THE HUNDRED DAYS.
1815.
I IMMEDIATELY LEAVE THE MINISTRY OF THE INTERIOR, TO RESUME MY
LECTURES.--UNSETTLED FEELING OF THE MIDDLE CLASSES ON THE RETURN OF
NAPOLEON.--ITS REAL CAUSES.--SENTIMENTS OF FOREIGN NATIONS AND
GOVERNMENTS TOWARDS NAPOLEON.--APPARENT RECONCILIATION, BUT
REAL STRUGGLE, BETWEEN NAPOLEON AND THE LIBERALS.--THE
FEDERATES.--CARNOT AND FOUCHE.--DEMONSTRATION OF LIBERTY DURING THE
HUNDRED DAYS, EVEN IN THE IMPERIAL PALACE.--LOUIS XVIII. AND HIS
COUNCIL AT GHENT.--THE CONGRESS AND M. DE TALLEYRAND AT VIENNA.--I
GO TO GHENT ON THE PART OF THE CONSTITUTIONAL ROYALIST COMMITTEE AT
PARIS.--MY MOTIONS AND OPINIONS DURING THIS JOURNEY.--STATE OF
PARTIES AT GHENT.--MY CONVERSATION WITH LOUIS XVIII.--M. DE
BLACAS.--M. DE CHATEAUBRIAND.--M. DE TALLEYRAND RETURNS FROM
VIENNA.--LOUIS XVIII. RE-ENTERS FRANCE.--INTRIGUE PLANNED AT MONS
AND DEFEATED AT CAMBRAY.--BLINDNESS AND IMBECILITY OF THE CHAMBER
OF REPRESENTATIVES.--MY OPINION RESPECTING THE ADMISSION OF FOUCHE
INTO THE KING'S CABINET.
The King having quitted, and the Emperor having re-entered Paris, I
resumed my literary pursuits, determined to keep aloof from all secret
intrigue, all useless agitation, and to occupy myself with my historical
labours and studies, not without a lively regret that the political
career which had scarcely opened to me, should be so suddenly closed.[9]
It is true I did not believe that I was excluded beyond the possibility
of return. Not but that the miraculous success of Napoleon had convinced
me there was a power within him which, after witnessing his fall, I was
far from believing. Never was personal greatness displayed with more
astounding splendour; never had an act more audacious, or better
calculated in its audacity, arrested the imagination of nations. Neither
was external support wanting to the man who relied so much on himself,
and on himself alone.
The army identified itself with him, with an enthusiastic and blind
devotion. Amongst the popular masses, a revolutionary and warlike
spirit, hatred of the old system and national pride, rose up at his
appearance and rushed madly to his aid. Accompanied by fervent
worshippers, he re-ascended a throne abandoned to him on his approach.
But by the side of this overwhelming power, there appeared almost
simultaneously a proportionate weakness. He who had traversed France in
triumph, and who by personal influence had swept all with him, friends
and enemies, re-entered Paris at night, exactly as Louis XVIII. had
quitted that capital, his carriage surrounded by dragoons, and only
encountering on his passage a scanty and moody populace. Enthusiasm had
accompanied him throughout his journey; but at its termination he found
coldness, doubt, widely disseminated mistrust, and cautious reserve;
France divided, and Europe irrevocably hostile.
The upper, and particularly the middle classes, have often been
reproached with their indifference and selfishness. It has been said
that they think only of their personal interests, and are incapable of
public principle and patriotism. I am amongst those who believe that
nations, and the different classes that constitute nations--and, above
all, nations that desire to be free--can only live in security and
credit under a condition of moral perseverance and energy; with feelings
of devotion to their cause, and with the power of opposing courage and
self-sacrifice to danger. But devotion does not exclude sound sense, nor
courage intelligence. It would be too convenient for ambitious
pretenders, to have blind and fearless attachment ever ready at their
command. It is often the case with popular feeling, that the multitude,
army or people, ignorant, unreflecting, and short-sighted, become too
frequently, from generous impulse, the instruments and dupes of
individual selfishness, much more perverse and more indifferent to their
fate than that of which the wealthy and enlightened orders are so
readily accused. Napoleon, perhaps more than any other eminent leader of
his class, has exacted from military and civil devotion the most trying
proofs; and when, on the 21st of June, 1815, his brother Lucien, in the
Chamber of Representatives, reproached France with not having upheld him
with sufficient ardour and constancy, M. de la Fayette exclaimed, with
justice: "By what right is the nation accused of want of devotion and
energy towards the Emperor Napoleon? It has followed him to the burning
sands of Egypt, and the icy deserts of Moscow; in fifty battle-fields,
in disaster as well as in triumph, in the course of ten years, three
millions of Frenchmen have perished in his service. We have done enough
for him!"
Great and small, nobility, citizens, and peasants, rich and poor,
learned and ignorant, generals and private soldiers, the French people
in a mass had, at least, done and suffered enough in Napoleon's cause to
give them the right of refusing to follow him blindly, without first
examining whether he was leading them, to safety or to ruin.
The unsettled feeling of the middle classes in 1815 was a legitimate and
patriotic disquietude. What they wanted, and what they had a right to
demand, for the advantage of the entire nation as well as for their own
peculiar interests, was that peace and liberty should be secured to
them; but they had good reason to question the power of Napoleon to
accomplish these objects.
Their doubts materially increased when they ascertained the Manifesto of
the Allied Powers assembled at the Congress of Vienna, their declaration
of March 13th, and their treaty of the 25th. Every reflecting mind of
the present day must see, that unless the nation had obstinately closed
its eyes, it could not delude itself as to the actual situation of the
Emperor Napoleon, and his prospects for the future. Not only did the
Allied Powers, in proclaiming him the enemy and disturber of the peace
of the whole world, declare war against him to the last extremity, and
engage themselves to unite their strength in this common cause, but they
professed themselves ready to afford to the King of France and the
French nation the assistance necessary to re-establish public
tranquillity; and they expressly invited Louis XVIII. to give his
adhesion to their treaty of March 25th. They laid it down also as a
principle, that the work of general pacification and reconstruction
accomplished in Paris by the treaty of the 30th of May, 1814, between
the King of France and confederated Europe, was in no degree nullified
by the violent outbreak which had recently burst forth; and that they
should maintain it against Napoleon, whose return and sudden
success--the fruit of military and revolutionary excitement--could
establish no European right whatever, and could never be considered by
them as the prevailing and true desire of France:--a solemn instance of
the implacable judgments that, assisted by God and time, great errors
draw down upon their authors!
The partisans of Napoleon might dispute the opinion of the Allied Powers
as to the wishes of France; they might believe that, for the honour of
her independence, she owed him her support; but they could not pretend
that foreign nations should not also have their independence at heart,
nor persuade them that, with Napoleon master of France, they could ever
be secure. No promises, no treaties, no embarrassments, no reverses,
could give them confidence in his future moderation. His character and
his history deprived his word of all credit.
It was not alone governments, kings, and ministers who showed themselves
thus firmly determined to oppose Napoleon's return; foreign nations were
even more distrustful and more violent against him. He had not alone
overwhelmed them with wars, taxes, invasions, and dismemberments; he had
insulted as much as he had oppressed them. The Germans, especially, bore
him undying hatred. They burned to revenge the injuries of the Queen of
Prussia, and the contempt with which their entire race had been treated.
The bitter taunts in which he had often indulged when speaking of them
were repeated in every quarter, spread abroad and commented on, probably
with exaggeration readily credited. After the campaign in Russia, the
Emperor was conversing, one day, on the loss sustained by the French
army during that terrible struggle. The Duke of Vicenza estimated it at
200,000 men. "No, no," interrupted Napoleon, "you are mistaken; it was
not so much." But, after considering a moment, he continued, "And yet
you can scarcely be wrong; but there were a great many Germans amongst
them." The Duke of Vicenza himself related this contemptuous remark to
me; and the Emperor Napoleon must have been pleased both with the
calculation and reply, for on the 28th of June, 1813, at Dresden, in a
conversation which has since become celebrated, he held the same
language to the Prime Minister of the first of the German Powers, to
M. de Metternich himself. Who can estimate the extent of indignation
roused by such words and actions, in the souls not only of the heads of
the government and army--- amongst the Steins, Gneisenaus, Bluechers, and
Muefflings--but in those of the entire nation? The universal feeling of
the people of Germany was as fully displayed at the Congress of Vienna
as the foresight of their diplomatists and the will of their sovereigns.
Napoleon, in quitting Elba, deceived himself as to the disposition of
Europe towards him. Did he entertain the hope of treating with and
dividing the Coalition? This has been often asserted, and it may be
true; for the strongest minds seldom recognize all the difficulties of
their situation. But, once arrived at Paris, and informed of the
proceedings of the Congress, he beheld his position in its true light,
and his clear and comprehensive judgment at once grappled with it in all
its bearings. His conversations with the thinking men who were then
about him, M. Mole and the Duke of Vicenza, confirm this opinion. He
sought still to keep the public in the uncertainty that he himself no
longer felt. The Manifesto of the Congress of the 13th of March was not
published in the 'Moniteur' until the 5th of April, and the treaty of
the 25th of March only on the 3rd of May. Napoleon added long
commentaries to these documents, to prove that it was impossible they
could express the final intentions of Europe. At Vienna, both by
solemnly official letters and secret emissaries, he made several
attempts to renew former relations with the Emperor Francis, his
father-in-law, to obtain the return of his wife and son, to promote
disunion, or at least mistrust, between the Emperor Alexander and the
sovereigns of England and Austria, and to bring back to his side Prince
Metternich, and even M. de Talleyrand himself. He probably did not
expect much from these advances, and felt little surprise at not
finding, in family ties and feelings, a support against political
interests and pledges. He understood and accepted without a sentiment of
anger against any one, and perhaps without self-reproach, the situation
to which the events of his past life had reduced him. It was that of a
desperate gamester, who, though completely ruined, still plays on,
alone, against a host of combined adversaries, a desperate game, with no
other chance of success than one of those unforeseen strokes that the
most consummate talent could never achieve, but that Fortune sometimes
bestows upon her favourites.
It has been, pretended, even by some of his warmest admirers, that at
this period the genius and energy of Napoleon had declined; and they
sought in his tendency to corpulence, in his attacks of languor, in his
long slumbers, the explanation of his ill fortune. I believe the
reproach to be unfounded, and the pretext frivolous. I can discover in
the mind or actions of Napoleon during the hundred days, no symptoms of
infirmity; I find, in both, his accustomed superiority. The causes of
his ultimate failure were of a deeper cast: he was not then, as he had
long been, upheld and backed by general opinion, and the necessity of
security and order felt throughout a great nation; he attempted, on the
contrary, a mischievous work, a work inspired only by his own passions
and personal wants, rejected by the morality and good sense, as well as
by the true interests of France. He engaged in this utterly egotistical
enterprise with contradictory means, and in an impossible position. From
thence came the reverses he suffered, and the evil he produced.
It presented a strange spectacle to intelligent spectators, and one
slightly tinged with the ridiculous, on both sides, to see Napoleon and
the heads of the Liberal party arranged against each other, not to
quarrel openly, but mutually to persuade, seduce, and control. A
superficial glance sufficed to convince that there was little sincerity
either in their dispute or reconciliation. Both well knew that the real
struggle lay in other quarters, and that the question upon which their
fate depended would be settled elsewhere than in these discussions.
If Napoleon had triumphed over Europe, assuredly he would not long have
remained the rival of M. de La Fayette and the disciple of Benjamin
Constant; but when he lost the day of Waterloo, M. de La Fayette and his
friends set themselves to work to complete his overthrow.
From necessity and calculation, the true thoughts and passions of men
are sometimes buried in the recesses of their hearts; but they quickly
mount to the surface as soon as an opportunity occurs for their
reappearing with success. Frequently did Napoleon resign himself, with
infinite pliability, shrewdness, and perception, to the farce that he
and the Liberals were playing together; at one moment gently, though
obstinately, defending his old policy and real convictions; and at
another yielding them up with good grace, but without positive
renunciation, as if out of complaisance to opinions which he hesitated
to acknowledge. But now and then, whether from premeditation or
impatience, he violently resumed his natural character; and the despot,
who was at once the child and conqueror of the Revolution, reappeared in
complete individuality.
When an attempt was made to induce him to insert, in the Additional Act
to the Constitutions of the Empire, the abolition of the confiscation
proclaimed by the Charter of Louis XVIII., he exclaimed passionately,
"They drive me into a path that is not my own; they enfeeble and enchain
me. France will seek, and find me no longer. Her opinion of me was once
excellent; it is now execrable. France demands what has become of the
old arm of the Emperor, the arm which she requires to control Europe.
Why talk to me of innate virtue, of abstract justice, of natural laws?
The first law is necessity; the first principle of justice is public
safety ... Every day has its evil, every circumstance its law, every man
his own nature; mine is not that of an angel. When peace is made, we
shall see." On another occasion, on this same question of preparing the
Additional Act, and with reference to the institution of an hereditary
peerage, he yielded to the excursive rapidity of his mind, taking the
subject by turns under different aspects, and giving unlimited vent to
contradictory observations and opinions. "Hereditary peerage," said he,
"is opposed to the present state of public opinion; it will wound the
pride of the army, deceive the expectations of the partisans of
equality, and raise against myself a thousand individual claims. Where
do you wish me to look for the elements of that aristocracy which the
peerage demands?... Nevertheless a constitution without an aristocracy
resembles a balloon lost in the air. A ship is guided because there are
two powers which balance each other; the helm finds a fulcrum. But a
balloon is the sport of a single power; it has no fulcrum. The wind
carries it where it will, and control is impossible."
When the question of principle was decided, and the nomination of his
hereditary house of peers came under consideration, Napoleon was anxious
to include many names from amongst the old Royalists; but after mature
reflection, he renounced this idea, "not," says Benjamin Constant,
"without regret," and exclaimed, "We must have them sooner or later; but
memories are too recent. Let us wait until after the battle--they will
be with me if I prove the strongest."
He would thus willingly have deferred all questions, and have done
nothing until he came back a conqueror; but with the Restoration liberty
once more re-entered France, and he himself had again woke up the
Revolution. He found himself in conflict with these two forces,
constrained to tolerate, and endeavouring to make use of them, until the
moment should arrive when he might conquer both.
He had no sooner adopted all the pledges of liberty that the Additional
Act borrowed from the Charter, than he found he had still to deal with
another ardent desire, another article of faith, of the Liberals, still
more repugnant to his nature. They demanded an entirely new
constitution, which should confer on him the Imperial crown by the will
of the nation, and on the conditions which that will prescribed. This
was, in fact, an attempt to remodel, in the name of the sovereign
people, the entire form of government, institutional and dynastic; an
arrogant and chimerical mania which, a year before, had possessed the
Imperial Senate when they recalled Louis XVIII., and which has vitiated
in their source nearly all the political theories of our time.
Napoleon, while incessantly proclaiming the supremacy of the people,
viewed it in a totally different light. "You want to deprive me of my
past," said he, to his physicians; "I desire to preserve it. What
becomes then of my reign of eleven years? I think I have some right to
call it mine; and Europe knows that I have. The new constitution must be
joined to the old one; it will thus acquire the sanction of many years
of glory and success."
He was right: the abdication demanded of him was more humiliating than
that of Fontainebleau; for, in restoring the throne to him, they at the
same time compelled him to deny himself and his immortal history. By
refusing this, he performed an act of rational pride; and in the
preamble as well as in the name of the Additional Act, he upheld the old
Empire, while he consented to modified reforms. When the day of
promulgation arrived, on the 1st of June, at the Champ de Mai, his
fidelity to the Imperial traditions was less impressive and less
dignified. He chose to appear before the people with all the outward
pomp of royalty, surrounded by the princes of his family arrayed in
garments of white taffeta, by the great dignitaries, in orange-coloured
mantles, by his chamberlains and pages:--a childish attachment to
palatial splendour, which accorded ill with the state of public affairs,
and deeply disgusted public feeling, when, in the midst of this
glittering pageant, twenty thousand soldiers were seen to march past and
salute the Emperor, on their road to death.
A few days before, a very different ceremony had revealed another
embarrassing inconsistency in the revived Empire. While discussing with
the Liberal aristocracy his new constitution, Napoleon endeavoured to
win over and subdue, while he flattered, the revolutionary democrats.
The population of the Faubourgs St. Antoine and St. Marceau became
excited, and conceived the idea of forming themselves into a federation,
as their fathers had done, and of demanding from the Emperor leaders and
arms. They obtained their desire; but they were no longer _Federates_,
as in 1792; they were now called _Confederates_, in the hope that, by a
small alteration of name, earlier reminiscences might be effaced. A
police regulation minutely settled the order of their progress through
the streets, provided against confusion, and arranged the ceremonial of
their introduction to the Emperor, in the courtyard of the Tuileries.
They presented an address, which was long and heavy to extreme
tediousness. He thanked them by the name of "federated soldiers"
(_soldats federes_), carefully impressing upon them, himself, the
character in which it suited him to regard them. The next morning, the
'Journal de l'Empire' contained the following paragraph:--"The most
perfect order was maintained, from the departure of the Confederates
until their return; but in several places we heard with pain the
Emperor's name mingled with songs which recall a too memorable epoch."
This was being rather severely scrupulous on such an occasion.
Some days later, I happened to pass through the garden of the Tuileries.
A hundred of these Federates, shabby enough in appearance, had assembled
under one of the balconies of the palace, shouting, "_Long live the
Emperor!_" and trying to induce him to show himself. It was long before
he complied; but at length a window opened, the Emperor came forward,
and waved his hand to them; but almost instantly the window was
re-closed, and I distinctly saw Napoleon retire, shrugging his
shoulders; vexed, no doubt, at being obliged to lend himself to
demonstrations so repugnant in their nature, and so unsatisfactory in
their limited extent.
He was desirous of giving more than one pledge to the revolutionary
party. Before reviewing their battalions in the court of his palace, he
had taken into council the oldest and most celebrated of their leaders;
but I scarcely think he expected from them any warm co-operation.
Carnot, an able officer, a sincere republican, and as honest a man as an
idle fanatic can possibly be, could not fail to make a bad Minister of
the Interior; for he possessed neither of the two qualities essential to
this important post,--knowledge of men, and the power of inspiring and
directing them otherwise than by general maxims and routine.
Napoleon knew better than anybody else how Fouche regulated the
police,--for himself first, and for his own personal power; next for the
authority that employed him, and just as long as he found greater
security or advantage in serving than in betraying that authority. I
only met the Duke of Otranto twice, and had but two short conversations
with him. No man ever so thoroughly gave me the idea of fearless,
ironical, cynical indifference, of imperturbable self-possession
combined with an inordinate love of action and prominence, and of a
fixed resolution to stop at nothing that might promote success, not from
any settled design, but according to the plan or chance of the moment.
He had acquired from his long associations as a Jacobin proconsul, a
kind of audacious independence; and remained a hardened pupil of the
Revolution, while, at the same time, he became an unscrupulous implement
of the Government and the Court. Napoleon assuredly placed no confidence
in such a man, and knew well that, in selecting him as a minister, he
would have to watch more than he could employ him. But it was necessary
that the revolutionary flag should float clearly over the Empire under
its proper name; and he therefore preferred to endure the presence of
Carnot and Fouche in his cabinet, rather than to leave them without, to
murmur or conspire with certain sections of his enemies. At the moment
of his return, and during the first weeks of the resuscitated Empire, he
probably reaped from this double selection the advantage that he
anticipated; but when the dangers and difficulties of his situation
manifested themselves, when he came to action with the distrustful
Liberals within, and with Europe without,--Carnot and Fouche became
additional dangers and difficulties in his path. Carnot, without
absolute treachery, served him clumsily and coldly; for in nearly all
emergencies and questions he inclined much more to the Opposition than
to the Emperor; but Fouche betrayed him indefinitely, whispering and
arguing in an under tone, of his approaching downfall, with all who
might by any possible chance happen to be his successors; just as an
indifferent physician discourses by the bedside of a patient who has
been given over.
Even amongst his most trusted and most devoted adherents, Napoleon no
longer found, as formerly, implicit faith and obedient temperaments,
ready to act when and how he might please to direct. Independence of
mind and a feeling of personal responsibility had resumed, even in his
nearest circle, their scruples and their predominance. Fifteen days
after his arrival in Paris, he summoned his Grand Marshal, General
Bertrand, and presented to him, for his counter-signature, the decree
dated from Lyons, in which he ordered the trials and sequestration of
property of the Prince de Talleyrand, the Duke of Ragusa, the
Abbe de Montesquiou, M. Bellard, and nine other persons, who in 1814,
before the abdication, had contributed to his fall. General Bertrand
refused. "I am astonished," said the Emperor, "at your making such
objections; this severity is necessary for the good of the State." "I do
not believe it, Sire." "But I do, and I alone have the right to judge. I
have not asked your concurrence, but your signature, which is a mere
matter of form, and cannot compromise you in the least." "Sire, a
minister who countersigns the decree of his sovereign becomes morally
responsible. Your Majesty has declared by proclamation that you granted
a general amnesty. I countersigned that with all my heart; I will not
countersign the decree which revokes it."
Napoleon urged and cajoled in vain; Bertrand remained inflexible, the
decree appeared without his signature: and Napoleon might, even on the
instant, have convinced himself that the Grand Marshal was not the only
dissentient; for, as he crossed the apartment in which his aides-de-camp
were assembled, M. de La Bedoyere said, loud enough to be overheard, "If
the reign of proscriptions and sequestrations recommences, all will soon
be at an end."
When liberty reaches this point in the interior of the palace, it may be
presumed that it reigns predominantly without. After several weeks of
stupor, it became, in fact, singularly bold and universal. Not only did
civil war spring up in the western departments, not only were flagrant
acts of resistance or hostility committed in several parts of the
country, and in important towns, by men of consequence,--but everywhere,
and particularly in Paris, people thought, and uttered their thoughts
without reserve; in public places as well as in private drawing-rooms,
they went to and fro, expressing hopes and engaging in hostile plots, as
if they were lawful and certain of success; journals and pamphlets,
increased daily in number and virulence, and were circulated almost
without opposition or restraint. The warm friends and attached servants
of the Emperor testified their surprise and indignation.
Fouche pointed out the mischief, in his official reports to Napoleon,
and requested his concurrence in taking measures of repression. The
'Moniteur' published these reports; and the measures were decreed.
Several arrests and prosecutions took place, but without vigour or
efficacy. From high to low, the greater portion of the agents of
government had neither zeal in their cause, nor confidence in their
strength. Napoleon was aware of this, and submitted, as to a necessity
of the moment, to the unlicensed freedom of his opponents, maintaining,
without doubt, in his own heart, the opinion he had declared aloud on a
previous occasion,--"I shall have them all with me if I prove the
strongest."
I question whether he appreciated justly, and at its true value, one of
the causes, a hidden but powerful one, of the feebleness that
immediately succeeded his great success. Notwithstanding the
widely-spread discontent, uneasiness, mistrust, and anger that the
Government of the Restoration had excited, a universal feeling soon
sprang up, that there was not enough to justify a revolution, the
opposition of an armed force against authority legally established, or
the involvement of the country in the dangers to which it was exposed.
The army had been drawn towards its old chief by a strong sentiment of
attachment and generous devotion, rather than from views of personal
interest; the army, too, was national and popular; but nothing could
change the nature of acts or the meaning of words. The violation of an
oath, desertion with arms in their hands, the sudden passing over from
one camp to another, have always been condemned by honour as well as
duty, civil or military, and denominated treason. Individuals, nations,
or armies, men under the influence of a controlling passion, may
contemn, at the first moment, or perhaps do not feel the moral
impression which naturally attaches itself to their deeds; but it never
fails to present itself, and, when seconded by the warnings of prudence
or the blows of misfortune, it soon regains its empire.
It was the evil destiny of the Government of the Hundred Days that the
influence of moral opinion ranged itself on the side of its adversaries
the Royalists; and that the conscience of the nation, clearly or
obscurely, spontaneously or reluctantly, justified the severe judgments
to which its origin had given rise.
I and my friends attentively watched the progress of the Emperor's
affairs and of the public temper. We soon satisfied ourselves that
Napoleon would fall, and that Louis XVIII. would re-ascend the throne.
While this was our impression of the future, we felt hourly more
convinced that, from the deplorable state into which the enterprise of
the Hundred Days had plunged France, abroad and at home, the return of
Louis XVIII. would afford her the best prospect of restoring a regular
government within, peace without, and the reassumption of her proper
rank in Europe. In public life, duty and reason equally dictate to us to
encourage no self-delusion as to what produces evil; but to adopt the
remedy firmly, however bitter it may be, and at whatever sacrifice it
may demand. I had taken no active part in the first Restoration; but I
concurred, without hesitation, in the attempts of my friends to
establish the second under the most favourable conditions for
preserving the dignity, liberty, and repose of France.
Our tidings from Ghent gave us much uneasiness. Acts and institutions,
all the problems of principle or expediency which we flattered ourselves
had been solved in 1814, were again brought forward. The struggle had
recommenced between the Constitutional Royalists and the partisans of
absolute power, between the Charter and the old system. We often smile
ourselves, and seek to make others smile, when we revert to the
discussions, rival pretensions, projects, hopes, and fears which
agitated this small knot of exiles, gathered round an impotent and
throneless monarch. Such an indulgence is neither rational nor
dignified. What matters it whether the theatre be great or small,
whether the actors fail or succeed, or whether the casualties of human
life are displayed with imposing grandeur or contemptible meanness? The
true measurement lies in the subjects discussed and the future destinies
prepared. The question in debate at Ghent was how France should be
governed when this aged King, without state or army, should be called on
a second time to interpose between her and Europe. The problem and the
solution in perspective were sufficiently important to occupy the minds
of reflecting men and honest citizens.
The intelligence from Vienna was no less momentous. Not that in reality
there was either doubt or hesitation in the plans or union of the Allied
Powers. Fouche, who had for some time been in friendly correspondence
with Prince Metternich, made many overtures to him which the Chancellor
of Austria did not absolutely reject. Every possible modification which
promised a government to France was permitted to suggest itself. All
were discussed in the cabinets or drawing-rooms of the Ministers, and
even in the conferences of the Congress. In these questions were
included, Napoleon II. and a Regency, the Duke of Orleans, and the
Prince of Orange. The English Ministry, speaking with the authority of
Parliament, announced that they had no intention of carrying on war
merely for the purpose of imposing any particular form of government or
dynasty on France; and the Austrian Cabinet seconded this declaration.
But these were only personal reserves, or an apparent compliance with
circumstances, or methods of obtaining correct knowledge, or mere topics
of conversation, or the anticipation of extreme cases to which the
leaders of European politics never expected to be reduced. Diplomacy
abounds in acts and propositions of little moment or value, which it
neither denies nor acknowledges; but they exercise no real influence on
the true convictions, intents, and labours of the directors of
government.
Without wishing to proclaim it aloud, or to commit themselves by formal
and public declarations, the leading kingdoms of Europe, from principle,
interest, or honour, looked upon their cause at this period as allied,
in France, with that of the House of Bourbon. It was near Louis XVIII.
in his exile, that their ambassadors continued to reside; and with all
the European Governments, the diplomatic agents of Louis XVIII.
represented France. By the example and under the guidance of
M. de Talleyrand, all these agents, in 1815, remained firm to the Royal
cause, either from fidelity or foresight, and satisfied themselves, with
him, that in that cause lay final success.
But, side by side with this general disposition of Europe in favour of
the House of Bourbon, a balancing danger presented itself,--an
apprehension that the sovereigns and diplomatists assembled at Vienna
had become convinced that the Bourbons were incapable of governing
France. They had all, for twenty years, treated with and known France
such as the Revolution and the Empire had made her. They still feared
her, and deeply pondered over her position. The more uneasy they became
at her leaning towards anarchy and war, the more they judged it
indispensable that the ruling power should be placed in the hands of
considerate, able, and prudent men, capable of understanding their
functions, and of making themselves understood in their turn. For a
considerable time they had ceased to retain any confidence in the
companions of exile and courtiers of Louis XVIII.; and late experience
had redoubled their mistrust. They looked upon the old Royalist party as
infinitely more capable of ruining kings than of governing states.
A personal witness to these conflicting doubts of the foreign Powers as
to the future they were tracing themselves, M. de Talleyrand, at Vienna,
had also his own misgivings. Amidst all the varied transformations of
his life and politics, and although the last change had made him the
representative of the ancient royalty, he did not desire, and never had
desired, to separate himself entirely from the Revolution; he was linked
to it by too many decided acts, and had acknowledged and served it
under too many different forms, not to feel himself defeated when the
Revolution was subdued. Without being revolutionary either by nature or
inclination, it was in that camp that he had grown up and prospered, and
he could not desert it with safety. There are certain defections which
skilful egotism takes care to avoid; but the existing state of public
affairs, and his own particular position, pressed conjointly and
weightily upon him at this juncture. What would become of the
revolutionary cause and its partisans under the second Restoration, now
imminently approaching? What would even be the fate of this second
Restoration if it could not govern and uphold itself better than its
predecessor? Under the second, as under the first, M. de Talleyrand
played a distinguished part, and rendered important services to the
Royal cause. What would be the fruit of this as regarded himself? Would
his advice be taken, and his co-operation be accepted? Would the
Abbe de Montesquiou and M. de Blacas still be his rivals? I do not
believe he would have hesitated, at this epoch, as to which cause he
should espouse; but feeling his own power, and knowing that the Bourbons
could scarcely dispense with him, he allowed his predilections for the
past and his doubts for the future to betray themselves.
Well informed of all these facts, and of the dispositions of the
principal actors, the Constitutional Royalists who were then gathered
round M. Royer-Collard, considered it their duty to lay before Louis
XVIII., without reserve, their opinions of the state of affairs, and of
the line of conduct it behoved him to adopt. It was not only desirable
to impress on him the necessity of perseverance in a system of
constitutional government, and in the frank acknowledgment of the state
of social feeling in France, such as the new times had made it; but it
was also essential to enter into the question of persons, and to tell
the King that the presence of M. de Blacas near him would militate
strongly against his cause; to request the dismissal of that favourite,
and to call for some explicit act or public declaration, clearly
indicating the intentions of the monarch on the eve of re-assuming
possession of his kingdom; and finally to induce him to attach much
weight to the opinions and influence of M. de Talleyrand, with whom it
must be observed that, at this period, none of those who gave this
advice had any personal connection, and to the greater part of whom he
was decidedly objectionable.
Being the youngest and most available of this small assembly, I was
called on to undertake a mission not very agreeable in itself. I
accepted the duty without hesitation. Although I had then little
experience of political animosities and their blind extremes, I could
not avoid perceiving which party of opponents would one day be likely to
turn on me for taking this step; but I should feel ashamed of myself if
fear of responsibility and apprehensions for the future could hold me
back when circumstances call upon me to act, within the limits of duty
and conviction, as the good of my country demands.
I left Paris on the 23rd of May. One circumstance alone is worthy of
notice in my journey--the facility with which I accomplished it. It is
true there were many police restrictions on the roads and along the
frontier; but the greater part of the agents were neither zealous nor
particular in enforcing them. Their speech, their silence, and their
looks, implied a kind of understood permission and tacit connivance.
More than one official face appeared to say to the unknown traveller,
"Pass on quickly," as if they dreaded making a mistake, or damaging a
useful work by interfering with its supposed design. Having arrived at
Ghent, I called first on the men I knew, and whose views corresponded
with my own, MM. de Jaucourt, Louis, Beugnot, de Lally-Tolendal, and
Mounier. I found them all faithful to the cause of the Constitution, but
sad as exiles, and anxious as advisers without repose in banishment; for
they had to combat incessantly with the odious or absurd passions and
plans of the spirit of reaction.
The same facts furnish to different parties the most opposite
conclusions and arguments; the catastrophe, which again attached some
more firmly than ever to the principles and politics of the Charter, was
to others the sentence of the Charter; and a convincing proof that
nothing but a return to the old system could save the monarchy. I need
not repeat the details, given to me by my friends, of the advice with
which the counter-revolutionists and partisans of absolutism beset the
King; for in the idleness that succeeds misfortune, men give themselves
up to dreams, and helpless passion engenders folly. The King stood firm,
and agreed with his constitutional advisers. The Report on the state of
France presented to him by M. de Chateaubriand a few days before we
arrived, in the name of the whole Council, and which had just been
published in the 'Moniteur of Ghent,' contained an eloquent exposition
of the liberal policy acknowledged by the monarch. But the party thus
rejected were not disposed to yield; they surrounded the King they were
unable to control, and found their strongest roots in his own family and
bosom friends. The Count d'Artois was their ostensible chief, and
M. de Blacas their discreet but steady ally. Through them they hoped to
gain a victory as necessary as it was difficult.
I requested the Duke de Duras to demand for me a private audience of the
King. The King received me the next day, June 1st, and detained me
nearly an hour. I have no turn for the minute and settled parade of such
interviews; I shall therefore only relate of this, and of the
impressions which it produced on me, what still appears to be worthy of
remembrance.
Two points have remained strongly imprinted upon my memory--the
impotence and dignity of the King. There was in the aspect and attitude
of this old man, seated immovably and as if nailed to his arm-chair, a
haughty serenity, and, in the midst of his feebleness, a tranquil
confidence in the power of his name and rights, which surprised and
touched me. What I had to say could not fail to be displeasing to him;
and from respect, not calculation, I began with what was agreeable: I
spoke of the royalist feeling which day by day exhibited itself more
vehemently in Paris. I then related to him several anecdotes and
couplets of songs, in corroboration of this. Such light passages
entertained and pleased him, as men are gratified with humorous
recitals, who have no sources of gaiety within themselves.
I told him that the hope of his return was general. "But what is
grievous, Sire, is that, while believing in the re-establishment of the
monarchy, there is no confidence in its duration." "Why is this?" I
continued; "when the great artisan of revolution is no longer there,
monarchy will become permanent; it is clear that, if Bonaparte returns
to Elba, it will only be to break out again; but let him be disposed of,
and there will be an end to revolutions also.--People cannot thus
flatter themselves, Sire; they fear something beyond Bonaparte, they
dread the weakness of the royal government; its wavering between old and
new ideas, between past and present interests, and they fear the
disunion, or at least the incoherence of its ministers."
The King made no reply. I persisted, and mentioned M. de Blacas. I said
that I was expressly charged by men whom the King knew to be old,
faithful, and intelligent servants, to represent to him the mistrust
which attached itself to that name, and the evil that would result from
it to himself. "I will fulfil all that I have promised in the Charter;
names are not concerned with that; France has nothing to do with the
friends I entertain in my palace, provided no act emanates from them
injurious to the country? Speak to me of more serious causes of
uneasiness." I entered into some details, and touched on various points
of party intrigues and menaces. I also spoke to the King, of the
Protestants in the south, of their alarms, of the violence even of
which, in some instances, they had already been the objects. "This is
very bad," said he: "I will do all I can to stop it; but I cannot
prevent everything,--I cannot, at the same time, be a liberal and an
absolute king." He questioned me upon several recent occurrences, and
respecting some members of the Imperial Administration. "There are two,
Sire, who, knowing that I was about to seek an audience of the King,
have requested me to mention their names, and to assure him of their
devotion." "Who are they?"--"The Arch-chancellor and M. Mole." "For
M. Mole, I rely upon him, and am glad of his support; I know his worth.
As to M. Cambaceres, he is one of those whom I neither ought nor wish to
hear named." I paused there. I was not ignorant that at that time the
King was in communication with Fouche, a much more objectionable
regicide than Cambaceres; but I was a little surprised that the secret
relations caused by pressing emergency did not prevent him from
maintaining aloud, and as a general theory, a line of conduct most
natural under his circumstances. He was certainly far from foreseeing
the disgust that would ensue from his connection with the Duke of
Otranto. He dismissed me with some commonplace words of kindness,
leaving on me the impression of a sensible and liberal mind, outwardly
imposing, shrewd with individuals, careful of appearances, thinking
little, and not profoundly informed, and almost as incapable of the
errors which destroy, as of the great strokes which establish the future
of royal dynasties.
I then visited M. de Blacas. He had evinced some prepossession against
me. "What brings this young man here?" said he to Baron d'Eckstein,
Commissary-General of Police to the King of the Netherlands, at Ghent.
"He comes from I know not who, with some mission that I am ignorant of,
to the King." He was fully acquainted both with my mission and my
friends. However, he received me with perfect civility, and I must add
with honourable frankness, inquiring what they said at Paris, and why
they were so incensed against him. He spoke to me even of his
differences with the Abbe de Montesquiou, complaining of the sallies and
whims which had embroiled them to the detriment of the King's service. I
replied with equal candour; and his bearing during the whole of our
interview was dignified, with a slight degree of reserve, expressing
more surprise than irritation. I find in some notes written after I left
him, this sentence:--"I am much mistaken if his mistakes do not chiefly
proceed from the mediocrity of his intellect."
The situation of M. de Chateaubriand at Ghent was singular. A member of
the King's Council, he brilliantly exposed its policy in official
publications, and defended them in the 'Moniteur of Ghent' with the same
attractive power; but he was dissatisfied with everybody, and no one
placed much confidence in him. I believe that neither then nor later did
the King or the different Cabinets understand M. de Chateaubriand, or
sufficiently appreciate his concurrence or hostility. He was, I admit, a
troublesome ally; for he aspired to all things, and complained of all.
On a level with the rarest spirits and most exalted imaginations, it was
his chimera to fancy himself equal to the greatest masters in the art of
government, and to feel bitterly hurt if he were not looked upon as the
rival of Napoleon as well as of Milton. Prudent men did not lend
themselves to this complaisant idolatry; but they forgot too much what,
either as friend or enemy, he to whom they refused it was worth. They
might, by paying homage to his genius and satisfying his vanity, have
lulled to rest his ambitious dreams; and if they had not the means of
contenting him, they ought in either case, from prudence as well as from
gratitude, not only to have humoured, but to have gained him over
completely to their side. He was one of those towards whom ingratitude
was as dangerous as unjust; for they resent passionately, and know how
to revenge without treachery. He lived at Ghent in great intimacy with
M. Bertin, and assumed thenceforward that influence over the 'Journal
des Debats' which he afterwards so powerfully employed. Notwithstanding
the cordiality of our first acquaintance, there had been for some time a
considerable coolness between us. In 1814 he was discontented with, and
spoke ill of the Abbe de Montesquiou and his friends. I was nevertheless
equally surprised at and sorry for the injustice and error committed in
thinking so little of one they used so much, and I regretted not meeting
him oftener, and on a more amicable footing.
In the midst of these discussions, not only of principles and parties,
but of private interests and coteries, we waited, at a distance from
France, and scarcely knowing how to occupy our minds or time, the issue
of the struggle between Napoleon and Europe;--a most painful situation,
which I endured to serve the cause I believed and have never ceased to
believe just, though I hourly felt its complicated vexations. I shall
not linger here to describe them; nothing is more repugnant to my
nature than to volunteer a display of my own feelings, especially when I
am well aware that many, who listen, cannot or will not understand or
believe me. I care little for mistake or invective; either is the
natural condition of public life: but I do not feel called upon to enter
into useless controversies in my own defence; I know how to wait for
justice without demanding it.
The battle of Waterloo terminated our passive anxiety. The King quitted
Ghent on the 22nd of June, urged by his trustiest friends, and by his
own judgment, not to lose a moment in placing himself between divided
France and foreign invasion. I set out the next day with M. Mounier, and
on the same evening we rejoined the King at Mons, where he had paused in
his journey.
Then burst forth, through the agency of new actors, and by contrivances
still unexplained, the _denoument_ that I had been despatched to
accomplish--the fall of M. de Blacas. I am not disposed to discuss the
various accounts given by several who were witnesses of or interested in
the event; I shall simply relate what I myself saw on the spot, as I
find it detailed in a letter written at Cambray, six days
afterwards,[10] to the person to whom, in the absence of immediate
communication, I had the pleasure of relating all that occurred:--
"As we entered Mons (M. Mounier and I), we were told that M. de Blacas
had been dismissed, and was going as ambassador to Naples; but our
surprise was great when we also learned that M. de Talleyrand, who had
lately left Vienna for Brussels, to be within reach of coming events,
and had arrived at Mons a few hours after the King, had at the same time
tendered his resignation; that the King, while refusing to accept it,
had received M. de Talleyrand himself coldly, and that he had set out
again for Brussels, while, contrary to his advice, the King repaired to
Cateau-Cambresis, at that moment the head-quarters of the English army.
We understood nothing whatever of these conflicting incidents, and our
uneasiness equalled our surprise. We have since been everywhere, we have
seen everybody,--those of our friends who preceded us to Mons, and the
foreign ministers who followed the King--MM. de Jaucourt, Louis,
Beugnot, de Chateaubriand, Pozzo di Borgo, de Vincent;--and, between
half confidences, restrained anger, deceptive smiles, and sincere
regrets, we have arrived at last at a tolerably clear understanding of
the whole matter. The little court of the Count d'Artois, knowing that
M. de Talleyrand advised the King not to hurry, and that the Duke of
Wellington, on the contrary, recommended him to advance rapidly into
France, thought nothing could be better than to drive away both
M. de Blacas and M. de Talleyrand, and to separate the King from his
constitutional advisers, as well as from his favourite, by inducing him
to set out quickly for the head-quarters of the English army, surrounded
only by the partisans of _Monsieur_, from whom they hoped he would
select his ministers.
"Our friends were much excited, and the foreigners greatly displeased.
The latter demanded in whom they could have confidence with regard to
the French question, and with whom they should treat in such a crisis?
M. de Talleyrand had returned from Vienna with a great reputation for
ability and success; in the eyes of Europe he represented France and the
King. The Austrian Minister had just said to him at Brussels, 'I am
ordered to consult you on every occasion, and to be guided entirely by
your advice.' He himself haughtily maintained his discontent, and
sharply repulsed those who would have persuaded him to rejoin the King.
After six hours of rather stormy conversation, it was agreed that Pozzo
di Borgo should repair to Cateau, and persuade the Duke of Wellington to
take some step which should put an end to this strange misunderstanding;
and that MM. de Jaucourt, Louis, and Beugnot should at the same time say
to the King, that the men in whom he appeared to confide entertained
ideas and projects so diametrically opposed to theirs, that it was
impossible they could serve him usefully, and therefore requested
permission to retire. It is probable that reflections and measures in
conformity with these resolutions had already taken place at Cateau; for
on the morning of the 25th, at the same time that we received news of
the occurrences at Paris, the abdication of Napoleon, and the embassy of
the Commissioners to the Allied Sovereigns, a letter arrived at Mons,
from the Duke of Wellington to M. de Talleyrand, couched, as I have been
assured, in these exact terms:--
"'I regret much that you have not accompanied the King to this place; it
is I who have earnestly requested him to enter France at the same time
with ourselves. If I could have told you the motives which sway me in
this matter, I have no doubt that you would have given the King the
same advice. I trust that you will come to hear them.' M. de Talleyrand
decided upon setting out instantly; and we determined to accompany him.
We rejoined the King here on the 26th. It was high time; for already a
proclamation, dated from Cateau, drawn up, it is said, by M. Dambray,
gave a false colouring to the re-entrance of his Majesty. We have
hastened to substitute another, of which M. Beugnot is the principal
author, and which prognosticates a wholesome policy. The King signed it
without hesitation. It appeared yesterday, to the great satisfaction of
the public of Cambray. I hope it may produce a similar effect in all
other quarters."
We indeed hoped and believed that the end of the great crisis which had
overthrown France, as well as the smaller one which had agitated the
immediate circle of royalty, was at hand. On all sides affairs appeared
to tend towards the same issue. The King was in France; a moderate and
national line of policy prevailed in his councils, and animated his
words. A feeling of loyalty displayed itself everywhere during his
progress, not only with his old party, but amongst the masses; every
hand was raised towards him, as to a plank of safety in a shipwreck. The
people care little for consistency. At this time I saw, in the northern
departments, the same popularity surround the exiled King and the
vanquished army. Napoleon had abdicated in Paris, and, notwithstanding a
few unworthy alternations of dejection and feverish excitement, of
resignation and momentary energy, he was evidently incapable of renewing
the struggle. The Chamber of Representatives, which, from its first
institution, had shown itself unfavourable to the Imperial system, and
opposed to revolutionary excesses, appeared to be earnestly occupied in
threading a perilous defile, by avoiding all violence and every
irrevocable engagement. Popular passion sometimes murmured, but suffered
itself to be easily restrained, and even stopped voluntarily, as if
unaccustomed to action or dominion. The army, the scattered corps of
which had successively re-united round Paris, had given itself up to
patriotic fervour, and, together with France, had plunged into an abyss
to prove its devotion and avenge its injuries: but amongst its oldest
and most illustrious chiefs, some--such as Gouvion St. Cyr, Macdonald,
and Oudinot--had refused to join Napoleon, and openly espoused the Royal
cause; others--like Ney, Davoust, Soult, and Massena--protested with
stern candour against fatal delusions, considering that their well-tried
courage entitled them to utter melancholy truths, to offer sage advice,
and to repress, even by the sacrifice of party credit, military
excitement or popular disorder; others, in fine, like Drouot, with an
influence conferred by true courage and virtue, maintained discipline in
the army in the midst of the mortifications of the retreat behind the
Loire, and secured its obedience to the authority of a detested civil
power. After so many mistakes and misfortunes, and in the midst of all
differences of opinion and situation, there existed still a spontaneous
desire and a general effort to preserve France from irreparable errors
and total ruin.
But tardy wisdom does not avail, and, even when they wish to become
prudent, political genius is wanting to those nations who are not
accustomed to decide their own affairs or their own destiny. In the
deplorable state into which the enterprise of an heroic and chimerical
egotism had thrown France, there was evidently only one line of conduct
to pursue,--to recognize Louis XVIII., to accept his liberal
concessions, and to act in concert with him while treating with the
foreign Powers. This was absolutely necessary; for the most limited mind
could foresee that the return of the House of Bourbon was an inevitable,
and all but an accomplished fact. Such a course became also a duty, to
promote peace and to afford the best means of counteracting the evils of
invasion; for Louis XVIII. could alone repel them with any show of
authority. An auspicious future was thus opened to liberty; for reason
whispered, and experience demonstrated, that, after what had passed in
France since 1789, despotism could never more be attempted by the
princes of the House of Bourbon--an insurmountable necessity compelled
them to adopt defined and constitutional government,--if they resorted
to extremes, their strength would prove unequal to success. To accept
without hesitation or delay the second restoration, and to place the
King, of his own accord, between France and the rest of Europe, became
the self-evident dictate of patriotism and sound policy.
Not only was this left undone, but every endeavour was used to make it
appear that the Restoration was exclusively the work of foreign
interference, and to bring upon France, in addition to her military
defeat, a political and diplomatic overthrow. It was not independence of
the Empire, or good intentions towards the country, that were wanting
in the Chamber of the Hundred Days, but intelligence and resolution. It
neither lent itself to imperial despotism nor revolutionary violence; it
was not the instrument of either of the extreme parties,--it applied
itself honestly to preserve France, on the brink of that abyss towards
which they had driven her; but it could only pursue a line of negative
policy, it tacked timidly about before the harbour, instead of boldly
entering,--closing its eyes when it approached the narrow channel,
submitting, not from confidence, but from imbecility, to the blindness
or infatuation of the old or new enemies by whom the King was
surrounded, and appearing sometimes, from weakness itself, to consent to
combinations which in reality it tried to elude;--at one moment
proclaiming Napoleon II., and at another any monarch whom the sovereign
people might please to select.
To this fruitless vacillation of the only existing public authority, one
of the most fatally celebrated actors of the worst times of the
Revolution, Fouche, owed his importance and ephemeral success.
When honest men fail to understand or execute the designs of Providence,
dishonesty undertakes the task. Under the pressure of circumstances, and
in the midst of general weakness, corrupt, sagacious, and daring spirits
are ever at hand, who perceive at once what may happen, or what may be
attempted, and make themselves the instruments of a triumph to which
they have no natural claim, but of which they assume the credit, to
appropriate the fruits. Such a man was the Duke of Otranto during the
Hundred Days,--a revolutionist transformed into a grandee; and desirous
of being consecrated in this double character by the ancient royalty of
France, he employed, to accomplish his end, all the cleverness and
audacity of a reckless intriguer more clear-sighted and sensible than
his associates. Perhaps also--for justice ought to retain its scruples
even towards those who have none themselves--perhaps a desire to save
his country from violence and useless suffering may have had some share
in the series of treasons and imperturbable changes of side, by means of
which, while deceiving and playing alternately with Napoleon, La
Fayette, and Carnot, the Empire, the Republic, and the regicidal
Convention, Fouche gained the time that he required to open for himself
the doors of the King's cabinet, while he opened the gates of Paris to
the King.
Louis XVIII. offered some resistance, but, notwithstanding what he had
said to me at Ghent respecting Cambaceres, I doubt whether he objected
strongly. He was one of those who are dignified from habit and decorum
rather than from a real and powerful emotion of the soul; and propriety
disappeared before emergency. He had, as vouchers for the necessities of
the case, two authorities who were the best calculated to influence his
decision and uphold his honour; the Duke of Wellington and the Count
d'Artois both urged him to accept Fouche as a minister:--Wellington, to
secure an easy return for the King, and also that he himself, and
England with him, might remain the principal author of the Restoration
by promptly terminating the war before Paris, where he feared to be
compromised through the violent hatred of the Prussians; the Count
d'Artois, with impatient levity, always ready to promise and agree, and
already entangled through his most active confidant, M. de Vitrolles, in
the snare which Fouche had spread for the Royalists on every side.
I do not believe in the necessity which they urged upon the King. Fouche
had no control over Paris; the army had retired; the Federates were more
noisy than powerful; the Chamber of Representatives consoled themselves,
by discussing a constitution, for not having dared or known how to form
a government; no party was either able or disposed to arrest effectually
the tide which carried the King along. A little less eagerness, and a
little more determination, would have spared him a sad dishonour. By
waiting a few days he would have incurred the risk, not of fatal
resolutions or violence, but merely of the temporary continuance of
disorder and alarm. Necessity presses upon people as well as on kings:
that with which Fouche armed himself to become minister to Louis XVIII.
was factitious and ephemeral; that which brought Louis XVIII. back to
the Tuileries was real, and became hourly more urgent. There was no
occasion for him to receive the Duke of Otranto into his cabinet at
Arnouville; he might have remained there patiently, for they would soon
have sought him. I thought thus at the time, after having passed two
days in Paris, where I arrived on the 3rd of July, when the manoeuvres
of Fouche were following their course. All that I subsequently saw and
heard tended to confirm me in this opinion.
FOOTNOTES:
[Footnote 9: I owe it to myself to repeat here the retractation of an
error (I am not disposed to use any other word) entertained in regard to
my connection with the Hundred Days, and the part I took at that period.
This retractation, which appeared thirteen years ago in the 'Moniteur
Universel' of the 4th of February, 1844, is couched in the following
terms:--"Several journals have recently said or implied that M. Guizot,
the present Minister of Foreign Affairs, who was Secretary-General to
the Ministry of the Interior in 1814 and 1815, had retained his office
during the Hundred Days, under General Count Carnot, appointed Minister
of the Interior by the Imperial decree of the 20th of March, 1815; that
he had signed the Additional Act, and that he had been subsequently
dismissed. One of these journals has invoked the testimony of the
'Moniteur.' These assertions are utterly false. M. Guizot, now Minister
of Foreign Affairs, had, on the 20th of March, 1815, quitted the
department of the Interior; and by an Imperial decree of the 23rd of the
same month, his office of Secretary-General was conferred upon Baron
Basset de Chateaubourg, formerly Prefect (see the 'Bulletin des Lois,'
no. v. p. 34). The notice in the 'Moniteur' of the 14th of May, 1815,
page 546, did not refer to M. Francois Guizot, but to M. Jean-Jacques
Guizot, head-clerk at that time in the Ministry of the Interior, who was
actually dismissed from his office in the course of May 1815."
Notwithstanding this official refutation, founded on official acts, and
published in 1844 in the 'Moniteur,' where the error had originated, the
same mis-statement appeared in 1847, in the 'History of the Two
Restorations,' by M. Vaulabelle (2nd edition, vol. ii. p. 276), and
again in 1851, in the 'History of the Restoration,' by M. de Lamartine
(vol. iv. p. 15).]
[Footnote 10: June 29th, 1815.]