At a short distance from Grenoble Colonel Labedoyere, who had been sent

at the head of the 7th regiment to oppose his passage, came to join

the Emperor. The impulse thus given in a manner decided the question.

Labedoyere's superior officer in vain interfered to restrain his

enthusiasm and that of his men. The tri-coloured cockades, which had

been concealed in the hollow of a drum, were eagerly distributed by

Labedoyere among them, and they threw away the white cockade as a badge

of their nation's dishonour. The peasantry of Dauphiny, the cradle of

the Revolution, lined the roadside: they were transported and mad with

joy. The first battalion, which has just been alluded to, had shown some

signs of hesitation, but thousands of the country people crowded round

it, and by their shouts of "Vive l'Empereur!" endeavoured to urge

the troops to decision, while others who followed in Napoleon's rear

encouraged his little troop to advance by assuring them that they would

meet with success. Napoleon said he could have taken 2,000,000 of these

peasants with him to Paris, but that then he would have been called "the

King of the Jaequerie."

Napoleon issued two proclamations on the road. He at first regretted

that he had not had them printed before he left Elba; but this could

not have been done without some risk of betraying his secret designs. He

dictated them on board the vessel, where every man who could write was

employed in copying them. These copies soon became very scarce; many of

them were illegible; and it was not till he arrived at Gap, on the 5th

of March, that he found means to have them printed. They were from that

time circulated and read everywhere with the utmost avidity.

The address to the army was considered as being still more masterly

and eloquent, and it was certainly well suited to the taste of French

soldiers, who, as Bourrienne remarks, are wonderfully pleased with

grandiloquence, metaphor, and hyperbole, though they do not always

understand what they mean. Even a French author of some distinction

praises this address as something sublime. "The proclamation to the

army," says he, "is full of energy: it could not fail to make all

military imaginations vibrate. That prophetic phrase, 'The eagle, with

the national colours, will fly from church steeple to church steeple,

till it settles on the towers of Notre Dame,' was happy in the extreme."

These words certainly produced an immense effect on the French soldiery,

who everywhere shouted, "Vive l'Empereur!" "Vive le petit Caporal!" "We

will die for our old comrade!" with the most genuine enthusiasm.

It was some distance in advance of Grenoble that Labedoyere joined, but

he could not make quite sure of the garrison of that city, which was

commanded by General Marchand, a man resolved to be faithful to his

latest master. The shades of night had fallen when Bonaparte arrived in

front of the fortress of Grenoble, where he stood for some minutes in a

painful state of suspense and indecision.

It was on the 7th of March, at nightfall, that Bonaparte thus stood

before the walls of Grenoble. He found the gates closed, and the

commanding officer refused to open them. The garrison assembled on the

ramparts shouted "Vive l'Empereur!" and shook hands with Napoleon's

followers through the wickets, but they could not be prevailed on to do

more. It was necessary to force the gates, and this was done under the

mouths of ten pieces of artillery, loaded with grapeshot. In none of his

battles did Napoleon ever imagine himself to be in so much danger as at

the entrance into Grenoble. The soldiers seemed to turn upon him with

furious gestures: for a moment it might be supposed that they were going

to tear him to pieces. But these were the suppressed 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 without; the inhabitants

of Grenoble came to offer him the broken gates of the city, since they

could not present him with the keys.

From Grenoble to Paris Napoleon found no further opposition. During the

four days of his stay at Lyons, where he had arrived on the 10th, there

were continually upwards of 20,000 people assembled before his windows;

whose acclamations were unceasing. It would never have been supposed

that the Emperor had even for a moment been absent from the country. He

issued orders, signed decrees, reviewed the troops, as if nothing had

happened. The military corps, the public bodies, and all classes

of citizens, eagerly came forward to tender their homage and their

services. The Comte d'Artois, who had hastened to Lyons, as the Duc and

Duchesse d'Augouleme had done to Bourdeaux, like them in vain attempted

to make a stand. The Mounted National Guard (who were known Royalists)

deserted him at this crisis, and in his flight only one of them chose

to follow him. Bonaparte refused their services when offered to him, and

with a chivalrous feeling worthy of being recorded sent the decoration

of the Legion of Honour to the single volunteer who had thus shown his

fidelity by following the Duke.

As soon as the Emperor quitted Lyons he wrote to Ney, who with his army

was at Lons-le-Saulnier, to come and join him. Ney had set off from the

Court with a promise to bring Napoleon, "like a wild beast in a cage,

to Paris." Scott excuses Ney's heart at the expense of his head, and

fancies that the Marshal was rather carried away by circumstances, by

vanity, and by fickleness, than actuated by premeditated treachery, and

it is quite possible that these protestations were sincerely uttered

when Ney left Paris, but, infected by the ardour of his troops, he

was unable to resist a contagion so much in harmony with all his

antecedents, and to attack not only his leader in many a time of peril,

but also the sovereign who had forwarded his career through every grade

of the army.

The facts of the case were these:--

On the 11th of March Ney, being at Besancon, learned that Napoleon was

at Lyons. To those who doubted whether his troops would fight against

their old comrades he said, "They shall fight! I will take a musket from

a grenadier and begin the action myself! I will run my sword to the hilt

in the body of the first man who hesitates to fire." At the same time he

wrote to the Minister of War at Paris that he hoped to see a fortunate

close to this mad enterprise.

He then advanced to Lons-le-Saulnier, where, on the night between

the 13th and 14th of March, not quite three days after his vehement

protestations of fidelity, he received, without hesitation, a letter

from Bonaparte, inviting him, by his old appellation of the "Bravest of

the Brave," to join his standard. With this invitation Ney complied, and

published an order of the day that declared the cause of the Bourbons,

which he had sworn to defend, lost for ever.

It is pleaded in extenuation of Ney's defection that both his officers

and men were beyond his control, and determined to join their old

Master; but in that case he might have given up his command, and retired

in the same honourable way that Marshals Macdonald and Marmont and

several other generals did. But even among his own officers Ney had an

example set him, for many of them, after remonstrating in vain, threw up

their commands. One of them broke his sword in two and threw the pieces

at Ney's feet, saying, "It is easier for a man of honour to break iron

than to break his word."

Napoleon, when at St. Helena, gave a very different reading to these

incidents. On this subject he was heard to say, "If I except Labedoyere,

who flew to me with enthusiasm and affection, and another individual,

who, of his own accord, 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 about them, if indeed they

did not manifest a hostile feeling towards me. This was the case with

Ney, with Massena, St. Cyr, Soult, as well as with Macdonald and the

Duke of Belluno, so that if the Bourbons had reason to complain of the

complete desertion of the soldiers and the people, they had no right to

reproach the chiefs of the army with conspiring against them, who had

shown themselves mere children in politics, and would be looked upon as

neither emigrants nor patriots."

Between Lyons and Fontainebleau Napoleon often travelled several miles

ahead of his army with no other escort than a few Polish lancers. His

advanced guard now generally consisted of the troops (miscalled Royal)

who happened to be before him on the road whither they had been sent to

oppose him, and to whom couriers were sent forward to give notice of the

Emperor's approach, in order that they might be quite ready to join him

with the due military ceremonies. White flags and cockades everywhere

disappeared; the tri-colour resumed its pride of place. It was spring,

and true to its season the violet had reappeared! The joy of the

soldiers and the lower orders was almost frantic, but even among

the industrious poor there were not wanting many who regretted this

precipitate return to the old order of things--to conscription, war, and

bloodshed, while in the superior classes of society there was a pretty

general consternation. The vain, volatile soldiery, however, thought of

nothing but their Emperor, saw nothing before them but the restoration

of all their laurels, the humiliation of England, and the utter defeat

of the Russians, Prussians, and Austrians.

On the night between the 19th and 20th of March Napoleon reached

Fontainebleau, and again paused, as had formerly been his custom, with

short, quick steps through the antiquated but splendid galleries of that

old palace. What must have been his feelings on revisiting the chamber

in which, the year before, it is said he had attempted suicide!

Louis XVIII., left the Palace of the Tuileries at nearly the same hour

that Bonaparte entered that of Fontainebleau.

The most forlorn hope of the Bourbons was now in a considerable army

posted between Fontainebleau and Paris. Meanwhile the two armies

approached each other at Melun; that of the King was commanded by

Marshal Macdonald. On the 20th his troops were drawn up in three

lines to receive the invaders, who were said to be advancing from

Fontainebleau. There was a long pause of suspense, of a nature which

seldom fails to render men more accessible to strong and sudden

emotions. The glades of the forest, and the acclivity which leads to it,

were in full view of the Royal army, but presented the appearance of

a deep solitude. All was silence, except when the regimental bands of

music, at the command of the officers, who remained generally faithful,

played the airs of "Vive Henri Quatre," "O Richard," "La Belle

Gabrielle," and other tunes connected with the cause and family of

the Bourbons. The sounds excited no corresponding sentiments among the

soldiers.

At length, about noon, a galloping of horse was heard. An open carriage

appeared, surrounded by a few hussars, and drawn by four horses. It came

on at full speed, and Napoleon, jumping from the vehicle, was in the

midst of the ranks which had been formed to oppose him. His escort threw

themselves from their horses, mingled with their ancient comrades, and

the effect of their exhortations was instantaneous on men whose minds

were already half made up to the purpose which they now accomplished.

There was a general shout of "Vive Napoleon!" The last army of the

Bourbons passed from their side, and no further obstruction existed

betwixt Napoleon and the capital, which he was once more--but for a

brief space--to inhabit as a sovereign.

Louis, accompanied only by a few household troops, had scarcely turned

his back on the capital of his ancestors when Lavalette hastened from

a place of concealment and seized on the Post-office in the name

of Napoleon. By this measure all the King's proclamations' were

intercepted, and the restoration of the Emperor was announced to all the

departments. General Excelmans, who had just renewed his oath to Louis,

pulled down with his own hands the white flag that was floating over the

Tuileries, and hoisted the three-coloured banner.

It was late in the evening of the 20th that Bonaparte entered Paris in

an open carriage, which was driven straight to the gilded gates of the

Tuileries. He received the acclamations of the military and of the lower

classes of the suburbs, but most of the respectable citizens looked on

in silent wonderment. It was quite evident then that he was recalled

by a party--a party, in truth, numerous and powerful, but not by

the unanimous voice of the nation. The enthusiasm of his immediate

adherents, however, made up for the silence and lukewarmness of others.

They filled and crammed the square of the Carrousel, and the courts and

avenues of the Tuileries; they pressed so closely upon him that he was

obliged to cry out, "My friends, you stifle me!" and his aides de camp

were compelled to carry him in their arms up the grand staircase, and

thence into the royal apartments. It was observed, however, that amongst

these ardent friends were many men who had been the first to desert him

in 1814, and that these individuals were the most enthusiastic in their

demonstrations, the loudest in their shouts!

And thus was Napoleon again at the Tuileries, where, even more than

at Fontainebleau, his mind was flooded by the deep and painful

recollections of the past! A few nights after his return thither he sent

for M. Horan, one of the physicians who had attended Josephine during

her last illness. "So, Monsieur Horan," said he, "you did not leave the

Empress during her malady?"--"No, Sire."

"What was the cause of that malady?"--"Uneasiness of mind . . .

grief."--"You believe that?" (and Napoleon laid a strong emphasis on the

word believe, looking steadfastly in the doctor's face). He then asked,

"Was she long ill? Did she suffer much?"--"She was ill a week, Sire; her

Majesty suffered little bodily pain."--"Did she see that she was dying?

Did she show courage?"--"A sign her Majesty made when she could

no longer express herself leaves me no doubt that she felt her end

approaching; she seamed to contemplate it without fear."--"Well!--well!"

and then Napoleon much affected drew close to M. Horan, and added, "You

say that she was in grief; from what did that arise?"--"From passing

events, Sire; from your Majesty's position last year."--"Ah! she used to

speak of me then?"--"Very often." Here Napoleon drew his hand across

his eyes, which seemed filled with tears. He then went on. "Good

woman!--Excellent Josephine! She loved me truly--she--did she not? . .

. Ah! She was a Frenchwoman!"--"Yes, Sire, she loved you, and she would

have proved it had it not been for dread of displeasing you: she had

conceived an idea."--"How? . . . What would she have done?" "She one day

said that as Empress of the French she would drive through Paris with

eight horses to her coach, and all her household in gala livery, to go

and rejoin you at Fontainebleau, and never quit you more."--"She would

have done it--she was capable of doing it!"

Napoleon again betrayed deep emotion, on recovering from which he asked

the physician the most minute questions about the nature of Josephine's

disease, the friends and attendants who were around her at the hour of

her death, and the conduct of her two children, Eugène and Hortense.

CHAPTER V.

1815.

Message from the Tuileries--My interview with the King--

My appointment to the office of Prefect of the Police--Council at

the Tuileries--Order for arrests--Fouches escape--Davoust

unmolested--Conversation with M. de Blacas--The intercepted letter,

and time lost--Evident understanding between Murat and Napoleon--

Plans laid at Elba--My departure from Paris--The post-master of

Fins--My arrival at Lille--Louis XVIII. detained an hour at the

gates--His majesty obliged to leave France--My departure for

Hamburg--The Duc de Berri at Brussels.

Those who opposed the execution of the treaty concluded with Napoleon

at the time of his abdication were guilty of a great error, for they

afforded him a fair pretext for leaving the island of Elba. The details

of that extraordinary enterprise are known to every one, and I shall not

repeat what has been told over and over again. For my own part, as soon

as I saw with what rapidity Bonaparte was marching upon Lyons, and the

enthusiasm with which he was received by the troops and the people, I

prepared to retire to Belgium, there to await the denouement of this new

drama.

Every preparation for my departure was completed on the evening of the

13th of March, and I was ready to depart, to avoid the persecutions of

which I expected I should be the object, when I received a message from

the Tuileries stating that the King desired to see me. I of course lost

no time in proceeding to the Palace, and went straight to M. Hue to

inquire of him why I had been sent for. He occupied the apartments in

which I passed the three most laborious and anxious years of my life.

M. Hue, perceiving that I felt a certain degree of uneasiness at being

summoned to the Tuileries at that hour of the night, hastened to

inform me that the King wished to appoint me Prefect of the Police. He

conducted me to the King's chamber, where his Majesty thus addressed me

kindly, but in an impressive manner, "M. de Bourrienne, can we rely

upon you? I expect much from your zeal and fidelity."--"Your Majesty,"

replied I, "shall have no reason to complain of my betraying your

confidence."--"Well, I re-establish the Prefecture of the Police, and I

appoint you Prefect. Do your best, M. de Bourrienne, in the discharge of

your duties; I count upon you."

By a singular coincidence, on the very day (the 13th of March) when I

received this appointment Napoleon, who was at Lyons, signed the decree

which excluded from the amnesty he had granted thirteen individuals,

among whose names mine was inscribed. This decree confirmed me in the

presentiments I had conceived as soon as I heard of the landing of

Bonaparte. On returning home from the Tuileries after receiving my

appointment a multitude of ideas crowded on my mind. At the first moment

I had been prompted only by the wish to serve the cause of the King, but

I was alarmed when I came to examine the extent of the responsibility

I had taken upon myself. However, I determined to meet with courage the

difficulties that presented themselves, and I must say that I had every

reason to be satisfied with the manner in which I was seconded by M.

Foudras, the Inspector-General of the Police.

Even now I am filled with astonishment when I think of the Council that

was held at the Tuileries on the evening of the 13th of March in M.

de Blacas' apartments. The ignorance of the members of that Council

respecting our situation, and their confidence in the useless measures

they had adopted against Napoleon, exceed all conception.

Will it be believed that those great statesmen, who had the control

of the telegraph, the post-office, the police and its agents, money-in

short, everything which constitutes power--asked me to give them

information respecting the advance of Bonaparte? What could I say to

them? I could only repeat the reports which were circulated on the

Exchange, and those which I had collected here and there during the last

twenty-four hours. I did not conceal that the danger was imminent, and

that all their precautions would be of no avail. The question then arose

as to what course should be adapted by the King. It was impossible that

the monarch could remain at the Capital, and yet, where was he to go?

One proposed that he should go to Bordeaux, another to La Vendée, and

a third to Normandy, and a fourth member of the Council was of opinion

that the King should be conducted to Melun. I conceived that if a battle

should take place anywhere it would probably be in the neighbourhood of

that town, but the councillor who made this last suggestion assured us

that the presence of the King in an open carriage and eight horses would

produce a wonderful effect on the minds of the troops. This project

was merely ridiculous; the others appeared to be dangerous and

impracticable. I declared to the Council that, considering the situation

of things, it was necessary to renounce all idea of resistance by force

of arms; that no soldier would fire a musket, and that it was madness

to attempt to take any other view of things. "Defection," said I, "is

inevitable. The soldiers are drinking in their barracks the money which

you have been giving them for some days past to purchase their fidelity.

They say Louis XVIII., is a very decent sort of man, but 'Vive le petit

Caporal!'"

Immediately on the landing of Napoleon the King sent an extraordinary

courier to Marmont, who was at Chatillon whither he had gone to take a

last leave of his dying mother. I saw him one day after he had had an

interview with the King; I think it was on the 6th or 7th of March.

After some conversation on the landing of Napoleon, and the means of

preventing him from reaching Paris, Marmont said to me, "This is what I

dwelt most strongly upon in the interview I have just had with the King.

'Sire,' said I, 'I doubt not Bonaparte's intention of coming to Paris,

and the best way to prevent him doing so would be for your Majesty

to remain here. It is necessary to secure the Palace of the Tuileries

against a surprise, and to prepare it for resisting a siege, in which it

would be indispensable to use cannon. You must shut yourself up in your

palace, with the individuals of your household and the principal public

functionaries, while the Duc d'Angoulome should go to Bordeaux, the Duc

de Berri to La Vendée, and Monsieur to, the Franche-Comte; but they

must set off in open day, and announce that they are going to collect

defenders for your Majesty.--[Monsieur, the brother of the King, the

Comte d'Artois later Charles X.]

". . . This is what I said to the King this morning, and I added that I

would answer for everything if my advice were followed. I am now going

to direct my aide de camp, Colonel Fabvier, to draw up the plan of

defence." I did not concur in Marmont's opinion. It is certainly

probable that had Louis XVIII. remained in his palace the numerous

defections which took place before the 20th of March would have been

checked and some persons would not have found so ready an excuse for

breaking their oaths of allegiance. There can be little doubt, too, but

Bonaparte would have reflected well before he attempted the siege of the

Tuileries.

--[Marmont (tome vii. p. 87) gives the full details of his scheme

for provisioning and garrisoning the Tuileries which the King was to

hold while his family spread themselves throughout the provinces.

The idea had nothing strange in it, for the same advice was given by

General Mathieu Dumas (Souvenirs, tome iii. p. 564), a man not

likely to suggest any rash schemes. Jaucourt, writing to

Talleyrand, obviously believed in the wisdom of the King's

remaining, as did the Czar; see Talleyrand's Correspondence, vol.

ii. pp. 94, 122, 129. Napoleon would certainly have been placed

in a strange difficulty, but a king capable of adopting such a

resolution would never have been required to consider it.]--

Marmont supported his opinion by observing that the admiration and

astonishment excited by the extraordinary enterprise of Napoleon and his

rapid march to Paris would be counterbalanced by the interest inspired

by a venerable monarch defying his bold rival and courageously defending

his throne. While I rendered full justice to the good intentions of the

Duke of Ragusa, yet I did not think that his advice could be adopted.

I opposed it as I opposed all the propositions that were made in the

Council relative to the different places to which the King should

retire. I myself suggested Lille as being the nearest, and as presenting

the greatest degree of safety, especially in the first instance.

It was after midnight when I left the Council of the Tuileries. The

discussion had terminated, and without coming to any precise resolution

it was agreed that the different opinions which had been expressed

should be submitted to Louis XVIII. in order that his Majesty might

adopt that which should appear to him the best. The King adopted my

opinion, but it was not acted upon until five days after.

My appointment to the Prefecture of the Police was, as will be seen, a

late thought of measure, almost as late indeed as Napoleon's proposition

to send me as his Minister Plenipotentiary to Switzerland. In now

accepting office I was well convinced of the inutility of any effort

that might be made to arrest the progress of the fast approaching and

menacing events. Being introduced into the King's cabinet his Majesty

asked me what I thought of the situation of affairs. "I think, Sire,

that Bonaparte will be here in five or six days."--"What, sir?"--"Yes,

Sire."--"But proper measures are taken, the necessary orders given, and

the Marshals are faithful to me."--"Sire, I suspect no man's fidelity;

but I can assure your Majesty that, as Bonaparte has landed, he will be

here within a week. I know him, and your Majesty cannot know him as

well as I do; but I can venture to assure your Majesty with the same

confidence that he will not be here six months hence. He will be hurried

into acts of folly which will ruin him."--"De Bourrienne, I hope the

best from events, but if misfortune again compel me to leave France, and

your second prediction be fulfilled, you may rely on me." During this

short conversation the King appeared perfectly tranquil and resigned.

The next day I again visited the Tuileries, whither I had at those

perilous times frequent occasion to repair. On that day I received a

list of twenty-five persons whom I was ordered to arrest. I took the

liberty to observe that such a proceeding was not only useless but

likely to produce a very injurious effect at that critical moment.

The reasons I urged had not all the effect I expected. However, some

relaxation as to twenty-three of the twenty-five was conceded, but it

was insisted that Fouché and Davoust should be arrested without delay.

The King repeatedly said, "I wish you to arrest Fouché."--"Sire, I

beseech your Majesty to consider the inutility of such a measure."--"I

am resolved upon Fouches arrest. But I am sure you will miss him, for

Andre could not catch him."

My nocturnal installation as Prefect of the Police took place some time

after midnight. I had great repugnance to the arrest of Fouché, but

the order having been given, there was no alternative but to obey it. I

communicated the order to M. Foudras, who very coolly observed, "Since

we are to arrest him you need not be afraid, we shall have him fast

tomorrow."

The next day my agents repaired to the Duke of Otranto's hotel, in the

Rue d'Artois. On showing their warrant Fouché said, "What does this

mean? Your warrant is of no force; it is mere waste-paper. It purports

to come from the Prefect of the Police, but there is no such Prefect."

In my opinion Fouché was right, for my appointment, which took place

during the night, had not been legally announced. Be that as it may, on

his refusal to surrender, one of my agents applied to the staff of the

National Guard, requesting the support, in case of need, of an armed

force. General Dessolles repaired to the Tuileries to take the

King's orders on the subject. Meanwhile Fouché, who never lost his

self-possession, after talking to the police officers who remained with

him, pretended to step aside for some indispensable purpose, but the

door which he opened led into a dark passage through which he slipped,

leaving my unfortunate agents groping about in the obscurity. As for

himself, he speedily gained the Rue Taitbout, where he stepped into a

coach, and drove off. This is the whole history of the notable arrest of

Fouché.

As for Davoust, I felt my hands tied with respect to him. I do not mean

to affect generosity, for I acknowledge the enmity I bore him; but I did

not wish it to be supposed that I was acting towards him from a spirit

of personal vengeance. I therefore merely ordered him to be watched.

The other twenty-three were to me in this matter as if they had never

existed; and some of them, perhaps, will only learn in reading my

Memoirs what dangerous characters they were thought to be.

On the 15th of March, after the conversation which, as I have already

related, I had with Louis XVIII, I went to M. de Blacas and repeated to

him what I had stated to the King on the certainty of Bonaparte's speedy

arrival in Paris. I told him that I found it necessary to devote

the short time still in our power to prevent a reaction against the

Royalists, and to preserve public tranquillity until the departure of

the Royal family, and that I would protect the departure of all persons

who had reasons for withdrawing themselves from the scene of the

great and perhaps disastrous events that might ensue. "You may readily

believe, Count," added I, "that considering the great interests with

which I am entrusted, I am not inclined to lose valuable time in

arresting the persons of whose names I have received a list. The

execution of such a measure would be useless; it would lead to nothing,

or rather it would serve to irritate public feeling. My conviction of

this fact has banished from me all idea of keeping under restraint for

four or five days persons whose influence, whether real or supposed,

is nil, since Bonaparte is at Auxerre. Mere supervision appears to

me sufficient, and to that I propose confining myself."--"The King,"

replied M. de Blacas, "relies on you. He knows that though only

forty-eight hours have elapsed since you entered upon your functions,

you have already rendered greater services than you are perhaps

aware of." I then asked M. de Blacas whether he had not received any

intimation of Bonaparte's intended departure from the island of Elba

by letters or by secret agents. "The only positive information we

received," answered the Minister, "was an intercepted letter, dated

Elba, 6th February. It was addressed to M. -----, near Grenoble. I will

show it you." M. de Blacas opened a drawer of his writing-table and

took out the letter, which he gave to me. The writer thanked his

correspondent for the information he had transmitted to "the inhabitant

of Elba." He was informed that everything was ready for departure, and

that the first favourable opportunity would be seized, but that it would

be desirable first to receive answers to some questions contained in

the letter. These questions related to the regiments which had been

sent into the south, and the places of their cantonment. It was inquired

whether the choice of the commanders was conformable to what had been

agreed on in Paris, and whether Labedoyere was at his post. The letter

was rather long and it impressed me by the way in which the plan of a

landing on the coast of Provence was discussed. Precise answers were

requested on all these points. On returning the letter to M. de Blacas I

remarked that the contents of the letter called for the adoption of some

decided measures, and I asked him what had been done. He answered, "I

immediately sent a copy of the letter to M. d'Andre, that he might give

orders for arresting the individual to whom it was addressed."

Having had the opportunity of closely observing the machinery of a

vigilant and active Government, I was, I must confess, not a little

amazed at the insufficiency of the measures adopted to defeat this

well-planned conspiracy. When M. de Blacas informed me of all that had

been done, I could not repress an exclamation of surprise. "Well," said

he, "and what would you have done?"--"In the first place I would not

have lost twenty-four hours, which were an age in such a crisis." I then

explained the plan I would have adopted. A quarter of an hour after the

receipt of the letter I would have sent trustworthy men to Grenoble, and

above all things I would have taken care not to let the matter fall

into the hands of the police. Having obtained all information from the

correspondent at Grenoble, I would have made him write a letter to his

correspondent at Elba to quiet the eagerness of Napoleon, telling him

that the movement of troops he spoke of had not been made, that it

would take eight days to carry it out, and that it was necessary to the

success of the enterprise to delay the embarkation for some days. While

Bonaparte was thus delayed I would have sent to the coast of Provence

a sufficient body of men devoted to the Royal cause, sending off

in another direction the regiments whose chiefs were gained over by

Napoleon, as the correspondence should reveal their names. "You are

perhaps right, sir," said M. de Blacas, "but what could I do? I am

new here. I had not the control of the police, and I trusted to M.

d'Andre."--"Well," said I, "Bonaparte will be here on the 20th of

March." With these words I parted from M. de Blacas. I remarked a

great change in him. He had already lost a vast deal of that hauteur of

favouritism which made him so much disliked.

When I entered upon my duties in the Prefecture of Police the evil was

already past remedy. The incorrigible emigres required another lesson,

and the temporary resurrection of the Empire was inevitable. But,

if Bonaparte was recalled, it was not owing to any attachment to him

personally; it was not from any fidelity to the recollections of the

Empire. It was resolved at any price to get rid of those imbecile

councillors, who thought they might treat France like a country

conquered by the emigrants. The people determined to free themselves

from a Government which seemed resolved to trample on all that was

dear to France. In this state of things some looked upon Bonaparte as a

liberator, but the greater number regarded him as an instrument. In

this last character he was viewed by the old Republicans, and by a new

generation, who thought they caught a glimpse of liberty in promises,

and Who were blind enough to believe that the idol of France would be

restored by Napoleon.

In February 1815, while everything was preparing at Elba for the

approaching departure of Napoleon, Murat applied to the Court of Vienna

for leave to march through the Austrian Provinces of Upper Italy an army

directed on France. It was on the 26th of the same month that Bonaparte

escaped from Elba. These two facts were necessarily connected together,

for, in spite of Murat's extravagant ideas, he never could have

entertained the expectation of obliging the King of France, by the mere

force of arms, to acknowledge his continued possession of the throne of

Naples. Since the return of Louis XVIII. the Cabinet of the Tuileries

had never regarded Murat in any other light than as a usurper, and

I know from good authority that the French Plenipotentiaries at the

Congress of Vienna were especially instructed to insist that the

restoration of the throne of Naples in favour of the Bourbons of the

Two Sicilies should be a consequence of the restoration of the throne of

France. I also know that the proposition was firmly opposed on the part

of Austria, who had always viewed with jealousy the occupation of three

thrones of Europe by the single House of Bourbon.

According to information, for the authenticity of which I can vouch,

the following were the plans which Napoleon conceived at Elba. Almost

immediately after his arrival in France he was to order the Marshals

on whom he could best rely to defend to the utmost the entrances to the

French territory and the approaches to Paris, by pivoting on the triple

line of fortresses which gird the north and east of France. Davoust

was 'in petto' singled out for the defence of Paris. He, was to arm

the inhabitants of the suburbs, and to have, besides, 20,000 men of

the National Guard at his disposal. Napoleon, not being aware of the

situation of the Allies, never supposed that they could concentrate

their forces and march against him so speedily as they did. He hoped to

take them by surprise, and defeat their projects, by making Murat march

upon Milan, and by stirring up insurrections in Italy. The Po being once

crossed, and Murat approaching the capital of Lombardy, Napoleon with

the corps of Suchet, Brune, Grouchy, and Massena, augmented by

troops sent, by forced marches, to Lyons, was to cross the Alps and

revolutionise Piedmont. There, having recruited his army and joined

the Neapolitans in Milan, he was to proclaim the independence of Italy,

unite the whole country under a single chief, and then march at the head

of 100,000 men on Vienna, by the Julian Alps, across which victory had

conducted him in 1797. This was not all: numerous emissaries scattered

through Poland and Hungary were to foment discord and raise the cry

of liberty and independence, to alarm Russia and Austria. It must be

confessed it would have been an extraordinary spectacle to see Napoleon

giving liberty to Europe in revenge for not having succeeded in

enslaving her.

By means of these bold manoeuvres and vast combinations Napoleon

calculated that he would have the advantage of the initiative in

military operations. Perhaps his genius was never more fully developed

than in this vast conception. According to this plan he was to extend

his operations over a line of 500 leagues, from Ostend to Vienna, by the

Alps and Italy, to provide himself with immense resources of every

kind, to prevent the Emperor of Austria from marching his troops

against France, and probably force him to terminate a war from which

the hereditary provinces would have exclusively suffered. Such was the

bright prospect which presented itself to Napoleon when he stepped on

board the vessel which was to convey him from Elba to France. But the

mad precipitation of Murat put Europe on the alert, and the brilliant

illusion vanished like a dream.

After being assured that all was tranquil, and that the Royal family

was secure against every danger, I myself set out at four o'clock on

the morning of the 20th of March, taking the road to Lille.--Nothing

extraordinary occurred until I arrived at the post-office of Fins, in

front of which were drawn up a great number of carriages, which

had arrived before mine, and the owners of which, like myself, were

impatiently waiting for horses. I soon observed that some one called

the postmaster aside in a way which did not appear entirely devoid of

mystery, and I acknowledge I felt some degree of alarm. I was in

the room in which the travellers were waiting, and my attention was

attracted by a large bill fixed against the wall. It was printed in

French and Russian, and it proved to be the order of the day which I

had been fortunate enough to obtain from the Emperor Alexander to exempt

posthorses, etc., from the requisitions of the Allied troops.

I was standing looking at the bill when the postmaster came into the

room and advanced towards me. "Sir," said he, "that is an order of the

day which saved me from ruin."--"Then surely you would not harm the man

by whom it is signed?"--"I know you, sir, I recognised you immediately.

I saw you in Paris when you were Director of the Post-office, and you

granted a just claim which I had upon you. I have now come to tell you

that they are harnessing two horses to your calash, and you may set

off at full speed." The worthy man had assigned to my use the only two

horses at his disposal; his son performed the office of postilion, and

I set off to the no small dissatisfaction of some of the travellers who

had arrived before me, and who, perhaps, had as good reasons as I to

avoid the presence of Napoleon.

We arrived at Lille at eleven o'clock on the night of the 21st. Here I

encountered another vexation, though not of an alarming kind. The gates

of the town were closed, and I was obliged to content myself with a

miserable night's lodging in the suburb.

I entered Lille on the 22d, and Louis XVIII. arrived on the 23d. His

Majesty also found the gates closed, and more than an hour elapsed

before an order could be obtained for opening them, for the Duke of

Orleans, who commanded the town, was inspecting the troops when his

Majesty arrived. The King was perfectly well received at Lille. There

indeed appeared some symptoms of defection, but it must be acknowledged

that the officers of the old army had been so singularly sacrificed to

the promotion of the returned emigrants that it was very natural the

former should hail the return of the man who had so often led them to

victory. I put up at the Hotel de Grand, certainly without forming any

prognostic respecting the future residence of the King. When I saw his

Majesty's retinue I went down and stood at the door of the hotel, where

as soon as Louis XVIII. perceived me he distinguished me from among all

the persons who were awaiting his arrival, and holding out his hand for

me to kiss he said, "Follow me, M. de Bourrienne."

On entering the apartments prepared for him the King expressed to me his

approval of my conduct since the Restoration, and especially during the

short interval in which I had discharged the functions of Prefect of

the Police. He did me the honour to invite me to breakfast with him. The

conversation naturally turned on the events of the day, of which every

one present spoke according to his hopes or fears. Observing that Louis

XVIII. concurred in Berthier's discouraging view of affairs, I ventured

to repeat what I had already said at the Tuileries, that, judging from

the disposition of the sovereigns of Europe and the information which I

had received, it appeared very probable that his Majesty would be again

seated on his throne in three months. Berthier bit his nails as he did

when he wanted to leave the army of Egypt and return to Paris to the

object of his adoration. Berthier was not hopeful; he was always one of

those men who have the least confidence and the most depression. I

could perceive that the King regarded my observation as one of those

compliments which he was accustomed to receive, and that he had no great

confidence in the fulfilment of my prediction. However, wishing to seem

to believe it, he said, what he had more than hinted before, "M. de

Bourrienne, as long as I am King you shall be my Prefect of the Police."

It was the decided intention of Louis XVIII. to remain in France as long

as he could, but the Napoleonic fever, which spread like an epidemic

among the troops, had infected the garrison of Lille. Marshal Mortier,

who commanded at Lille, and the Duke of Orleans, expressed to me their

well-founded fears, and repeatedly recommended me to urge the King to

quit Lille speedily, in order to avoid any fatal occurrence. During

the two days I passed with his Majesty I entreated him to yield to the

imperious circumstances in which he was placed. At length the King, with

deep regret, consented to go, and I left Lille the day before that fixed

for his Majesty's departure.

In September 1814 the King had appointed me charge d'affaires from

France to Hamburg, but not having received orders to repair to my post I

have not hitherto mentioned this nomination. However, when Louis XVIII.

was on the point of leaving France he thought that my presence in

Hamburg might be useful for the purpose of making him acquainted with

all that might interest him in the north of Germany. But it was not

there that danger was to be apprehended. There were two points to be

watched--the headquarters of Napoleon and the King's Council at Ghent.

I, however, lost no time in repairing to a city where I was sure of

finding a great many friends. On passing through Brussels I alighted at

the Hotel de Bellevue, where the Duc de Berri arrived shortly after me.

His Royal Highness then invited me to breakfast with him, and conversed

with me very confidentially. I afterwards continued my journey.

CHAPTER VI.

1815.

Message to Madame de Bourrienne on the 20th of March--Napoleon's

nocturnal entrance into Paris--General Becton sent to my family by

Caulaincourt--Recollection of old persecutions--General Driesen--

Solution of an enigma--Seals placed on my effects--Useless searches

--Persecution of women--Madame de Stael and Madame de Recamier--

Paris during the Hundred Days--The federates and patriotic songs--

Declaration of the Plenipotentiaries at Vienna.

At Lille, and again at Hamburg, I received letters from my family, which

I had looked for with great impatience. They contained particulars of

what had occurred relative to me since Bonaparte's return to Paris.

Two hours after my departure Madame de Bourrienne also left Paris,

accompanied by her children, and proceeded to an asylum which had been

offered her seven leagues from the capital. She left at my house in

Paris her sister, two of her brothers, and her friend the Comtesse de

Neuilly, who had resided with us since her return from the emigration.

On the very morning of my wife's departure (namely, the 20th of March) a

person, with whom I had always been on terms of friendship, and who was

entirely devoted to Bonaparte, sent to request that Madame de Bourrienne

would call on him, as he wished to speak to her on most important and

urgent business. My sister-in-law informed the messenger that my wife

had left Paris, but, begging a friend to accompany her, she went herself

to the individual, whose name will be probably guessed, though I do not

mention it. The person who came with the message to my house put many

questions to Madame de Bourrienne's sister respecting my absence, and

advised her, above all things, to conjure me not to follow the King,

observing that the cause of Louis XVIII. was utterly lost, and that I

should do well to retire quietly to Burgundy, as there was no doubt of

my obtaining the Emperor's pardon.

Nothing could be more gloomy than Bonaparte's entrance into Paris. He

arrived at night in the midst of a thick fog. The streets were almost

deserted, and a vague feeling of terror prevailed almost generally in

the capital.

At nine o'clock on the same evening, the very hour of Bonaparte's

arrival at the Tuileries, a lady, a friend, of my family, and whose

son served in the Young Guard, called and requested to see Madame de

Bourrienne. She refused to enter the house lest she should be seen,

and my sister-in-law went down to the garden to speak to her without

a light. This lady's brother had been on the preceding night to

Fontainebleau to see Bonaparte, and he had directed his sister to desire

me to remain in Paris, and to retain my post in the Prefecture of the

Police, as I was sure of a full and complete pardon.

On the morning of the 21st General Becton, who has since been the victim

of his mad enterprises, called at my house and requested to speak with

me and Madame de Bourrienne. He was received by my wife's sister and

brothers, and stated that he came from M. de Caulaincourt to renew

the assurances of safety which had already been given to me. I was, I

confess, very sensible of these proofs of friendship when they came

to my knowledge, but I did not for a single moment repent the course I

adopted. I could not forget the intrigues of which I had been the object

since 1811, nor the continual threats of arrest which, during that year,

had not left me a moment's quiet; and since I now revert to that time, I

may take the opportunity of explaining how in 1814 I was made acquainted

with the real causes of the persecution to which I had been a prey. A

person, whose name prudence forbids me mentioning, communicated to me

the following letter, the original copy of which is in my possession:

MONSIEUR LE DUC DE BASSANO--I send you some very important documents

respecting the Sieur Bourrienne, and beg you will make me a

confidential report on this affair. Keep these documents for

yourself alone. This business demands the utmost secrecy.

Everything induces me to believe that Bourrienne has carried a

series of intrigues with London. Bring me the report on Thursday.

I pray God, etc.

(Signed) NAPOLEON

PARIS, 25th December 1811.

I could now clearly perceive what to me had hitherto been enveloped in

obscurity; but I was not, as yet, made acquainted with the documents

mentioned in Napoleon's epistle. Still, however, the cause of his

animosity was an enigma which I was unable to guess, but I obtained its

solution some time afterwards.

General Driesen, who was the Governor of Mittau while Louis XVIII.

resided in that town, came to Paris in 1814. I had been well acquainted

with him in 1810 at Hamburg, where he lived for a considerable time.

While at Mittau he conceived a chivalrous and enthusiastic friendship

for the King of France. We were at first distrustful of each other,

but afterwards the most intimate confidence arose between us. General

Driesen looked forward with certainty to the return of the Bourbons to

France, and in the course of our frequent conversations on his favourite

theme he gradually threw off all reserve, and at length disclosed to me

that he was maintaining a correspondence with the King.

He told me that he had sent to Hartwell several drafts of proclamations,

with none of which, he said, the King was satisfied. On allowing me the

copy of the last of these drafts I frankly told him that I was quite

of the King's opinion as to its unfitness. I observed that if the King

should one day return to France and act as the general advised he would

not keep possession of his throne six months. Driesen then requested me

to dictate a draft of a proclamation conformably with my ideas. This I

consented to do on one condition, viz. that he would never mention my

name in connection with the business, either in writing or conversation.

General Driesen promised this, and then I dictated to him a draft which

I would now candidly lay before the reader if I had a copy of it. I

may add that in the different proclamations of Louis XVIII. I remarked

several passages precisely corresponding with the draft I had dictated

at Hamburg.

During the four years which intervened between my return to Paris and

the downfall of the Empire it several times occurred to me that General

Driesen had betrayed my secret, and on his very first visit to me after

the Restoration, our conversation happening to turn on Hamburg, I asked

him whether he had not disclosed what I wished him to conceal? "Well,"

said he, "there is no harm in telling the truth now. After you had left

Hamburg the King wrote to me inquiring the name of the author of the

last draft I had sent him, which was very different from all that

had preceded it. I did not answer this question, but the King having

repeated it in a second letter, and having demanded an answer, I was

compelled to break my promise to you, and I put into the post-office of

Gothenberg in Sweden a letter for the King, in which I mentioned your

name."

The mystery was now revealed to me. I clearly saw what had excited in

Napoleon's mind the suspicion that I was carrying on intrigues with

England. I have no doubt as to the way in which the affair came to his

knowledge. The King must have disclosed my name to one of those persons

whose situations placed them above the suspicion of any betrayal of

confidence, and thus the circumstance must have reached the ear of

Bonaparte. This is not a mere hypothesis, for I well know how promptly

and faithfully Napoleon was informed of all that was said and done at

Hartwell.

Having shown General Driesen Napoleon's accusatory letter, he begged

that I would entrust him with it for a day or two, saying he would show

it to the King at a private audience. His object was to serve me, and to

excite Louis XVIII.'s interest in my behalf, by briefly relating to him

the whole affair. The general came to me on leaving the Tuileries,

and assured me that the King after perusing the letter, had the great

kindness to observe that I might think myself very happy in not having

been shot. I know not whether Napoleon was afterwards informed of the

details of this affair, which certainly had no connection with any

intrigues with England, and which, after all, would have been a mere

peccadillo in comparison with the conduct I thought it my duty to adopt

at the time of the Restoration.

Meanwhile Madame de Bourrienne informed me by an express that seals were

to be placed on the effects of all the persons included in the decree

of Lyons, and consequently upon mine. As soon as my wife received

information of this she quitted her retreat and repaired to Paris to

face the storm. On the 29th of March, at nine in the evening, the

police agents presented themselves at my house. Madame de Bourrienne

remonstrated against the measure and the inconvenient hour that

was chosen for its execution; but all was in vain, and there was no

alternative but to submit.

But the matter did not end with the first formalities performed by

Fouché's alguazils. During the month of May seven persons were appointed

to examine, my papers, and among the inquisitorial septemvirate were two

men well known and filling high situations. One of these executed his

commission, but the other, sensible of the odium attached to it, wrote

to say he was unwell, and never came. The number of my inquisitors, 'in

domo', was thus reduced to six. They behaved with great rudeness, and

executed their mission with a rigour and severity exceedingly painful to

my family. They carried their search so far as to rummage the pockets of

my old clothes, and even to unrip the linings. All this was done in the

hope of finding something that would commit me in the eyes of the new

master of France. But I was not to be caught in that way, and before

leaving home I had taken such precautions as to set my mind perfectly at

ease.

However, those who had declared themselves strongly against Napoleon

were not the only persons who had reason to be alarmed at his return.

Women even, by a system of inquisition unworthy of the Emperor, but

unfortunately quite in unison with his hatred of all liberty, were

condemned to exile, and had cause to apprehend further severity. It

is for the exclusive admirers of the Chief of the Empire to approve

of everything which proceeded from him, even his rigour against a

defenceless sex; it is for them to laugh at the misery of a woman, and a

writer of genius, condemned without any form of trial to the most

severe punishment short of death. For my part, I saw neither justice

nor pleasantry in the exile of Madame de Chevreuse for having had the

courage (and courage was not common then even among men) to say that

she was not made to be the gaoler of the Queen of Spain. On Napoleon's

return from. the isle of Elba, Madame de Stael was in a state of

weakness, which rendered her unable to bear any sudden and violent

emotion. This debilitated state of health had been produced by her

flight from Coppet to Russia immediately after the birth of the son who

was the fruit of her marriage with M. Rocca. In spite of the danger of

a journey in such circumstances she saw greater danger in staying where

she was, and she set out on her new exile. That exile was not of long

duration, but Madame de Stael never recovered from the effect of the

alarm and fatigue it occasioned her.

The name of the authoress of Corinne, naturally calls to mind that of

the friend who was most faithful to her in misfortune, and who was not

herself screened from the severity of Napoleon by the just and universal

admiration of which she was the object. In 1815 Madame Recamier did not

leave Paris, to which she had returned in 1814, though her exile was not

revoked. I know positively that Hortense assured her of the pleasure she

would feel in receiving her, and that Madame Recamier, as an excuse for

declining the perilous honour, observed that she had determined

never again to appear in the world as long as her friends should be

persecuted. The memorial de Sainte Helene, referring to the origin of

the ill-will of the Chief of the Empire towards the society of Madame

de Stael and Madame Recamier, etc., seems to reproach Madame Recamier,

"accustomed," says the Memorial, "to ask for everything and to

obtain everything," for having claimed nothing less than the complete

reinstatement of her father. Whatever may have been the pretensions

of Madame Recamier, Bonaparte, not a little addicted to the custom he

complains of in her, could not have, with a good grace, made a crime

of her ingratitude if he on his side had not claimed a very different

sentiment from gratitude. I was with the First Consul at the time M.

Bernard, the father of Madame Reamier, was accused, and I have not

forgotten on what conditions the re-establishment would have been

granted.

The frequent interviews between Madame Recamier and Madame de Stael

were not calculated to bring Napoleon to sentiments and measures of

moderation. He became more and more irritated at this friendship between

two women formed for each other's society; and, on the occasion of one

of Madame Recamier's journeys to Coppet he informed her, through

the medium of Fouché, that she was perfectly at liberty to go to

Switzerland, but not to return to Paris. "Ah, Monseigneur! a great man

may be pardoned for the weakness of loving women, but not for fearing

them." This was the only reply of Madame Recamier to Fouché when she set

out for Coppet. I may here observe that the personal prejudices of the

Emperor would not have been of a persevering and violent character if

some of the people who surrounded him had not sought to foment them. I

myself fell a victim to this. Napoleon's affection for me would perhaps

have got the upper hand if his relenting towards me had not been

incessantly combated by my enemies around him.

I had no opportunity of observing the aspect of Paris during that

memorable period recorded in history by the name of the Hundred Days,

but the letters which I received at the time, together with all that,

I afterwards heard, concurred in assuring me that the capital never

presented so melancholy a picture as: during those three months. No one

felt any confidence in Napoleon's second reign, and it was said, without

any sort of reserve, that Fouché, while serving the cause of usurpation,

would secretly betray it. The future was viewed with alarm, and the

present with dissatisfaction. The sight of the federates who paraded the

faubourgs and the boulevards, vociferating, "The Republic for ever!" and

"Death to the Royalists!" their sanguinary songs, the revolutionary airs

played in our theatres, all tended to produce a fearful torpor in

the public mind, and the issue of the impending events was anxiously

awaited.

One of the circumstances which, at the commencement of the Hundred Days,

most contributed to open the eyes of those who were yet dazzled by the

past glory of Napoleon, was the assurance with which he declared

that the Empress and his son would be restored to him, though nothing

warranted that announcement. It was evident that he could not count on

any ally; and in spite of the prodigious activity with which a new army

was raised those persons must have been blind indeed who could imagine

the possibility of his triumphing over Europe, again armed to oppose

him. I deplored the inevitable disasters which Bonaparte's bold

enterprise would entail, but I had such certain information respecting

the intentions of the Allied powers, and the spirit which animated the

Plenipotentiaries at Vienna, that I could not for a moment doubt the

issue of the conflict: Thus I was not at all surprised when I received

at Hamburg the minutes of the conferences at Vienna in May 1815.

When the first intelligence of Bonaparte's landing was received at

Vienna it must be confessed that very little had been done at the

Congress, for measures calculated to reconstruct a solid and durable

order of things could only be framed and adopted deliberately, and upon

mature reflection. Louis XVIII. had instructed his Plenipotentiaries to

defend and support the principles of justice and the law of nations, so

as to secure the rights of all parties and avert the chances of a

new war. The Congress was occupied with these important objects when

intelligence was received of Napoleon's departure from Elba and his

landing at the Gulf of Juan. The Plenipotentiaries then signed the

protocol of the conferences to which I have above alluded.

[ANNEX TO THE PRECEDING CHAPTER.] The following despatch of Napoleon's to Marshal Davoust (given in Captain Bingham's Translation, vol. iii. p. 121), though not strictly bearing upon the subject of the Duke of Bassano's inquiry (p. 256), may perhaps find a place here, as indicative of the private feeling of the Emperor towards Bourrienne. As the reader will remember, it has already been alluded to earlier in the work:

To MARSHAL DAVOUST. COMPIEGNE, 3d September 1811.

I have received your letter concerning the cheating of Bourrienne at

Hamburg. It will be important to throw light upon what he has done. Have

the Jew, Gumprecht Mares, arrested, seize his papers, and place him

in solitary confinement. Have some of the other principal agents of

Bourrienne arrested, so as to discover his doings at Hamburg, and the

embezzlements he has committed there. (Signed) NAPOLEON.

CHAPTER VII.

--[By the Editor of the 1836 edition]--

1815.

Napoleon at Paris--Political manoeuvres--The meeting of the

Champ-de-Mai--Napoleon, the Liberals, and the moderate

Constitutionalists--His love of arbitrary power as strong as ever--

Paris during the Cent Jours--Preparations for his last campaign--

The Emperor leaves Paris to join the army--State of Brussels--

Proclamation of Napoleon to the Belgians--Effective strength of the

French and Allied armies--The Emperor's proclamation to the French

army.

Napoleon was scarcely reseated on his throne when he found he could not

resume that absolute power he had possessed before his abdication at

Fontainebleau. He was obliged to submit to the curb of a representative

government, but we may well believe that he only yielded, with a mental

reservation that as soon as victory should return to his standards and

his army be reorganised he would send the representatives of the people

back to their departments, and make himself as absolute as he had ever

been. His temporary submission was indeed obligatory.

The Republicans and Constitutionalists who had assisted, or not opposed

his return, with Carnot, Fouché, Benjamin Constant, and his own brother

Lucien (a lover of constitutional liberty) at their head, would support

him only on condition of his reigning as a constitutional sovereign; he

therefore proclaimed a constitution under the title of "Acte additionnel

aux Constitutions de l'Empire," which greatly resembled the charter

granted by Louis XVIII. the year before. An hereditary Chamber of Peers

was to be appointed by the Emperor, a Chamber of Representatives chosen

by the Electoral Colleges, to be renewed every five years, by which

all taxes were to be voted, ministers were to be responsible, judges

irremovable, the right of petition was acknowledged, and property was

declared inviolable. Lastly, the French nation was made to declare that

they would never recall the Bourbons.

Even before reaching Paris, and while resting on his journey from Elba

at Lyons, the second city in France, and the ancient capital of the

Franks, Napoleon arranged his ministry, and issued sundry decrees, which

show how little his mind was prepared for proceeding according to the

majority of votes in representative assemblies.

Cambacérès was named Minister of Justice, Fouché Minister of Police (a

boon to the Revolutionists), Davoust appointed Minister of War. Decrees

upon decrees were issued with a rapidity which showed how laboriously

Bonaparte had employed those studious hours at Elba which he was

supposed to have dedicated to the composition of his Memoirs. They

were couched in the name of "Napoleon, by the grace of God, Emperor of

France," and were dated on the 13th of March, although not promulgated

until the 21st of that month. The first of these decrees abrogated all

changes in the courts of justice and tribunals which had taken place

during the absence of Napoleon. The second banished anew all emigrants

who had returned to France before 1814 without proper authority, and

displaced all officers belonging to the class of emigrants introduced

into the army by the King. The third suppressed the Order of St. Louis,

the white flag, cockade, and other Royal emblems, and restored the

tri-coloured banner and the Imperial symbols of Bonaparte's authority.

The same decree abolished the Swiss Guard and the Household troops of

the King. The fourth sequestered the effects of the Bourbons. A similar

Ordinance sequestered the restored property of emigrant families.

The fifth decree of Lyons suppressed the ancient nobility and feudal

titles, and formally confirmed proprietors of national domains in

their possessions. (This decree was very acceptable to the majority of

Frenchmen). The sixth declared sentence of exile against all emigrants

not erased by Napoleon from the list previously to the accession of the

Bourbons, to which was added confiscation of their property. The seventh

restored the Legion of Honour in every respect as it had existed under

the Emperor; uniting to its funds the confiscated revenues of the

Bourbon order of St. Louis. The eighth and last decree was the most

important of all. Under pretence that emigrants who had borne arms

against France had been introduced into the Chamber of Peers, and that

the Chamber of Deputies had already sat for the legal time, it dissolved

both Chambers, and convoked the Electoral Colleges of the Empire,

in order that they might hold, in the ensuing month of May, an

extraordinary assembly--the Champ-de-Mai.

This National Convocation, for which Napoleon claimed a precedent in the

history of the ancient Franks, was to have two objects: first, to

make such alterations and reforms in the Constitution of the Empire

as circumstances should render advisable; secondly, to assist at the

coronation of the Empress Maria Louisa. Her presence, and that of

her son, was spoken of as something that admitted of no doubt, though

Bonaparte knew there was little hope of their return from Vienna. These

various enactments were well calculated to serve Napoleon's cause. They

flattered the army, and at the same time stimulated their resentment

against the emigrants, by insinuating that they had been sacrificed by

Louis to the interest of his followers. They held out to the Republicans

a prospect of confiscation, proscription, and, revolution of government,

while, the Imperialists were gratified with a view of ample funds for

pensions, offices, and honorary decorations. To proprietors of the

national domains security was promised, to the Parisians the grand

spectacle of the Champ-de-Mai, and to. France peace and tranquillity,

since the arrival of the Empress and her son, confidently asserted to be

at hand, was taken as a pledge of the friendship of Austria.

Napoleon at the same time endeavoured to make himself popular with the

common people--the mob of the Faubourg St. Antoine and other obscure

quarters of Paris. On the first evening of his return, as he walked

round the glittering circle met to welcome him, in the State apartments

of the Tuileries, he kept repeating, "Gentlemen, it is to the poor and

disinterested mass of the people that I owe everything; it is they who

have brought me back to the capital. It is the poor subaltern officers

and common soldiers that have done all this. I owe everything to the

common people and the ranks of the army. Remember that! I owe everything

to the army and the people!" Some time after he took occasional rides

through the Faubourg St. Antoine, but the demonstrations of the mob gave

him little pleasure, and, it was easy to detect a sneer in his

addresses to them. He had some slight intercourse with the men of the

Revolution--the fierce, blood-thirsty Jacobins--but even now he could

not conceal his abhorrence of them, and, be it said to his honour, he

had as little to do with them as possible.

When Napoleon, departed for the summer campaign he took care beforehand

to leave large sums of money for the 'federes'; in the hands of the

devoted Real; under whose management the mob was placed. These sums were

to be distributed at appropriate seasons, to make the people cry in

the streets of Paris, "Napoleon or death." He also left in the hands of

Davoust a written authority for the publication of his bulletins, many

clauses of which were written long before the battles were fought

that they were to describe. He gave to the same Marshal a plan of his

campaign, which he had arranged for the defensive. This was not confided

to him without an injunction of the strictest secrecy, but it is said

that Davoust communicated the plan to Fouché. Considering Davoust's

character this is very unlikely, but if so, it is far from improbable

that Fouché communicated the plan to the Allies with whom, and more

particularly with Prince Metternich, he is well known to have been

corresponding at the time.

Shortly after the Emperor's arrival in Paris Benjamin Constant, a

moderate and candid man, was deputed by the constitutional party to

ascertain Napoleon's sentiments and intentions. Constant was a lover of

constitutional liberty, and an old opponent of Napoleon, whose headlong

career of despotism, cut out by the sword, he had vainly endeavoured to

check by the eloquence of his pen.

The interview took place at the Tuileries. The Emperor, as was his wont,

began the conversation, and kept it nearly all to himself during the

rest of the audience. He did not affect to disguise either his past

actions or present dispositions.

"The nation," he said, "has had a respite of twelve years from every

kind of political agitation, and for one year has enjoyed a respite

from war. This double repose has created a craving after activity. It

requires, or fancies it requires, a Tribune and popular assemblies. It

did not always require them. The people threw themselves at my feet when

I took the reins of government. You ought to recollect this, who made a

trial of opposition. Where was your support--your strength? Nowhere. I

assumed less authority than I was invited to assume. Now all is changed.

A feeble government, opposed to the national interests, has given to

these interests the habit of standing on the defensive and evading

authority. The taste for constitutions, for debates, for harangues,

appears to have revived. Nevertheless it is but the minority that wishes

all this, be assured. The people, or if you like the phrase better; the

multitude, wish only for me. You would say so if you had only seen this

multitude pressing eagerly on my steps, rushing down from the tops of

the mountains, calling on me, seeking me out, saluting me. On my way

from Cannes hither I have not conquered--I have administered. I am not

only (as has been pretended) the Emperor of the soldiers; I am that of

the peasants of the plebeians of France. Accordingly, in spite of all

that has happened, you see the people come back to me. There is sympathy

between us. It is not as with the privileged classes. The noblesse have

been in my service; they thronged in crowds into my antechambers. There

is no place that they have not accepted or solicited. I have had the

Montmorencys, the Noailles, the Rohans, the Beauveaus, the Montemarts,

in my train. But there never was any cordiality between us. The steed

made his curvets--he was well broken in, but I felt him quiver under me.

With the people it is another thing. The popular fibre responds to mine.

I have risen from the ranks of the people: my voice sets mechanically

upon them. Look at those conscripts, the sons of peasants: I never

flattered them; I treated them roughly. They did not crowd round me the

less; they did not on that account cease to cry, 'Vive l'Empereur!' It

is that between them and me there is one and the same nature. They look

to me as their support, their safeguard against the nobles. I have but

to make a sign, or even to look another way, and the nobles would be

massacred in every province. So well have they managed matters in the

last ten months! but I do not desire to be the King of a mob. If there

are the means to govern by a constitution well and good. I wished for

the empire of the world, and to ensure it complete liberty of action

was necessary to me. To govern France merely it is possible that a

constitution may be better. I wished for the empire of the world, as who

would not have done in my place? The world invited me to rule over it.

Sovereigns and subjects alike emulously bowed the neck under my

sceptre. I have seldom met with opposition in France, but still I have

encountered more of it from some obscure and unarmed Frenchmen than from

all these Kings so resolute, just now, no longer to have a man of the

people for their equal! See then what appears to you possible; let

me know your ideas. Public discussion, free elections, responsible

ministers, the liberty of the press, I have no objection to all that,

the liberty of the press especially; to stifle it is absurd. I am

convinced on this point. I am the man of the people: if the people

really wish for liberty let them have it. I have acknowledged their

sovereignty. It is just that I should lend an ear to their will, nay,

even to their caprices. I have never been disposed to oppress them for

my pleasure. I conceived great designs; but fate has been against me; I

am no longer a conqueror, nor can I be one. I know what is possible

and what is not.--I have no further object than to raise up France and

bestow on her a government suitable to her. I have no hatred to liberty,

I have set it aside when it obstructed my path, but I understand what

it means; I was brought up in its school: besides, the work of fifteen

years is overturned, and it is not possible to recommence it. It would

take twenty years, and the lives of 2,000,000 of men to be sacrificed to

it. As for the rest, I desire peace, but I can only obtain it by means

of victory. I would not inspire you with false expectations. I permit it

to be said that negotiations are going on; there are none. I foresee

a hard struggle, a long war. To support it I must be seconded by the

nation, but in return I believe they will expect liberty. They shall

have it: the circumstances are new. All I desire is to be informed of

the truth. I am getting old. A man is no longer at forty-five what he

was at thirty. The repose enjoyed by a constitutional king may suit me:

it will still more certainly be the best thing, for my son."

From this remarkable address. Benjamin Constant concluded that no

change had taken place in Bonaparte's views or feelings in matters of

government, but, being convinced that circumstances had changed, he had

made up his mind to conform to them. He says, and we cannot doubt it,

"that he listened to Napoleon with the deepest interest, that there was

a breadth and grandeur of manner as he spoke, and a calm serenity seated

on a brow covered with immortal laurels."

Whilst believing the utter incompatibility of Napoleon and

constitutional government we cannot in fairness omit mentioning that the

causes which repelled him from the altar and sanctuary of freedom

were strong: the real lovers of a rational and feasible liberty--the

constitutional monarchy men were few--the mad ultra-Liberals, the

Jacobins, the refuse of one revolution and the provokers of another,

were numerous, active, loud, and in pursuing different ends these two

parties, the respectable and the disreputable, the good and the bad, got

mixed and confused with one another.

On the 14th of May, when the 'federes' were marshalled in processional

order and treated with what was called a solemn festival, as they moved

along the boulevards to the Court of the Tuileries, they coupled the

name of Napoleon with Jacobin curses and revolutionary songs. The airs

and the words that had made Paris tremble to her very centre during

the Reign of Terror--the "Marseillaise," the "Carmagnole," the "Jour

du depart," the execrable ditty, the burden of which is, "And with the

entrails of the last of the priests let us strangle the last of the

kings," were all roared out in fearful chorus by a drunken, filthy, and

furious mob. Many a day had elapsed since they had dared to sing these

blasphemous and antisocial songs in public. Napoleon himself as soon as

he had power enough suppressed them, and he was as proud of this feat

and his triumph over the dregs of the Jacobins as he was of any of

his victories; and in this he was right, in this he proved himself the

friend of humanity. As the tumultuous mass approached the triumphal

arch and the grand entrance to the Palace he could not conceal his

abhorrence. His Guards were drawn up under arms, and numerous pieces of

artillery, already loaded were turned out on the Place du Carrousel.

He hastily dismissed these dangerous partisans with some praise, some

money, and some drink. On coming into close contact with such a mob

he did not feel his fibre respond to that of the populace! Like

Frankenstein, he loathed and was afraid of the mighty monster he had put

together.

But it was not merely the mob that checked the liberalism or

constitution of Napoleon, a delicate and doubtful plant in itself, that

required the most cautious treatment to make it really take root and

grow up in such a soil: Some of his councillors, who called themselves

"philosophical statesmen," advised him to lay aside the style of

Emperor, and assume that of High President or Lord General of the

Republic! Annoyed with such puerilities while the enemy was every day

drawing nearer the frontiers he withdrew from the Tuileries to the

comparatively small and retired palace of the Elysee, where he escaped

these talking-dreamers, and felt himself again a sovereign: Shut up with

Benjamin Constant and a few other reasonable politicians, he drew up

the sketch of a new constitution, which was neither much better nor much

worse than the royal charter of Louis XVIII. We give an epitome of its

main features.

The Emperor was to have executive power, and to exercise legislative

power in concurrence with the two Chambers. The Chamber of Peers was

to be hereditary, and nominated by the Emperor, and its number was

unlimited. The Second Chamber was to be elected by the people, and to

consist of 629 members; none to be under the age of twenty-five. The

President was to be appointed by the members, but approved of by the

Emperor. Members were to be paid at the rate settled by the Constituent

Assembly, which was to be renewed every five years. The Emperor might

prorogue, adjourn, or dissolve the House of Representatives, whose

sittings were to be public. The Electoral Colleges were maintained. Land

tax and direct taxes were to be voted only for a year, indirect taxes

might be imposed for several years. No levy of men for the army nor

any exchange of territory was to be made but by a law. Taxes were to be

proposed by the Chamber of Representatives. Ministers to be responsible.

Judges to be irremovable. Juries to be established. Right of petition,

freedom of worship, inviolability of property, were recognised. Liberty

of the press was given under legal responsibility, and press offences

were to be judged with a jury. No place or part of the territory could

be placed in a state of siege except in case of foreign invasion

or civil troubles. Finally, the French people declared that in the

delegation it thus made of its powers it was not to be taken as giving

the right to propose the re-establishment of the Bourbons, or of any

Prince of that family on the throne, even in case of the extinction of

the imperial dynasty. Any such proposal was formally interdicted to the

Chambers or to the citizens, as well as any of the following measures,

viz. the re-establishment of the former, feudal nobility, of the

feudal and seignorial rights, of tithes, of any privileged and

dominant religion, as well as of the power of making any attack on the

irrevocability of the sale of the national goods.

Shortly after the return of Napoleon from Elba, believing it to

be impossible to make the Emperor of Austria consent to his wife's

rejoining him (and Maria Louisa had no inclination to a renewal of

conjugal intercourse), Napoleon had not been many days in Paris when he

concocted a plan for carrying off from Vienna both his wife and his son:

In this project force was no less necessary than stratagem. A number of

French of both sexes much devoted to the Emperor, who, had given them

rank and fortune, had accompanied Maria Louisa in 1814 from Paris to

Blois and thence to Vienna. A correspondence was opened with these

persons, who embarked heart and soul in the plot; they forged passports,

procured relays, of horses; and altogether arranged matters so well that

but for a single individual--one who revealed the whole project a few

days previously to that fixed upon for carrying it into effect--there

is little room to doubt that the plan would have succeeded, and that the

daughter of Austria and the titular King of home would have given

such, prestige as their presence could give at the Tuileries and the

Champs-de-Mai. No sooner had the Emperor of Austria discovered this

plot, which, had it been successful, would have placed him in a very

awkward predicament, than he dismissed all the French people about his

daughter, compelled her to lay aside the armorial bearings and liveries

of Napoleon, and even to relinquish the title of Empress of the French:

No force, no art, no police could conceal these things from the people

of Paris; who, moreover, and at nearly the same time; were made very

uneasy by the failure of Murat's attempt in Italy, which greatly

increased the power and political influence of Austria. Murat being

disposed of, the Emperor Francis was enabled to concentrate all his

forces in Italy, and to hold them in readiness for the re-invasion of

France.

"Napoleon," says Lavallette, "had undoubtedly expected that the Empress

and his son would be restored to him; he had published his wishes as a

certainty, and to prevent it was, in fact, the worst injury the Emperor

of Austria could have done, him. His hope was, however, soon destroyed.

"One evening I was summoned to the palace. I found the Emperor in a

dimly-lighted closet, warming himself in a corner of the fireplace, and

appearing to suffer already from the complaint which never afterwards

left him. 'Here is a letter,' he said, 'which the courier from Vienna

says is meant for you--read it.' On first casting my eyes on the letter

I thought I knew the handwriting, but as it was long I read it slowly,

and came at last to the principal object. The writer said that we ought

not to reckon upon the Empress, as she did not even attempt to conceal

her dislike of the Emperor, and was disposed to approve all the measures

that could be taken against him; that her return was not to be thought

of, as she herself would raise the greatest obstacles in the way of it;

in case it should be proposed; finally, that it was not possible for him

to dissemble his indignation that the Empress, wholly enamoured of ----,

did not even take pains to hide her ridiculous partiality for him. The

handwriting of the letter was disguised, yet not so much but that I was

able to discover whose it was. I found; however, in the manner in which

the secret was expressed a warmth of zeal and a picturesque style that

did not belong to the author of the letter. While reading it, I all of

a sudden suspected it was a counterfeit, and intended to mislead the

Emperor. I communicated this idea to him, and the danger I perceived in

this fraud. As I grew more and more animated I found plausible reasons

enough to throw the Emperor himself into some uncertainty. 'How is it

possible,' I said, 'that ------ should have been imprudent enough to

write such things to me, who am not his friend, and who have had so

little connection with him? How can one suppose that the Empress should

forget herself, in such circumstances, so far as to manifest aversion

to you, and, still more, to cast herself away upon a man who undoubtedly

still possesses some power to please, but who is no longer young, whose

face is disfigured, and whose person, altogether, has nothing agreeable

in it?' 'But,' answered the Emperor, ----- is attached to me; and though

he is not your friend, the postscript sufficiently explains the motive

of the confidence he places in you.' The following words were, in

fact, written at the bottom of the letter: 'I do not think you ought to

mention the truth to the Emperor, but make whatever use of it you think

proper.' I persisted, however, in maintaining that the letter was a

counterfeit; and the Emperor then said to me, 'Go to Caulaincourt.

He possesses a great many others in the same handwriting. Let the

comparison decide between your opinion and mine.'

"I went to Caulaincourt, who said eagerly to me, 'I am sure the letter

is from -----, and I have not the least doubt of the truth of the

particulars it contains. The best thing the Emperor can do is to be

comforted; there is no help to be expected from that side.'

"So sad a discovery was very painful to the Emperor, for he was

sincerely attached to the Empress, and still hoped again to see his son,

whom he loved most tenderly.'

"Fouché had been far from wishing the return of the Emperor. He was

long tired of obeying, and had, besides, undertaken another plan, which

Napoleon's arrival had broken off. The Emperor, however, put him

again at the head of the police, because Savary was worn out in that

employment, and a skillful man was wanted there. Fouché accepted the

office, but without giving up his plan of deposing the Emperor, to put

in his place either his son or a Republic under a President. He had

never ceased to correspond with Prince Metternich, and, if he is to be

believed, he tried to persuade the Emperor to abdicate in favour of

his son. That was also my opinion; but; coming from such a quarter,

the advice was not without danger for the person to whom it was given.

Besides, that advice having been rejected, it: was the duty of the

Minister either to think no more of his plan or to resign his

office. Fouché, however, remained in the Cabinet; and continued his

correspondence. The Emperor, who placed but little confidence in him;

kept a careful eye upon him. One evening the Emperor: had a great deal

of company at the Elysee, he told me not to go home, because he wished

to speak to me. When everybody was gone the Emperor stopped with Fouché

in the apartment next to the one I was in. The door remained half open.

They walked up and down together talking very calmly. I was therefore

greatly astonished when, after a quarter of, an hour, I heard the

Emperor say to him' gravely, 'You are a traitor! Why do you remain

Minister of the Police if you wish to betray me? It rests with me to

have you hanged, and everybody would rejoice at your death!' I did not

hear Fouché's reply, but the conversation lasted above half an hour

longer, the parties all the time walking up and down. When Fouché went

away he bade me cheerfully, good-night, and said that the Emperor had

gone back to his apartments.

"The next day the Emperor spoke to me of the previous night's

conversation. 'I suspected,' he said, 'that the wretch was in

correspondence with Vienna. I have had a banker's clerk arrested on his

return from that city. He has acknowledged that he brought a letter for

Fouché from Metternich, and that the answer was to be sent at a fixed

time to Bale, where a man was to wait for the bearer on the bridge:

I sent for Fouché a few days ago, and kept him three hours long in my

garden, hoping that in the course of a friendly conversation he would

mention that letter to me, but he said nothing. At last, yesterday

evening, I myself opened the subject.' (Here the Emperor repeated to me

the words I had heard the night before, 'You are a traitor,' etc.) He

acknowledged, in fact, continued the Emperor, 'that he had received such

a letter, but that it was not signed and that he had looked upon it as a

mystification. He showed it me. Now that letter was evidently an answer,

in which the writer again declared that he would listen to nothing more

concerning the Emperor, but that, his person excepted, it would be easy

to agree to all the rest. I expected that the Emperor would conclude his

narrative by expressing his anger against Fouché, but our conversation

turned on some other subject, and he talked no more of him.

"Two days afterwards I went to Fouché to solicit the return to Paris of

an officer of musqueteers who had been banished far from his family.

I found him at breakfast, and sat down next to him. Facing him sat a

stranger. 'Do you see this man?' he said to me; pointing with his spoon

to the stranger; 'he is an aristocrat, a Bourbonist, a Chouan; it is the

Abbe -----, one of the editors of the Journal des Debats--a sworn enemy

to Napoleon, a fanatic partisan of the Bourbons; he is one of our men.

I looked, at him. At every fresh epithet of the Minister the Abbe

bowed his head down to his plate with a smile of cheerfulness and

self-complacency, and with a sort of leer. I never saw a more ignoble

countenance. Fouché explained to me, on leaving the breakfast table, in

what manner all these valets of literature were men of his, and while

I acknowledged to myself that the system might be necessary, I scarcely

knew who were really more despicable--the wretches who thus sold

themselves to the highest bidder, or the minister who boasted of having

bought them, as if their acquisition were a glorious conquest. Judging

that the Emperor had spoken to me of the scene I have described above,

Fouché said to me, 'The Emperor's temper is soured by the resistance

he finds, and he thinks it is my fault. He does not know that I have

no power but by public opinion. To morrow I might hang before my door

twenty persons obnoxious to public opinion, though I should not be able

to imprison for four-and-twenty hours any individual favoured by it. As

I am never in a hurry to speak I remained silent, but reflecting on what

the Emperor had said concerning Fouché I found the comparison of their

two speeches remarkable. The master could have his minister hanged with

public applause, and the minister could hang--whom? Perhaps the master

himself, and with the same approbation. What a singular situation!--and

I believe they were both in the right; so far public opinion, equitable

in regard to Fouché, had swerved concerning the Emperor."

The wrath of Napoleon was confined to the Lower House, the Peers, from

the nature of their composition, being complacent and passive enough.

The vast majority of them were in fact mere shadows gathered round

the solid persons of Joseph, Lucien, Louis, and Jerome Bonaparte, and

Sieyès, Carnot, and the military men of the Revolution. As a political

body Napoleon despised them himself, and yet he wanted the nation to

respect them. But respect was impossible, and the volatile Parisians

made the Peers a constant object of their witticisms. The punsters of

Paris made the following somewhat ingenious play upon words. Lallemand,

Labedogure, Drouot, and Ney they called Las Quatre Pairs fides

(perfides), which in pronunciation may equally mean the four faithful

peers or the four perfidious men. The infamous Vandamme and another

were called Pair-siffles, the biased peers, or the biased pair, or

(persiffles) men made objects of derision. It was thus the lower orders

behaved while the existence of France was at stake.

By this time the thunder-cloud of war had gathered and was ready to

burst. Short as the time at his disposal was Napoleon prepared to meet

it with his accustomed energy. Firearms formed one of the most important

objects of attention. There were sufficient sabres, but muskets were

wanting. The Imperial factories could, in ordinary times, furnish

monthly 20,000 stands of new arms; by the extraordinary activity and

inducements offered this number was doubled. Workmen were also employed

in repairing the old muskets. There was displayed at this momentous

period the same activity in the capital as in 1793, and better directed,

though without the same ultimate success. The clothing of the army was

another difficulty, and this was got over by advancing large sums of

money to the cloth manufacturers beforehand. The contractors delivered

20,000 cavalry horses before the 1st of June, 10,000 trained horses had

been furnished by the dismounted gendarmerie. Twelve thousand artillery

horses were also delivered by the 1st of June, in addition to 6000 which

the army already had.

The facility with which the Ministers of Finance and of the Treasury

provided for all these expenses astonished everybody, as it was

necessary to pay for everything in ready money. The system of public

works was at the same time resumed throughout France. "It is easy to

see," said the workmen, "that 'the great contractor' is returned; all

was dead, now everything revives."

"We have just learnt," says a writer who was at Brussels at this time,

"that Napoleon had left the capital of France on the 12th; on the 15th

the frequent arrival of couriers excited extreme anxiety, and towards

evening General Muffing presented himself at the hotel of the Duke of

Wellington with despatches from Blücher. We were all aware that the

enemy was in movement, and the ignorant could not solve the enigma of

the Duke going tranquilly to the ball at the Duke of Richmond's--his

coolness was above their comprehension. Had he remained at his own hotel

a panic would have probably ensued amongst the inhabitants, which would

have embarrassed the intended movement of the British division of the

army.

"I returned home late, and we were still talking over our uneasiness

when we heard the trumpets sound. Before the sun had risen in full

splendour I heard martial music approaching, and soon beheld from

my windows the 5th reserve of the British army passing; the Highland

brigade were the first in advance, led by their noble thanes, the

bagpipes playing their several pibrochs; they were succeeded by the

28th, their bugles' note falling more blithely upon the ear. Each

regiment passed in succession with its band playing."

The gallant Duke of Brunswick was at a ball at the assembly-rooms in the

Rue Ducale on the night of the 15th of June when the French guns, which

he was one of the first to hear, were clearly distinguished at Brussels.

"Upon receiving the information that a powerful French force was

advancing in the direction of Charleroi. 'Then it is high time for me to

be off,' he exclaimed, and immediately quitted, the ball-room."

"At four the whole disposable force under the Duke of Wellington was

collected together, but in such haste that many of the officers had no

time to change their silk stockings and dancing-shoes; and some, quite

overcome by drowsiness, were seen lying asleep about the ramparts, still

holding, however, with a firm hand, the reins of their horses, which

were grazing by their sides.

"About five o'clock the word march' was heard in all directions, and

instantly the whole mass appeared to move simultaneously. I conversed

with several of the officers previous to their departure, and not one

appeared to have the slightest idea of an approaching engagement.

"The Duke of Wellington and his staff did not quit Brussels till past

eleven o'clock, and it was not till some time after they were gone that

it was generally known the whole French army, including a strong corps

of cavalry, was within a few miles of Quatre Bras."

CHAPTER VIII.

--[Like the preceding, this chapter first appeared in the 1836

edition, and is not from the pen of M. de Bourrienne.]--

1815.

THE BATTLES OF LIGNY AND QUATRE BRAS.

The moment for striking a decisive blow had now come, and accordingly, early on the morning of the 15th, the whole of the French army was in motion. The 2d corps proceeded to Marchiennes to attack the Prussian outposts at Thuin and Lobes, in order to secure the communication across the Sambre between those places. The 3d corps, covered by General Pajol's cavalry, advanced upon Charleroi, followed by the Imperial Guard and the 6th corps, with the necessary detachments of pontoniers. The remainder of the cavalry, under Grouchy, also advanced upon Charleroi, on the flanks of the 3d and 6th corps. The 4th corps was ordered to march upon the bridge of Chatelet.

On the approach of the French advanced guards an incessant skirmish

was maintained during the whole morning with the Prussians, who, after

losing many men, were compelled to yield to superior numbers. General

Zieten, finding it impossible, from the extent of frontier he had to

cover, to check the advance of the French, fell back towards Fleurus by

the road to Charleroi, resolutely contesting the advance of the enemy

wherever it was possible. In the repeated attacks sustained by him

he suffered considerable loss. It was nearly mid-day before a passage

through Charleroi was secured by the French army, and General Zieten

continued his retreat upon Fleurus, where he took up his position for

the night. Upon Zieten's abandoning, in the course of his retreat, the

chaussee which leads to Brussels through Quatre Bras, Marshal Ney, who

had only just been put in command on the left of the French army, was

ordered to advance by this road upon Gosselies, and found at Frasnes

part of the Duke of Wellington's army, composed of Nassau troops

under the command of Prince Bernard of Saxe-Weimar, who, after some

skirmishing, maintained his position. "Notwithstanding all the exertions

of the French at a moment when time was of such importance, they had

only been able to advance about fifteen English miles during the day,

with nearly fifteen hours of daylight."

It was the intention of Napoleon during his operations on this day to

effect a separation between the English and Prussian armies, in which

he had nearly succeeded. Napoleon's plan for this purpose, and the

execution of it by his army, were alike admirable, but it is hardly

probable that the Allied generals were taken by surprise, as it was

the only likely course which Napoleon could have taken. His line

of operation was on the direct road to Brussels, and there were no

fortified works to impede his progress, while from the nature of the

country his numerous and excellent cavalry could be employed with great

effect.

In the French accounts Marshal Ney was much blamed for not occupying

Quatre Bras with the whole of his force on the evening of the 16th. "Ney

might probably have driven back the Nassau troops at Quatre Bras, and

occupied that important position, but hearing a heavy cannonade on his

right flank, where General Zieten had taken up his position, he thought

it necessary to halt and detach a division in the direction of Fleurus.

He was severely censured by Napoleon for not having literally followed

his orders and pushed on to Quatre Bras." This accusation forms a

curious contrast with that made against Grouchy, upon whom Napoleon

threw the blame of the defeat at Waterloo, because he strictly fulfilled

his orders, by pressing the Prussians at Wavre, unheeding the cannonade

on his left, which might have led him to conjecture that the more

important contest between the Emperor and Wellington was at that moment

raging.

It was at six o'clock in the evening of the 16th that the Duke of

Wellington received the first information of the advance of the French

army; but it was not, however, until ten o'clock that positive news

reached him that the French army had moved upon the line of the Sambre.

This information induced him to push forward reinforcements on Quatre

Bras, at which place he himself arrived at an early hour on the 16th,

and immediately proceeded to Bry, to devise measures with Marshal

Blücher in order to combine their efforts. From the movement of

considerable masses of the French in front of the Prussians it was

evident that their first grand attack would be directed against them.

That this was Napoleon's object on the 16th maybe seen by his orders

to Ney and Grouchy to turn the right of the Prussians, and drive the

British from their position at Quatre Bras, and then to march down the

chaussee upon Bry in order effectually to separate the two armies. Ney

was accordingly detached for this purpose with 43,000 men. In the event

of the success of Marshal Ney he would have been enabled to detach a

portion of his forces for the purpose of making a flank attack upon

the Prussians in the rear of St. Amend, whilst Napoleon in person was

directing his main efforts against that village the strongest in the

Prussian position. Ney's reserve was at Frasnes, disposable either

for the purpose of supporting the attack on Quatre Bras or that at St.

Amand; and in case of Ney's complete success to turn the Prussian right

flank by marching on Bry.

CHAPTER IX.

1815

THE BATTLE OF WATERLOO. One of the most important struggles of modern times was now about to commence--a struggle which for many years was to decide the fate of Europe. Napoleon and Wellington at length stood opposite one another. They had never met; the military reputation of each was of the highest kind,

--[For full details of the Waterloo campaign see Siborne's History

of the War in France and Belgium in 1815, giving the English

contemporary account; Chesney's Waterloo Lectures, the best English

modern account, which has been accepted by the Prussians as pretty

nearly representing their view; and Waterloo by Lieutenant-Colonel

Prince Edouard de la Tour d'Auvergne (Paris, Plon, 1870), which may

be taken as the French modern account.

In judging this campaign the reader must guard himself from looking

on it as fought by two different armies-the English and the

Prussian-whose achievements are to be weighed against one another.

Wellington and Blücher were acting in a complete unison rare even

when two different corps of the same nation are concerned, but

practically unexampled in the case of two armies of different

nations. Thus the two forces became one army, divided into two

wings, one, the left (or Prussian wing) having been defeated by the

main body of the French at Ligny on the 16th of June, the right (or

English wing) retreated to hold the position at Waterloo, where the

left (or Prussian wing) was to join it, and the united force was to

crush the enemy. Thus there is no question as to whether the

Prussian army saved the English by their arrival, or whether the

English saved the Prussians by their resistance at Waterloo. Each

army executed well and gallantly its part in a concerted operation.

The English would never have fought at Waterloo if they had not

relied on the arrival of the Prussians. Had the Prussians not come

up on the afternoon of the 18th of June the English would have been

exposed to the same great peril of having alone to deal with the

mass of the French army, as the Prussians would have had to face if

they had found the English in full retreat. To investigate the

relative performances of the two armies is much the same as to

decide the respective merits of the two Prussian armies at Sadowa,

where one held the Austrians until the other arrived. Also in

reading the many interesting personal accounts of the campaign it

most be remembered that opinions about the chance of success in a

defensive struggle are apt to warp with the observer's position, as

indeed General Grant has remarked in answer to criticisms on his

army's state at the end of the first day of the battle of Shiloh or

Pittsburg Landing. The man placed in the front rank or fighting

line sees attack after attack beaten off. He sees only part of his

own losses, and most of the wounded disappear, and he also knows

something of the enemy's loss by seeing the dead in front of him.

Warmed by the contest, he thus believes in success. The man placed

in rear or advancing with reinforcements, having nothing of the

excitement of the struggle, sees only the long and increasing column

of wounded, stragglers, and perhaps of fliers. He sees his

companion fall without being able to answer the fire. He sees

nothing of the corresponding loss of the enemy, and he is apt to

take a most desponding view of the situation. Thus Englishmen

reading the accounts of men who fought at Waterloo are too ready to

disbelieve representations of what was taking place in the rear of

the army, and to think Thackeray's life-like picture in Vanity Fair

of the state of Brussels must be overdrawn. Indeed, in this very

battle of Waterloo, Zieten began to retreat when his help was most

required, because one of his aides de camp told him that the right

wing of the English was in full retreat. "This inexperienced young

man," says Muffling, p. 248, "had mistaken the great number of

wounded going, or being taken, to the rear to be dressed, for

fugitives, and accordingly made a false report." Further, reserves

do not say much of their part or, sometimes, no part of the fight,

and few people know that at least two English regiments actually

present on the field of Waterloo hardly fired a shot till the last

advance.

The Duke described the army as the worst he ever commanded, and said

that if he had had his Peninsular men, the fight would have been

over much sooner. But the Duke, sticking to ideas now obsolete, had

no picked corps. Each man, trusting in and trusted by his comrades,

fought under his own officers and under his own regimental colours.

Whatever they did not know, the men knew how to die, and at the end

of the day a heap of dead told where each regiment and battery had

stood.]--

the career of both had been marked by signal victory; Napoleon had

carried his triumphant legions across the stupendous Alps, over the

north of Italy, throughout Prussia, Austria, Russia, and even to the

foot of the Pyramids, while Wellington, who had been early distinguished

in India, had won immortal renown in the Peninsula, where he had

defeated, one after another, the favourite generals of Napoleon. He was

now to make trial of his prowess against their Master.

Among the most critical events of modern times the battle of Waterloo

stands conspicuous. This sanguinary encounter at last stopped the

torrent of the ruthless and predatory ambition of the French, by which

so many countries had been desolated. With the peace which immediately

succeeded it confidence was restored to Europe.

CHAPTER X.

1815

Interview with Lavallette--Proceedings in the French Chambers--

Second abdication of Napoleon--He retires to Rochefort, negotiates

with Captain Maitland, and finally embarks in the 'Bellerophon'.

One of the first public men to see Napoleon after his return from

Waterloo was Lavallette. "I flew," says he, "to the Elysee to see the

Emperor: he summoned me into his closet, and as soon as he saw me, he

came to meet me with a frightful epileptic 'laugh. 'Oh, my God!' he

said, raising his eyes to heaven, and walking two or three times up and

down the room. This appearance of despair was however very short. He

soon recovered his coolness, and asked me what was going forward in

the Chamber of Representatives. I could not attempt to hide that party

spirit was there carried to a high pitch, and that the majority seemed

determined to require his abdication, and to pronounce it themselves

if he did not concede willingly. 'How is that?' he said. 'If proper

measures are not taken the enemy will be before the gates of Paris

in eight days. Alas!' he added, 'have I accustomed them to such great

victories that they knew not how to bear one day's misfortune? What will

become of poor France? I have done all I could for her!' He then heaved

a deep sigh. Somebody asked to speak to him, and I left him, with a

direction to come back at a later hour.

"I passed the day in seeking information among all my friends and

acquaintances. I found in all of them either the greatest dejection or

an extravagant joy, which they disguised by feigned alarm and pity for

myself, which I repulsed with great indignation. Nothing favourable was

to be expected from the Chamber of Representatives. They all said they

wished for liberty, but, between two enemies who appeared ready to

destroy it, they preferred the foreigners, the friends of the Bourbons,

to Napoleon, who might still have prolonged the struggle, but that

he alone would not find means to save them and erect the edifice of

liberty. The Chamber of Peers presented a much sadder spectacle. Except

the intrepid Thibaudeau, who till, the last moment expressed himself

with admirable energy against the Bourbons, almost all the others

thought of nothing else but getting out of the dilemma with the least

loss they could. Some took no pains to hide their wish of bending again

under the Bourbon yoke."

On the evening of Napoleon's return to Paris he sent for Benjamin

Constant to come to him at the Elysee about seven o'clock. The Chambers

had decreed their permanence, and proposals for abdication had reached

the Emperor. He was serious but calm. In reply to some words on the

disaster of Waterloo he said, "The question no longer concerns me,

but France. They wish me to abdicate. Have they calculated upon the

inevitable consequences of this abdication? It is round me, round my

name, that the army rallies: to separate me from it is to disband it.

If I abdicate to-day, in two days' time you will no longer have an army.

These poor fellows do not understand all your subtleties. Is it believed

that axioms in metaphysics, declarations of right, harangues from the

tribune, will put a stop to the disbanding of an army? To reject me when

I landed at Cannes I can conceive possible; to abandon me now is what I

do not understand. It is not when the enemy is at twenty-five leagues'

distance that any Government can be overturned with impunity. Does any

one imagine that the Foreign Powers will be won over by fine words? If

they had dethroned me fifteen days ago there would have been some spirit

in it; but as it is, I make part of what strangers attack, I make part,

then, of what France is bound to defend. In giving me up she gives up

herself, she avows her weakness, she acknowledges herself conquered,

she courts the insolence of the conqueror. It is not the love of liberty

which deposes me, but Waterloo; it is fear, and a fear of which your

enemies will take advantage. And then what title has the Chamber to

demand my abdication? It goes out of its lawful sphere in doing so; it

has no authority. It is my right, it is my duty to dissolve it."

"He then hastily ran over the possible consequences of such a step.

Separated from the Chambers, he could only be considered as a military

chief: but the army would be for him; that would always join him who

can lead it against foreign banners, and to this might be added all that

part of the population which is equally powerful and easily, led in such

a state of things. As if chance intended to strengthen Napoleon in this

train of thought, while he was speaking the avenue of Marigny resounded

with the cries of 'Vive l'Empereur!' A crowd of men, chiefly of the

poor and labouring class, pressed forward into the avenue, full of wild

enthusiasm, and trying to scale the walls to make an offer to

Napoleon to rally round and defend him. Bonaparte for some time looked

attentively at this group. 'You see it is so,' said he; 'those are not

the men whom I have loaded with honours and riches. What do these people

owe me? I found them--I left them--poor. The instinct of necessity

enlightens them; the voice of the country speaks by their months; and if

I choose, if I permit it, in an hour the refractory Chambers will have

ceased to exist. But the life of a man is not worth purchasing at such

a price: I did not return from the Isle of Elba that Paris should be

inundated with blood: He did not like the idea of flight.' 'Why should I

not stay here?' he repeated. 'What do you suppose they would do to a man

disarmed like me? I will go to Malmaison: I can live there in retirement

with some friends, who most certainly will come to see me only for my

own sake.'

"He then described with complacency and even with a sort of gaiety this

new kind of life. Afterwards, discarding an idea which sounded like mere

irony, he went on. 'If they do not like me to remain in France, where am

I to go? To England? My abode there would be ridiculous or disquieting.

I should be tranquil; no one would believe it. Every fog would be

suspected of concealing my landing on the coast. At the first sign of

a green coat getting out of a boat one party would fly from France, the

other would put France out of the pale of the law. I should compromise

everybody, and by dint of the repeated "Behold he comes!" I should feel

the temptation to set out. America would be more suitable; I could live

there with dignity. But once more, what is there to fear? What sovereign

can, without injuring himself, persecute me? To one I have restored half

his dominions; how often has the other pressed my hand, calling me

a great man! And as to the third, can he find pleasure or honour in

humiliation of his son-in-law? Would they wish to proclaim in the face

of the world that all they did was through fear? As to the rest, I shall

see: I do not wish to employ open force. I came in the hope of combining

our last resources: they abandoned me; they do so with the same facility

with which they received me back. Well, then, let them efface, if

possible, this double stain of weakness and levity! Let them cover it

over with some sacrifice, with some glory! Let them do for the country

what they will not do for me. I doubt it. To-day, those who deliver up

Bonaparte say that it is to save France: to-morrow, by delivering up

France, they will prove that it was to save their own heads.'"

The humiliating scenes which rapidly succeeded one another; and which

ended in Napoleon's unconditional surrender, may be briefly told.

As soon as possible after his arrival at Paris he assembled his

counsellors, when he declared himself in favour of still resisting.

The question, however, was, whether the Chambers would support him; and

Lafayette being treacherously informed, it is said by Fouché, that it

was intended to dissolve the Chambers, used his influence to get the

chambers to adopt the propositions he laid before them. By these the

independence of the nation was asserted to be in danger; the sittings

of the Chamber were declared permanent, and all attempts to dissolve it

were pronounced treasonable. The propositions were adopted, and being

communicated to the Chamber of Peers, that body also declared itself

permanent. Whatever might have been the intentions of Bonaparte, it was

now manifest that there were no longer any hopes of his being able to

make his will the law of the nation; after some vacillation, therefore,

on 22d June he published the following declaration:

TO THE FRENCH PEOPLE

FRENCHMEN!--In commencing war for maintaining the national

independence, I relied on the union of all efforts, of all wills,

and the concurrence of all the national authorities. I had reason

to hope for success, and I braved all the declarations of the powers

against me. Circumstances appear to me changed. I offer myself a

sacrifice to the hatred of the enemies of France. May they prove

sincere in their declarations, and really have directed them only

against my power. My political life is terminated, and I proclaim

my son under the title of:

NAPOLEON II.,

EMPEROR OF THE FRENCH.

The present Ministers will provisionally form the Council of the

Government. The interest which I take in my son induces me to

invite the Chambers to form without delay the Regency by a law.

Unite all for the public safety, that you may continue an

independent nation.

(Signed) NAPOLEON.

This declaration was conveyed to both the Chambers, which voted

deputations to the late Emperor, accepting this abdication, but in their

debates the nomination of his son to the succession was artfully eluded.

The Chamber of Representatives voted the nomination of a Commission of

five persons, three to be chosen from that Chamber, and two from the

Chamber of Peers, for the purpose of provisionally exercising the

functions of Government, and also that the Ministers should continue

their respective functions under the authority of this Commission. The

persons chosen by the Chamber of Representatives were Carnot, Fouché,

and Grenier, those nominated by the Peers were the Duke of Vicenza

(Caulaincourt) and Baron Quinette. The Commission nominated five persons

to the Allied army for the purpose of proposing peace. These proceedings

were, however, rendered of little importance by the resolution of the

victors to advance to Paris.

Napoleon's behaviour just before and immediately after the crisis is

well described by Lavallette. "The next day," he observes, "I returned

to the Emperor. He had received the most positive accounts of the state

of feeling in the Chamber of Representatives. The reports had, however,

been given to him with some little reserve, for he did not seem to

me convinced that the resolution was really formed to pronounce his

abdication, I was better informed on the matter, and I came to him

without having the least doubt in my mind that the only thing he could

do was to descend once more from the throne. I communicated to him all

the particulars I had just received, and I did not hesitate to advise

him to follow the only course worthy of him. He listened to me with a

sombre air, and though he was in some measure master of himself, the

agitation of his mind and the sense of his position betrayed themselves

in his face and in all his motions. 'I know,' said I, 'that your Majesty

may still keep the sword drawn, but with whom, and against whom? Defeat

has chilled the courage of every one; the army is still in the greatest

confusion. Nothing is to be expected from Paris, and the coup d'etat

of the 18th Brumaire cannot be renewed.'--'That thought,' he replied,

stopping, 'is far from my mind. I will hear nothing more about myself.

But poor France!' At that moment Savary and Caulaincourt entered, and

having drawn a faithful picture of the exasperation of the Deputies,

they persuaded him to assent to abdication. Some words he uttered proved

to us that he would have considered death preferable to that step; but

still he took it.

"The great act of abdication being performed, he remained calm during

the whole day, giving his advice on the position the army should take,

and on the manner in which the negotiations with the enemy ought to be

conducted. He insisted especially on the necessity of proclaiming his

son Emperor, not so much for the advantage of the child as with a

view to concentrate all the power of sentiments and affections.

Unfortunately, nobody would listen to him. Some men of sense and courage

rallied found that proposition in the two Chambers, but fear swayed the

majority; and among those who remained free from it many thought that

a public declaration of liberty, and the resolution to defend it at any

price, would make the enemy and the Bourbons turn back. Strange delusion

of weakness and want of experience! It must, however, be respected, for

it had its source in love of their country; but, while we excuse it, can

it be justified? The population of the metropolis had resumed its usual

appearance, which was that of complete indifference, with a resolution

to cry 'Long live the King!' provided the King arrived well escorted;

for one must not judge of the whole capital by about one-thirtieth part

of the inhabitants, who called for arms, and declared themselves warmly

against the return of the exiled family.

"On the 23d I returned to the Elysee. The Emperor had been for two hours

in his bath. He himself turned the discourse on the retreat he ought

to choose, and spoke of the United States. I rejected the idea without

reflection, and with a degree of vehemence that surprised him. 'Why

not America?' he asked. I answered, 'Because Moreau retired there.'

The observation was harsh, and I should never have forgiven myself

for having expressed it; if I had not retracted my advice a few days

afterwards. He heard it without any apparent ill-humour, but I have no

doubt that it must have made an unfavourable impression on his mind. I

strongly urged on his choosing England for his asylum.

"The Emperor went to Malmaison. He was accompanied thither by the

Duchesse de St. Leu, Bertrand and his family, and the Duc de Bassano.

The day that he arrived there he proposed to me to accompany him abroad.

Drouot,' he said, 'remains in France. I see the Minister of War wishes

him not to be lost to his country. I dare not complain, but it is a

great loss for me; I never met with a better head, or a more upright

heart. That man was formed to be a prime minister anywhere.' I declined

to accompany him at the time, saying, 'My wife is enceinte; I cannot

make up my mind to leave her. Allow me some time, and I will join you

wherever you may be. I have remained faithful to your Majesty in better

times, and you may reckon upon me now. Nevertheless, if my wife did not

require all my attention, I should do better to go with you, for I have

sad forebodings respecting my fate."

"The Emperor made no answer; but I saw by the expression of his

countenance that he had no better augury of my fate than I had. However,

the enemy was approaching, and for the last three days he had solicited

the Provisional Government to place a frigate at his disposal, with

which he might proceed to America. It had been promised him; he was even

pressed to set off; but he wanted to be the bearer of the order to

the captain to convey him to the United States, and that order did

not arrive. We all felt that the delay of a single hour might put his

freedom in jeopardy.