CHAPTER XXXIV

Declaration of the Allies at Frankfort--Revolution of

Holland--Liberation of the Pope and Ferdinand VII.--Obstinacy of

Napoleon--His Military Preparations--Dissolution of the Legislative

Senate.

Of the events which crowded upon each other in the space of a few weeks

after the overthrow of Leipsig, any one would in times less

extraordinary have been sufficient to form an epoch in history. Having

once reached the summit of his greatness, the long-favoured child of

fortune was destined to sink even more rapidly than he had ascended.

Every day added some new alliance to the camp of his foreign enemies;

and every hour that passed brought with it clearer indications that the

French nation (considered apart from the army) were weary utterly of the

very names of War, and Ambition, and Napoleon.

The fabric of his German empire crumbled into nothing, as at the spell

of a magician. Hanover returned to the dominion of its rightful

sovereign immediately. Brunswick, Hesse, and the other states which had

formed Jerome's kingdom of Westphalia, followed the same example. The

Confederation of the Rhine was dissolved for ever; and the princes who

had adhered to that league were permitted to expiate their, in most

cases involuntary, error, by now bringing a year's revenue and a double

conscription to the banner of the Allies. Bernadotte turned from Leipsig

to reduce the garrisons which Napoleon, in the rashness of his

presumption, had disdained to call in, even when compelled to evacuate

Dresden; and one by one they fell, though in most cases--particularly at

Dantzick, Wirtemberg, and Hamburg--the resistance was obstinate and

long. The Crown Prince--having witnessed the reduction of some of these

fortresses, and entrusted the siege of the others to his

lieutenants--invaded Denmark, and the government of that country

perceived the necessity of acceding to the European alliance, by

whatever fine its long adhesion to Napoleon might be expiated. The

treaty was concluded at Kiel, on the 14th of January, 1814. Sweden

yielded Pomerania to Denmark; Denmark gave up Norway to Sweden; and

10,000 Danish troops having joined his standard, Bernadotte then turned

his face towards the Netherlands.

In Holland, no sooner had the story of Leipsig reached it than a

complete, though bloodless revolution was effected. The cry of _orange

boven_, "up with the orange," burst simultaneously from every part of

the country: the French governors, yielding to a power which they

perceived the absurdity of attempting to resist, retired on the instant,

and the long-exiled Stadtholder, the Prince of Orange, returning in

triumph from England, assumed the administration of affairs in November,

1813. A few French garrisons remained shut up in strong places, of which

the most important was Bergen-op-Zoom; and Bernadotte now co-operated

with the Russian corps of Witzingerode, the Prussians of Bulow, and a

British force of 10,000, under Sir T. Graham,[65] with the view of

completing the deliverance of Holland; which was ere long effected, with

the exception of Bergen-op-Zoom, from whose walls the English were

repulsed with dreadful slaughter.

On the side of Italy the aspect of affairs was almost as dark. General

Hiller, having conducted an Austrian army through the Tyrol, as soon as

the decision of his government was taken, had defeated Eugene

Beauharnois, and driven him behind the Adige. The Croats, the Tyrolese,

all the Illyrians were rising, and--so far from giving aid in the

defence of the French soil--it was manifest that the Viceroy could

hardly hope to maintain himself much longer in Lombardy. An English

naval force had already taken Trieste: the Adriatic was free; and, to

complete Napoleon's perplexity as to this quarter, it was no longer a

secret that Murat, his brother-in-law, his creature, was negotiating

with Austria, and willing, provided that Naples were guaranteed to him,

to array the force of that state also on the side of the confederacy.

As little comfort could Buonaparte derive if he turned to the Pyrenees.

He had sent Soult thither from Dresden, to retrieve if possible the

fortunes of the army defeated in June at Vittoria; and that most able

general, with considerable reinforcements, had entered Spain, and

attempted to relieve the siege of Pamplona--of which strong place, as

well as St. Sebastian Lord Wellington had resolved to be master before

he should pass the French frontier with his victorious army. But Soult

also had been twice defeated; the fortresses had fallen: except a

detached, and now useless force under Suchet in Catalonia, there

remained no longer a single French soldier in Spain. The Peninsula had

at length been delivered by the genius of Wellington; and his army were

cantoned within the territory of France ere the close of the campaign.

Such were the tidings which reached Napoleon from his Italian and

Spanish frontiers, at the very moment when it was necessary for him to

make head against the Russians, the Austrians, and the Germans, chiefly

armed and supplied at the expense of England, and now rapidly

concentrating in three great masses on different points of the valley of

the Rhine.

Nor were even these the worst tidings. Two parties, of which one had not

of late years attracted much public notice, and the other had as long

wanted efficient leaders, were well-known ere now to be labouring

throughout France, though not as yet in conjunction, for one common

purpose--the deposition of Buonaparte. The royalists had recovered a

great share of their ancient influence in the society of Paris, even

before the disasters of the Russian expedition. The exiled Bourbon had

found means to distribute proclamations early in 1813: his agents had

ever since been exerting themselves indefatigably, both in Paris and in

the provinces, especially in those of the west. The Mayor of Bourdeaux

(Lynch) was at the head of a loyal association, comprehending the chief

inhabitants of that great city, and already in communication with the

Marquess of Wellington, who, however, felt it his duty to check them on

this occasion, lest the progress of events should render their efforts

fruitless to Louis, and fatal to themselves. La Roche Jacquelein (a name

already so illustrious in La Vendee) had once more prepared that

faithful province for insurrection. Saintonge had been organised by the

Abbe Jaqualt; Perigord by Messieurs de la Roche Aymon; and in the

countries about Nantes, Angers, and Orleans, great bands, consisting

partly of Buonaparte's own refractory conscripts, were in training under

the Counts De L'Orge, D'Antichamp, and Suzannet. The royalist gentlemen

of Touraine, to the number of 1000, were headed by the Duke of Duras;

those of Brittany were mustering around Count Vittray, and various

chieftains of the old Chouans; and Cadoudal, brother to Georges, was

among the peasantry of Varnes. These names, most of them well-known in

the early period of the Revolution, are of themselves sufficient to show

how effectually the Buonapartean government had endeavoured, during

thirteen years, to extinguish the old fire of loyalty. It had all the

while glowed under the ashes, and it was now ready to burst forth

shining and bright. The Bourbon princes watched the course of events

with eager hope. The Duke of Berri was already in Jersey, Monsieur (now

Charles X.) in the Netherlands, and the Duke D'Angouleme about to make

his appearance at the headquarters of Wellington, in Bearn, the cradle

of his race. The republicans, meanwhile,--those enthusiasts of the

Revolution who had in the beginning considered Buonaparte's consulate as

a dictatorship forced on France by the necessities of the time, and to

be got rid of as soon as opportunity should serve--and who had long

since been wholly alienated from him, by his assumption of the imperial

dignity, his creation of orders and nobles, his alliance with the House

of Austria, and the complete despotism of his internal government--these

men had observed, with hardly less delight than the royalists, that

succession of reverses which darkens the story of the two last

campaigns. Finally, not a few of Napoleon's own ministers and generals,

irritated by his personal violence, and hopeless of breathing in peace

while that fierce and insatiable spirit continued at the head of

affairs, were well prepared to take a part in his overthrow; nor was it

long ere all these internal enemies, at whatever distance their

principles and motives might have seemed to place them from each other,

were content to overlook their differences and work together.

Talleyrand, there can be little doubt, and others only second to him in

influence, were in communication with the Bourbons, before the Allies

crossed the Rhine. _Ere then_, said Napoleon at St. Helena, _I felt the

reins slipping from my hands_.

The allied princes issued, at Frankfort on the Mayne, a manifesto, the

firm and temperate language of which was calculated to make a strong

impression in France, as well as elsewhere. The sovereigns announced

their belief that it was for the interest of Europe that France should

continue to be a powerful state, and their willingness to concede to

her, even now, greater extent of territory than the Bourbon kings had

ever claimed--the boundaries, namely, of the Rhine, the Alps, and the

Pyrenees. Their sole object in invading France was to put an end to the

authority which Napoleon had usurped over other nations. They disclaimed

any wish to interfere with the internal government--it was the right of

the nation to arrange that as they pleased; the hostility of Europe was

against, not France, but Napoleon--and even as to Napoleon, against not

his person, but his system. The same terms were tendered to Napoleon

himself, through M. de St. Aignan, one of his own ministers, who

happened to have fallen into the hands of the Allies at Weimar; and his

answer was such that diplomatists from all the belligerent powers

forthwith assembled at Manheim;--Lord Aberdeen appearing on the part of

the government of England--a circumstance of itself sufficient to give

to these new conferences a character of greater promise than had

attended any of recent date.

But although Napoleon authorised Caulaincourt to commence this

negotiation on his behalf, it was very soon manifest that he did so

merely, as before, for the purpose of gaining time. His military

preparations were urged with unremitting energy. New conscriptions were

called for, and granted: every arsenal resounded with the fabrication of

arms: and all the taxes were at once doubled by an imperial decree. The

enslaved press proclaimed that the national ardour was thoroughly

stirred, and with its thousand voices reminded the Allies of the effects

of the Duke of Brunswick's proclamation when about to touch the sacred

soil of France in 1793.

But the enthusiasm of the revolutionary period was long since gone by.

In vain did Napoleon send special agents through the departments,

calling on Frenchmen of all classes to rise in arms for the protection

of the soil. Coldness, languor, distrust met them almost everywhere. The

numerical results even of the conscription-levy were far under what they

should have been; and of those who did enrol themselves, multitudes

daily deserted, and not a few took part with those royalist bands who

were, as we have already seen, mustering and training zealously in

almost every district that was either strong by nature, or remote from

the great military establishments of Buonaparte. Nay, even the

Legislative Senate, so long the silent and submissive slaves of all his

imperial mandates, now dared to testify some sympathy with the feelings

of the people, whom, in theory at least, they were supposed to

represent. This was a novelty for which Napoleon had not been prepared,

and he received it in a manner little likely to conciliate the

attachment of wavering men. They ventured to hint that ancient France

would remain to him, even if he accepted the proposals of the Allies,

and that Louis XIV., when he desired to rouse the French people in his

behalf in a moment of somewhat similar disaster, had not disdained to

detail openly the sincere efforts which he had made to obtain an

honourable peace. "Shame on you!" cried the Emperor, "Wellington has

entered the south, the Russian menace the northern frontier, the

Prussians, Austrians, and Bavarians, the eastern. Shame! Wellington is

in France, and we have not risen _en masse_ to drive him back! All my

Allies have deserted--the Bavarian has betrayed me. No peace till we

have burned Munich! I demand a levy of 300,000 men--with this and what I

already have, I shall see a million in arms. I will form a camp of

100,000 at Bourdeaux; another at Mentz; a third at Lyons. But I must

have grown men--these boys serve only to encumber the hospitals and the

road-sides.... Abandon Holland! sooner yield it back to the sea!

Senators, an impulse must be given--all must march--you are fathers of

families--the heads of the nation--you must set the example. Peace! I

hear of nothing but peace when all around should echo to the cry of

war." The senate, nevertheless, drew up and presented a report which

renewed his wrath. He reproached them openly with desiring to purchase

inglorious ease for themselves at the expense of his honour. _I am the

state_, said he, repeating a favourite expression: _What is the

throne?--a bit of wood gilded and covered with velvet--I am the state--I

alone am here the representative of the people. Even if I had done wrong

you should not have reproached me in public--people wash their dirty

linen at home. France has more need of me than I of France._

Having uttered these furious words, Napoleon repaired to his council of

state, and there denounced the legislative senate, as composed of one

part of traitors and eleven of dupes. _In place of assisting_, said he,

_they impede me. Our attitude alone could have repelled the enemy--they

invite him. We should have presented a front of brass--they lay open

wounds to his view. I will not suffer their report to be printed. They

have not done their duty, but I will do mine--I dissolve the Legislative

Senate_. And the Emperor did accordingly issue his decree, proroguing

indefinitely that assembly, the last feeble shadow of popular

representation in France.

The greatest confusion already began to pervade almost every department

of the public service. The orders of the government were more peremptory

than ever, and they were hourly more neglected. Whole bands of

conscripts, guilty of endeavouring to escape, were tried by military

commissions and decimated. Even close to the barriers of Paris such

executions were constantly going on; and all in vain. The general

feeling was that of sullen indifference. Hireling musicians paraded the

streets, singing fine-new ballads in honour of the Emperor, to the

long-forgotten tune of _ca ira_; the passengers gathered round them, and

drowned the strains in hooting and laughter. In every saloon discussions

such as the police had long suppressed were urged without ceremony.

_This will not continue; the cord is too much stretched--it will soon be

over_; such was the universal language. Talleyrand, hearing an officer

express his alarm and astonishment, made answer in words which have

passed into a proverb:--_It is the beginning of the end._

During this uneasy pause, Napoleon at last dismissed his venerable

prisoner of Fontainebleau. It is not unlikely that, in the altered state

of Italy, he thought the arrival of the Pope might tend to produce some

dissension among his enemies in that quarter; and, in effect, when Pius

reached Rome, he found the capital of the Catholic world in the hands of

Murat, who had ere then concluded his treaty with Francis, and was

advancing into the north of Italy, in the view of co-operating in the

campaign against Beauharnois, with the Austrians on the one side, and on

the other, with an English force recently landed at Leghorn, under Lord

William Bentinck.

He also unlocked the gates of Valencay on Ferdinand of Spain; and,

without doubt, the letter, in which he announced this intention to his

injured victim, will ever be recorded among the prime instances of his

audacity. He informed Ferdinand that the English were spreading _jacobin

principles_ in Spain, and attacking the foundations of the throne, the

aristocracy, and the church; and that he, therefore, was anxious to see

him at the head of affairs in the kingdom, provided he would expel the

English, and re-establish its relations with France, on the footing of

the peace which gave Godoy his title. Ferdinand durst not execute any

treaty without consulting the Cortes. They disdained to treat at all

with Napoleon. He then liberated the King unconditionally; and after

five years' captivity, Ferdinand re-entered Spain, amidst the all but

universal acclamations of a nation, who had bled at every pore in his

cause, and whom his government was destined ere long to satisfy that

they had bled in vain. Napoleon, no doubt, understood well what sort of

a present he was conferring on the Spaniards when he restored Ferdinand,

and probably calculated that his arrival would fill the country with

civil tumults, sufficient to paralyse its arm for foreign war. And--had

the King returned but a year earlier--such, in all likelihood, would

have been the consequence. Once more Napoleon was too late in doing good

that evil might follow.

For some time, thanks to the slavery of the Parisian press, the

population of the capital remained in ignorance as to the proceedings of

the Allies on the Rhine. Indeed--such was still the influence of the

Emperor's military reputation--the inhabitants of the French provinces

on that frontier, continued to believe it impossible that any foreign

army should dare to invade their soil, until they that had ears to hear,

and eyes to see, were perforce undeceived. Schwartzenberg, with the

_Grand Army_, at length crossed the Rhine, between Basle and

Schaffhausen, on the 20th of December, and disregarding the claim of the

Swiss to preserve neutrality, advanced through that territory unopposed,

and began to show themselves in Franche-Comte, in Burgundy, even to the

gates of Dijon. On the 1st of January, 1814, the _Silesian Army_, under

Blucher, crossed the river at various points between Rastadt and

Coblentz; and shortly after, the _Army of the North_, commanded by

Witzingerode and Bulow (for Bernadotte declined having any part in the

actual invasion of France) began to penetrate the frontier of the

Netherlands. The wealthier inhabitants of the invaded provinces escaped

to Paris, bearing with them these tidings; the English _detenus_ of

Verdun were seen traversing the capital on their route to more distant

quarters; the state prisoners of Vincennes itself, under the walls of

Paris, were removed. The secret, in a word, could no longer be kept. It

was known to every one that the Pyrenees had been crossed by Wellington,

and the Rhine by three mighty hosts, amounting together to 300,000 men,

and including representatives of every tongue and tribe, from the

Germans of Westphalia to the wildest barbarians of Tartary. Persons of

condition despatched their plate and valuables to places at a distance

from the capital; many whole families removed daily; and the citizens of

Paris were openly engaged in laying up stores of flour and salted

provisions, in contemplation of a siege.

The violation of the Swiss territory was in itself indefensible; but he

who had so often disdained all rules of that kind in his own person, who

had seized D'Enghien, who had traversed Bareuth, could hardly hope to be

listened to when he complained of Schwartzenberg's proceeding. The

allied generals, moreover, proclaimed everywhere as they advanced, that

they came as the friends not the enemies of the French nation, and that

any of the peasantry who took up arms to oppose them must be content to

abide the treatment of brigands. This assuredly was a flagrant outrage

against the most sacred and inalienable rights of mankind: but Napoleon

had set the fatal example himself in Lombardy, and followed it without a

blush, in Egypt, in Germany, in Spain, in Portugal, and but yesterday in

Russia. Here also, therefore, his reclamations moved no feeling

favourable to himself; and the time was gone by when the French people

would have been ready to take fire at so lawless an aggression upon

their national rights:--these Napoleon's tyranny had trampled down ere

strangers dared to insult them. There were some few scattered instances

of resistance; but in general, the first advance of the Allies was

regarded with indifference; and it was only at a later period, when the

invading generals were no longer able to maintain strict discipline

among their barbarous hordes of horsemen, then scattered over a wide

extent of country, that the sense of individual suffering afforded even

a glimpse of hope to Napoleon, and those who, like him, were eager to

oppose a national insurrection to the allied march.

Meantime, nearer and nearer every day the torrent of invasion rolled

on--sweeping before it, from post to post, the various corps which had

been left to watch the Rhine. Marmont, Mortier, Victor, and Ney,

commanding in all about 50,000 men, retired of necessity before the

enemy. It had been considered as certain that much time must be occupied

with the besieging of the great fortresses on the Rhenish frontier. But

it was now apparent that the Allies had resolved to carry the war into

the interior, without waiting for the reduction of these formidable

outworks. Their numbers were such that they could afford to mask them,

and still pass on with hosts overwhelmingly superior to all those of

Napoleon's lieutenants. These withdrew, and with them, and behind them,

came crowds of the rustic population possessing any means of transport.

Carts and waggons, crammed with terrified women and children, thronged

every avenue to the capital. It was at last necessary that the Emperor

should break silence to the Parisians, and re-appear in the field.

The invasion of France, however, rallied around Napoleon some persons of

eminence who had long hung aloof from him. Carnot in particular, who,

ever since he opposed the assumption of the imperial title, had remained

in retirement, came forward to offer his sword in what he now considered

as the cause of his country. Nor did Buonaparte fail to receive such

proposals as they deserved. He immediately sent his old enemy to command

the great city and fortress of Antwerp; and similar instances of manly

confidence might be mentioned to his honour.

On the 22nd of January the first official news of the invasion appeared;

the _Moniteur_ announced that Schwartzenberg had entered Switzerland on

the 20th of December, and that Blucher also had crossed the Rhine on the

first day of the year; thus confessing openly the deliberate deceit of

its previous silence. The next morning, being Sunday, the officers of

the National Guard were summoned to the Tuileries. They lined the

_Saloon of the Marshals_, to the number of 900, altogether ignorant of

the purpose for which they had been convoked. The Emperor took his

station in the centre of the hall; and immediately afterwards the

Empress with the King of Rome (carried in the arms of Countess

Montesquiou), appeared at his side. "Gentlemen," said Napoleon, "France

is invaded; I go to put myself at the head of my troops, and, with God's

help and their valour, I hope soon to drive the enemy beyond the

frontier." Here he took Maria Louisa in one hand and her son in the

other, and continued--"But if they should approach the capital, I

confide to the National Guard the Empress and the King of Rome"--then

correcting himself, he said in a tone of strong emotion--"_my wife and

my child_." Several officers stepped from their places and approached

him; and tears were visible on the cheeks even of those who were known

to be no worshippers of the Emperor, or hearty supporters of his cause.

A Frenchman can rarely resist a scene: and such this was considered, and

laughed at accordingly, ere next morning. It is, nevertheless, difficult

to refuse sympathy to the chief actor. Buonaparte was sincerely attached

to Maria Louisa, though he treated her rather with a parental tenderness

than like a lover; and his affection for his son was the warmest passion

in his heart, unless, indeed, we must except his pride and his ambition,

both of which may be well supposed to have merged for a moment in the

feeling which shook his voice.

[Footnote 65: Now Lord Lynedoch.]

The History of Napoleon Buonaparte · 第 34 / 42 章