“The government of the Republic sent ambassadors to all the Powers of

Europe, and received envoys from those powers in return. The

tri-coloured flag was acknowledged in every sea, and throughout the

world. At Tolentino, the Pope had treated with the Republic as a

temporal sovereign; but he acknowledged and treated with it as head of

the Catholic religion, by the Concordat which was signed at Paris on the

18th of April, 1802. Most of the Bishops, who had followed the Royalist

party abroad, now submitted to the Republican government, and those who

refused forfeited their sees. In short, the French Republic, which was

sanctioned by the citizens, and victorious by its armies, was

acknowledged by every sovereign, every power, and every religion, in the

world, and in particular by the Catholic Church.

“Not only was the Republic acknowledged by all the powers in the world,

after the death of Louis XVI., but none of these powers ever

acknowledged a successor to him. In the year 1800, therefore, the third

dynasty was ended as completely as the first and second. The rights and

titles of the Merovingians were extinguished by the rights and titles of

the Carlovingians; the rights and titles of the Carlovingians were

extinguished by the rights and titles of the Capetians; and the rights

of the Capetians were, in like manner, extinguished by the Republic.

Every legitimate government supersedes the rights and the legitimacy of

the governments that have preceded it. The Republic was a government, in

fact and in right, rendered legitimate by the will of the nation,

sanctioned by the Church, and by the adhesion of all the world.

CHAP. III.—The Revolution rendered France a new nation:—it emancipated

the Gauls from the tyranny of the Franks: it created new interests,

and a new order of things conformable with the welfare and rights of

the people, and the justice and knowledge of the age.

“The French Revolution was not produced by the jarring interests of two

families disputing the possession of the throne; it was a general rising

of the mass of the nation against the privileged classes. The French

nobility, like that of every country in Europe, dates its origin from

the incursion of the barbarians, who divided the Roman Empire among

them. In France, nobles represented the Franks, and the Burgundians, and

the rest of the nation, the Gauls. The feudal system which was

introduced established the principle that all land should have a lord.

All political privileges were exercised by the Priests and the Nobles;

the peasants were slaves, and in part attached to the glebe. The

progress of civilization and knowledge emancipated the people. This new

state of things promoted industry and trade. The chief portion of the

land, wealth, and information, belonged to the people in the eighteenth

century. The nobles, however, still continued to be a privileged class:

they were empowered to administer justice, and they possessed feudal

rights under various denominations and forms: they enjoyed the privilege

of being exempt from all the burdens of the state, and of possessing

exclusively the most honourable posts. These abuses roused the

indignation of the citizens. The principal object of the Revolution was

to destroy all privileges; to abolish signorial jurisdictions, justice

being an inseparable attribute of sovereign authority; to suppress

feudal rights, as being a remnant of the old slavery of the people; to

subject alike all citizens and all property, to the burdens of the

state. In short, the Revolution proclaimed equality of rights. A citizen

might attain any public employment, according to his talent and the

chances of fortune. The kingdom was composed of provinces which had been

united to the Crown at various periods: they had no natural limits, and

were differently divided, unequal in extent and in population. They

possessed many laws of their own, civil as well as criminal: they were

more or less privileged, and very unequally taxed, both with respect to

the amount and the nature of the contributions, which rendered it

necessary to detach them from each other by lines of custom-houses.

France was not a state, but a combination of several states, connected

together without amalgamation. The whole had been determined by chance

and by the events of past ages. The Revolution, guided by the principle

of equality, both with respect to the citizens and the different

portions of the territory, destroyed all these small nations: there was

no longer a Brittany, a Normandy, a Burgundy, a Champagne, a Provence,

or a Lorraine; but the whole formed a France. A division of homogeneous

territory, prescribed by local circumstances, confounded the limits of

all the provinces. They possessed the same judicial and administrative

organization, the same civil and criminal laws, and the same system of

taxation. The dreams of the upright men of all ages were realized. The

opposition which the Court, the Clergy, and the Nobility, raised against

the Revolution and the war with foreign powers, produced the law of

emigration and the sequestration of emigrant property, which

subsequently it was found necessary to sell, in order to provide for the

charges of the war. A great portion of the French nobility enrolled

themselves under the banner of the princes of the Bourbon family, and

formed an army which marched in conjunction with the Austrian, Prussian,

and English forces. Gentlemen who had been brought up in the enjoyment

of competency served as private soldiers: numbers were cut off by

fatigue and the sword; others perished of want in foreign countries; and

the wars of La Vendée and of the Chouans, and the revolutionary

tribunals, swept away thousands. Three-fourths of the French nobility

were thus destroyed; and all posts, civil, judicial, or military, were

filled by citizens who had risen from the common mass of the people. The

change produced in persons and property by the events of the Revolution,

was not less remarkable than that which was effected by the principles

of the Revolution. A new church was created; the dioceses of Vienne,

Narbonne, Frejus, Sisteron, Rheims, &c., were superseded by sixty new

dioceses, the boundaries of which were circumscribed, in the Concordat,

by new Bulls applicable to the present state of the French territory.

The suppression of religious orders, the sale of convents and of all

ecclesiastical property, were sanctioned, and the clergy were pensioned

by the State. Every thing that was the result of the events which had

occurred since the time of Clovis, ceased to exist. All these changes

were so advantageous to the people that they were effected with the

utmost facility, and, in 1800, there no longer remained any recollection

of the old privileges and sovereigns of the provinces, the old

parliaments and bailiwicks, or the old dioceses; and to trace back the

origin of all that existed, it was sufficient to refer to the new law by

which it had been established. One-half of the land had changed its

proprietors; the peasantry and the citizens were enriched. The

advancement of agriculture and manufactures exceeded the most sanguine

hopes. France presented the imposing spectacle of upwards of thirty

millions of inhabitants, circumscribed within their natural limits, and

composing only a single class of citizens, governed by one law, one

rule, and one order. All these changes were conformable with the welfare

and rights of the nation, and with the justice and intelligence of the

age.

CHAP. IV.—The French people establish the Imperial throne, to

consolidate the new interests of the nation. The fourth dynasty did

not immediately succeed the third; it succeeded the Republic. Napoleon

is crowned by the Pope, and acknowledged by the Powers of Europe. He

creates kings, and the armies of all the Continental Powers march

under his command.

The five members of the Directory were divided. Enemies to the Republic

crept into the councils; and thus men, hostile to the rights of the

people, became connected with the government. This state of things kept

the country in a ferment; and the great interests which the French

people had acquired by the Revolution were incessantly compromised. One

unanimous voice, issuing from the plains of France and from her cities

and her camps, demanded the preservation of all the principles of the

Republic, or the establishment of an hereditary system of government,

which would place the principles and interests of the Revolution beyond

the reach of factions and the influence of foreigners. By the

constitution of the year VIII. the First Consul of the Republic became

Consul for ten years, and the nation afterwards prolonged his magistracy

for life: the people subsequently raised him to the throne, which it

rendered hereditary in his family. The principles of the sovereignty of

the people, of liberty and equality, of the destruction of the feudal

system, of the irrevocability of the sale of national domains, and the

freedom of religious worship, were now established. The government of

France, under the fourth dynasty, was founded on the same principles as

the Republic. It was a moderate and constitutional monarchy. There was

as much difference between the government of France under the fourth

dynasty and the third, as between the latter and the Republic. The

fourth dynasty succeeded the Republic, or, more properly speaking, it

was merely a modification of it.

No Prince ever ascended a throne with rights more legitimate than those

of Napoleon. The crown was not presented to him by a few Bishops and

Nobles; but he was raised to the Imperial throne by the unanimous

consent of the citizens, three times solemnly confirmed. Pope Pius VII.

the head of the Catholic religion, the religion of the majority of the

French people, crossed the Alps to anoint the Emperor with his own

hands, in the presence of the Bishops of France, the Cardinals of the

Romish Church, and the Deputies from all the districts of the Empire.

The sovereigns of Europe eagerly acknowledged Napoleon: all beheld with

pleasure the modification of the Republic, which placed France on a

footing of harmony with the rest of Europe, and which at once confirmed

the constitution and the happiness of that great nation. Ambassadors

from Austria, Russia, Prussia, Spain, Portugal, Turkey, and America, in

fine, from all the powers of Europe, came to congratulate the Emperor.

England alone sent no ambassador: she had violated the treaty of Amiens,

and had consequently again declared war against France; but even England

approved the change. Lord Whitworth, in the secret negotiations which

took place through the medium of Count Malouet, and which preceded the

rupture of the peace of Amiens, proposed, on the part of the English

government, to acknowledge Napoleon as King of France, on condition of

his agreeing to the cession of Malta. The First Consul replied that, if

ever the welfare of France required that he should ascend the throne, it

would only be by the free and spontaneous will of the French people. In

1806, when Lord Lauderdale came to Paris to negotiate peace between the

King of England and the Emperor, he exchanged his powers, as is proved

by the protocol of the negotiations, and he treated with the Emperor’s

plenipotentiary. The death of Fox broke up the negotiations of Lord

Lauderdale. The English Minister had it in his power to obviate the

Prussian campaign,[22] to prevent the battle of Jena. When, in 1814, the

Allies presented an _ultimatum_ at Chaumont, Lord Castlereagh, in

signing this _ultimatum_, again acknowledged the existence of the Empire

in the person and the family of Napoleon. If the latter did not accept

the propositions of the Congress of Chatillon, it was because he did not

conceive himself at liberty to cede a portion of the Empire, the

integrity of which he had, at his coronation, sworn to maintain.

The Electors of Bavaria, Wurtemberg, and Saxony, were created Kings by

Napoleon.

The armies of Saxony, Bavaria, Wurtemberg, Baden, and Hesse, fought in

conjunction with the French armies; and the Russian and French troops

fought together in 1809, in the war against Austria. In 1812, the

Emperor of Austria concluded at Paris an alliance with Napoleon, and

Prince Schwartzenburg commanded, under his orders, the Austrian

contingent in the Russian campaign, in which he attained the rank of

Field Marshal, on the application of the French Emperor. A similar

treaty of alliance was concluded at Berlin, and the Prussian army also

fought with the French in the campaign in Russia.

Footnote 22:

While Lord Lauderdale was in Paris, and negotiating with the Emperor’s

plenipotentiaries, Prussia took up arms and assumed a hostile

attitude. Lord Lauderdale seemed to disapprove of this conduct, and to

consider the contest very unequal. Being informed that Napoleon

intended to march at the head of the army, he enquired whether the

Emperor would consent to defer his departure, and to enter into

arrangements with Prussia, if England would accept the basis of the

negotiations, that is to say, the _uti possidetis_ on both sides,

including Hanover. The discussion was maintained on the subject of

Hanover, which England wished to recover independently of this basis.

By the reply of the Cabinet of St. James’s, Lord Lauderdale was

recalled. The Emperor set out, and the battle of Jena took place: Fox

was then dead.

We were, at this period, eye-witnesses to the regret and repugnance

which Napoleon evinced at the necessity of going to war with Prussia.

He was disposed to leave Hanover in the possession of that power, and

to recognise a Confederation of the North of Germany. He felt that

Prussia, having never been beaten or humbled by France, and her power

being still unimpaired, she could have no interests hostile to his;

but that, if once she were subdued, she must be destroyed.

The Emperor healed the wounds which the Revolution had inflicted: the

emigrants returned, and the list of proscription was obliterated.

Napoleon enjoyed the glory most gratifying to a monarch, by recalling

and re-establishing in their homes upwards of 20,000 families: their

unsold property was restored to them; and, the veil of oblivion being

thrown over the past, persons of every class, whatever line of conduct

they might previously have pursued, were admitted to all public

employments. Families who had distinguished themselves by the services

they had rendered to the Bourbons, those who had shewn themselves most

devoted to the Royal Family, filled places about the Court, and in the

ministry, and held commissions in the army. All party denominations were

forgotten: aristocrats and Jacobins were no longer spoken of; and the

institution of the Legion of Honour, which was at once the reward of

military, civil, and judicial services, placed on a footing of unity the

soldier, the man of science, the artist, the prelate, and the

magistrate; it became the badge of concord among all classes and all

parties.

CHAP. V.—The blood of the Imperial dynasty mingled with that of all the

monarchical Houses in Europe; with those of Russia, Prussia, England,

and Austria.

The Imperial House of France contracted alliances with all the sovereign

families of Europe. Prince Eugéne Napoleon, the adopted son of the

Emperor, married the eldest daughter of the King of Bavaria, a princess

distinguished for her beauty and her virtues. This alliance, which was

contracted at Munich on the 14th of January, 1806, afforded the highest

satisfaction to the Bavarian nation. The Hereditary Prince of Baden, the

brother-in-law of the Emperor of Russia, solicited the hand of Princess

Stephanie, the adopted daughter of the Emperor Napoleon: this marriage

was celebrated at Paris on the 7th of April, 1806. On the 22d of August,

1807, Prince Jerome Napoleon married the eldest daughter of the King of

Wurtemburg, cousin-german of the Emperor of Russia, the King of England,

and the King of Prussia. Other alliances of this nature were contracted

with sovereign princes of Germany, of the House of Hohenzollern. These

marriages have proved happy, and all have given birth to princes and

princesses, who will transmit to future generations the recollection of

the Imperial government of France.

“When the interests of France and the Empire induced the Emperor and the

Empress Josephine to break bonds which were equally dear to them both,

the greatest sovereigns in Europe courted the Alliance of Napoleon. Had

it not been for religious scruples, and the delays occasioned by

distance, it is probable that a Russian princess would have occupied the

throne of France. The Archduchess Maria Louisa, who was married to the

Emperor by procuration granted to Prince Charles, at Vienna, on the 11th

of March, 1810, and at Paris on the 2d of April following, ascended the

throne of France. As soon as the Emperor of Austria learned that

Napoleon’s marriage was in agitation, he expressed his surprise that an

alliance with the House of Austria had not been thought of. The choice

was hitherto divided between a Russian and a Saxon princess: Francis

explained his sentiments on this subject to the Count de Narbonne, the

Governor of Trieste, who was then at Vienna; and, in consequence,

instructions were forwarded to the Prince of Schwartzenberg, the

Austrian ambassador at Paris. In February, 1810, a Privy Council was

convoked at the Tuileries: the Minister for Foreign Affairs submitted to

the Council the despatches of the Duke of Vicenza, the French ambassador

at the Court of Russia. These communications shewed that the Emperor

Alexander was very much disposed to give his sister, the Grand-duchess

Anne, in marriage to Napoleon; but he seemed to make it a point of

importance that the Princess should be allowed the public exercise of

her religious worship, and a chapel appropriated to the Greek rites. The

despatches from Vienna developed the insinuations and the wishes of the

Austrian Court. There was a division of opinions in the French Council:

the Russian, the Saxon, and the Austrian alliance, all found supporters;

but the majority voted for the choice of an Archduchess of Austria. As

Prince Eugéne had been the first to propose the Austrian alliance, the

Emperor, breaking up the sitting at two in the morning, authorized him

to make overtures with Prince Schwartzenberg. He at the same time

authorized the Minister for Foreign Affairs to sign, in the course of

the day, the contract of marriage with the Austrian ambassador; and, to

obviate all difficulties with respect to the details, he directed him to

sign, word for word, the same contract as that which had been drawn up

for the marriage of Louis XVI. and the Archduchess Marie-Antoinette. In

the morning, Prince Eugéne had an interview with Prince Schwartzenberg:

the contract was signed the same day, and the courier who conveyed the

intelligence to Austria agreeably surprised the Emperor Francis. The

peculiar circumstances attending the signature of this marriage contract

led the Emperor Alexander to suspect that he had been trifled with, and

that the Court of the Tuileries had been conducting two negotiations at

once. But this was a mistake: the negotiation with Vienna was begun and

concluded in one day.[23]

Footnote 23:

A report was pretty generally circulated that the marriage of the

Archduchess Maria-Louisa with the Emperor Napoleon was a secret

article of the treaty of Vienna: this idea is void of foundation. The

treaty of Vienna is dated Oct. 15, 1809, and the marriage contract was

signed at Paris on the 7th of Feb. 1810.

Every individual who was present at the deliberations of the Privy

Council can attest that the circumstances of the marriage were such as

they have been above described; that no idea of the Austrian alliance

was entertained before the contents of the Count de Narbonne’s

despatches were made known; and that the marriage with the Archduchess

Maria-Louisa was proposed, discussed, and determined on in the

Council, and signed within the space of twenty-four hours.

The members of the Council were—the Emperor, the great Dignitaries of

the Empire, the high Officers of the Crown, all the Ministers, the

Presidents of the Senate and the Legislative Body, and the Ministers

of State, Presidents of the sections of the Council of State;

amounting, in all, to 25.

“Never did the birth of any Prince excite so much enthusiasm in a

people, or produce so powerful a sensation throughout Europe, as the

birth of the King of Rome. On the firing of the first gun, which

announced the delivery of the Empress, the whole population of Paris was

in the most anxious suspense. In the streets, the promenades, at the

places of public amusement, and in the interior of the houses, all were

eagerly intent on counting the number of guns. The twenty-second excited

universal transport: it had been usual to discharge twenty-one guns on

the birth of a Princess, and a hundred and one on the birth of a Prince.

All the European Powers deputed the most distinguished noblemen of their

Courts to present their congratulations to the Emperor. The Emperor of

Russia sent his Minister of the Interior; and the Emperor of Austria

despatched Count Clary, one of his highest officers of the crown, who

brought, as presents to the young King, the collars of all the Orders of

the Austrian Monarchy set with diamonds. The baptism of the King of Rome

was celebrated with the utmost pomp, in the presence of the French

bishops, and deputies from all parts of the Empire. The Emperor of

Austria was sponsor to the young king by proxy; he was represented by

his brother, the Archduke Ferdinand, Grand-Duke of Tuscany.

CHAP. VI.—Containing some account of the campaign of Saxony,[24] and

shewing that the league of 1813 was in its object foreign to the

Restoration.

Footnote 24:

I did not choose to suppress this summary of the campaign in Saxony,

although the same subject has already been particularly treated of at

the commencement of this volume. If, however, some readers should

consider it merely a repetition, others will find in it the means of

comparing and verifying what has been before stated: one of the

accounts is drawn up from documents published in Europe, whilst the

other was dictated at St. Helena by Napoleon himself.

“The victories of Lützen and Würtzen, on the 2nd and 22nd of May, 1813,

had re-established the reputation of the French arms. The King of Saxony

was brought back in triumph to his capital; the enemy was driven from

Hamburg; one of the corps of the grand army was at the gates of Berlin,

and the imperial head-quarters were established at Breslau. The Russian

and Prussian armies, disheartened by their defeats, had no alternative

but to repass the Vistula, when Austria interfered and advised France to

sign an armistice. Napoleon returned to Dresden, the Emperor of Austria

quitted Vienna and repaired to Bohemia, and the Emperor of Russia and

the King of Prussia established themselves at Schweidnitz.

Communications took place between the different Powers. Count Metternich

proposed the Congress of Prague, which was agreed on; but it was merely

the shadow of a Congress. The Court of Vienna had already entered into

engagements with Russia and Prussia, and intended to declare itself in

the month of May, when the unexpected success of the French army

rendered greater circumspection necessary. Notwithstanding all the

efforts which Austria had exerted, her army was still inconsiderable in

number, badly organized, and ill prepared to enter upon a campaign.

Count Metternich demanded, on the part of Austria, the surrender of the

Illyrian Provinces, one half of the kingdom of Italy, (that is to say,

Venice, as far as the Mincio,) and Poland. It was moreover required that

Napoleon should renounce the Protectorate of Germany, and the

departments of the thirty-second military division. These extravagant

propositions were advanced only that they might be rejected. The Duke of

Vicenza proceeded to the Congress of Prague. The choice of Baron

d’Anstetten, as the Russian plenipotentiary, shewed that Russia wished

not for peace, but was merely anxious to afford Austria time to complete

her military preparations. The unfavourable augury, occasioned by the

selection of Baron d’Anstetten as a negotiator, was confirmed: he

declined entering upon any conference. Austria, who pretended to act as

mediatrix, declared, when her army was in readiness, that she adhered to

the coalition, though she did not even require the opening of a single

sitting, or the drawing up of a single protocol. This system of bad

faith, and of perpetual contradictions between words and acts, was

unremittingly pursued, at this period, by the Court of Vienna. The war

was resumed. The brilliant victory gained by the Emperor at Dresden, on

the 27th of August, 1813, over the army commanded by the three

Sovereigns, was immediately followed by the disasters which Macdonald,

through his ill-concerted manœuvres, brought upon himself in Silesia,

and by the destruction of Vandamme’s force in Bohemia. However, the

superiority was still on the side of the French army, which supported

itself on three points, viz: Torgau, Wittenberg, and Magdeburg. Denmark

had concluded a treaty of alliance, offensive and defensive, and her

contingent augmented the army of Hamburg.

“In October, the Emperor quitted Dresden to proceed to Magdeburg, by the

left bank of the Elbe, in order to deceive the enemy. His intention was

to recross the Elbe at Wittenburg and to march on Berlin. Several corps

of the army had already arrived at Wittenburg, and the enemy’s bridges

at Dessau had been destroyed, when a letter from the King of Wurtemburg

informed the Emperor that the King of Bavaria had suddenly gone over to

the enemy; and that, without any declaration of war or any previous

intimation, the Austrian and Bavarian forces, cantoned on the banks of

the Inn, had formed themselves into one camp; that these forces,

amounting to 80,000, under the orders of General Wrede, were marching on

the Rhine; that he (the King of Wurtemberg), seeing the impossibility of

his opposing this united force, had been obliged to add his contingent

to it. The letter farther added that 100,000 men would soon surround

Mentz, the Bavarians having made common cause with Austria. Upon

receiving this unexpected intelligence, the Emperor found himself

compelled to change the plan of the campaign which he had projected two

months previously, and for which he had prepared the fortresses and

magazines. This plan had for its object to drive the Allies between the

Elbe and the Saale; and, under the protection of the fortresses and

magazines of Torgau, Wittemberg, Magdeburg, and Hamburg, to establish

the seat of war between the Elbe and the Oder (the French army being at

that time in possession of the fortresses of Glogau, Cüstrin, and

Stettin), and, according to circumstances, to raise the blockades of the

fortresses of the Vistula, Dantzick, Thorn, and Modlin. It was

anticipated that the success of this vast plan would have been the means

of breaking up the coalition, and that, in consequence, all the German

Princes would have been confirmed in their allegiance and their alliance

with France. It was hoped that Bavaria would have delayed for a

fortnight to change sides, and then it was certain that she would not

have changed at all.

“The armies met on the plains of Leipsic, on the 16th of October. The

French were victorious; the Austrians were beaten and driven from all

their positions; and Count Meerfeld, who commanded one of the Austrian

corps, was made prisoner. On the 18th, notwithstanding the check

sustained by the Duke of Ragusa on the 16th, victory was still on the

side of the French, when the whole of the Saxon army, with a battery of

sixty guns, occupying one of the most important positions of the line,

passed over to the enemy, and turned its artillery on the French ranks.

Such unlooked-for treachery could not but cause the destruction of the

French army, and transfer all the glory of the day to the Allies. The

Emperor galloped forward with half his guard, repulsed the Swedes and

Saxons, and drove them from their positions. This day (the 18th) was now

ended: the enemy made a retrograde movement along the whole of his line,

and bivouacked in the rear of the field of battle, which remained in the

possession of the French. In the night, the French army made a movement,

in order to take its position behind the Elster, and thus to be in

direct communication with Erfurt, whence were expected the convoys of

ammunition that were so much wanted. In the engagements of the 16th and

18th, the French army had fired more than 150,000 discharges of cannon.

The treachery of several of the German corps of the Confederation, who

were seduced by the example of the Saxons on the preceding day, and the

destruction of the bridge of Leipsic, which was blown up by mistake,

occasioned the French army, though victorious, to experience the losses

which usually result from the most disastrous engagements. The French

re-crossed the Saale by the bridge of Weissenfeld: they intended to

rally their forces, and await the arrival of the ammunition from Erfurt,

which had abundant supplies.

“Intelligence was now received of the Austro-Bavarian army, which, by

forced marches, had reached the Maine. It was necessary therefore to

repair thither, in order to come up with the Bavarians; and, on the 30th

of October, the French fell in with them, drawn up in order of battle

before Hanau and intercepting the Frankfort roads. The Bavarian force,

though numerous, and occupying fine positions, was completely routed,

and driven beyond Hanau, which was in the possession of Count Bertrand.

General Wrede was wounded. The French forces continued their movement

with the view of falling back behind the Rhine, and they re-crossed the

river on the 2nd of November. A parley ensued: Baron de St. Aignan

repaired to Frankfort, where he had conferences with Counts Metternich

and Nesselrode and Lord Aberdeen, and he arrived at Paris with proposals

for peace on the following bases:—That the Emperor Napoleon should

renounce the Protectorship of the Confederation of the Rhine, Poland,

and the departments of the Elbe; but that France should retain her

boundaries of the Alps and the Rhine, together with the possession of

Holland, and that a frontier line in Italy should be determined upon,

for separating France from the States of the House of Austria. The

Emperor agreed to these bases; but the Congress of Frankfort, like that

of Prague, was merely a stratagem employed in the hope that France would

reject the terms which were proposed. It was wished to have a new

subject for a manifesto to operate on the public mind; for at the moment

when these conciliatory propositions were made, the Allied army was

violating the neutrality of the cantons, and entering Switzerland.

However, the Allies at last developed their real intentions; they named

Chatillon-sur-Seine, in Burgundy, as the seat of the Congress. The

battles of Champ-Aubert, Montmirail, and Montereau, destroyed the armies

of Blucher and Witgenstein. No negotiations took place at Chatillon; but

the coalesced Powers presented an _ultimatum_, the conditions of which

were as follows:

“1st, That France should surrender the whole of Italy, Belgium, Holland,

and the departments of the Rhine; 2nd, that France should return to her

limits as they existed previously to 1792. The Emperor rejected this

_ultimatum_. He consented to sacrifice Holland and Italy to the

circumstances in which France was then placed; but he refused to resign

the limits of the Alps and the Rhine, or to surrender Belgium and

particularly Antwerp. Treason secured the triumph of the Allies,

notwithstanding the victories of Arcis and St. Dizier. Hitherto the

Allies had intimated no design of interfering in the internal affairs of

France; this is proved by the _ultimatum_ of Chatillon, signed by

England, Austria, Russia, and Prussia. At length, however, some of the

returned emigrants, excited by the presence of the Austrian, Russian,

and Prussian armies, in whose ranks they had long borne arms, imagined

that the moment had arrived in which their dreams were to be realized:

some mounted the white cockade, and others displayed the cross of St.

Louis. This conduct was disapproved by the Allied Sovereigns; and it was

even censured by Wellington at Bourdeaux, though in reality he secretly

favoured all who endeavoured to raise the ensigns of the House of

Bourbon. In the transactions which detached Prussia from her alliance

with France, and bound her to Russia by the treaty of Kalisch; in the

treaty which united Austria with the coalition; in the diplomatic

proceedings, public and private, which took place down to the treaty of

Chatillon; and even in that concluded in France, in 1814, the Allies

never made any reference to the Bourbons.”

The VIIth, VIIIth, and IXth Chapters shew that the Bourbons after their

return ought to have commenced a fifth dynasty, and not to have

endeavoured to continue the third. The first course would have rendered

all easy, the second has involved every thing in difficulty.

The Xth Chapter closes with a passage of a few lines which forcibly

describe the magical effect of the Emperor’s return on the 20th of

March. These last chapters contain the most nervous and energetic

writing, but the applications are direct, and indeed often personal. I

have suppressed the details, because I wish not to afford any ground for

my being accused of bringing forward a hostile statement. Time, which

modifies all things, will render this work merely an historical

document, which is the only light in which I wish it to be considered

here, as well, indeed, as all works of a similar nature that I may think

it necessary to quote. I have written in France and other countries,

under different laws and circumstances, and I have always found the

liberty of the press existing for me.

I hope to experience its influence on the present occasion, although my

subject is one of a most delicate nature. I now look forward to the

speedy termination of my voyage; the port is within sight, and I hope to

reach it safely, in spite of all the shoals I may encounter.

MY DOMESTIC AFFAIRS.—THE EMPEROR’S VIEWS IN

HIS MUNIFICENCE.

9th—10th. The Emperor passed a bad night. He desired me to be called

early in the morning. When I went to him, he told me that he was half

dead, that he had had no rest, and was feverish. He has continued very

ill for these two days, and has reclined almost constantly on his couch,

which in the evenings is drawn near the fire. He has been unable to eat,

and has drunk nothing but warm lemonade. I have been in continual

attendance on him during these two days; he has enjoyed a little sleep

at intervals, and the rest of the time he has spent in conversing with

me upon various subjects. He spoke of the expense of giving parties in

Paris; and, passing from that subject to my domestic affairs, he

expressed a wish that I should make him acquainted with the minutest

details on that point.

I told him that my income had amounted only to 20,000 francs a year,

15,000 of which were derived from my own property, and 5000 from my

salary as a Councillor of State. On hearing this he exclaimed: “You must

have been mad! How could you venture to approach the Tuileries with so

straitened an income? The expenses of attending the Court were

enormous!”—“Sire,” I replied, “I contrived to keep up my dignity as well

as the rest: and yet I never solicited any thing from your Majesty.” The

Emperor observed, “I do not say you did; but you must have been ruined

in less than four or five years.”—“No, Sire,” I rejoined, “I had been an

emigrant during the greater part of my life; I had lived amidst

privations, and, with a few exceptions, I still subjected myself to

them. It is true that, in spite of all my economy, I ran through 7 or

8000 francs of my capital every year. But I calculated thus: it was well

known that every person about you must, by dint of zeal and attention to

their duties, sooner or later, attract your notice, and that he who once

gained your favour might consider his fortune made. I had still four or

five years left to try this chance; at the expiration of which, if

fortune did not smile on me, I was determined to renounce the illusions

of the world, and to retire from the capital with an income of ten or

twelve thousand livres; poor enough, to be sure, but, nevertheless,

richer than ever I had been in Paris.”—“Well,” said the Emperor, “your

scheme was not a bad one, and the moment had just arrived when you would

have been indemnified for all your losses. I was just about to do

something for you, and it was wholly your own fault that you did not

make a more rapid and brilliant fortune. I believe I have told you

before that you did not know how to avail yourself of favourable

opportunities for securing your own advancement.”

This conversation led us to speak of the enormous sums which the Emperor

had lavished on the persons about him, and, gradually becoming animated,

he said:—“It would be difficult to estimate all that I bestowed in this

way. I might, on more than one occasion, have been accused of profusion,

and I am grieved to see that it has been of little use in any respect.

There must certainly have been some fatality on my part, or some

essential fault in the persons whom I favoured. What a difficulty was I

placed in! It cannot be believed that my extravagance was caused by

personal vanity. To act the part of an Asiatic monarch was not a thing

to my taste. I was not actuated either by vanity or caprice; every thing

was with me a matter of calculation. Though certain persons might be

favourites with me, yet I did not lavish my bounty on them merely

because I liked them: I wished to found, through them, great families,

who might form rallying-points in great national crises. The great

Officers of my Household, as well as all my Ministers, independently of

their enormous salaries, often received from me handsome

gratuities,—sometimes complete services of plate, &c. What was my object

in this profuseness? I required that they should maintain elegant

establishments, give grand dinners and brilliant balls!—And why did I

wish this? In order to amalgamate parties, to form new unions, to smooth

down old asperities, and to give a character to French society and

manners. If I conceived good ideas, they miscarried in the execution:

for instance, none of my chief Courtiers ever kept up a suitable

establishment. If they gave dinners, they invited only their party

friends; and when I attended their expensive balls, whom did I find

there? All the Court of the Tuileries: not a new face; not one of those

who were offended at the new system—those sullen malcontents, whom a

little honey would have brought back to the hive. They could not enter

into my views, or did not wish to do so. In vain I expressed

displeasure, intreated, and commanded: things still went on in the same

way. I could not be every-where at once, and they knew that;—and yet it

was affirmed that I ruled with a rod of iron. How, then, must things go

under gentle sovereigns?”

REMOVAL OF THE EMPEROR’S BED.—ANECDOTE OF A

GASCON SOLDIER.—THE GUARDS OF THE EAGLE.

11th.—The Emperor continued unwell. I found him very low-spirited. He

had ordered the situation of his bed to be changed—that bed, so long the

constant companion of his victories, was now a couch of sickness. He

complained that it was too small for him, that he could hardly turn

himself in it; but his chamber would not have afforded room for a longer

one. He ordered the camp-bed to be carried into his cabinet, and placed

beside a couch; so that the two combined formed a bed of tolerable size.

To what an extremity is he reduced! The Emperor stretched himself on his

sofa, and entered into conversation, which revived him a little.

Speaking of his accession to the Consulship, and of the dreadful

disorders which he found existing in all the branches of the public

service, he said that he had been compelled to adopt numerous measures

of reform, which caused a great outcry, but which had not a little

contributed to strengthen the bonds of society. These measures extended

to the army, among the officers, and even among the generals, who, he

said, had become such, Heaven knows how. Here I took the liberty to

relate an anecdote which had at one time afforded great amusement to the

circle in which I moved. One of my friends, (who was as dissatisfied

with the then existing government as I was myself,) travelling in one of

the small Versailles diligences with a soldier of the guard, maliciously

excited him to express his opinions. The man complained that every thing

went wrong, because it was required that a soldier should know how to

read and write before he could be advanced from the ranks. “So you see,”

he exclaimed, “the _tic has returned again_.”[25] This phrase pleased

us, and was often repeated among us. “Well,” observed the Emperor, “what

would your soldier have said when I created the Guards of the Eagle?

That measure would, doubtless, have re-established me in his good

opinion. I appointed two sub-officers to be the special guards of the

Eagle in every regiment, one of whom was placed on either side of the

standard; and, lest their ardour in the midst of the conflict might

cause them to lose sight of the only object which they ought to have in

view, namely, the preservation of the Eagle, they were prohibited from

using the sabre or the sword: their only arms were a few braces of

pistols; their only duty was coolly to blow out the brains of the enemy

who might attempt to lay hands on the Eagle. But, before a man could

obtain this post, he was required to prove that he could neither read

nor write, and of course you guess the reason why.” “No, Sire.” “Why,

simpleton! Every man who has received education is sure to rise in the

army, but the soldier who has not these advantages, never attains

advancement except by dint of courage and extraordinary circumstances.”

Footnote 25:

TIC is the French term for any bad habit.

As I was in the humour for gossiping, I related another anecdote, which

had also produced merriment in the saloons of Paris. It was said that, a

regiment having lost its Eagle, Napoleon harangued the men on the

subject, and expressed great indignation at the dishonour they had

brought upon themselves by suffering their Eagle to be taken. “But we

tricked the enemy,” exclaimed a Gascon soldier, “they have only got the

staff, for here is the _cuckoo_ in my pocket;” and he produced the

Eagle. The Emperor laughed and said, “Well, I could not venture to

affirm that this circumstance, or something very like it, did not

actually take place. My soldiers were very much at their ease and made

very free with me; often addressing me familiarly by the pronoun

_thou_.”

I mentioned having heard that on the eve of the battle of Jena, or some

other great engagement, as Napoleon was passing a particular station,

accompanied by a very small escort, a soldier refused to let him pass,

and, growing angry when the Emperor insisted on advancing, swore that he

should not pass even though he were the _Little Corporal_ himself. When

the soldier ascertained that it was really the Little Corporal, he was

not at all disconcerted. The Emperor observed, “That was because he felt

the conviction of having done his duty; and indeed the fact is that I

passed for a terrible tyrant in the saloons, and even among the officers

of the army, but not among the soldiers: they possessed the instinct of

truth and sympathy, they knew me to be their protector, and, in case of

need, their avenger.”

THE EMPEROR CONTINUES UNWELL.—HORRIBLE

PROVISIONS, EXECRABLE WINE, &C.

12th.—To-day the Emperor, although no better than he had been for some

days past, determined, as he said, to nurse himself no longer. He

dressed and repaired to the drawing-room, where he dictated, for two or

three hours, to one of his suite. He had eaten nothing for three days:

he had not yet been relieved by the crisis which he expected, and which

is usually produced by the singular regimen which he prescribes for

himself. He continued drinking warm lemonade. This circumstance led him

to inquire how long a person might live without eating, and how far

drink might supply the place of solid food. He sent for the

_Encyclopedia Britannica_, in which he met with some very curious facts:

for instance, he found that a woman had existed for fifty days without

solid food, and drinking only twice. Another instance was mentioned of a

person who had lived twenty days upon water alone.

Somebody observed, in reference to this subject, that Charles XII., out

of pure contradiction to the opinions of those around him, had abstained

from eating for the space of five or six days, at the expiration of

which, however, he devoured a turkey and a leg of mutton, at the hazard

of bursting. Napoleon laughed at this anecdote, and assured us that he

felt no wish to run to such extremes, however attractive the model might

be in other respects.

The Emperor played a game at piquet with Madame de Montholon. The Grand

Marshal having entered, he left off playing, and asked him how he

thought he looked. Bertrand replied, “Only rather sallow;” which was

indeed the case. The Emperor rose good-humouredly, and pursued Bertrand

into the saloon, in order to catch him by the ear, exclaiming, “Rather

sallow, indeed! Do you intend to insult me. Grand Marshal? Do you mean

to say that I am bilious, morose, atrabilarious, passionate, unjust,

tyrannical! Let me catch hold of your ear, and I will take my revenge.”

The dinner-hour arrived, and the Emperor for some time was undecided

whether he would sit down to table with us, or dine alone in his own

room. He decided upon the latter plan, lest, as he said, he should be

tempted to imitate Charles XII. if he sat at the great table: but he

would have found it difficult to do that. He returned while we were at

dinner, and, from the scanty way in which our table was served, he said

he really pitied us, for in fact we had scarcely any thing to eat. This

circumstance induced the Emperor to resort to a painful extremity: he

instantly gave orders that a portion of his plate should be sold every

month, to supply what was necessary for our table. The worst thing

connected with our wretched dinner was the wine, which had for some days

been execrable, and had made us all unwell. We were obliged to send for

some to the camp, in the hope that that which had been furnished to us

would be changed, as we could not drink it.

In the course of a conversation which took place respecting the wine,

the Emperor stated that he had received a great number of instructions

and directions from chemists and physicians, all of whom had concurred

in declaring that wine and coffee were the two things respecting which

it was most necessary he should be on his guard. Every professional man

had cautioned him to reject both wine and coffee if he found any

unpleasant flavour in them. Wine, in particular, he was advised to

abstain from, if he found any thing _uncommon_ in the taste of it. He

had always been in the habit of getting his wine from Chambertin, and

had therefore, seldom occasion to find fault with it; but the case is

different now, if he had refused wine whenever he found any thing

_uncommon_ in it, he must have abstained from it for a considerable time

past.

CRITICISM ON PRINCE LUCIEN’S POEM OF

CHARLEMAGNE.—HOMER.

13th.—The weather is very bad; and it has continued so for three weeks

or a month. The Emperor sent for me before one o’clock: he was in his

saloon; our Amphitryon had paid me a visit, and I took him to the

Emperor, who spoke to him on matters of a private and personal nature.

Napoleon is much altered in his looks.—To-day he wished to set to work.

I sent for my son, and he went over the chapters relating to the Pope

and Tagliamento. He continued thus employed until five o’clock. He was

very low-spirited, and appeared to be suffering much; he retired, saying

he would try to eat a little.

Two ships came within sight, one was supposed to be the Eurydice, which

was every moment expected to arrive from Europe, having touched at the

Cape: they proved to be, however, one of the Company’s ships and another

vessel that was accidentally passing the island.

The Emperor came to us while we were at dinner; he said he had eaten

enough for four persons, and that this had quite restored him.

He wanted something to read, and looked over his brother Lucien’s poem

of Charlemagne. He analysed the first canto, and afterwards glanced over

a few others: he then examined the subject and the plan of the work, &c.

“How much labour, ingenuity and time,” he observed, “have been thrown

away upon this book! what a wreck of judgment and taste! Here are twenty

thousand verses, some of which may be good, for aught I know; but they

are destitute of interest, design, or effect. It might have been

regarded as a compulsory task, had it been written by a professed

author. Why did not Lucien, with all his good sense, consider that

Voltaire, master as he was of the French language and the art of poetry,

failed in a similar attempt, though that attempt was made in Paris, in

the midst of the sanctuary! How could Lucien suppose it possible to

write a French poem, when living at a distance from the French capital?

How could he pretend to introduce a new metre? He has written a history

in verse, and not an epic poem. An epic poem should not be the history

of a man, but of a passion or an event. And, then, what a subject has

Lucien chosen! What barbarous names has he introduced! Does he think he

has succeeded in raising the religion which he conceived to be fallen?

Is his poem intended as a work of re-action? It certainly bears the

stamp of the soil on which it was written: it is full of prayers,

priests, the temporal authority of the Popes, &c. How could he think of

devoting twenty thousand lines to absurdities which do not belong to the

present age, to prejudices which he could not enter into, and opinions

which he could not entertain! What a misapplication of talent! He might

undoubtedly have produced something more creditable to himself; for he

possesses judgment, facility, and industry. He was in Rome amidst the

richest materials, and with the means of satisfying the deepest

research. He understands the Italian language: and, as we have no good

history of Italy, he might have written one. His talents, his situation,

his knowledge of affairs, his rank, might have enabled him to produce an

excellent classic work. It would have been a valuable acquisition to the

literary world, and would have conferred honour on its author. But what

is Charlemagne? What reputation will it gain? It will be buried in the

dust of libraries, and its author will obtain at most a few scanty and

perhaps ridiculous notices in biographical dictionaries. If Lucien could

not resist the temptation of scribbling verses, he should have prepared

a splendid manuscript, embellished with elegant designs and superb

binding, with which he might now and then have gratified the eyes of the

ladies, occasionally allowing a few quotations from it to creep into

publicity; and finally he should have left it to his heirs, with a

severe prohibition against committing it to the press. One might then

have been able to understand his taste.”

He laid the work aside, and said: “Let us turn to the Iliad.” My son

went to fetch it, and the Emperor read a few cantos, stopping at various

passages, in order, as he said, to admire them at his ease. His

observations were copious and remarkable. He was so deeply interested in

what he read, that it was half-past twelve before he retired to rest.

SCARCITY OF PROVISIONS.—RIDICULOUS ALLOWANCE OF

WINE.—NAPOLEON’S RETURN FROM ELBA.

14th.—The terrible state of the weather still continued, and confined us

to our miserable huts. We are all indisposed.

The Emperor dictated during part of the day, and he felt himself much

better.

At dinner we had literally scarcely any thing to eat. The Governor

continued his successive reductions. The Emperor ordered some additional

provisions to be purchased and paid for out of the produce of the sale

of his plate.

The Governor intimated that the allowance of wine should continue fixed

at one bottle for each person, the Emperor included. Will it be

credited? _One bottle for a mother and her children!_ these were the

words used in the note.

The Emperor retired to his own apartment, and sent for me to attend him.

“I am not inclined to sleep,” said he, “and I sent for you to help me to

keep my vigil; let us have a little chat together.” The turn of the

conversation led us to speak of the Island of Elba, of the Emperor’s

occupations, sensations, and opinions while he continued there; finally,

his return to France, and the brilliant success which attended him, and

which, he said, he never for a moment doubted. Many observations were

repeated, which I have already noted down at different times. At one

moment he said: “They may explain this as they will: but I assure you, I

never entertained any direct or personal hatred of those whose power I

subverted. To me it was merely a political contest: I was astonished

myself to find my heart free from animosity, and, I may add, animated by

good will towards my enemies. You saw how I released the Duke

d’Angoulême; and I would have done the same by the King, and even have

granted him an asylum of his own choosing. The triumph of the cause in

no way depended on his person, and I respected his age and his

misfortunes. Perhaps also I felt grateful for a certain degree of

consideration which he in particular had observed towards me. It is true

that, at the moment to which I am now alluding, he had, I believe,

outlawed me and set a price upon my head; but I looked upon all this as

belonging to the _manifesto style_. The same kind of denunciations were

also issued by the Austrian government, without, however, giving me much

uneasiness; though I must confess that my dear father-in-law was rather

too hard with the husband of his beloved daughter.”

Since I have once more had occasion to mention the Emperor’s return from

the Island of Elba, this is, perhaps, the proper place to fulfil the

promise I have made of giving a narrative of the circumstances connected

with that extraordinary event. I here combine together the statements

that fell from him at different times.

Napoleon was residing at the Island of Elba, on the faith of treaties,

when he learned that at the Congress of Vienna some idea was entertained

of transporting him from Europe. None of the articles of the treaty of

Fontainebleau were fulfilled. The public papers informed him of the

state of feeling in France, and he accordingly formed his determination.

He kept the secret until the last moment;[26] and, under one pretence or

another, means were found for making the requisite preparations. It was

not until they were all on board that the troops first conceived a

suspicion of the Emperor’s purpose: a thousand or twelve hundred men had

set sail to regain possession of an empire containing a population of

thirty millions!

Footnote 26:

I must take this opportunity of correcting an error which has

occasioned considerable pain to an individual whom I greatly esteem.

In a former part of this Journal it is mentioned that, _eight days_

before the Emperor quitted Elba, General Drouot communicated his

intentions to the Princess Borghesse, &c. General Drouot, however,

affirms that he was not honoured with the Emperor’s confidence until

the _very last moment_, and that consequently he could not have

divulged the secret at the time alluded to. General Drouot must of all

others be the best informed, as well as most interested, with regard

to these facts: for my own part I have only to observe, that, in this

instance, I merely noted down a current report, which was repeated

without any ill design, and which had never been contradicted.

There were nearly five or six hundred men on board the brig in which

Napoleon embarked; this was, he said, the crew of a seventy-four. They

fell in with a French brig of war, which they spoke. It was asserted

that the captain of the French brig recognised them, and at parting

cried out three times, “A good voyage to you!” At all events, the

officer who commanded the Emperor’s vessel, proposed to pursue and

capture the brig. The Emperor rejected the idea as absurd; such a

proceeding could only have been excusable, had necessity demanded it.

“Why,” said he, “should I introduce this new incident into my plan? What

advantage should I derive from its success? To what risks would its

failure expose me!”

After the check they experienced on landing, by the capture of twenty

men who had been sent to summon Antibes, a variety of opinions was

advanced, and urged with some warmth. Some proposed that they should

make immediately an attack and carry Antibes, in order to obviate the

evil consequences which might ensue from the resistance of that place

and the imprisonment of the twenty men. The Emperor replied that the

taking of Antibes would be no step towards the conquest of France; that,

during the brief interval that would be occupied in the execution of

that project, a general alarm would be raised throughout the country;

and that obstacles would be opposed to them in the only course which it

was expedient they should pursue. He added that time was valuable; and

that the ill consequences of the affair of Antibes might be effectually

obviated by marching forward with sufficient speed to anticipate the

news. An officer of the guard indirectly hinted that it was not right

thus to abandon the twenty men who had been made prisoners; but the

Emperor merely observed that he had formed a poor idea of the magnitude

of the enterprise; that, if half of his followers were in the same

situation, he would not scruple to abandon them in the same manner; and

that if they were all made prisoners, he would march forward alone.[27]

Footnote 27:

It must not, however, be supposed that he shewed any unfeeling

disregard of these men; for he directed the war commissioner, Charles

Vautier, who was with him, to repair with all haste to Antibes, and to

release the prisoners by attempting to take the garrison. When Vautier

set out, he several times called after him: “Take care you do not get

yourself made prisoner too.”

A few hours before nightfall he landed at the gulf of Juan, where he

bivouacked. Soon after, a postilion in splendid livery was conducted to

him. It turned out that this man had formerly been in the Imperial

household. He had been a domestic of the Empress Josephine’s, and was

now in the service of the Prince of Monaco, who himself had been equerry

to the Empress. The postilion, on being questioned by the Emperor,

informed him, after expressing his great astonishment at finding him

there, that he had just come from Paris, and that he was sure he would

every where be joyfully greeted. He affirmed that all along the road, as

far as Avignon, he had heard nothing but regret for the Emperor’s

absence; that his name was publicly in every mouth, and that, when once

fairly through Provence, he would find the whole population ready to

rally round him. The man added, that his splendid livery had frequently

rendered him the object of odium and insult. This was the testimony of

one of the common class of society: it was very gratifying to the

Emperor, and entirely corresponded with his expectations. The Prince of

Monaco himself, on being presented to Napoleon, was less explicit.

Napoleon refrained from questioning him on political matters: there were

persons present, and he did not wish to incur the risk of eliciting any

detail which might create unfavourable impressions on those about him.

The conversation therefore assumed a lively character, and turned

entirely on the ladies of the Imperial court of the Tuileries,

concerning whom Napoleon made the minutest inquiries.

As soon as the moon had risen, which was about one or two o’clock in the

morning, the bivouack broke up, and Napoleon gave orders for proceeding

to Grasse. There he expected to find a road which he had ordered during

the Empire. However, the design had not been executed, and he was

reduced to the necessity of passing through narrow defiles filled with

snow. He therefore left behind him, in the charge of the municipality of

Grasse, his carriage and two pieces of cannon, which had been brought

ashore: this was termed a capture in the bulletins of the time.

The municipality of Grasse was devoted to the royalist party; but the

sudden appearance of the Emperor afforded little time for hesitation,

and they came to make their submission to him. The Emperor, having

passed through the town, halted on a little height at some distance

beyond it, where he breakfasted. He was soon surrounded by the whole

population of the town: and went through this multitude as though he had

been in the midst of his Court circle at the Tuileries. He heard the

same sentiments and the same prayers as before he quitted France. One

complained of not having received his pension, another solicited an

addition to his allowance, a third represented that his cross of the

legion of honour had been withheld from him, a fourth prayed for

promotion, &c. A number of petitions had already been drawn up and were

presented to him, just as though he had come from Paris, and was making

a tour through the departments.

Some enthusiastic patriots, who were well acquainted with the state of

affairs, secretly informed Napoleon that the authorities of the place

were very hostile, but that the mass of the people were devoted to him,

and that they only waited until his back should be turned, in order to

rid themselves of the miscreants. “Be not too hasty,” said the Emperor.

“Let them have the mortification of seeing our triumph, without having

any thing to reproach us with. Be tranquil and prudent.”

The Emperor advanced with the rapidity of lightning. “Victory,” said he,

“depended on my speed. To me France was in Grenoble. This place was an

hundred leagues distant, but I and my companions reached it in five

days,[28] and by what roads and what weather! I entered the city just as

the Count d’Artois, warned by the telegraph, was quitting the

Tuileries.”

Footnote 28:

March 1st. The Emperor landed at Cannes, at the Gulf of Juan.

2d. Entered Grasse.

3d. Slept at Barême.

4th. Dined at Digne, and slept at Maligeai.

5th. Slept at Gap.

6th. Slept at Corps, and a little beyond the town on the following

day, the Emperor harangued and rallied the troops of the 5th. A few

hours afterwards he was joined by Labédoyère, at the head of the 7th.

7th. Arrived at Grenoble and halted.

9th. Slept at Bourgouin.

10th. Reached Lyons, where he remained three days.

13th. Slept at Macon. Ney’s famous proclamation issued.

14th. Slept at Chalons.

15th. Slept at Autun.

16th. At Avalon.

17th. At Auxeres, where he remained for a day, and was joined by the

Prince of the Moskowa.

20th. Arrived at Fontainebleau, at four in the morning, and entered

the Tuileries at nine in the evening.

Napoleon himself was so perfectly convinced of the state of affairs, and

of popular sentiment, that he knew his success in no way depended on the

force which he might bring with him. A piquet of gendarmerie, he said,

was all that was necessary. Every thing turned out as he had calculated:

“Victory advanced _au pas de charge_, and the national Eagle flew from

steeple to steeple, till at length it perched on the towers of Notre

Dame.” The Emperor, however, admitted that at first he was not without

some degree of alarm and uncertainty. As he advanced, it is true, the

whole population enthusiastically declared themselves in his favour; but

he saw no soldiers: they were all carefully removed from the places

through which he passed. It was not until he was between Mure and

Vizille, within five or six leagues of Grenoble, and on the fifth day

after his embarkation, that he met the first battalion. The commanding

officer refused even to parley. The Emperor, without hesitation,

advanced alone, and one hundred of his grenadiers marched at some

distance from him, with their arms reversed. The sight of Napoleon, his

costume, and in particular his grey military great coat, produced a

magical effect on the soldiers, and they stood motionless. Napoleon went

straight up to a veteran, whose arm was covered with _chevrons_, and

very unceremoniously seizing him by the whisker, asked him whether he

would have the heart to kill his Emperor. The soldier, his eyes

moistened with tears, immediately thrust the ramrod into his musquet, to

shew that it was not loaded, and exclaimed, “See, I could not have done

thee any harm: all the others are the same.” Cries of _Vive l’Empereur!_

resounded on every side. Napoleon ordered the battalion to make half a

turn to the right, and all marched on to Paris.

At a little distance from Grenoble, Colonel Labédoyère, at the head of

his regiment, came to join the Emperor. The impulse was then confirmed,

and the question was nearly decided.

The peasantry of Dauphiny lined the road-sides: they were transported

and mad with joy. The first battalion, which has just been alluded to,

still shewed some signs of hesitation; but thousands crowded on its

rear, and by their shouts of _Vive l’Empereur!_ endeavoured to urge the

troops to decision; while others, who were in Napoleon’s rear, excited

his little troop to advance, declaring that no harm whatever would be

done to it.

In a valley through which they passed, a very affecting spectacle

presented itself: many communes were assembled together, accompanied by

their mayors and curates. Amidst the multitude was observed a handsome

young man, a grenadier of the Guard, who had been missing since the time

of Napoleon’s landing, and whose disappearance had given rise to

suspicion. He now advanced and threw himself at the Emperor’s feet: the

tears glistened in his eyes, and he supported in his arms an old man of

ninety, whom he presented to the Emperor:—this was his father, in quest

of whom he had set off as soon as he landed in France. The Emperor,

after his arrival at the Tuileries, ordered a picture of this

circumstance to be painted.

It was night when Napoleon arrived before the walls of Grenoble: his

promptitude defeated all the measures that were to have been taken to

oppose him. There was no time to cut down the bridges, nor even to put

the troops in motion. He found the gates of the city closed, and the

colonel commanding the fortress refused to open them. “A peculiar

circumstance attending this extraordinary revolution,” said the Emperor,

“was that the soldiers were not deficient, to a certain degree, in

discipline and obedience to their commanding officers: their only

resistance was by inert force, of which they availed themselves as of a

right.” Thus the first battalion performed all the movements that were

ordered, retired and refused to communicate; but the men did not load

their guns, and they would not have fired. When Napoleon arrived before

Grenoble, the whole garrison, assembled on the ramparts, shouted _Vive

l’Empereur!_ They shook hands with Napoleon’s followers, through the

wickets; but they would not open the gates, because the commander had

forbidden them to do so. The Emperor found it necessary to force the

gates; and this was done under the mouths of ten pieces of artillery on

the ramparts, loaded with grape-shot. To complete this union of singular

circumstances, the commander of the first battalion and the colonel, who

had so openly opposed the Emperor, when asked by him whether he could

depend on them, replied that he could;—that their troops had deserted

them, but that they would never desert their troops; and that, since the

men had declared themselves for Napoleon, they also would be faithful to

him. The Emperor retained these officers in his service.

In none of his battles did Napoleon ever imagine himself to be in so

much danger as at his entrance into Grenoble. The soldiers seemed to

turn upon him with furious gestures; for a moment it might have been

supposed that they were about to tear him in pieces. But these were

merely transports of love and joy. The Emperor and his horse were both

borne along by the multitude; and he had scarcely time to breathe in the

inn where he alighted, when an increased tumult was heard in the

streets: the inhabitants of Grenoble came to offer him the gates of the

city, since they could not present him with the keys.

“Being once established in Grenoble,” said the Emperor, “and having

attained a positive power, I could have maintained hostilities had it

been necessary to do so.”

Napoleon, at this time, very much regretted not having got his

proclamations printed at the Island of Elba; but of course this could

not have been done without the risk of promulgating his secret designs.

He dictated his proclamations on board the brig, where every man who

could write was employed in copying them. It was found necessary to

transcribe them over again during the Emperor’s march to Paris, that

they might be circulated on the road, so eager was the demand for them.

They were then very scarce, often incorrect and even illegible; and yet

the necessity of promulgating them was felt at every step, for wherever

they were read they produced an immediate and powerful sensation. The

events of the last twenty years have contributed in a high degree to

enlighten the mass of the people, for, notwithstanding the joy they felt

at the Emperor’s return, they eagerly enquired what was his object. All

were satisfied with the national sentiments contained in the

proclamations; and the utmost joy was evinced when it was understood

that Napoleon had brought no foreign troops with him. His advance had

been so rapid and his movements so unexpected, that a thousand reports

had been circulated respecting the amount and nature of his forces. It

was said that he was accompanied by Neapolitans, Austrians, and even

Turks.

From Grenoble to Paris, Napoleon may be said to have made a triumphal

march. During the four days of his stay at Lyons, there were continually

upwards of twenty thousand persons assembled before his windows, and

their acclamations were incessant. It would never have been supposed

that the Emperor had for a moment been separated from his subjects. He

signed decrees, issued orders, reviewed troops, &c.; all military corps,

all public bodies, all classes of the citizens, eagerly came forward to

offer him their homage and demonstrate their attachment. Even the

national horse guards, a corps composed of men who had shewn themselves

most ardent in the Royalist cause, solicited the honour of forming his

escort; but these were the only persons whom the Emperor treated with

coldness. “Gentlemen,” said he, “I thank you for this offer of your

services; but your conduct towards the Count d’Artois sufficiently

proves how you would act by me, were fortune to forsake me. I will not

subject you to this new trial.” On quitting Lyons, the Count d’Artois,

it is said, found only one of the guards willing to follow him to Paris.

The Emperor, whose heart was so keenly alive to every generous

sentiment, on hearing of the fidelity of this volunteer, ordered the

decoration of the legion of honour to be presented to him.

At Lyons, Napoleon issued orders, through the medium of proclamations,

with all that precision, firmness, and confidence, which usually attend

established and uninterrupted power. His conduct indicated no trace of

the terrible reverses he had so lately sustained, or the great risks he

had yet to encounter. If it were possible to mention every circumstance,

that took place, I could relate a very pleasant private anecdote

indicative of the calmness of mind evinced by Napoleon, during the great

crisis which was about to change the face of France and to rouse all

Europe.

As soon as the Emperor quitted Lyons, he wrote to inform Ney, who, with

his army, was at Lons-le-Saunier, that he must immediately march with

his forces to join him. Ney, amidst the general confusion, abandoned by

his troops, confounded by the Emperor’s proclamations, the addresses of

Dauphiny, and the defection of the garrison of Lyons, overpowered by the

enthusiasm of the people of the surrounding provinces—Ney, the child of

the Revolution, yielded to the general impulse, and issued his famous

order of the day. But the recollection of the events of Fontainebleau

induced him to write to the Emperor, informing him that, in his recent

conduct he had been guided principally by a view to the interests of his

country; and that, convinced he must have forfeited all claim to

Napoleon’s confidence, he solicited permission to retire from the

service. The Emperor again wrote, desiring that he would immediately

come and join him, and that he would receive him as he had done the day

after the battle of the Moscowa. Ney, on presenting himself before the

Emperor, was much embarrassed; and repeated that, if he had lost his

confidence, he asked for nothing but to be reduced to the rank of one of

his grenadiers. “Certainly,” said the Emperor, “he had behaved very ill

to me; but how could I forget his brilliant courage, and the many acts

of heroism that had distinguished his past life! I rushed forward to

embrace him, calling him the ‘_bravest of the brave_’—and from that

moment we were reconciled.”

The Emperor went nearly post haste all the way from Lyons to Paris. He

no where experienced opposition, and no fighting took place. Literally

his presence produced merely a theatrical change of scene. His advanced

guard was composed of the troops which happened to be before him on the

road, and to which couriers were sent forward. Thus Napoleon entered

Paris, escorted by the very troops who in the morning had been sent out

to oppose him. A regiment posted at Montereau spontaneously crossed the

bridge, repaired to Melun, and charged a party of the body guards who

were stationed at the latter place: this circumstance, it is said,

occasioned the sudden departure of the Royal family.

The Emperor frequently told us that, if he had chosen, he might have

brought with him to Paris two millions of peasants. On his approach the

people every where rose in a mass; and he often repeats that there were

no conspirators excepting opinion.

On the day after Napoleon’s arrival at the Tuileries, some one having

remarked to him that his life was a succession of prodigies, but that

the last surpassed all the rest, I heard him say in reply, that his only

merit, in this instance, consisted in having formed a just opinion of

the state of affairs in France, and in having been able to penetrate

into the hearts of Frenchmen. At another time he said to us, when

conversing on this subject: “If I except Labédoyère, who flew to me with

enthusiasm and affection, and another individual who freely rendered me

important services, nearly all the other generals whom I met on my route

evinced hesitation and uncertainty: they yielded only to the impulse of

their troops, if indeed they did not manifest a hostile feeling towards

me.

“It is now clear to every one,” said he, “that Ney quitted Paris quite

devoted to the King, and that if he turned against him a few days

afterwards, it was because he thought he could not do otherwise.

“I was so far from relying at all on Massena that, on my landing in

France, I felt it necessary to get past him with all speed; and on my

asking him some time after, at Paris, how he would have acted, had I not

left Provence so precipitately as I did, he was frank enough to reply

that he should feel some embarrassment in answering me; but that the

course I had pursued was, at all events, the safest, and the best.

“Saint-Cyr found himself in danger by attempting to restrain the

soldiers under his command.

“Soult confessed to me that he had conceived a sincere regard for the

King, so much did he admire his government; and he would not return to

my service until after the _Champ de Mai_.

“Macdonald never made his appearance, and the Duke of Belluno followed

the King to Ghent. Thus,” said he, “if the Bourbons have reason to

complain of the complete desertion of the soldiers and the people, they

certainly have no right to reproach with infidelity the chiefs of the

army, those pupils or even leaders of the Revolution, who, in spite of

twenty-five years’ experience, proved themselves, in this instance, mere

children in politics. They could neither be looked upon as emigrants nor

patriots!”

Napoleon seemed instinctively attached to his grand principle of acting

only on masses and by masses. Both at the commencement of the

enterprise, and after his landing in France, he was repeatedly urged to

treat with some of the authorities, but he constantly returned the same

excellent answer: “If I still hold a place in the hearts of the people,

I need concern myself but little about persons in authority, and if I

could only rely on the latter, what service could they render me in

opposing the great mass?”

The following fact will shew how little communication Napoleon had

maintained with the capital. On the morning of his entry into Paris,

after his return from the Isle of Elba, a hundred and fifty half-pay

officers quitted St. Denis, where they had been stationed by the

Princes, and marched to the capital, bringing with them four pieces of

artillery. They were met on the road by some generals, who placed

themselves at their head; and the little troop thus proceeded to the

palace of the Tuileries, where they assembled together the heads of the

different departments of the ministry, who all agreed to act in the name

of the Emperor. Thus Paris was tranquilly governed that day by the

torrent of opinion and the transport of private affections. None of the

great partisans of the Emperor, none of his former ministers, having

received any communication from him, dared sign an order, or assume any

responsibility. The public papers would not have appeared next day but

for the zeal of private individuals, who, spontaneously and without

authority, filled them with expressions of the feelings by which they

were animated, and with the statements of passing events. In the same

manner Lavalette took possession of the post-office. Paris was that day

without police and without government, and yet never did greater

tranquillity prevail in the capital.

The Emperor entered the Tuileries about nine o’clock in the evening,

with an escort of a hundred horse, just as if he had come from one of

his country residences. On alighting, he was almost squeezed to death by

a crowd of military officers and citizens, who thronged around him, and

fairly carried him in their arms into his saloon. Here he found dinner

ready, and he was just sitting down to table, when the officer who had

been despatched in the morning to Vincennes to summon the fortress,

arrived. He brought intelligence of the capitulation of the commandant,

whose only conditions were, that he should receive a passport for

himself and his family.

It is a very singular circumstance that, on the morning after the

Emperor’s arrival at the Tuileries, while a messenger had gone out to

procure a tri-coloured flag, one was found at the pavilion Marsan,

during the search that was made, as a matter of prudence, through the

palace. This flag was immediately hoisted. It was quite new, and larger

than the usual size. No one could guess how it had got into the

Tuileries, and for what purpose it had been intended.

In fact, the more light there is thrown on the subject, the more evident

it must be that there was no other conspiracy than that of the nature of

things. Party-spirit alone can seek in the present age to raise a doubt

on this point; history will have none.

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