completed and perfected; and that of the fifteen millions of Spaniards
was nearly accomplished; for nothing is more common than to convert
accident into principle. Because I did not subdue the Spaniards, it will
henceforth be argued that they were invincible. But the fact is that
they were actually conquered, and at the very moment when they escaped
me, the Cortes of Cadiz were secretly in treaty with me. They were not
delivered either by their own resistance or the efforts of the English,
but by the reverses which I sustained at distant points; and, above all,
by the error I committed in removing with all my whole forces to the
distance of a thousand leagues from them, and in having perished there;
for nobody can deny that if, as soon as I entered that country, Austria
had not declared war against me, but had left me four months longer
quietly in Spain,[6] the business would have been finished there; the
Spanish Government would have been consolidated; the public mind would
have been tranquillized; the different parties would have rallied. Three
or four years would have restored the Spaniards to profound peace and
brilliant prosperity: they would have become a compact nation, and I
should have well deserved their gratitude; for I should have saved them
from the tyranny by which they are now oppressed, and the terrible
agitations that await them.
Footnote 6:
On this very subject, Napoleon thus expressed himself: “The presence
of the General is indispensable; he is the head, he is the whole of an
army. It was not the Roman army that subdued Gaul, but Cæsar; it was
not the Carthaginian army that made the Republic tremble at the gates
of Rome, but Hannibal; it was not the Macedonian army that was on the
Indus, but Alexander; it was not the French army that carried the war
to the Weser and the Inn, but Turenne; it was not the Prussian army
that for seven years defended Prussia against the greatest powers of
Europe, but Frederick the Great.” (_Memoires de Napoleon, tom. 2. p.
90._)
“With regard to the fifteen millions of Italians, their concentration
was already far advanced: it only wanted maturity. The people were daily
becoming more firmly established in the unity of principles and
legislation; and also in the unity of thought and feeling, that certain
and infallible cement of human concentration. The union of Piedmont with
France, and the junction of Parma, Tuscany and Rome, were, in my mind,
but temporary measures, intended merely to guarantee and promote the
national education of the Italians.[7] You may judge of the correctness
of my views, and of the influence of common laws. The portions of Italy
that had been united to France, though that union might have been
regarded as the insult of conquest on our part, were, in spite of their
Italian patriotism, the very parts that continued by far the most
attached to us. Now that they are restored to themselves, they conceive
that they have been invaded and disinherited; and so they certainly have
been!...
Footnote 7:
So important a determination, as that of the future abandonment of
Italy, thus pronounced for the first time, and in a manner so
indifferent, without the development of any object, or the support of
any proof, would be, I confess, entitled to no higher consideration,
than the assertions that are so frequently hazarded and excused in the
warmth of conversation. But time and intimacy have taught me that
every declaration made by Napoleon, under such circumstances, carried
along with it its full, whole, and literal meaning. I have always
found this to be the case whenever I have had the means of
verification. I make this observation, lest the reader should also be
led to doubt, too hastily, without obtaining, or, at least, without
seeking for proof.
I now find, for example, in vol. i. of Napoleon’s Memoirs, dictated to
Count Montholon, so complete and satisfactory a confirmation of the
remark which I collected from the Emperor’s conversation at St.
Helena, that I cannot refrain from transcribing it.
The passage is as follows:—
“It was Napoleon’s desire to create anew the Italian Nation, and to
re-unite the Venetians, Milanese, Piedmontese, Genoese, Tuscans,
Parmesans, Modenese, Romans, Neapolitans, Sicilians, and Sardinians,
in one independent nation, bounded by the Alps and the Adriatic, the
Ionian, and the Mediterranean seas: such was the immortal trophy he
was raising to his glory! This great and powerful kingdom would have
been, by land, a check to the House of Austria; whilst, by sea, its
fleets, combined with those of Toulon, would have ruled the
Mediterranean, and protected the old course of trade to India, by the
Red Sea and Suez. Rome, the capital of this state, was the eternal
city; covered by the three barriers of the Alps, the Po, and the
Apennines; nearer than any other to the three great Islands. But
Napoleon had many obstacles to surmount. He said, at the Consultum of
Lyons, _It will take me twenty years to re-establish the Italian
Nation_.
“There were three impediments to this grand design; first, the
possessions of Foreign Powers in Italy; secondly, the influence of
locality; and, thirdly, the residence of the Popes at Rome.
“Scarcely ten years had elapsed, from the date of the _Consultum_ of
Lyons, before the first obstacle was entirely removed. Foreign Powers
no longer possessed any portion of Italy; which was entirely under the
immediate influence of the Emperor. The destruction of the Republic of
Venice, the deposition of the King of Sardinia and of the Grand Duke
of Tuscany, the annexation of Saint Peter’s patrimony to the Empire,
had set aside the second obstacle. As founders, who have to transform
several guns of small calibre into one forty-eight pounder, first
throw them all into the furnace to reduce them to a state of fusion,
so the small States had been united to Austria and France, that they
might be reduced to an elementary state, freed from their old
recollections and pretensions, and thus prepared for re-casting. The
Venetians having been annexed to the Austrian Monarchy, had for
several years experienced the bitterness of subjection to the Germans.
When these people should have been restored to an Italian Government,
they would have cared little whether their city was to be the capital
of Italy, or whether their government was to be more or less
aristocratic. A similar change would have taken place in Piedmont,
Genoa, and Rome, which had all been disorganized by the change of the
French Empire.
“There were now no Venetians, Piedmontese, or Tuscans: the inhabitants
of the whole Peninsula were only Italians. All was prepared for
forming the great Italian Nation. The Grand Duchy of Berg was vacant
for the dynasty which, for the time, occupied the throne of Naples.
The Emperor impatiently awaited the birth of a second son, to crown
him King of Italy; and to proclaim the independence of the beautiful
Peninsula, under the Regency of Prince Eugene.”
“All the South of Europe, therefore, would soon have been rendered
compact in point of locality, views, opinions, sentiments, and
interests. In this state of things, what would have been the weight of
all the nations of the north? What human efforts could have broken
through so strong a barrier?
“The concentration of the Germans must have been effected more
gradually; and therefore I had done no more than simplify their
monstrous complication. Not that they were unprepared for
concentralization; on the contrary, they were too well prepared for it,
and they might have blindly risen in re-action against us, before they
had comprehended our designs. How happens it that no German Prince has
yet formed a just notion of the spirit of his nation, and turned it to
good account? Certainly, if heaven had made me a Prince of Germany,
amidst the many critical events of our times, I should, infallibly, have
governed the thirty millions of Germans united; and, from what I know of
them, I think I may venture to affirm that, if they had once elected and
proclaimed me, they would not have forsaken me, and I should never have
been at St. Helena.”
Then, after some melancholy details and comparisons, he thus resumed:
“At all events, this concentration will be brought about, sooner or
later, by the very force of events. The impulse is given; and I think
that, since my fall and the destruction of my system, no grand
equilibrium can possibly be established in Europe, except by the
concentration and confederation of the principal nations. The sovereign
who, in the first great conflict, shall sincerely embrace the cause of
the people, will find himself at the head of all Europe, and may attempt
whatever he pleases.
“It will perhaps be asked why I did not suffer these ideas to transpire?
why I did not submit them to public discussion; since they would,
doubtless, have become popular, and popularity would have been an
immense re-inforcement to me? My answer is, that malevolence is ever
more active than good intention; that, at the present day, the power of
wit overrules good sense, and obscures at pleasure the most luminous
points; and that, to have submitted these important subjects to public
discussion would have been to consign them to the mercy of party-spirit,
passion, intrigue, and gossiping, while the infallible result would have
been discredit and opposition. I conceived, therefore, that secrecy was
the most advisable course. I surrounded myself with that halo of mystery
which pleases and interests the multitude; gives birth to speculations,
which occupy the public mind; and, finally, affords opportunities for
those sudden and brilliant disclosures, which exercise such important
influence. It was this very principle that accelerated my unfortunate
march to Moscow. Had I been more deliberate, I might have averted every
evil; but I could not delay and afford time for comment. With my career
already traced out, with my ideas formed for the future, it was
necessary that my movement and my success should seem, as it were,
supernatural.” The Emperor here adverted to the Russian expedition,
repeating many of the observations which I have already recorded
elsewhere. I now note down only what I conceive to be new.
“I will name another occasion,” said he, “on which accident was taken
for principle. I failed in my expedition against the Russians; and they,
therefore, consider themselves invincible. But can any thing be more
erroneous? Ask men of sense and reflection among them! Ask Alexander
himself, and let him recollect the opinions he entertained at the time!
Was I defeated by the efforts of the Russians? No! my failure must be
attributed to pure accident, to absolute fatality. First a capital was
burnt to the ground, in spite of its inhabitants and through foreign
intrigues, and in defiance of its inhabitants; then winter set in with
such unusual suddenness and severity that it was regarded as a kind of
phenomenon. To these disasters must be added a mass of false reports,
silly intrigues, treachery, stupidity, and, in short, many things that
will perhaps one day come to light, and which will excuse or justify the
two great errors I committed in diplomacy and war; namely, to have
undertaken such an enterprise, leaving on my flanks, which soon became
my rear, two cabinets of which I was not master, and two allied armies,
which, on the least check would become my enemies. But to come to a
conclusion, and to annul with a word every charge that can be brought
against me, I may say that this famous war, this bold enterprise, was
perfectly involuntary on my part. I did not wish to fight; neither did
Alexander;—but being once in presence, circumstances urged us on, and
fate accomplished the rest.”
After a few moments’ silence, and as if waking from a reverie, the
Emperor added:—“A Frenchman had in his hands the fate of the world! If
he had possessed judgment and spirit equal to the exalted situation in
which he was placed, if he had been a good Swede as he pretended to be,
he might have restored the glory and power of his adoptive country, have
retaken Finland, and arrived at St. Petersburgh before I reached Moscow.
But he was swayed by personal considerations, silly vanity, and all
sorts of mean passions. His head was turned, when he saw that he, an old
Jacobin, was courted and flattered by legitimates; when he found himself
holding political and friendly conferences face to face with an Emperor
of all the Russias, who took great pains to cajole him. It is affirmed
that hints were even thrown out to him of the possibility of his
obtaining the hand of one of the sisters of the Russian Emperor, by
divorcing his wife; and, in a letter addressed to him by a French
Prince, the writer remarked, with complacency, that Bearn was the cradle
of both their houses! _The house of Bernadotte_ forsooth!
“In his intoxication, he sacrificed both his new and his mother country,
his own glory, his true power, the cause of the people, and the welfare
of Europe! For this he will pay dearly! No sooner had he accomplished
all that was expected of him than he began to feel what awaited him. It
is said that he has repented of his conduct; but he has not yet expiated
it. He is now the only upstart sovereign in Europe. The Scandal cannot
remain unpunished; it would be too dangerous an example.”
THE EMPEROR HAS BUT LITTLE CONFIDENCE IN THE ISSUE OF
1815.—THEMISTOCLES.—IN THE CRISIS OF 1814, NAPOLEON HIMSELF
MOMENTARILY ENTERTAINED A THOUGHT OF RESTORING THE BOURBONS.—BARON
FAIN’S MANUSCRIPT OF 1814.—THE ABDICATION OF FONTAINEBLEAU, &C.
12th.—The Emperor, adverting to his return from the Island of Elba and
his second fall at Waterloo, made some remarkable observations on both
these subjects. “It is very certain,” said he, “that, during the events
of 1815, I relinquished the anticipation of ultimate success: I lost my
first confidence. Perhaps I found that I was wearing beyond the time of
life at which fortune usually proves favourable; or, perhaps, in my own
eyes, in my own imagination, the spell that had hung over my miraculous
career was broken;—but, at all events, I felt that something was
wanting. Kind Fortune no longer followed my footsteps, and took pleasure
in lavishing her smiles upon me; she was now succeeded by rigid Fate,
who took ample revenge for the few favours which I obtained, as it were,
by force. It is a remarkable fact that every advantage I obtained at
this period was immediately succeeded by a reverse.
“I marched through France, and arrived in the capital amidst the
enthusiasm and universal acclamations of the people; but no sooner had I
reached Paris than, by a sort of magic, and without any adequate motive,
all around suddenly shrank from me and grew cold.
“I had adduced plausible reasons for obtaining a sincere reconciliation
with Austria, whither I had despatched agents, more or less avowed.[8]
But Murat was there with his fatal enterprise. It was concluded, at
Vienna that he was acting under my orders; and, measuring me by their
own scale, they regarded my whole conduct as a complication of artifice,
and determined to overreach me by counter-intrigue.
Footnote 8:
Among others, Baron Stassard, in whose well known fidelity Napoleon
reposed such confidence, that he sent him to the Congress of Vienna,
to negotiate for the maintenance of the peace of Paris. But the Baron
was unfortunately prevented from proceeding farther than Lintz; the
most furious and inveterate in the Allied Cabinets having adopted the
precaution of securing the absolute prohibition of all communication
with Napoleon. It was, however, indirectly intimated to Baron
Stassard, that if, before the commencement of hostilities, the Emperor
chose to abdicate in favour of his son, Austria would accede to that
condition, provided Napoleon would surrender himself into the hands of
his father-in-law, who would again guarantee to him the sovereignty of
the Isle of Elba, or any analogous sovereignty.
“The opening of my campaign was well managed and proved most successful.
I should have surprised the enemy in detail; had not a deserter from
among our generals given him timely notice of my plans.
“I gained the brilliant victory of Ligni; but my lieutenant robbed me of
its fruits. Finally, I triumphed even at Waterloo, and was immediately
hurled into the abyss. Yet I must confess that all these strokes of fate
distressed me more than they surprised me. I felt the presentiment of an
unfortunate result. Not that this in any way influenced my
determinations and measures; but the foreboding certainly haunted my
mind.”
That such was really Napoleon’s state of feeling at the period here
alluded to is evident from the following anecdote, which is so very
remarkable that I cannot forbear presenting it to the reader. When on
the banks of the Sambre, the Emperor early one morning approached a
bivouac fire, accompanied only by his aide-de-camp on duty (General
C—--); some potatoes were boiling on the fire, and the Emperor asked for
one, and began to eat it. Then, with a meditative and somewhat
melancholy expression, he uttered the following broken sentences:—“After
all, it is good, it is endurable.... Man may live in any place, and in
any way.... The moment perhaps is not far distant.... Themistocles!...”
The aide-de-camp above mentioned, who himself related this circumstance
to me, since my return to Europe, observed that, had the Emperor been
successful, these words would have passed away without leaving any
impression on him; but that, after the catastrophe, and particularly
after reading the celebrated letter to the Prince Regent, he had been
struck with the recollection of the bivouac of the Sambre; and
Napoleon’s manner, tone, and expression, had since so haunted his mind,
that he could never banish the circumstance from his memory.
It is a mistake to suppose that Napoleon was on all occasions inspired
by that internal confidence which his acts and decisions seemed to
denote. When he quitted the Tuileries, in January 1814, to enter upon
his immortal but unfortunate campaign in the environs of Paris, his mind
was depressed by gloomy apprehensions:—and a circumstance that bears
evidence of his penetration and foresight is that, at the period in
question, he felt convinced of what the majority of those about him were
far from suspecting;—namely, that if he fell, it would be by the
Bourbons. This idea he communicated to a few of his particular friends,
who vainly endeavoured to rouse his confidence by representing that the
Bourbons were forgotten, that they were wholly unknown to the present
generation:—“There is the real danger,” was his invariable reply. Thus,
immediately after his eloquent and impressive harangue to the officers
of the national guard, in which among other things he said:—“You elected
me, I am your work, and it is for you to defend me;” and which he
concluded by presenting to them the Empress and the King of Rome,
saying, “I go to oppose the enemy, and I consign to your care all that I
hold most dear:”—immediately after delivering this address, when on the
point of quitting the Tuileries, he foresaw at that decisive moment the
treachery and perfidy that awaited him, and he resolved to secure the
person of him who proved to be the main-spring of the plot, by which his
overthrow was effected. He was prevented from executing his intention
only by representations, and it may even be said, offers of personal
responsibility, on the part of some of his Ministers, who assured him
that the individual suspected had more reason than any one else to dread
the return of the Bourbons. Napoleon yielded; at the same time
emphatically expressing fears that he might have cause to regret his
forbearance!...
The following circumstance, which is but little known, is important,
since it proves how much, in the height of the crisis. Napoleon’s
thoughts were directed towards the Bourbons. After the check sustained
at Brienne, the evacuation of Troyes, the forced retreat on the Seine,
and the degrading conditions which were transmitted from Chatillon, but
which were so generously rejected, the Emperor, who was closeted with
one of his friends, overpowered at sight of the miseries that were
impending on France, suddenly rose from his chair, exclaiming with
warmth:—“Perhaps I still possess the means of saving France.... What if
I were myself to recal the Bourbons! The Allies would then be compelled
to arrest their course, under pain of being overwhelmed with disgrace
and detected in their duplicity; under pain of being forced to
acknowledge that their designs were directed against our territory
rather than against my person. I should sacrifice all to the country. I
should become the mediator between the French people and the Bourbons. I
should oblige the latter to accede to the national laws, and to swear
fidelity to the existing compact: my glory and name would be a guarantee
to the French people. As for me, I have reigned long enough. My career
is filled with acts of glory; and this last will not be esteemed the
least. I shall rise the higher by descending thus far....” Then, after a
pause of some moments, he added:—“But can a repulsed dynasty ever
forgive?... Can it ever forget?... Can the Bourbons be trusted?... May
not Fox be right in his famous maxim respecting restorations?...”
Overcome by grief and anxiety, he threw himself on his couch, and was
shortly after roused to be made acquainted with the march of the flank
of Blucher’s corps, on which he had for some time been secretly keeping
watch. He rose to put into action that new spring of resources, energy,
and glory, which will for ever consecrate the names of Champ-Aubert,
Montmirail, Chateau-Thierry, Vaux-Champ, Nangis, Montereau, Craon, &c.
These marvellous successes dismayed Alexander and the English, and
suggested to them the expediency of treating: they might indeed have
entirely changed the face of affairs, had not Napoleon’s designs been
thwarted by accidents beyond the reach of human calculation. For
example, the important orders which did not reach the Viceroy, the
defection of Murat, the indolence and negligence of certain Chiefs, and
finally, even the successful movements of the French, which, by
separating the Emperor of Austria from the other Allied Sovereigns, left
the latter entirely free to plan the abdication of Fontainebleau, an
event which will ever be celebrated in the history of our destiny and
our moral character.
Philosophic thinkers, painters of the human heart, turn your eyes to
Fontainebleau, and contemplate the fall of the greatest of monarchs!
Observe how the retinue by which the unfortunate hero was
surrounded,—those whom he had loaded with favours, honours, and
riches,—at the first frown of fortune, forsook, betrayed, and even
sought to insult him!... Mark how the first among them in rank, in
favour, in confidence—he whom the great Prince had vainly sought to
inspire with exalted sentiment, by treating him as his companion and his
friend,—mark how this man degraded himself to the level of the Mameluke,
whose native manners rendered him perhaps more excusable, and who
thought it perfectly natural to forsake his fallen master.