7th—8th. The Theban frigate arrived from the Cape, and brought us some
newspapers. I translated them to the Emperor while we walked in the
garden. One of these papers brought intelligence of a great
catastrophe. I read that Murat, having landed in Calabria, with a few
troops, had been seized and shot. At this unexpected news, the Emperor
interrupted me by exclaiming, “The Calabrians were more humane, more
generous, than those who sent me hither.” This was all he said; and
after a few moments’ silence, as he said nothing, I continued to read.
Murat, without real judgment, without solid views, without a character
proportioned to the circumstances in which he was placed, had perished
in an attempt evidently desperate. It is not impossible that the
Emperor’s return from Elba may have turned his brain, and inspired him
with the hope of renewing the prodigy in his own person. Such was the
miserable end of him who had been one of the most active causes of our
reverses! In 1814, his courage and intrepidity might have saved us
from the abyss in which his treachery involved us. He neutralized the
Viceroy on the Po, and fought against him; whereas, by uniting
together, they might have forced the passes of the Tyrol, made a
descent into Germany, and arrived on Bâle and the banks of the Rhine,
to destroy the rear of the allies and cut off their retreat from
France.
The Emperor, while he was at Elba, disdained all communication with
the King of Naples; but, on departing for France, he wrote to inform
him that, being about to resume possession of his throne, he felt
pleasure in declaring to him that all their past differences were at
an end. He pardoned his late conduct, tendered him his friendship,
sent some one to sign the guarantee of his States, and recommended him
to maintain a good understanding with the Austrians, and to content
himself with merely keeping them in check, in case they should attempt
to march upon France. Murat, at this moment, inspired with the
sentiments of his early youth, would receive neither guarantee nor
signature. He declared that the Emperor’s promise and friendship were
sufficient for him, and that he would prove he had been more
unfortunate than guilty. His devotedness and ardour, he added, would
obtain for him oblivion of the past.
“Murat,” said the Emperor, “was doomed to be our bane. He ruined us by
forsaking us, and he ruined us by too warmly espousing our cause. He
observed no sort of discretion. He himself attacked the Austrians,
without any reasonable plan and without adequate forces; and he was
subdued without striking a blow.”
The Austrians, when rid of Murat, cited his conduct either as a reason
or as a pretence for attributing ambitious views to Napoleon when he
again appeared on the scene. They constantly referred to Murat,
whenever the Emperor made protestations of his moderation.
Before these unlucky hostilities of the King of Naples, the Emperor
had already set on foot negotiations with Austria. Other inferior
states, which I think it unnecessary to mention by name, had signified
to him that he might rely on their neutrality. Doubtless the fall of
the King of Naples gave another turn to affairs.
Endeavours have been made to represent Napoleon as a man of furious
and implacable temper; but the truth is that he was a stranger to
revenge, and he never cherished any vindictive feeling, whatever wrong
he suffered. His anger was usually vented in violent transports, and
was soon at an end. Those who knew him must be convinced of this fact.
Murat had scandalously betrayed him; as I have already observed, he
had twice ruined his prospects, and yet Murat came to seek an asylum
at Toulon. “I should have taken him with me to Waterloo,” said
Napoleon; “but such was the patriotic and moral feeling of the French
army that it was doubtful whether the troops would surmount the
disgust and horror which they felt for the man who had betrayed and
lost France. I did not consider myself sufficiently powerful to
protect him. Yet he might have enabled us to gain the victory. How
useful would he have been at certain periods of the battle! For what
was required, at certain moments of the day, to insure our success?—to
break through three or four English squares; and Murat was admirable
in such a service as this—he was precisely the man for it. At the head
of a body of cavalry, no man was ever more resolute, more courageous,
or more brilliant.
“As to drawing a parallel,” said the Emperor, ”between the
circumstances of Napoleon and Murat—between the landing of the former
in France and the entrance of the latter into the Neapolitan
territory; no such parallel exists. Murat could have no good argument
to support his cause, except success; which was purely chimerical, at
the time and in the manner in which he commenced his enterprise.
Napoleon was the chosen ruler of a people; he was their legitimate
sovereign according to modern doctrines. But Murat was not a
Neapolitan; the Neapolitans had not chosen Murat; how, therefore,
could it be expected that he should excite any lively interest in his
favour? Thus his proclamation was totally false, and destitute of
facts. Ferdinand of Naples could view him in no other light than as an
instigator of insurrection; he did so, and he treated him accordingly.
“How different was it with me!” continued the Emperor: “before my
arrival, one universal sentiment pervaded France, and my proclamation
on landing was imbued with that sentiment:—every one found that it
echoed the feelings of his own heart. France was discontented; I was
her resource. The evil and its remedy were immediately in unison. This
is the whole secret of that electric movement which is unexampled in
history. It had its source solely in the nature of things. There was
no conspiracy, and the impulse was general; not a word was spoken, yet
a general understanding prevailed throughout the country. Whole towns
threw themselves at the feet of their deliverer. The first battalion
which my presence gained over to me immediately placed the whole army
in my power. I found myself borne on to Paris. The existing government
and its agency disappeared without effort, like clouds before the sun.
And yet,” concluded the Emperor, “had I been subdued, had I fallen
into the hands of my enemies, I was not a mere insurrectionary chief;
I was a Sovereign acknowledged by all Europe. I had my title, my
standard, my troops; and I was advancing to wage war upon my enemy.”