate was in sight five leagues to leeward, another on
the coast of Corsica, and a man-of-war brig, which was perceived to be
Le Zephir, commanded by Captain Andrieux, was coming down upon the
imperial flotilla right before the wind. It was first proposed to
speak to him, and make him hoist the three-coloured flag. "The
Emperor, however, gave orders to the soldiers of the guard to take off
their caps and conceal themselves below, choosing rather to pass by
the brig without being known, and reserving himself in case of
necessity, for the alternative of making him change his colours. At
six o'clock the two brigs passed alongside of each other, and their
commanders, who were acquainted, spoke together. The captain of Le
Zephir inquired after the Emperor, and was answered through a speaking
trumpet by the Emperor himself, that he was extremely well.
""The two brigs, steering opposite courses, were soon out of sight of
each other, without Captain Andrieux having any suspicion of the
valuable prize, that he had allowed to escape.
""In the night of the 27th the wind continued to freshen. At day-break
a seventy-four was descried, which appeared steering for San
Fiorenzo or Sardinia, and it was soon perceived, that she took no
notice of the brig[42].""
[Footnote 42: The passages between two sets of
inverted commas are copied from the official
account published on the 22d of March. This account
was drawn up by Napoleon, and I thought I could not
do better than borrow his words.]
The Emperor, before he quitted the island of Elba, had prepared with
his own hand two proclamations, one addressed to the French people,
the other to the army; and he was desirous of having them copied out
fairly. His secretary and General Bertrand, being neither of them able
to decipher them, carried them to Napoleon, who, despairing of doing
it himself, threw them into the sea from vexation. Then, after
meditating for a few moments, he dictated to his secretary the two
following proclamations on the spot.
_Proclamation._
Gulf of Juan, March the 1st, 1815.
Napoleon, by the grace of God and constitution of the empire, Emperor
of the French, &c. &c. &c.
_To the Army._
Soldiers!
We have not been vanquished: two men, who issued from our ranks,
betrayed our laurels, their country, their prince, their benefactor.
Shall they, whom we have seen for five and twenty years traversing all
Europe, to stir up enemies against us--who have spent their lives in
fighting against us in the ranks of foreign armies, and cursing our
lovely France--now pretend to command us, and to enchain our eagles,
the looks of which they could never withstand? Shall we suffer them to
inherit the fruits of our glorious toils? to seize upon our honours,
and our property, and calumniate our fame? Should their reign
continue, all would be lost, even the remembrance of our memorable
victories.
With what virulence do they distort them! They endeavour to poison
what is the admiration of the world; and if any defenders of our glory
still remain, it is among those very enemies whom we combated in the
field.
Soldiers! in my exile I heard your voice: I am arrived through every
obstacle, through every danger.
Your general, called to the throne by the voice of the people, and
raised on your shields, is restored to you. Come and join him.
Tear down those colours, which the nation has proscribed, and which
for five and twenty years served as a signal to rally all the enemies
of France. Mount that tricoloured cockade, which you wore in our
great victories. We must forget, that we have been the masters of
other nations; but we must not suffer any to interfere in our affairs.
Who shall pretend to be our master? Who is able to be so? Resume the
eagles you bore at Ulm, at Austerlitz, at Jena, at Eylau, at Wagram,
at Friedland, at Tudela, at Eckmuhl, at Essling, at Smolensko, at
Moscow, at Lutzen, at Wurtchen, at Montmirail. Think you that handful
of Frenchmen, now so arrogant, can support their sight? They will
return whence they came; and there, if they please, they may reign, as
they pretend to have reigned for nineteen years.
Your property, your rank, your glory--the property, the rank, the
glory of your children--have no greater enemies than those princes,
who have been imposed on us by foreigners. They are the enemies of our
glory; since the recital of so many glorious actions, which have
rendered illustrious the French people, fighting against them to
emancipate themselves from their yoke, is their condemnation.
The veterans of the armies of the Sambre and Meuse, of the Rhine, of
Italy, of Egypt, of the west, of the grand army, are humiliated; their
honourable scars are disgraced; their successes would be crimes, the
valiant would be rebels, if, as the enemies of the people assert,
legitimate sovereigns were among the foreign armies. Their honours,
rewards, affections, are for those who have served them, against us
and against our country.
Soldiers, come and arrange yourselves under the standards of your
chief: his existence consists only of yours; his rights are only those
of the people and of you; his interest, his honour, his glory, are no
other than your glory. Victory will march forward with the charge
step: the eagle, with the national colours, will fly from steeple to
steeple till it reaches the towers of Notre Dame. You may then display
your scars with honour, you may then boast of what you have done: you
will be the deliverers of your country.
In your old age, surrounded and respected by your fellow citizens,
they will listen with veneration to the recital of your noble deeds:
you may proudly say, I too was in that grand army which twice entered
the walls of Vienna, and those of Rome, of Berlin, of Madrid, and of
Moscow, and which cleansed Paris from the stain inflicted on it by
treason and the presence of the enemy. Honour to those brave soldiers,
the glory of their country! and eternal shame to those guilty
Frenchmen, in whatever rank it was their fortune to be born, who
fought for five and twenty years in company with foreigners, to wound
the bosom of their country.
Signed, NAPOLEON.
By the Emperor.
The grand marshal, executing the functions of major-general of the
grand army.
Signed, BERTRAND.
_Proclamation._
Gulf of Juan, March 1, 1815.
Napoleon, by the grace of God and the constitution of the empire,
Emperor of the French, &c. &c. &c.
_To the French People._
Frenchmen!
The defection of the Duke of Castiglione gave up Lyons without defence
to our enemies. The army, the command of which I had entrusted to him,
was capable, from the bravery and patriotism of the troops of which it
was formed, of beating the Austrian army opposed to it, and taking in
the rear the left flank of the enemy's army, that threatened Paris.
The victories of Champ Aubert, of Montmirail, of Chateau Thierry, of
Vauchamp, of Mormane, of Montereau, of Craone, of Rheims, of
Arcy-sur-Aube, and of St. Dizier; the insurrection of the brave
peasantry of Lorraine, of Champagne, of Alsace, of Franche Comte, and
of Burgundy; and the position I had taken in the rear of the enemy's
army, cutting it off from its magazines, its parks of reserve, and
convoys, and all its waggons, had placed it in a desperate situation.
The French were on the point of being more powerful than ever, and the
flower of the enemy's army was lost without resource; it would have
found its grave in those vast countries, which it had so pitilessly
ravaged, when the treachery of the Duke of Ragusa delivered up the
capital, and disorganized the army. The unsuspected conduct of these
two generals, who betrayed at once their country, their prince, and
their benefactor, changed the fate of the war: the situation of the
enemy was such, that, after the affair that took place before Paris,
he was without ammunition, in consequence of being separated from his
parks of reserve[43].
[Footnote 43: They had fled precipitately as far as
Basil.]
Under these new and important circumstances, my heart was torn, but my
mind remained unshaken: I consulted only the interests of our country,
and banished myself to a rock surrounded by the seas: my life was
useful to you, and was destined still to be so. I would not permit
the great number of citizens, who were desirous of accompanying me, to
share my fate: I deemed their presence advantageous to France, and I
took with me only the handful of brave fellows necessary for my guard.
Raised to the throne by your choice, every thing that has been done
without you is illegal. Within these five and twenty years France has
acquired new interests, new institutions, new glory, to be guarantied
only by a national government, and a dynasty born under these new
circumstances. A prince who should reign over you, who should be
seated on my throne by the power of the same armies, that have ravaged
our territories, would seek in vain to support himself by the
principles of feudal right; he could secure the honour and the rights
only of a small number of individuals, enemies to the people, who have
condemned them in all our national assemblies for five and twenty
years. Your tranquillity at home, and estimation abroad, would be lost
for ever.
Frenchmen! in my exile I heard your complaints and wishes: you called
for that government of your own choice, which alone is legitimate; you
blamed my long slumber; you reproached me with sacrificing the great
interests of the country to my own repose.
I have crossed the seas amid perils of every kind: I arrive among you
to resume my rights, which are also yours. Every thing that
individuals have done, written, or said, since the taking of Paris, I
shall consign to everlasting oblivion; it shall have no influence on
the remembrance I retain of the important services they have rendered,
for there are events of such a nature, that they are above the frame
of man.
Frenchmen! there is no nation, however small, that has not possessed
the right of withdrawing, and that has not withdrawn itself, from the
disgrace of obeying a prince imposed upon it by an enemy temporarily
victorious. When Charles VII. re-entered Paris, and overturned the
ephemeral throne of Henry VI., he acknowledged, that he held his crown
from the valour of his brave people, and not from the Prince Regent of
England.
It is to you only, and to the brave men of the army, that I make, and
shall always make it my glory, to owe every thing.
Signed, NAPOLEON.
By the Emperor.
The grand marshal, executing the functions of major-general of the
grand army.
Signed, BERTRAND.
The Emperor, while he dictated these proclamations, appeared to be
animated with the most profound indignation. He seemed to have before
his eyes, both the generals, whom he accused of having given up
France, and the enemies, who had subjugated it. He incessantly
repeated the names of Marmont and Augereau, and they were always
accompanied with threats and with epithets, suited to the idea he had
conceived of their treachery.
When the proclamations were transcribed, the Emperor directed them to
be read aloud, and invited all those who could write a good hand to
copy them. In an instant, benches and drums were converted into
tables; and soldiers, sailors, and officers, set themselves gayly to
work.
After a certain time, his Majesty said to the officers around him,
"Now, gentlemen, it is your turn, to speak to the army: you must tell
it what France expects of it under the important circumstances in
which we shall soon find ourselves. Come, Bertrand, take your pen."
The grand marshal excused himself. The Emperor then resumed his
discourse, and dictated, without stopping, an address to the generals,
officers, and soldiers of the army, in which the imperial guard
conjured them, in the name of honour and their country, to shake off
the yoke of the Bourbons.
"Soldiers," said they to them, "the drum beats the general, and we
march: run to arms, come and join us, join your Emperor, and our
eagles.
"And if these men, now so arrogant, who have always fled at the sight
of our weapons, dare wait for us, where can we find a fairer occasion
of shedding our blood, and chanting the hymn of victory?
"Soldiers of the seventh, eighth, and nineteenth military divisions,
garrisons of Antibes, Toulon, and Marseilles, retired officers,
veterans of our army, you are called to the honour of setting the
first example: come with us to conquer that throne, which is the
palladium of your rights; and let posterity some day tell,
'Foreigners, seconded by traitors, had imposed a disgraceful yoke on
France; the brave arose, and the enemies of the people, of the army,
disappeared, and returned to their original nothingness.'"
This address was scarcely finished, when the coast of Antibes was
descried at a distance. Immediately on this, the Emperor and his brave
fellows saluted the land of their country with shouts of "France for
ever! Success to the French!" and at the same instant resumed the
tricoloured cockade[44].
[Footnote 44: The cockade adopted by Napoleon, as
sovereign of the island of Elba, was white and
amaranth powdered with bees.]