"After we had talked the subject over among ourselves, I went to him

and strongly pointed out to him how dangerous it might be to prolong

his stay. He observed that he could not go without the order. 'Depart,

nevertheless,' I replied; your presence on board the ship will still

have a great influence over Frenchmen; cut the cables, promise money

to the crew, and if the captain resist have him put on shore, and hoist

your sails. I have no doubt but Fouché has sold you to the Allies.'--

'I believe it also; but go and make the last effort with the Minister

of Marine.' I went off immediately to M. Decres. He was in bed, and

listened to me with an indifference that made my blood boil. He said to

me, 'I am only a Minister. Go to Fouché; speak to the Government. As for

me, I can do nothing. Good-night.' And so saying he covered himself up

again in his blankets. I left him; but I could not succeed in speaking

either to Fouché or to any of the others. It was two o'clock in the

morning when I returned to Malmaison; the Emperor was in bed. I was

admitted to his chamber, where I gave him an account of the result of

my mission, and renewed my entreaties. He listened to me, but made no

answer. He got up, however, and spent a part of the night in walking up

and down the room.

"The following day was the last of that sad drama. The Emperor had gone

to bed again, and slept a few hours. I entered his cabinet at about

twelve o'clock. 'If I had known you were here,' he said, 'I would have

had you called in.' He then gave me, on a subject that interested him

personally, some instructions which it is needless for me to repeat.

Soon after I left him, full of anxiety respecting his fate, my heart

oppressed with grief, but still far from suspecting the extent to which

both the rigour of fortune and the cruelty of his enemies would be

carried."

All the morning of the 29th of June the great road from St. Germain

rung with the cries of "Vive l'Empereur!" proceeding from the troops who

passed under the walls of Malmaison. About mid-day General Becker, sent

by the Provisional Government, arrived. He had been appointed to attend

Napoleon. Fouché knew that General Becker had grievances against the

Emperor, and thought to find in him willing agent. He was greatly

deceived, for the General paid to the Emperor a degree of respect highly

to his honour. Time now became pressing. The Emperor, at the moment of

departure, sent a message by General Becker himself to the Provisional

Government, offering to march as a private citizen at the head of the

troops. He promised to repulse Blücher, and afterwards to continue

his route. Upon the refusal of the Provisional Government he quitted

Malmaison on the 29th. Napoleon and part of his suite took the road to

Rochefort. He slept at Rambouillet on the 29th of June, on the 30th at

Tours, on the 1st of July he arrived at Niort, and on the 3d reached

Rochefort, on the western coast of France, with the intention of

escaping to America; but the whole western seaboard was so vigilantly

watched by British men-of-war that, after various plans and devices,

he was obliged to abandon the attempt in despair. He was lodged at the

house of the prefect, at the balcony of which he occasionally showed

himself to acknowledge the acclamations of the people.

During his stay here a French naval officer, commanding a Danish

merchant vessel, generously offered to some of Napoleon's adherents to

further his escape. He proposed to take Napoleon alone, and undertook

to conceal his person so effectually as to defy the most rigid scrutiny,

and offered to sail immediately to the United States of America. He

required no other compensation than a small sum to indemnify the owners

of his ship for the loss this enterprise might occasion them. This was

agreed to by Bertrand upon certain stipulations.

On the evening of the 8th of July Napoleon reached Fouras, receiving

everywhere testimonies of attachment. He proceeded on board the Saale,

one of the two frigates appointed by the Provisional Government to

convey him to the United States, and slept on board that night. Very

early on the following morning he visited the fortifications of that

place, and returned to the frigate for dinner. On the evening of the

9th of July he despatched Count Las Cases and the Duke of Rovigo to

the commander of the English squadron, for the purpose of ascertaining

whether the passports promised by the Provisional Government to enable

him to proceed to America had been received. A negative answer was

returned; it was at the same time signified that the Emperor would be

attacked by the English squadron if he attempted to sail under a flag of

truce, and it was intimated that every neutral vessel would be examined,

and probably sent into an English port. Las Cases affirms that Napoleon

was recommended to proceed to England by Captain Maitland, who assured

him that he would experience no ill-treatment there. The English ship

'Bellerophon' then anchored in the Basque roads, within sight of the

French vessels of war. The coast being, as we have stated, entirely

blockaded by the English squadron, the Emperor was undecided as to the

course he should pursue. Neutral vessels and 'chasse-marees', manned by

young naval officers, were proposed, and many other plans were devised.

Napoleon disembarked on the 12th at the Isle of Aix with acclamations

ringing on every side. He had quitted the frigates because they refused

to sail, owing either to the weakness of character of the commandant,

or in consequence of his receiving fresh orders from the Provisional

Government. Many persons thought that the enterprise might be undertaken

with some probability of success; the wind, however, remained constantly

in the wrong quarter.

Las Cases returned to the Bellerophon at four o'clock in the morning

of the 14th, to inquire whether any reply had been received to the

communication made by Napoleon. Captain Maitland stated that he expected

to receive it every moment, and added that, if the Emperor would then

embark for England, he was authorized to convey him thither. He added,

moreover, that in his own opinion, and many other officers present

concurred with him, he had no doubt Napoleon would be treated in England

with all-possible attention and respect; that in England neither

the King nor Ministers exercised the same arbitrary power as on the

Continent; that the English indeed possessed generosity of sentiment and

a liberality of opinions superior even to those of the King. Las Cases

replied that he would make Napoleon acquainted with Captain Maitland's

offer, and added, that he thought the Emperor would not hesitate to

proceed to England, so as to be able to continue his voyage to the

United States. He described France, south of the Loire, to be in

commotion, the hopes of the people resting on Napoleon as long as he was

present; the propositions everywhere made to him, and at every moment;

his decided resolution not to become the pretext of a civil war; the

generosity he had exhibited in abdicating, in order to render the

conclusion of a peace more practicable; and his settled determination

to banish himself, in order to render that peace more prompt and more

lasting.

The messengers returned to their Master, who, after some doubt and

hesitation, despatched General Gourgaud with the following well-known

letter to the Prince Regent:--

ROCHEFORT, 13th July 1815.

ROYAL HIGHNESS--A victim to the factions which divide my country,

and to the hostility of the greatest Powers of Europe, I have

terminated my political career, and come, like Themistocles, to

share the hospitality of the British people. I place myself under

the protection of their laws, and I claim that from your Royal

Highness as the most powerful, the most constant, and the most

generous of my enemies.

(Signed) NAPOLEON.

About four P.M. Las Cases and Savory returned to the 'Bellerophon',

where they had a long conversation with Captain Maitland, in the

presence of Captains Sartorius and Gambler, who both declare that

Maitland repeatedly warned Napoleon's adherents not to entertain the

remotest idea that he was enabled to offer any pledge whatever to their

Master beyond the simple assurance that he would convey him in safety

to the English coast, there to await the determination of the British

Government.

Napoleon had begun to prepare for his embarkation before daylight on the

15th. It was time that he did so, for a messenger charged with orders to

arrest him had already arrived at Rochefort from the new Government. The

execution of this order was delayed by General Becker for a few hours

in order to allow Napoleon sufficient time to escape. At daybreak, he

quitted the 'Epervier', and was enthusiastically cheered by the ship's

company so long as the boat was within hearing. Soon after six he was

received on board the 'Bellerophon' with respectful silence, but without

those honours generally paid to persons of high rank. Bonaparte was

dressed in the uniform of the 'chasseurs a cheval' of the Imperial

Guard, and wore the Grand Cross of the Legion of Honour.

On entering the vessel he took off his hat, and addressing Captain

Maitland, said, "I am come to throw myself on the protection of the laws

of England." Napoleon's manner was well calculated to make a favourable

impression on those with whom he conversed. He requested to be

introduced to the officers of the ship, and put various questions to

each. He then went round the ship, although he was informed that the men

were cleaning and scouring, and remarked upon anything which struck

him as differing from what he had seen on French vessels. The clean

appearance of the men surprised him. "He then observed," says Captain

Maitland, to whose interesting narrative we refer, "'I can see no

sufficient reason why your ships should beat the French ones with so

much ease. The finest men-of-war in your service are French; a French

ship is heavier in every respect than one of yours; she carries more

guns, and those guns are of a larger calibre, and she has a great

many more men.'" His inquiries, which were minute, proved that he had

directed much attention to the French navy.

On the first morning Napoleon took breakfast in the English fashion,

but observing that his distinguished prisoner did not eat much, Captain

Maitland gave direction that for the future a hot breakfast should be

served up after the French manner. 'The Superb', the Admiral's ship,

which had been seen in the morning, was now approaching. Immediately on

her anchoring Captain Maitland went on board to give an account of all

that had happened, and received the Admiral's approbation of what he

had done. In the afternoon Admiral Sir Henry Hotham was introduced to

Napoleon, and invited by him to dinner. This was arranged, in order to

make it more agreeable to him, by Bonaparte's maitre d'hotel. On dinner

being announced Napoleon led the way, and seated himself in the centre

at one side of the table, desiring Sir Henry Hotham to take the seat

on his right, and Madame Bertrand that on his left hand. On this day

Captain Maitland took his seat at the end of the table, but on the

following day, by Napoleon's request, he placed himself on his right

hand, whilst General Bertrand took the top. Two of the ship's officers

dined with the Emperor daily, by express invitation. The conversation

of Napoleon was animated. He made many inquiries as to the family and

connections of Captain Maitland, and in alluding to Lord Lauderdale, who

was sent as ambassador to Paris during the administration of Mr. Fox,

paid that nobleman some compliments and said of the then Premier, "Had

Mr. Fox lived it never would have come to this; but his death put an end

to all hopes of peace."

On one occasion he ordered his camp-bed to be displayed for the

inspection of the English officers. In two small leather packages were

comprised the couch of the once mighty ruler of the Continent. The steel

bedstead which, when folded up, was only two feet long, and eighteen

inches wide, occupied one case, while the other contained the mattress

and curtains. The whole was so contrived as to be ready for use in three

minutes.

Napoleon spoke in terms of high praise of the marines on duty in the

Bellerophon, and on going through their ranks exclaimed to Bertrand,

"How much might be done with a hundred thousand such soldiers as these!"

In putting them through their exercise he drew a contrast between

the charge of the bayonet as made by the English and the French, and

observed that the English method of fixing the bayonet was faulty, as

it might easily be twisted off when in close action. In visiting

Admiral Hotham's flag-ship, the 'Superb', he manifested the same active

curiosity as in former instances, and made the same minute inquiries

into everything by which he was surrounded. During breakfast one of

Napoleon's suite, Colonel Planat, was much affected, and even wept, on

witnessing the humiliation of his Master.

On the return of Bonaparte from the Superb to the 'Bellerophon' the

latter ship was got under weigh and made sail for England. When passing

within a cable's length of the 'Superb' Napoleon inquired of Captain

Maitland if he thought that distance was sufficient for action. The

reply of the English officer was characteristic; he told the Emperor

that half the distance, or even less, would suit much better. Speaking

of Sir Sidney Smith, Bonaparte repeated the anecdote connected with his

quarrel at St. Jean d'Acre with that officer, which has already been

related in one of the notes earlier in these volumes. Patting Captain

Maitland on the shoulder, he observed, that had it not been for the

English navy he would have been Emperor of the East, but that wherever

he went he was sure to find English ships in the way.

The 'Bellerophon', with Bonaparte on board, sighted the coast of England

on Sunday, the 23d of July 1815, and at daybreak on the 24th the vessel

approached Dartmouth. No sooner had the ship anchored than an order from

Loral Keith was delivered to Captain Maitland, from which the following

is an extract:

Extract of an Order from Admiral Viscount Keith, G. C. B., addressed

to Captain Maitland, of H. M. S. "Bellerophon," dated Ville de

Paris, Hamoaze, 23d July 1815.

Captain Sartorius, of His Majesty's ship 'Slaney', delivered to me

last night, at eleven o'clock, your despatch of the 14th instant,

acquainting me that Bonaparte had proposed to embark on board the

ship you command, and that you had acceded thereto, with the

intention of proceeding to Torbay, there to wait for further orders.

I lost no time in forwarding your letter by Captain Sartorius to the

Lords Commissioners of the Admiralty, in order that their Lordships

might, through him, be acquainted with every circumstance that had

occurred on an occasion of so much importance; and you may expect

orders from their Lordships for your further guidance. You are to

remain in Torbay until you receive such orders; and in the meantime,

in addition to the directions already in your possession, you are

most positively ordered to prevent every person whatever from coming

on board the ship you command, except the officers and men who

compose her crew; nor is any person whatever, whether in His

Majesty's service or not, who does not belong, to the ship, to be

suffered to come on board, either for the purpose of visiting the

officers, or on any pretence whatever, without express permission

either from the Lords Commissioners of the Admiralty or from me. As

I understand from Captain Sartorius that General Gourgaud refused to

deliver the letter with which he was charged for the Prince Regent

to any person except His Royal Highness, you are to take him out of

the 'Slaney' into the ship you command, until you receive directions

from the Admiralty on the subject, and order that ship back to

Plymouth Sound, when Captain Sartorius returns from London.

It was stated about this time, in some of the English newspapers, that

St. Helena would be the place of exile of the ex-Emperor, the bare

report of which evidently caused great pain to Napoleon and his suite.

General Gourgaud was obliged to return to the 'Bellerophon', not having

been suffered to go on shore to deliver the letter from Bonaparte to the

Prince Regent with which he had been entrusted. The ship which bore the

modern Alexander soon became a natural object of attraction to the

whole neighbourhood, and was constantly surrounded by crowds of boats.

Napoleon frequently showed himself to the people from shore with a

view of gratifying their curiosity. On the 25th of July the number of

guard-boats which surrounded the vessel was greatly increased; and the

alarm of the captives became greater as the report was strengthened as

to the intention of conveying Bonaparte to St. Helena.

In conversation with Captain Maitland, Napoleon, who seemed to be aware

that the English fishermen united the occupation of smugglers to their

usual trade; stated that many of them had been bribed by him, and

had assisted in the escape of French prisoners of war. They had even

proposed to deliver Louis XVIII. into his power, but as they would .not

answer for the safety of his life, Napoleon refused the offer. Upon the

arrival of despatches from London the 'Bellerophon' got under weigh for

Plymouth Sound on the 26th of July. This movement tended still

further to disconcert the ex-Emperor and his followers. In passing the

breakwater Bonaparte could not withhold his admiration of that work,

which he considered highly honourable to the public spirit of the

nation, and, alluding to his own improvements at Cherbourg, expressed

his apprehensions that they would now be suffered to fall into decay.

Captain Maitland was directed by Lord Keith to observe the utmost

vigilance to prevent the escape of his prisoners, and with this view

no boat was permitted to approach the Bellerophon; the 'Liffey' and

'Eurotas' were ordered to take up an anchorage on each side of the ship,

and further precautions were adopted at night.

On the 27th of July Captain Maitland proceeded to Lord Keith, taking

with him Bonaparte's original letter to the Prince Regent, which,

as General Gourgaud had not been permitted to deliver it personally,

Napoleon now desired to be transmitted through the hands of the Admiral.

As Lord Keith had now received instructions from his Government as

to the manner in which Napoleon was to be treated, he lost no time in

paying his respects to the fallen chief.

On the 31st of July the anxiously-expected order of the English

Government arrived. In this document, wherein the ex-Emperor was styled

"General Bonaparte," it was notified that he was to be exiled to St.

Helena, the place of all others most dreaded by him and his devoted

adherents. It was, moreover, specified that he might be allowed to take

with him three officers, and his surgeon, and twelve servants. To his

own selection was conceded the choice of these followers, with the

exclusion, however, of Savary and Lallemand, who were on no account to

be permitted any further to share his fortunes. This prohibition gave

considerable alarm to those individuals, who became excessively anxious

as to their future disposal, and declared that to deliver them up to the

vengeance of the Bourbons would be a violation of faith and honour.

Napoleon himself complained bitterly on the subject of his destination,

and said, "The idea, of it is horrible to me. To be placed for life on

an island within the tropics, at an immense distance from any land, cut

off from all communication with the world, and everything that I hold

dear in it!--c'est pis que la cage de fer de Tamerlan. I would prefer

being delivered up to the Bourbons. Among other insults," said he,--"but

that is a mere bagatelle, a very secondary consideration--they style

me General! They can have no right to call me General; they may as well

call me 'Archbishop,' for I was Head of the Church as well as of the

Army. If they do not acknowledge me as Emperor they ought as First

Counsul; they have sent ambassadors to me as such; and your King, in

his letters, styled me 'Brother.' Had they confined me in the Tower of

London, or one of the fortresses in England (though not what I had hoped

from the generosity of the English people), I should not have so much

cause of complaint; but to banish me to an island within the tropics!

They might as well have signed my death-warrant at once, for it is

impossible a man of my habit of body can live long in such a climate."

Having so expressed himself, he wrote a second letter to the Prince

Regent, which was forwarded through Lord Keith. It was the opinion of

Generals Montholon and Gourgaud that Bonaparte would sooner kill himself

than go to St. Helena. This idea arose from his having been heard

emphatically to exclaim, "I will not go to St. Helena!" The generals,

indeed, declared that were he to give his own consent to be so exiled

they would themselves prevent him. In consequence of this threat Captain

Maitland was instructed by Lord Keith to tell those gentlemen that as

the English law awarded death to murderers, the crime they meditated

would inevitably conduct them to the gallows.

Early on the morning of the 4th of August the 'Bellerophon' was ordered

to be ready at a moment's notice for sea. The reason of this was

traced to a circumstance which is conspicuous among the many remarkable

incidents by which Bonaparte's arrival near the English coast was

characterised. A rumour reached Lord Keith that a 'habeas corpus' had

been procured with a view of delivering Napoleon from the custody he was

then in. This, however, turned out to be a subpoena for Bonaparte as a

witness at a trial in the Court of King's Bench; and, indeed, a person

attempted to get on board the Bellerophon to serve the document; but

he was foiled in his intention; though, had he succeeded, the subpoena

would, in the situation wherein the ex-Emperor then stood, have been

without avail.

On the 5th Captain Maitland, having been summoned to the flag-ship of

Lord Keith, acquainted General Bertrand that he would convey to the

Admiral anything which Bonaparte (who had expressed an urgent wish to

see his lordship) might desire to say to him. Bertrand requested the

captain to delay his departure until a document, then in preparation,

should be completed: the "PROTEST OF HIS MAJESTY THE LATE EMPEROR OF THE

FRENCH, ETC."

Captain Maitland denied that any snare was laid for Bonaparte, either

by himself or by the English Government, and stated that the precautions

for preventing the escape of Napoleon from Rochefort were so well

ordered that it was impossible to evade them; and that the fugitive was

compelled to surrender himself to the English ship.

On the 7th of August Bonaparte, with the suite he had selected, was

transferred from the 'Bellerophon' to the 'Northumberland'. Lord Keith's

barge was prepared for his conveyance to the latter vessel, and his

lordship was present on the occasion. A captain's guard was turned out,

and as Napoleon left the 'Bellerophon' the marines presented arms, and

the drum was beaten as usual in saluting a general officer. When he

arrived on board the Northumberland the squadron got under weigh, and

Napoleon sailed for the place of his final exile and grave.'

--[For the continuation of Napoleon's voyage see Chapter XIII.]--

CHAPTER XI.

1815.

My departure from Hamburg-The King at St. Denis--Fouché appointed

Minister of the Police--Delay of the King's entrance into Paris--

Effect of that delay--Fouché's nomination due to the Duke of

Wellington--Impossibility of resuming my post--Fouché's language

with respect to the Bourbons--His famous postscript--Character of

Fouché--Discussion respecting the two cockades--Manifestations of

public joy repressed by Fouché--Composition of the new Ministry--

Kind attention of Blücher--The English at St. Cloud--Blücher in

Napoleon's cabinet--My prisoner become my protector--Blücher and the

innkeeper's dog--My daughter's marriage contract--Rigid etiquette--

My appointment to the Presidentship of the Electoral College of the

Yonne--My interview with Fouché--My audience of the King--His

Majesty made acquainted with my conversation with Fouché--The Duke

of Otranto's disgrace--Carnot deceived by Bonaparte--My election as

deputy--My colleague, M. Raudot--My return to Paris--Regret caused

by the sacrifice of Ney--Noble conduct of Macdonald--A drive with

Rapp in the Bois de Boulogne--Rapp's interview with Bonaparte in

1815--The Duc de Berri and Rapp--My nomination to the office of

Minister of State--My name inscribed by the hand of Louis XVIII.--

Conclusion.

The fulfilment of my prediction was now at hand, for the result of the

Battle of Waterloo enabled Louis XVIII. to return to his dominions. As

soon as I heard of the King's departure from Ghent I quitted Hamburg,

and travelled with all possible haste in the hope of reaching Paris in

time to witness his Majesty's entrance. I arrived at St. Denis on the

7th of July, and, notwithstanding the intrigues that were set on foot,

I found an immense number of persons assembled to meet the King. Indeed,

the place was so crowded that it was with the greatest difficulty I

could procure even a little garret for my lodging.

Having resumed my uniform of a captain of the National Guard, I

proceeded immediately to the King's palace. The salon was filled with

ladies and gentlemen who had come to congratulate the King on his

return. At St. Denis I found my family, who, not being aware that I had

left Hamburg, were much surprised to see me.

They informed me that the Parisians were all impatient for the return of

the King--a fact of which I could judge by the opposition manifested to

the free expression of public feeling. Paris having been declared in a

state of blockade, the gates were closed, and no one was permitted to

leave the capital, particularly by the Barriere de la Chapelle. It is

true that special permission might be obtained, and with tolerable ease,

by those who wished to leave the city; but the forms to be observed for

obtaining the permission deterred the mass of the people from proceeding

to St. Denis, which, indeed, was the sole object of the regulation. As

it had been resolved to force Fouché and the tri-coloured cockade upon

the King, it was deemed necessary to keep away from his Majesty all who

might persuade him to resist the proposed measures. Madame de Bourrienne

told me that on her arrival at St. Denis she called upon M. Hue and M.

Lefebvre, the King's physician, who both acquainted her with those fatal

resolutions. Those gentlemen, however, assured her that the King would

resolutely hold out against the tri-coloured cockade, but the nomination

of the ill-omened man appeared inevitable.

Fouché Minister of the Police! If, like Don Juan, I had seen a statue

move, I could not have been more confounded than when I heard this news.

I could not credit it until it was repeated to me by different persons.

How; indeed, could I think that at the moment of a reaction the King

should have entrusted the most important ministerial department to a

man to whose arrest he had a hundred days before attached so much

consequence? to a man, moreover, whom Bonaparte had appointed, at Lyons,

to fill the same office! This was inconceivable! Thus, in less than

twenty-four hours, the same man had been entrusted to execute measures

the most opposite, and to serve interests the most contradictory. He

was one day the minister of usurpation, and the next the minister of

legitimacy! How can I express what I felt when Fouché took the oath

of fidelity to Louis XVIII. when I saw the King clasp in his hands the

hands of Fouché! I was standing near M. de Chateaubriand, whose feelings

must have been similar to mine, to judge from a passage in his admirable

work, 'La Monarchie selon la Charte'. "About nine in the evening," he

says, "I was in one of the royal antechambers. All at once the door

opened, and I saw the President of the Council enter leaning on the arm

of the new minister. Oh, Louis-le-Desire! Oh, my unfortunate master! you

have proved that there is no sacrifice which your people may not expect

from your paternal heart!"

Fouché was resolved to have his restoration as well as M. de Talleyrand,

who had had his the year before; he therefore contrived to retard

the King's entry into Paris for four days. The prudent members of the

Chamber of Peers, who had taken no part in the King's Government in

1814, were the first to declare that it was for the interest of France

to hasten his Majesty's entrance into Paris, in order to prevent

foreigners from exercising a sort of right of conquest in a city which

was a prey to civil dissension and party influence. Blücher informed

me that the way in which Fouché contrived to delay the King's return

greatly contributed to the pretensions of the foreigners who, he

confessed, were very well pleased to see the population of Paris divided

in opinion, and to hear the alarming cries raised by the confederates of

the Faubourgs when the King was already at St. Denis.

I know for a fact that Louis XVIII. wished to have nothing to do

with Fouché, and indignantly refused to appoint him when he was first

proposed. But he had so nobly served Bonaparte during the Hundred Days

that it was necessary he should be rewarded. Fouché, besides, had gained

the support of a powerful party among the emigrants of the Faubourg St.

Germain, and he possessed the art of rendering himself indispensable.

I have heard many honest men say very seriously that to him was due

the tranquillity of Paris. Moreover, Wellington was the person by whose

influence in particular Fouché was made one of the counsellors of the

King. After all the benefits which foreigners had conferred upon us

Fouché was indeed an acceptable present to France and to the King.

I was not ignorant of the Duke of Wellington's influence upon the

affairs of the second Restoration, but for a long time I refused to

believe that his influence should have outweighed all the serious

considerations opposed to such a perfect anomaly as appointing Fouché

the Minister of a Bourbon. But I was deceived. France and the King owed

to him Fouché's introduction into the Council, and I had to thank him

for the impossibility of resuming a situation which I had relinquished

for the purpose of following the King into Belgium. Could I be Prefect

of Police under a Minister whom a short time before I had received

orders to arrest, but who eluded my agents? That was impossible. The

King could not offer me the place of Prefect under Fouché, and if he had

I could not have accepted it. I was therefore right in not relying on

the assurances which had been given me; but I confess that if I had been

told to guess the cause why they could not be realised I never should

have thought that cause would have been the appointment of Fouché as

a Minister of the King of France. At first, therefore, I was of course

quite forgotten, as is the custom of courts when a faithful subject

refrains from taking part in the intrigues of the moment.

I have already frequently stated my opinion of the pretended talent of

Fouché; but admitting his talent to have been as great as was supposed,

that would have been an additional reason for not entrusting the general

police of the kingdom to him. His principles and conduct were already

sufficiently known. No one could be ignorant of the language he held

respecting the Bourbons, and in which he indulged as freely after he

became the Minister of Louis XVIII. as when he was the Minister of

Bonaparte. It was universally known that in his conversation the

Bourbons were the perpetual butt for his sarcasms, that he never

mentioned them but in terms of disparagement, and that he represented

them as unworthy of governing France. Everybody must have been aware

that Fouché, in his heart, favoured a Republic, where the part of

President might have been assigned to him. Could any one have forgotten

the famous postscript he subjoined to a letter he wrote from Lyons to

his worthy friend Robespierre: "To celebrate the fete of the Republic

suitably, I have ordered 250 persons to be shot?" And to this man, the

most furious enemy of the restoration of the monarchy, was consigned

the task of consolidating it for the second time! But it would require

another Claudian to describe this new Rufinus!

Fouché never regarded a benefit in any other light than as the means of

injuring his benefactor. The King, deceived, like many other persons,

by the reputation which Fouché's partisans had conjured up for him, was

certainly not aware that Fouché had always discharged the functions

of Minister in his own interest, and never for the interest of the

Government which had the weakness to entrust him with a power always

dangerous in his hands. Fouché had opinions, but he belonged to no

party, and his political success is explained by the readiness with

which he always served the party he knew must triumph, and which he

himself overthrew in its turn. He maintained himself in favour from the

days of blood and terror until the happy time of the second Restoration

only by abandoning and sacrificing those who were attached to him; and

it might be said that his ruling passion was the desire of continual

change. No man was ever characterised by greater levity or inconstancy

of mind. In all things he looked only to himself, and to this egotism he

sacrificed both subjects and Governments. Such were the secret causes of

the sway exercised by Fouché during the Convention, the Directory, the

Empire, the Usurpation, and after the second return of the Bourbons.

He helped to found and to destroy every one of those successive

Governments. Fouché's character is perfectly unique. I know no other

man who, loaded with honours, and almost escaping disgrace, has passed

through so many eventful periods, and taken part in so many convulsions

and revolutions.

On the 7th of July the King was told that Fouché alone could smooth the

way for his entrance into Paris, that he alone could unlock the gates of

the capital, and that he alone had power to control public opinion. The

reception given to the King on the following day afforded an opportunity

of judging of the truth of these assertions. The King's presence was the

signal for a feeling of concord, which was manifested in a very decided

way. I saw upon the boulevards, and often in company with each other,

persons, some of whom had resumed the white cockade, while others

still retained the national colours, and harmony was not in the least

disturbed by these different badges.

Having returned to private life solely on account of Fouché's presence

in the Ministry, I yielded to that consolation which is always left to

the discontented. I watched the extravagance and inconsistency that were

passing around me, and the new follies which were every day committed;

and it must be confessed that a rich and varied picture presented itself

to my observation. The King did not bring back M. de Blacas. His Majesty

had yielded to prudent advice, and on arriving at Mons sent the unlucky

Minister as his ambassador to Naples. Vengeance was talked of, and there

were some persons inconsiderate enough to wish that advantage should

be taken of the presence of the foreigners in order to make what they

termed "an end of the Revolution," as if there were any other means of

effecting that object than frankly adopting whatever good the Revolution

had produced. The foreigners observed with satisfaction the disposition

of these shallow persons, which they thought might be turned to

their own advantage. The truth is, that on the second Restoration our

pretended allies proved themselves our enemies.

But for them, but for their bad conduct, their insatiable exactions, but

for the humiliation that was felt at seeing foreign cannon planted in

the streets of Paris, and beneath the very windows of the Palace, the

days which followed the 8th of July might have been considered by the

Royal Family as the season of a festival. Every day people thronged

to the garden of the Tuileries, and expressed their joy by singing and

dancing under the King's windows.

This ebullition of feeling might perhaps be thought absurd, but it

at least bore evidence of the pleasure caused by the return of the

Bourbons.

This manifestation of joy by numbers of persons of both sexes, most of

them belonging to the better classes of society, displeased Fouché, and

he determined to put a stop to it. Wretches were hired to mingle with

the crowd and sprinkle corrosive liquids on the dresses of the females

some of them were even instructed to commit acts of indecency, so that

all respectable persons were driven from the gardens through the fear of

being injured or insulted: As it was wished to create disturbance under

the very eyes of the King, and to make him doubt the reality of the

sentiments so openly expressed in his favour, the agents of the Police

mingled the cry of "Vive l'Empereur!" with that of "Vive le Roi!" and

it happened oftener than once that the most respectable persons were

arrested and charged by Fouché's infamous agents with having uttered

seditious cries. A friend of mine, whose Royalist opinions were well

known, and whose father had been massacred during the Revolution, told

me that while walking with two ladies he heard some individuals near

him crying out "Vive l'Empereur!" This created a great disturbance. The

sentinel advanced to the spot, and those very individuals themselves

had the audacity to charge my friend with being guilty of uttering the

offensive cry. In vain the bystanders asserted the falsehood of the

accusation; he was seized and dragged to the guard-house, and after

being detained for some hours he was liberated on the application of

his friends. By dint of such wretched manoeuvres Fouché triumphed. He

contrived to make it be believed that he was the only person capable of

preventing the disorders of which he himself was the sole author: He got

the Police of the Tuileries under his control. The singing and dancing

ceased, and the Palace was the abode of dulness.

While the King was at St. Denis he restored to General Dessoles the

command of the National Guard. The General ordered the barriers to be

immediately thrown open. On the day of his arrival in Paris the King

determined, as a principle, that the throne should be surrounded by a

Privy Council, the members of which were to be the princes and persons

whom his Majesty might appoint at a future period. The King then named

his new Ministry, which was thus composed:

Prince Talleyrand, peer of France, President of the Council of

Ministers, and Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs.

Baron Louis, Minister of Finance.

The Duke of Otranto, Minister of the Police.

Baron Pasquier, Minister of Justice, and Keeper of the Seals.

Marshal Gouvion St. Cyr, War Minister.

Comte de Jaucourt, peer of France, Minister of the Marine.

The Duc de Richelieu, peer of France, Minister of the King's Household.

The portfolio of the Minister of the Interior, which was not immediately

disposed of, was provisionally entrusted to the Minister of Justice. But

what was most gratifying to the public in the composition of this

new ministry was that M. de Blacas, who had made himself so odious to

everybody, was superseded by M. de Richelieu, whose name revived the

memory of a great Minister, and who, by his excellent conduct throughout

the whole course of his career, deserves to be distinguished as a model

of honour and wisdom.

General satisfaction was expressed on the appointment of Marshal

Macdonald to the post of Grand Chancellor of the Legion of Honour in

lieu of M. de Pradt. M. de Chabrol resumed the Prefecture of the Seine,

which, during the Hundred Days, had been occupied by M. de Bondi, M.

de Mole was made Director-General of bridges and causeways. I was

superseded in the Prefecture of Police by M. Decazes, and M. Beugnot

followed M. Ferrand as Director-General of the Post-office.

I think it was on the 10th of July that I went to St. Cloud to pay

a visit of thanks to Blücher. I had been informed that as soon as he

learned I had a house at St. Cloud he sent a guard to protect it.

This spontaneous mark of attention was well deserving of grateful

acknowledgment, especially at a time when there was so much reason to

complain of the plunder practised by the Prussians. My visit to Blücher

presented to observation a striking instance of the instability of human

greatness. I found Blücher residing like a sovereign in the Palace of

St. Cloud, where I had lived so long in the intimacy of Napoleon, at

a period when he dictated laws to the Kings of Europe before he was a

monarch himself.

--[The English occupied St. Cloud after the Prussians. My large

house, in which the children of the Comte d'Artois were inoculated,

was respected by them, but they occupied a small home forming part

of the estate. The English officer who commanded the troops

stationed a guard at the large house. One morning we were informed

that the door had been broken open and a valuable looking-glass

stolen. We complained to the commanding officer, and on the affair

being inquired into it was discovered that the sentinel himself had

committed the theft. The man was tried by a court-martial, and

condemned to death, a circumstance which, as may naturally be

supposed, was very distressing to us. Madame de Bourrienne applied

to the commanding officer for the man's pardon, but could only

obtain his reprieve. The regiment departed some weeks after, and we

could never learn what was the fate of the criminal.--Bourrienne.]--

In that cabinet in which Napoleon and I had passed so many busy hours,

and where so many great plans had their birth, I was received by the man

who had been my prisoner at Hamburg. The Prussian General immediately

reminded me of the circumstance. "Who could have foreseen," said he,

"that after being your prisoner I should become the protector of your

property? You treated me well at Hamburg, and I have now an opportunity

of repaying your kindness. Heaven knows what will be the result of all

this! One thing, however, is certain, and that is, that the Allies will

now make such conditions as will banish all possibility of danger for

a long time to come. The Emperor Alexander does not wish to make the

French people expiate too dearly the misfortunes they have caused us. He

attributes them to Napoleon, but Napoleon cannot pay the expenses of the

war, and they must be paid by some one. It was all very well for once,

but we cannot pay the expense of coming back a second time. However,"

added he, "you will lose none of your territory; that is a point on

which I can give you positive assurance. The Emperor Alexander has

several times repeated in my presence to the King my master, 'I honour

the French nation, and I am determined that it shall preserve its old

limits.'"

The above are the very words which Blücher addressed to me. Profiting by

the friendly sentiments he expressed towards me I took the opportunity

of mentioning the complaints that were everywhere made of the bad

discipline of the troops under his command. "What can I do?" said he.

"I cannot be present everywhere; but I assure you that in future and at

your recommendation I will severely punish any misconduct that may come

to my knowledge."

Such was the result of my visit to Blücher; but, in spite of his

promises, his troops continued to commit the most revolting excesses.

Thus the Prussian troops have left in the neighbourhood of Paris

recollections no less odious than those produced by the conduct of

Davoust's corps in Prussia.--Of this an instance now occurs to my

memory, which I will relate here. In the spring of 1816, as I was going

to Chevreuse, I stopped at the Petit Bicetre to water my horse. I seated

myself for a few minutes near the door of the inn, and a large dog

belonging to the innkeeper began to bark and growl at me. His master, a

respectable-looking old man, exclaimed, "Be quiet, Blücher!"--"How came

you to give your dog that name?" said I.--"Ah, sir! it is the name of

a villain who did a great deal of mischief here last year. There is my

house; they have left scarcely anything but the four walls. They said

they came for our good; but let them come back again . . . we will watch

them, and spear them like wild boars in the wood." The poor man's house

certainly exhibited traces of the most atrocious violence, and he shed

tears as he related to me his disasters.

Before the King departed for Ghent he had consented to sign the contract

of marriage between one of my daughters and M. Massieu de Clerval,

though the latter was at that time only a lieutenant in the navy. The

day appointed for the signature of the contract happened to be Sunday,

the 19th of March, and it may well be imagined that in the critical

circumstances in which we then stood, a matter of so little importance

could scarcely be thought about. In July I renewed my request to his

Majesty; which gave rise to serious discussions in the Council of

Ceremonies. Lest any deviation from the laws of rigid etiquette should

commit the fate of the monarchy, it was determined that the marriage

contract of a lieutenant in the navy could be signed only at the petty

levee. However, his Majesty, recollecting the promise he had given me,

decided that the signature should be given at the grand levee. Though

all this may appear exceedingly ludicrous, yet I must confess that the

triumph over etiquette was very gratifying to me.

A short time after the King appointed me a Councillor of State; a title

which I had held under Bonaparte ever since his installation at the

Tuileries, though I had never fulfilled the functions of the office. In

the month of August; the King having resolved to convoke a new Chamber

of Deputies, I was appointed President of the Electoral College of the

department of the Yonne. As soon as I was informed of my nomination I

waited on M. de Talleyrand for my instructions, but he told me that, in

conformity with the King's intentions, I was to receive my orders from

the Minister of Police. I observed to M. de Talleyrand that I must

decline seeing Fouché, on account of the situation in which we stood

with reference to each other. "Go to him, go to him," said M. de

Talleyrand, "and be assured Fouché will say to you nothing on the

subject."

I felt great repugnance to see Fouché, and consequently I went to

him quite against my inclination. I naturally expected a very cold

reception. What had passed between us rendered our interview exceedingly

delicate. I called on Fouché at nine in the morning, and found him

alone, and walking in his garden. He received me as a man might be

expected to receive an intimate friend whom he had not seen for a long

time. On reflection I was not very much surprised at this, for I was

well aware that Fouché could make his hatred yield to calculation. He

said not a word about his arrest, and it may well be supposed that I did

not seek to turn the conversation on that subject. I asked him whether

he had any information to give me respecting the elections of the Yonne.

"None at all," said he; "get yourself nominated if you can, only use

your endeavours to exclude General Desfouinaux. Anything else is

a matter of indifference to me."--"What is your objection to

Desfournaux?"--"The Ministry will not have him."

I was about to depart when Fouché; called me back saying, "Why are you

in such haste? Cannot you stay a few minutes longer?" He then began to

speak of the first return of the Bourbons, and asked me how I could so

easily bring myself to act in their favour. He then entered into details

respecting the Royal Family which I conceive it to be my duty to pass

over in silence: It may be added, however, that the conversation lasted

a long time, and to say the least of it, was by no means in favour of

"divine right."

I conceived it to be my duty to make the King acquainted with this

conversation, and as there was now no Comte de Blacas to keep truth and

good advice from his Majesty's ear, I was; on my first solicitation,

immediately admitted to, the Royal cabinet. I cautiously suppressed the

most startling details, for, had I literally reported what Fouché

said, Louis XVIII. could not possibly have given credit to it. The King

thanked me for my communication, and I could perceive he was convinced

that by longer retaining Fouché in office he would become the victim of

the Minister who had been so scandalously forced upon him on the 7th of

July. The disgrace of the Duke of Otranto speedily followed, and I had

the satisfaction of having contributed to repair one of the evils with

which the Duke of Wellington visited France.

Fouché was so evidently a traitor to the cause he feigned to serve, and

Bonaparte was so convinced of this,--that during the Hundred Days, when

the Ministers of the King at Ghent were enumerated in the presence of

Napoleon, some one said, "But where is the Minister of the Police?"

"E-h! Parbleu," said Bonaparte, "that is Fouché?" It was not the same

with Carnot, in spite of the indelible stain of his vote: if he had

served the King, his Majesty could have depended on him, but nothing

could shake the firmness of his principles in favour of liberty. I

learned, from a person who had the opportunity of being well informed,

that he would not accept the post of Minister of the Interior which was

offered to him at the commencement of the Hundred Days until he had a

conversation with Bonaparte, to ascertain whether he had changed his

principles. Carnot placed faith in the fair promises of Napoleon, who

deceived him, as he had deceived others.

Soon after my audience with the King I set off to discharge my duties in

the department of the Yonne, and I obtained the honour of being elected

to represent my countrymen in the Chamber of Deputies. My colleague was

M. Raudot, a man who, in very trying circumstances, had given proofs of

courage by boldly manifesting his attachment to the King's Government.

The following are the facts which I learned in connection with this

episode, and which I circulated as speedily as possible among the

electors of whom I had the honour to be President. Bonaparte, on his way

from Lyons to Paris, after his landing at the gulf of Juan, stopped

at Avalon, and immediately sent for the mayor, M. Raudot. He instantly

obeyed the summons. On coming into Napoleon's presence he said, "What

do you want, General?" This appellation displeased Napoleon, who

nevertheless put several questions to M. Raudot, who was willing to

oblige him as a traveller, but not to serve him as an Emperor. Napoleon

having given him some orders, this worthy servant of the King replied,

"General, I can receive no orders from you, for I acknowledge no

sovereign but the King, to whom I have sworn allegiance." Napoleon then

directed M. Raudot, in a tone of severity, to withdraw, and I need not

add that it was not long before he was dismissed from the mayoralty of

Avalon.

The elections of the Yonne being over, I returned to Paris, where I took

part in public affairs only as an amateur, while waiting for the opening

of the session. I was deeply grieved to see the Government resort to

measures of severity to punish faults which it would have been better

policy to attribute only to the unfortunate circumstances of the times.

No consideration can ever make me cease to regret the memory of Ney, who

was the victim of the influence of foreigners. Their object, as Blücher

intimated to me at St. Cloud, was to disable France from engaging in

war for a long time to come, and they hoped to effect that object by

stirring up between the Royal Government and the army of the Loire that

spirit of discord which the sacrifice of Ney could not fail to produce.

I have no positive proofs of the fact, but in my opinion Ney's life was

a pledge of gratitude which Fouché thought he must offer to the foreign

influence which had made him Minister.

About this time I learned a fact which will create no surprise, as it

affords another proof of the chivalrous disinterestedness of Macdonald's

character. When in 1815 several Marshals claimed from the Allied powers

their endowments in foreign countries, Madame Moreau, to whom the King

had given the honorary title of 'Madame la Marechale', and who was the

friend of the Duke of Tarentum, wrote, without Macdonald's knowledge,

to M. de Blacas; our ambassador at Naples, begging him to endeavour to

preserve for the Marshal the endowment which had been given him in

the Kingdom of Naples. As soon as Macdonald was informed of this

circumstance he waited upon Madame Moreau, thanked her for her kind

intentions, but at the same time informed her that he should disavow all

knowledge of her letter, as the request it contained was entirely averse

to his principles. The Marshal did, in fact, write the following letter

to M. de Blacas:--"I hasten to inform you, sir, that it was not with my

consent that Madame Moreau wrote to you, and I beg you will take no

step that might expose me to a refusal. The King of Naples owes me no

recompense for having beaten his army, revolutionised his kingdom, and

forced him to retire to Sicily." Such conduct was well worthy of the man

who was the last to forsake Napoleon in, 1814, and the first to rejoin

him, and that without the desire of accepting any appointment in 1815.

M. de Blacas, who was himself much surprised at Macdonald's letter,

communicated it to the King of Naples, whose answer deserves to be

recorded. It was as follows:--"If I had not imposed a law upon myself

to acknowledge none of the French endowments, the conduct of Marshal

Macdonald would have induced me to make an exception in his favour." It

is gratifying to see princes such scrupulous observers of the laws they

make for themselves!

About the end of August 1815, as I was walking on the Boulevard des

Capucines, I had the pleasure of meeting Rapp, whom I had not seen for

a long time. He had just come out of the house of Lagrenee, the artist,

who was painting his portrait. I was on foot, and Rapp's carriage was

waiting, so we both stepped into it, and set off to take a drive in the

Bois de Boulogne. We had a great deal to say to each other, for we had

not met since the great events of the two Restorations. The reason of

this was, that in 1814 I passed a part of the year at Sens, and since

the occurrences of March 1815 Rapp himself had been absent from Paris.

I found him perfectly resigned to his change of condition, though

indulging in a few oaths against the foreigners. Rapp was not one of

those, generals who betrayed the King on the 20th of March. He told

me that he remained at the head of the division which he commanded at

Ecouen, under the orders of the Duc de Berry, and that he did not

resign it to the War Minister until after the King's departure. "How did

Napoleon receive you?" I inquired. "I waited till he sent for me. You

know what sort of fellow I am: I know nothing about politics; not I. I

had sworn fidelity to the King. I know my duty, and I would have fought

against the Emperor."--"Indeed!"--"Yes, certainly I would, and I told

him so myself."--"How! did you venture so far?"--"To be sure. I told him

that my resolution was definite. 'Pshaw! . . . replied he angrily. 'I

knew well that you were opposed to me. If we had come to an action I

should have sought you out on the field of battle. I would have shown

you the Medusa's head. Would you have dared to fire on me?'--'Without

doubt,' I replied. 'Ah! parbleu this is too much,' he said. 'But your

troops would not have obeyed you. They had preserved all their affection

for me.'--'What could I do?' resumed I. 'You abdicated, you left France,

you recommended us to serve the King--and then you return! Besides; I

tell you frankly, I do not augur well of what will happen. We shall have

war again. France has had enough of that.' Upon this," continued Rapp,

"he assured me that he had other thoughts; that he had no further desire

for war; that he wished to govern in peace, and devote himself solely to

the happiness of his people. When I hinted opposition on the part of the

Foreign Powers, he said that he had made alliances. He then spoke to me

of the King, and I said I had been much pleased with him; indeed, the

King gave me a very gratifying reception on my return from Kiew, and I

see no reason why I should complain, when I am so well used. During

the conversation the Emperor much extolled the conduct of the Duke of

Orleans. He then gave me some description of his passage from the Isle

of Elba and his journey to Paris. He complained of being accused of

ambition; and observing that I looked astonished and doubtful--'What?'

he continued, 'am I ambitious then?' And patting his belly with both his

hands, 'Can a man,' he asked, 'so fat as I am be ambitious?' I could not

for my soul help saying, 'Ah! Sire, your Majesty is surely joking.' He

pretended, however, to be serious, and after a few moments, noticing my

decorations, he began to banter me about the Cross of St. Louis and the

Cross of the Lily, which I still wore."

I asked Rapp whether all was true that had been said about the

enthusiasm which was manifested along the whole of Napoleon's route from

the Gulf of Juan to Paris. "Ma foi!" he replied, "I was not there any

more than you, but all those who accompanied him have assured me of the

truth of the details which have been published; but I recollect having

heard Bertrand say that on one occasion he was fearful for the safety

of the Emperor, in case any assassin should have presented himself. At

Fossard, where the Emperor stopped to breakfast on his way to Paris,

his escort was so fatigued as to be unable to follow, so that he was

for some time almost alone on the road, until a squadron which was

in garrison at Melun met him and escorted him to Fontainebleau. As to

anything else, from all I have heard, the Emperor was exposed to no

danger."

We then began to talk of our situation, and the singular chances of our

fortune. Rapp told me how, within a few days only, he had ceased to

be one of the discontented; for the condition of the generals who had

commanded army corps in the campaign of Waterloo was very different in

1815 from what it had been in 1814. "I had determined," he said, "to

live a quiet life, to meddle with nothing, and not even to wear my

uniform. I had, therefore, since the King's return never presented

myself at Court; when, a week ago, while riding on horseback two or

three hundred paces from this spot, I saw a group of horsemen on the

other side of the avenue, one of whom galloped towards me. I immediately

recognised the Duc de Berry, 'How, Monseigneur, is it you?' I exclaimed.

'It is, my dear General; and since you will not come to us, I must

come to you. Will you breakfast with me tomorrow morning?'--'Ma foi!"

continued Rapp, "what could I do? The tone of kindness in which he gave

this invitation quite charmed me. I went, and I was treated so well

that I shall go again. But I will ask for nothing: I only want these

Prussians and English rascals out of the way!" I complimented Rapp

on his conduct, and told him that it was impossible that so loyal and

honest a man as he should not, at some time or other, attract the King's

notice. I had the happiness to see this prediction accomplished. Since

that time I regularly saw Rapp whenever we both happened to be in Paris,

which was pretty often.

I have already mentioned that in the month of August the King named me

Councillor of State. On the 19th of the following month I was appointed

Minister of State and member of the Privy Council. I may close these

volumes by relating a circumstance very flattering to me, and connected

with the last-mentioned nomination. The King had directed M. de

Talleyrand to present to him, in his official character of President

of the Council of Ministers, a list of the persons who might be deemed

suitable as members of the Privy Council. The King having read the list,

said to his Minister, "But, M. de Talleyrand, I do not see here

the names of two of our best friends, Bourrienne and Alexis de

Noailles."--"Sire, I thought their nomination would seem more flattering

in coming directly from your Majesty." The King then added my name to

the list, and afterwards that of the Comte Alexis de Noailles, so that

both our names are written in Louis XVIII.'s own hand in the original

Ordinance.

I have now brought to a conclusion my narrative of the extraordinary

events in which I have taken part, either as a spectator or an actor,

during the course of a strangely diversified life, of which nothing now

remains but recollections.

--[I discharged the functions of Councillor of State until 1818, at

which time an Ordinance appeared declaring those functions

Incompatible with the title of Minister of State--Bourrienne.]--

CHAPTER XII.

THE CENT JOURS.

The extraordinary rapidity of events during the Cent fours, or Hundred

Days of Napoleon's reign in 1815, and the startling changes in the parts

previously filled by the chief personages, make it difficult to consider

it as an historical period; it more resembles a series of sudden

theatrical transformations, only broken by the great pause while the

nation waited for news from the army.

The first Restoration of the Bourbons had been so unexpected, and was

so rapidly carried out, that the Bonapartists, or indeed all France,

had hardly realized the situation before Napoleon was again in the

Tuileries; and during the Cent Jours both Bonapartists and Royalists

were alike rubbing their eyes, asking whether they were awake, and

wondering which was the reality and which the dream, the Empire or the

Restoration.

It is both difficult and interesting to attempt to follow the history

of the chief characters of the period; and the reader must pardon some

abrupt transitions from person to person, and from group to group, while

the details of some subsequent movements of the Bonaparte family must

be thrown in to give a proper idea of the strange revolution in their

fortunes. We may divide the characters with which we have to deal into

five groups,--the Bonaparte family, the Marshals, the Statesmen of the

Empire, the Bourbons, and the Allied Monarchs. One figure and one name

will be missing, but if we omit all account of poor, bleeding, mutilated

France, it is but leaving her in the oblivion in which she was left at

the time by every one except by Napoleon.

The disaster of 1814 had rather dispersed than crushed the Bonaparte

family, and they rallied immediately on the return from Elba. The final

fall of the Empire was total ruin to them. The provisions of the Treaty

of Fontainebleau, which had been meant to ensure a maintenance to them,

had not been carried out while Napoleon was still a latent power, and

after 1815 the Bourbons were only too happy to find a reason for not

paying a debt they had determined never to liquidate; it was well for

any of the Bourbons in their days of distress to receive the bounty of

the usurper, but there was a peculiar pleasure in refusing to pay the

price promised for his immediate abdication.

The flight of the Bonapartes in 1815 was rapid. Metternich writes

to Maria Louisa in July 1815: "Madame Mere and Cardinal Fesch left

yesterday for Tuscany. We do not know exactly where Joseph is. Lucien

is in England under a false name, Jerome in Switzerland, Louis at Rome.

Queen Hortense has set out for Switzerland, whither General de Flahault

and his mother will follow her. Murat seems to be still at Toulon; this,

however, is not certain." Was ever such an account of a dynasty given?

These had all been among the great ones of Europe: in a moment they were

fugitives, several of them having for the rest of their lives a bitter

struggle with poverty. Fortunately for them the Pope, the King of

Holland, and the Grand-Duke of Tuscany, were not under heavy obligations

to Napoleon, and could thus afford to give to his family the protection

denied them by those monarchs who believed themselves bound to redeem

their former servility.

When Napoleon landed Maria Louisa was in Austria, and she was eager to

assist in taking every precaution to prevent her son, the young King

of Rome, being spirited off to join his father, whose fortunes she had

sworn to share: She herself was fast falling under the influence of the

one-eyed Austrian General, Neipperg, just then left a widower, who

was soon to be admitted to share her bed. By 1823 she seemed to have

entirely forgotten the different members of the Bonaparte family,

speaking of her life in France as "a bad dream." She obtained the

Grand-Duchy of Parma, where she reigned till 1847, marrying a third

time, it is said, the Count Bombellea, and dying, just too soon to be

hunted from her Duchy by the Revolution of 1848.

There is something very touching in most that we know of the poor young

King of Rome, from his childish but strangely prescient resistance to

his removal from Paris to Blois on the approach of the Allies in 1814,

to the message of remembrance sent in after years to the column of the

Place Vendome, "his only friend in Paris."

At four years of age Meneval describes him as gentle, but quick in

answering, strong, and with excellent health. "Light curly hair in

ringlets set off a fresh face, while fine blue eyes lit up his regular

features: He was precociously intelligent, and knew more than most

children older than himself." When Meneval--the former secretary of his

father, giving up his post in Austria with Maria Louisa, as he was about

to rejoin Napoleon--took farewell of the Prince in May 1815, the poor

little motherless child drew me towards the window, and, giving me a

touching look, said in a low tone, "Monsieur Meva, tell him (Napoleon)

that I always love him dearly." We say "motherless," because Maria

Louisa seems to have yielded up her child at the dictates of policy to

be closely guarded as easily as she gave up her husband. "If," wrote

Madame de Montesquieu, his governess, "the child had a mother, I would

leave him in her hands, and be happy, but she is nothing like a mother,

she is more indifferent to his fate than the most utter stranger in her

service." His grandfather, the Emperor Francis, to do him justice, seems

to have been really kind to the lad, and while, in 1814, 1816, and

in 1830, taking care to deprive him of all chance of, his glorious

inheritance, still seems to have cared for him personally, and to

have been always kind to him. There is no truth in the story that

the Austrians neglected his education and connived at the ruin of his

faculties. Both his tutor, the Count Maurice Dietrichstein, and Marshal

Marmont, who conversed with him in 1831, agree in speaking highly of

him as full of promise: Marmont's evidence being especially valuable as

showing that the Austrians did not object to the Duke of Reichstadt (as

he had been created by his grandfather in 1818), learning all he could

of his father's life from one of the Marshals. In 1831 Marmont describes

him: "I recognised his father's look in him, and in that he most

resembled Napoleon. His eyes, not so large as those of Napoleon, and

sunk deeper in their sockets, had the same expression, the same fire,

the same energy. His forehead was like that of his father, and so was

the lower part of his face and his chin. Then his complexion was that of

Napoleon in his youth, with the same pallor and the same colour of the

skin, but all the rest of his face recalled his mother and the House of

Austria. He was taller than Napoleon by about three inches."

As long as the Duke lived his name was naturally the rallying-point

of the Bonapartes, and was mentioned in some of the many conspiracies

against the Bourbons. In 1830 Joseph Bonaparte tried to get the sanction

of the Austrians to his nephew being put forward as a claimant to the

throne of France, vacant by the flight of Charles X., but they held

their captive firmly. A very interesting passage is given in the

'Memoirs of Charles Greville', who says that Prince Esterhazy told him

a great deal about the Duke of Reichstadt, who, if he had lived, would

have probably played a great part in the world. He died of a premature

decay, brought on, apparently, by over-exertion and over-excitement; his

talents were very conspicuous, he was 'petri d'ambition', worshipped the

memory of his father, and for that reason never liked his mother; his

thoughts were incessantly turned towards France, and when he heard of

the Days of July (overthrow of Charles X.) he said, "Why was I not

there to take my chance? He evinced great affection and gratitude to

his grandfather, who, while he scrupulously observed all his obligations

towards Louis Philippe, could not help feeling a secret pride in the

aspiring genius of Napoleon's son. He was well educated, and day

and night pored over the history of his father's glorious career. He

delighted in military exercises, and not only shone at the head of his

regiment, but had already acquired the hereditary art of ingratiating

himself with the soldiers." Esterhazy went on to describe how the Duke

abandoned everything at a ball when he met there Marshals Marmont and

Maison. "He had no eyes or ears but for them; from nine in the evening

to five the next morning he devoted himself to these Marshals." There

was the true Napoleonic ring in his answer to advice given by Marmont

when the Duke said that he would not allow himself to be put forward by

the Sovereigns of Europe. "The son of Napoleon should be too great to

serve as an instrument; and in events of that nature I wish not to be an

advanced guard, but a reserve,--that is, to come as a succour, recalling

great memories."

His death in 1832, on the 22d of July, the anniversary of the battle

of Salamanca, solved many questions. Metternich visited the Duke on his

deathbed: "It was a heartrending sight. I never remember to have seen a

more mournful picture of decay." When Francis was told of the death of

his grandson he answered, "I look upon the Duke's death as a blessing

for him. Whether it be detrimental or otherwise to the public good I do

not know. As for myself, I shall ever lament the loss of my grandson."

Josephine was in her grave at Rueil when Napoleon returned. She had died

on the 29th of May 1814, at Malmaison, while the Allies were exhibiting

themselves in Paris. It seems hard that she should not have lived

to enjoy a triumph, however brief, over her Austrian rival. "She, at

least," said Napoleon truly, "would never have abandoned me."

Josephine's daughter, Hortense, separated from her husband, Louis

Bonaparte, and created Duchess of St Leu by Louis XVIII., was in Paris,

much suspected by the Bourbons, but really engaged in a lawsuit with her

husband about the custody of her sons. She had to go into hiding when

the news of the landing arrived, but her empty house, left unwatched,

became very useful for receiving the Bonapartists, who wished for a

place of concealment, amongst them, as we shall see, being, of all

people, Fouché! Hortense was met by Napoleon with some reproaches for

accepting a title from the Bourbons, but she did the honours of the

Elysee for him, and it is creditable to both of them that, braving the

vile slanders about their intercourse, she was with him to the end;

and that one of the last persons to embrace him at Malmaison before

he started for the coast was his adopted daughter, the child of his

discarded wife. Hortense's presence in Paris was thought to be too

dangerous by the Prussian Governor; and she was peremptorily ordered to

leave. An appeal to the Emperor Francis received a favourable answer,

but Francis always gave way where any act against his son-in-law was

in question, and she had to start at the shortest notice on a wandering

life to Aix, Baden, and Constance, till the generosity of the small

but brave canton of Thurgau enabled her to get a resting-place at the

Chateau of Arenenberg.

In 1831 she lost her second son, the eldest then surviving, who died

from fever in a revolutionary attempt in which he and his younger

brother, the future Napoleon. III., were engaged. She was able to visit

France incognito, and even to see Louis Philippe and his Queen; but her

presence in the country was soon thought dangerous, and she was urged to

leave. In 1836 Hortense's last child, Louis Napoleon, made his attempt

at an 'emeule' at Strasburg, and was shipped off to America by the

Government. She went to France to plead for him, and then, worn out by

grief and anxiety, returned to Arenenberg, which her son, the future

Emperor, only succeeded in reaching in time to see her die in October

1837. She was laid with Josephine at Rueil.

Hortense's brother, Prince Eugène, the Viceroy of Italy, was at Vienna

when Napoleon returned, and fell under the suspicion of the Allies of

having informed the Emperor of the intention of removing him from Elba.

He was detained in Bavaria by his father-in-law the King, to whose Court

he retired, and who in 1817 created him Duke of Leuchtenberg and Prince

of Eichstadt. With the protection of Bavaria he actually succeeded in

wringing from the Bourbons some 700,000 francs of the property of his

mother. A first attack of apoplexy struck him in 1823, and he died from

a second in February 1824 at Munich. His descendants have intermarried

into the Royal Families of Portugal, Sweden, Brazil, Russia, 'and

Wartemberg; his grandson now (1884) holds the title of Leuchtenberg.

Except Louis, an invalid, all the brothers of the Emperor were around

him in the Cent Jours, the supreme effort of their family. Joseph had

left Spain after Vittoria, and had remained in an uncomfortable and

unrecognised state near Paris until in 1814 he was again employed, and

when, rightly or not, he urged the retreat of the Regency from Paris to

Blois. He then took refuge at his chateau of Prangins in the canton Vaud

in Switzerland, closely watched by the Bourbonists, who dreaded danger

from every side except the real point, and who preferred trying to

hunt the Bonapartists from place to place, instead of making their life

bearable by carrying out the engagements with them.

In 1816, escaping from the arrest with which he was threatened, after

having written to urge Murat to action with fatal effect, Joseph joined

Napoleon in Paris, and appeared at the Champ de Mai, sitting also in the

Chamber of Peers, but, as before, putting forward ridiculous pretensions

as to his inherent right to the peerage, and claiming a special seat.

In fact, he never could realise how entirely he owed any position to the

brother he wished to treat as an equal.

He remained in Paris during the brief campaign, and after Waterloo

was concealed in the house of the Swedish Ambassador, where his

sister-in-law, the Crown Princess of Sweden, the wife of Bernadotte, was

living. Muffling, the Prussian Governor of Paris, wished to arrest him,

but as the Governor could not violate the domicile of an Ambassador,

he had to apply to the Czar, who arranged for the escape of the ex-King

before the Governor could seize him Joseph went to the coast, pretty

much following the route of Napoleon. He was arrested once at Saintes,

but was allowed to proceed, and he met his brother on the 4th of July,

at Rochefort.

It is significant as to the possibility of the escape of Napoleon that

Joseph succeeded in getting on the brig Commerce as "M. Bouchard," and,

though the ship was thrice searched by the English, he got to New York

on the 28th of August, where he was mistaken for Carnot. He was well

received, and, taking the title of Comte de Survilliers, he first lived

at Lansdowne, Fairmount Park, Philadelphia, where he afterwards always

passed part of the year while he was in America. He also bought the

property of Point Breeze, at Bordentown, on the Delaware, where he built

a house with a fine view of the river. This first house was burnt

down, but he erected another, where he lived in some state and in great

comfort, displaying his jewels and pictures to his admiring neighbours,

and showing kindness to impecunious nephews.

The news of the Revolution of July in 1830, which drove Charles X. from

the throne, excited Joseph's hopes for the family of which he considered

himself the Regent, and he applied to Metternich to get the Austrian

Government to allow or assist in the placing his nephew, the Duke of

Reichstadt, on the throne of France. Austria would not even answer.

In July 1832 Joseph crossed to England, where he met Lucien, just

arrived from Italy, bringing the news of the death of his nephew.

Disappointed, he stayed in England for some time, but returned to

America in 1836. In he finally left America, and again came to England,

where he had a paralytic stroke, and in 1843 he went to Florence, where

he met his wife after a long separation.

Joseph lived long enough to see the two attempts of another nephew,

Louis Napoleon, at Strasburg in 1836, and at Boulogne in 1840, which

seem to have been undertaken without his knowledge, and to have much

surprised him. He died in Florence in 1844; his body was buried first

in Santa Croce, Florence, but was removed to the Invalides in 1864. His

wife the ex-Queen, had retired in 1815 to Frankfort and to Brussels,

where she was well received by the King, William, and where she stayed

till 1823, when she went to Florence, dying there in 1845. Her monument

is in the Cappella Riccardi, Santa Croce, Florence.

Lucien had retired to Rome in 1804, on the creation of the Empire, and

had continued embroiled with his brother, partly from his so-called

Republican principles, but chiefly from his adhering to his marriage,

his second one, with Madame Jouberthon,--a union which Napoleon steadily

refused to acknowledge, offering Lucien anything, a kingdom or the hand

of a queen (if we take Lucien's account), if he would only consent to

the annulment of the contract.

In August 1810, affecting uneasiness as Napoleon stretched his power

over Rome, Lucien embarked for America, but he was captured by the

English and taken, first to Malta and then to England, where he passed

the years till 1814 in a sort of honourable captivity, first at Ludlow

and then at Thorngrove, not far from that town.

In 1814 Lucien was released, when he went to Rome, where he was welcomed

by the kindly old Pope, who remembered the benefits conferred by

Napoleon on the Church, while he forgot the injuries personal to

himself; and the stiff-necked Republican, the one-time "Brutus"

Bonaparte, accepted the title of Duke of Musignano and Prince of Canino.

In 1815 Lucien joined his brother, whom he wished to abdicate at the

Champ de Mai in favour of the King of Rome, placing his sword only at

the disposal of France. This step was seriously debated, but, though

it might have placed the Allies in a more difficult position, it would

certainly have been disregarded by them, at least unless some great

victory had given the dynasty firmer footing. After Waterloo he was

in favour of a dissolution of the Chambers, but Napoleon had become

hopeless and almost apathetic, while Lucien himself, from his former

connection with the 18th and 19th Brumaire, was looked on with great

distrust by the Chambers, as indeed he was by his brother. Advantage was

taken of his Roman title to taunt him with not being a Frenchman; and

all his efforts failed. At the end he fled, and failing to cross to

England or to get to Rochefort, he reached Turin on the 12th of July

only to find himself arrested. He remained there till the 15th of

September, when he was allowed to go to Rome. There he was interned and

carefully watched; indeed in 1817 the Pope had to intervene to prevent

his removal to the north of Germany, so anxious were the Allies as to

the safety of the puppet they had put on the throne of France.

The death of Napoleon in 1821 released Lucien and the Bonaparte family

from the constant surveillance exercised over them till then. In 1830 he

bought a property, the Croce del Biacco, near Bologna. The flight of the

elder branch of the Bourbons from France in 1830 raised his hopes, and,

as already said, he went to England in 1832 to meet Joseph and to plan

some step for raising Napoleon II. to the throne. The news of the death

of his nephew dashed all the hopes of the family, and after staying in

England for some time he returned to Italy, dying at Viterbo in 1840,

and being buried at Canino, where also his second wife lies. Lucien had

a taste for literature, and was the author of several works, which a

kindly posterity will allow to die.

Louis Bonaparte had fled from his Kingdom of Holland in 1810, after a

short reign of four years, disgusted with being expected to study the

interests of the brother to whom he owed his throne, and with being

required to treat his wife Hortense with ordinary consideration. He had

taken refuge in Austria, putting that Court in great anxiety how to

pay him the amount of attention to be expected by the brother of the

Emperor, and at the same time the proper coldness Napoleon might wish

shown to a royal deserter. Thanks to the suggestions of Metternich, they

seem to have been successful in this task. Taking the title of Comte de,

St. Len from an estate in France; Louis went first to Toplitz, then to

Gratz, and in 1813 he took refuge in Switzerland. In 1814 he went to

Rome; and then to Florence, where the Grand-Duke Ferdinand received any

of the family who came there with great kindness.

Louis was the least interesting of the family, and it is difficult to

excuse his absence from France in 1815. After all, the present of a

kingdom is not such an unpardonable offence as to separate brothers for

ever, and Napoleon seems to have felt deeply the way in which he was

treated by a brother to whom he had acted as a father; still ill-health

and the natural selfishness of invalids may account for much. While his

son Louis Napoleon was flying about making his attempts on France, Louis

remained in the Roman Palace of the French Academy, sunk in anxiety

about his religious state. He disclaimed his son's proceedings, but this

may have been due to the Pope, who sheltered him. Anyhow, it is strange

to mark the difference between the father and his two sons who came of

age, and who took to revolution so kindly.

In 1846 Louis was ill at Leghorn when his son escaped from Ham, where he

had been imprisoned after his Boulogne attempt. Passports were refused

to the son to go from Italy to his father, and Louis died alone on the

25th of July 1846. He was buried at Santa Croce, Florence, but the body

was afterwards removed to the village church of St. Leu Taverny, rebuilt

by his son Napoleon III.

Jerome, the youngest of the whole family, the "middy," as Napoleon liked

to call him, had been placed in the navy, in which profession he passed

as having distinguished himself, after leaving his admiral in rather a

peculiar manner, by attacking an English convoy, and eventually escaping

the English by running into the port of Concarneau, believed to be

inaccessible. At that time it was an event for a French man-of-war to

reach home.

Jerome had incurred the anger of Napoleon by marrying a beautiful young

lady of Baltimore, a Mica Paterson, but, more obedient than Lucien, he

submitted to have this marriage annulled by his all-powerful brother,

and in reward he received the brand-new Kingdom of Westphalia, and the

hand of a daughter of the King of Wartemberg, "the cleverest King in

Europe," according to Napoleon. Jerome is said to have ruled rather more

as a Heliogabalus than a Solomon, but the new Kingdom had the advantage

of starting with good administrators, and with the example of "the

Code."

In 1812 Jerome was given the command of the right wing of the Grand Army

in its advance against Russia, but he did not fulfil the expectations

of his brother, and Davoust took the command instead. Every king feels

himself a born general: whatever else they cannot do, war is an art

which comes with the crown, and Jerome, unwilling to serve under a mere

Marshal, withdrew in disgust. In 1813 he had the good feeling and the

good sense to refuse the treacherous offer of the Allies to allow him

to retain his kingdom if he joined them against his brother, a snare his

sister Caroline fell into at Naples.

On the downfall of Napoleon, Jerome, as the Count of Gratz, went to

Switzerland, and then to Gratz and Trieste.

His wife, the ex-Queen Catherine, fell into the hands of Maubreuil, the

officer sent on a mysterious mission, believed to be intended for

the murder of Napoleon, but which only resulted in the robbery of the

Queen's jewels and of some 80,000 francs. The jewels were for the most

part recovered, being fished up from the bed of the Seine, but not the

cash.

In 1815 Jerome joined his brother, and appeared at the Champ de Mai. A

true Bonaparte, his vanity was much hurt, however, by having--he, a real

king--to sit on the back seat of the carriage, while his elder brother

Lucien; a mere Roman-prince, occupied a seat of honour by the side

of Napoleon. In the Waterloo campaign he was given the 6th division,

forming part of Reille's corps, General Guilleminot being sent with him

to prevent any of the awkwardnesses of 1812. His division was engaged

with the Prussians on the 15th of June, and at Quatre Bras he was

severely wounded. At Waterloo his division formed the extreme left of

the French infantry, opposite Hougomont, and was engaged in the struggle

for that post. Whatever his failings may have been, he is acknowledged

to have fought gallantly. After the battle he was given the command

of the army by his brother, and was told to cover the retreat to Laon,

which he reached on the 21st of June, with 18,000 infantry, 3000 cavalry

and two batteries which he had rallied. This, be it observed, is a

larger force than Ney told the Chambers even Grouchy (none of whose men

are included) could have, and Jerome's strength had swollen to 25,000

infantry and 6000 cavalry when he handed over the army to Soult at Laon.

Napoleon had intended to leave Jerome with the command of the army, but

he eventually took him to Paris.

When Napoleon left the country Jerome was assured by the ambassador

of Wurtemberg that he would find a refuge in the dominions of his

father-in-law; but when he arrived there he was informed that if he

did not wish to be, according to the original intentions of the Allies,

handed over to the Prussians, and separated from his wife, he must sign

an engagement to remain in Wurtemberg under strict surveillance. He was

then imprisoned at Guppingen, and afterwards at Ellwangen, where he was

not even allowed to write or receive letters except through the captain

of the chateau.

Part of Jerome's troubles came from the conduct of his wife Catherine,

who had the idea that, as she had been given in marriage by her father

to Jerome, as she had lived for seven years as his wife, and as she had

borne a child to him, she was really his wife, and bound to remain

with him in his misfortunes! The royal family of Wurtemberg, however,

following the illustrious example of that of Austria, looked on her past

life as a mere state of concubinage, useful to the family, and to be

respected while her husband could retain his kingdom, but which should

end the moment there was nothing more to be gained from Napoleon or his

brother. It was all proper and decorous to retain the title of King of

Wurtemberg, which the former Duke and then Elector had owed to the exile

of St. Helena, but King Frederick, and still less his son William, who

succeeded him in 1816, could not comprehend Catherine's clinging to her

husband when he had lost his kingdom. "I was a Queen; I am still a

wife and mother," wrote the Princess to her disgusted father. Another

complaint against this extraordinary Princess was that she actually saw

Las Cases on his return from St. Helena, and thus obtained news of the

exile.

After constant ill treatment Jerome and his wife, as the Count and

Countess of Montfort, a rank the King of Wurtemberg afterwards raised

to Prince, were allowed to proceed to Hainburg near Vienna, then to

Florence, and, later to Trieste, where Jerome was when his sister Elisa

died. In 1823 they were permitted to go to Rome, and in 1835 they went

to Lausanne, where his true-hearted wife died the same year. Jerome went

to Florence, and lived to see the revival of the Empire, and to once

more enjoy the rank of a French Prince. He died in 1860 at the chateau

of Villegenis in France, and was buried in the Invalides.

The mother of the Emperor, Letitia, in 1814, had retained her title

of Imperatrice Mere, and had retired to Rome. She then went to Elba

in June, and stayed there with her daughter Pauline until Napoleon had

sailed for France. On 2d March 1814 she went from Elba to San Vicenzo

near Leghorn, and then to Rome. Her son sent a frigate for her, the

'Melpomene', which was captured by the English 'Rivoli'; another vessel,

the 'Dryade', brought her to France, and she joined Napoleon in Paris.

We must have a regard for this simple old lady, who was always careful

and saving, only half believing in the stability of the Empire; and,

like a true mother, always most attentive to the most unfortunate of her

children. Her life had been full of startling changes; and it must have

been strange for the woman who had been hunted out of Corsica, flying

from her house just in time to save her life from the adherents of

Paoli, to find herself in grandeur in Paris. She saw her son just

before he left, as she thought, for America, and then retired to the

Rinuccini--now the Bonaparte-Palace at Rome, where she died in 1836.

She had been anxious to join Napoleon at St. Helena, and had refused, as

long as Napoleon was alive, to forgive her daughter Caroline, the wife

of Murat, for her abandonment of her brother. She was buried at Albano.

Letitia's youngest daughter, the beautiful but frail Pauline, Duchess of

Guastalla, married first to General Leclerc, and then to Prince Camille

Borgelle, was at Nice when her brother abdicated in 1814. She retired

with her mother to Rome, and in October 1814 went to Elba, staying there

till Napoleon left, except when she was sent to Naples with a message of

forgiveness for Murat. There was a characteristic scene between her and

Colonel Campbell when the English Commissioner arrived to find Napoleon

gone. Pauline professed ignorance till the last of her brother's

intentions, and pressed the Colonel's hand to her heart that he might

feel how agitated she was. "She did not appear to be so," says the

battered old Colonel, who seems to have been proof against her charms.

She then went to Rome, and later to Pisa. Her health was failing, and,

unable to join her brother in France, she sent him her only means of

assistance, her jewels, which were captured at Waterloo. Her offer to go

to St. Helena, repeated several times, was never accepted by Napoleon.

She died in 1825 at Florence, from consumption, reconciled to her

husband, from whom she had been separated since 1807. She was buried at

Sta Maria Maggiore, Rome.

Elisa, the eldest sister of Napoleon, the former Grand Duchess of

Tuscany, which Duchy she had ruled well, being a woman of considerable

talent, was the first of all to die. In 1814 she had been forced to fly

from her Government, and, accompanied by her husband, she had attempted

to reach France. Finding herself cut off by the Austrians; she took

shelter with Augereau's army, and then returned to Italy. She took the

title of Comtesse de Campignana, and retired to Trieste, near which

town, at the Chateau of Sant Andrea, under a wearisome surveillance,

she expired in 1820, watched by her husband, Felix Baeciocchi, and

her sister Caroline. Her monument is in the Bacciocchi Chapel in San

Petronio, Bologna.

Caroline, the wife of Murat, was the only one of the family untrue to

Napoleon. Very ambitious, and forgetting how completely she owed

her Kingdom of Naples to her brother, she had urged Murat in 1814 to

separate from Napoleon, and, still worse, to attack Eugène, who held the

north of Italy against the Austrians. She relied on the formal treaty

with Austria that Murat should retain his Kingdom of Naples, and she may

also have trusted to the good offices of her former admirer Metternich.

When the Congress of Vienna met, the French Minister, Talleyrand, at

once began to press for the removal of Murat. A trifling treaty was

not considered an obstacle to the Heaven-sent deliverers of Europe, and

Murat, believing his fate sealed, hearing of Napoleon's landing, and

urged on by a misleading letter from Joseph Bonaparte, at once marched

to attack the Austrians. He was easily routed by the Austrians under

Neipperg, the future husband of Maria Louisa. Murat fled to France, and

Caroline first took refuge in an English man-of-war, the 'Tremendous',

being, promised a free passage to England. She was, however, handed over

to the Austrians; who kept her in confinement at Hainburg near Vienna.

In October 1815 Murat landed in Calabria in a last wild attempt to

recover his throne. He was arrested and immediately shot. After his

murder Caroline, taking the title of Countess of Lipona (an anagram of

Napoli), was permitted to retire to Trieste with Elisa, Jerome, and his

wife. Caroline was almost without means of existence, the Neapolitan

Bourbons refusing even to give up the property she had brought there.

She married a General Macdonald. When Hortense was buried at Rueil

Caroline obtained permission to attend the sad ceremony. In 1838 she

went to France to try to obtain a pension, and succeeded in getting one

of 100,000 francs. She died from cancer in the stomach in 1839, and was

buried in the Campo Santo, Bologna.

Cardinal Fesch, the half-uncle of Napoleon, the Archbishop of Lyons, who

had fallen into disgrace with Napoleon for taking the side of the Pope

and refusing to accept the see of Paris, to which he was nominated by

Napoleon, had retired to Rome in 1814, where he remained till the

return of Napoleon, when he went to Paris, and accepted a peerage. After

Waterloo he again sought the protection of the Pope, and he remained at

Rome till his death in 1839, a few days before Caroline Bonaparte's. He

was buried in S. Lorenzo in Lucina, Rome. He had for years been a great

collector of pictures, of which he left a large number (1200) to the

town of Ajaccio. The Cardinal, buying at the right time when few men had

either enough leisure or money to think of pictures, got together a most

valuable collection. This was sold in 1843-44 at Rome. Its contents now

form some of the greatest treasures in the galleries of Dudley House

and of the Marquis of Hertford, now Sir Richard Wallace's. In a large

collection there are generally some daubs, but it is an amusing instance

of party spirit to find the value of his pictures run down by men who

are unwilling to allow any one connected with Napoleon to have even

taste in art. He always refused the demands of the Restoration that he

should resign his see of Lyons, though under Louis Philippe he offered

to do so, and leave his pictures to France, if the Bonaparte family were

allowed to enter France: this was refused.

It can hardly be denied that the fate of the Bonapartes was a hard one.

Napoleon had been undisputed sovereign of France for fourteen years,

Louis had been King of Holland for four years, Jerome was King of

Westphalia for six years, Caroline was Queen of Naples for seven years.

If Napoleon had forfeited all his rights by leaving Elba after the

conditions of his abdication had been broken by the Allies, still there

was no reason why the terms stipulated for the other members of the

family should not have been carried out, or at least an ordinary income

insured to them. With all Napoleon's faults he was always ready to

shower wealth on the victims of his policy:--The sovereigns of the

Continent had courted and intermarried with the Bonapartes in the fame

of that family's grandeur: there was neither generosity nor wisdom

in treating them as so many criminals the moment fortune had declared

against them. The conduct of the Allies was not influenced simply by the

principle of legitimacy, for the King of Saxony only kept his throne

by the monarchs falling out over the spoil. If sovereigns were to

be respected as of divine appointment, it was not well to make their

existence only depend on the fate of war.

Nothing in the history of the Cent Jours is more strange than the small

part played in it by the Marshals, the very men who are so identified

in our minds with the Emperor, that we might have expected to find that

brilliant band playing a most prominent part in his last great struggle,

no longer for mere victory, but for very existence. In recording how the

Guard came up the fatal hill at Waterloo for their last combat, it would

seem but natural to have to give a long roll of the old historic names

as leading or at least accompanying them; and the reader is apt to

ask, where were the men whose very titles recalled such glorious

battle-fields, such achievements, and such rewards showered down by the

man who, almost alone at the end of the day, rode forward to invite that

death from which it was such cruel kindness to save him?

Only three Marshals were in Belgium in 1815, and even of them one did

but count his promotion from that very year, so it is but natural for

French writers to dream of what might have been the course of the battle

if Murat's plume had waved with the cavalry, if Mortier had been with

the Guard, and if Davoust or one of his tried brethren had taken the

place of Grouchy. There is, however, little real ground for surprise at

this absence of the Marshals. Death, time, and hardships had all done

their work amongst that grand array of commanders. Some were old men,

veterans of the Revolutionary wars, when first created Marshals in 1804;

others, such as Massena, were now but the wreck of themselves; and even

before 1812 Napoleon had been struck with the failing energy of some of

his original companions: indeed, it might have been better for him if

he had in 1813, as he half resolved, cast away his dislike to new faces,

and fought his last desperate campaigns with younger men who still had

fortunes to win, leaving "Berthier to hunt at Grosbois," and the other

Marshals to enjoy their well-deserved rest in their splendid hotels at

Paris.

Davoust, Duke of Auerstadt, Prince of Eckmuhl, whose name should be

properly spelt Davout, was one of the principal personages at the end

of the Cent Jours. Strict and severe, having his corps always in good

order, and displaying more character than most of the military men under

Napoleon, one is apt to believe that the conqueror at Auerstadt bade

fair to be the most prominent of all the Marshals. In 1814 he had

returned from defending Hamburg to find himself under a cloud of

accusations, and the Bourbons ungenerously and unwisely left him

undefended for acts which they must have known were part of his duty

as governor of a besieged place. At the time he was attacked as if

his first duty was not to hold the place for France, but to organise

a system of outdoor relief for the neighbouring population, and to

surrender as soon as he had exhausted the money in the Government chest

and the provisions in the Government stores. Sore and discontented,

practically proscribed, still Davoust would not join in the too hasty

enterprise of the brothers Lallemand, who wished him to lead the

military rising on the approach of Napoleon; but he was with the Emperor

on the day after his arrival in Paris.

Davoust might have expected high command in the army, but, to his

annoyance, Napoleon fixed on him as War Minister. For several years the

War Minister had been little more than a clerk, and neither had nor was

expected to have much influence with the army. Napoleon now wanted a man

of tried devotion, and of stern enough character to overawe the capital

and the restless spirits in the army. Much against his will Davoust was

therefore forced to content himself with the organisation of the

forces being hastily raised, but he chafed in his position; and it is

characteristic of him that Napoleon was eventually forced to send him

the most formal orders before the surly Minister would carry out the

Emperor's unlucky intention of giving a command to Bourmont, whom

Davoust strongly and rightly suspected of treachery. When Napoleon left

the capital Davoust became its governor, and held his post unmoved

by the intrigues of the Republicans and the Royalists. When Napoleon

returned from the great disaster Davoust gave his voice for the only

wise policy,--resistance and the prorogation of the factious Chambers.

On the abdication of Napoleon the Provisional Government necessarily

gave Davoust the command of the army which was concentrated round Paris.

If Davoust had restricted himself less closely to his duty as a soldier,

if he had taken more on himself, with the 100,000 men he soon had under

him, he might have saved France from much of her subsequent humiliation,

or at least he might have preserved the lives of Ney and of the brave

men whom the Bourbons afterwards butchered. Outwitted by Fouché,

and unwilling to face the hostility of the Chambers, Davoust at last

consented to the capitulation of Paris, though he first gave the

Prussian cavalry a sharp lesson. While many of his comrades were engaged

in the great struggle for favour or safety, the stern Marshal gave

up his Ministry, and, doing the last service in his power to France,

stopped all further useless bloodshed by withdrawing the army, no easy

task in their then humour, behind the Loire, where he kept what the

Royalists called the "Brigands of the Loire" in subjection till relieved

by Macdonald. He was the only one of the younger Marshals who had not

been tried in Spain, and so far he was fortunate; but, though he was not

popular with the army, his character and services seem to point him

out as the most fit of all the Marshals for an independent command.

Had Napoleon been successful in 1812, Davoust was to have received the

Viceroyalty of Poland; and he would probably have left a higher name in

history than the other men placed by Napoleon to rule over his outlying

kingdoms. In any case it was fortunate for France and for the Allies

that a man of his character ruled the army after Napoleon abdicated;

there would otherwise have been wild work round Paris, as it was only

with the greatest difficulty and by the force of his authority and

example that Davoust succeeded in getting the army to withdraw from the

capital, and to gradually adopt the white cockade. When superseded by

Macdonald he had done a work no other man could have accomplished. He

protested against the proscription, but it was too late; his power had

departed. In 1819 he was forgiven for his services to France, and was

made a peer, but he died in 1823, only fifty-three years old.

Among the Marshals who gave an active support to Napoleon Ney takes the

leading part in most eyes; if it were only for his fate, which is too

well known for much to be said here concerning it. In 1815 Ney was

commanding in Franche-Comte, and was called up to Paris and ordered to

go to Besancon to march so as to take Napoleon in flank. He started off,

not improbably using the rough brags afterwards attributed to him as

most grievous sins, such as that "he would bring back Napoleon in an

iron cage." It had been intended to have sent the Duc de Berry, the

second son of the Comte d'Artois, with Ney; and it was most unfortunate

for the Marshal that this was not done. There can be no possible doubt

that Ney spoke and acted in good faith when he left Paris. One point

alone seems decisive of this. Ney found under him in command, as General

of Division, Bourmont, an officer of well-known Royalist opinions, who

had at one time served with the Vendean insurgents, and who afterwards

deserted Napoleon just before Waterloo, although he had entreated to be

employed in the campaign. Not only did Ney leave Bourmont in command,

but, requiring another Divisional General, instead of selecting a

Bonapartist, he urged Lecourbe to leave his retirement and join him.

Now, though Lecourbe was a distinguished General, specially famed for

mountain warfare--witness his services in 1799 among the Alps above

Lucerne--he had been long left unemployed by Napoleon on account of

his strong Republican opinions and his sympathy with Moreau. These

two Generals, Bourmont and Lecourbe, the two arms of Ney as commander,

through whom alone he could communicate with the troops, he not only

kept with him, but consulted to the last, before he declared for

Napoleon. This would have been too dangerous a thing for a tricky

politician to have attempted as a blind, but Ney was well known to be

only too frank and impulsive. Had the Duc de Berry gone with him, had

Ney carried with him such a gage of the intention of the Bourbons to

defend their throne, it is probable that he would have behaved like

Macdonald; and it is certain that he would have had no better

success. The Bonapartists themselves dreaded what they called the

wrong-headedness of Ney. It was, however, thought better to keep the Duc

de Berry in safety.

Ney found himself put forward singly, as it were, to oppose the man whom

all France was joining; he found, as did every officer sent on a similar

mission, that the soldiers were simply waiting to meet Napoleon; and

while the Princes sought security, while the soldiers plotted against

their leaders, came the calls of the Emperor in the old trumpet tone.

The eagle was to fly--nay, it was flying from tower to tower, and

victory was advancing with a rush. Was Ney to be the one man to shoot

down his old leader? could he, as he asked, stop the sea with his hands?

On his trial his subordinate, Bourmont, who had by that time shown

his devotion to the Bourbons by sacrificing his military honour, and

deserting to the Allies, was asked whether Ney could have got the

soldiers to act against the Emperor. He could only suggest that if Ney

had taken a musket and himself charged, the men would have followed his

example. "Still," said Bourmont, "I would not dare to affirm that he

(the Marshal) would have won." And who was Ney to charge? We know how

Napoleon approached the forces sent to oppose him: he showed himself

alone in the front of his own troops. Was Ney to deliberately kill his

old commander? was any general ever expected to undergo such a test?

and can it be believed that the soldiers who carried off the reluctant

Oudinot and chased the flying Macdonald, had such a reverence for the

"Rougeot," as they called him, that they would have stood by while he

committed this murder? The whole idea is absurd: as Ney himself said at

his trial, they would have "pulverized" him. Undoubtedly the honourable

course for Ney would have been to have left his corps when he lost

control over them; but to urge, as was done afterwards, that he had

acted on a preconceived scheme, and that his example had such weight,

was only malicious falsehood. The Emperor himself knew well how little

he owed to the free will of his Marshal, and he soon had to send him

from Paris, as Ney, sore at heart, and discontented with himself and

with both sides, uttered his mind with his usual freedom. Ney was first

ordered to inspect the frontier from Dunkirk to Bale, and was then

allowed to go to his home. He kept so aloof from Napoleon that when he

appeared on the Champ de Mai the Emperor affected surprise, saying that

he thought Ney had emigrated. At the last moment Marshal Mortier fell

ill. Ney had already been sent for. He hurried up, buying Mortier's

horses (presumably the ill-fated animals who died under him at

Waterloo), and reached the army just in time to be given the command of

the left wing.

It has been well remarked that the very qualities which made Ney

invaluable for defence or for the service of a rear-guard weighed

against him in such a combat as Quatre Bras. Splendid as a corps leader,

he had not the commander's eye to embrace the field and surmise the

strength of the enemy at a glance. At Bautzen in 1818 his staff had been

unable to prevent him from leaving the route which would have brought

him on the very rear of the enemy, because seeing the foe, and unable

to resist the desire of returning their fire, he turned off to engage

immediately. At Quatre Bras, not seeing the force he was engaged with,

believing he had the whole English army on his hands from the first, he

let himself at the beginning of the day be imposed upon by a mere screen

of troops.

We cannot here go into Ney's behaviour at Waterloo except to point out

that too little importance is generally given to the fact of the English

cavalry having, in a happy moment, fallen on and destroyed the artillery

which was being brought up to sweep the English squares at close

quarters. At Waterloo, as in so many other combats, the account of

Ney's behaviour more resembles that of a Homeric hero than of a modern

general. To the ideal commander of to-day, watching the fight at a

distance, calmly weighing its course, undisturbed except by distant

random shots, it is strange to compare Ney staggering through the gate

of Konigsberg all covered with blood; smoke and snow, musket in hand,

announcing himself as the rear-guard of France, or appearing, a second

Achilles, on the ramparts of Smolensko to encourage the yielding troops

on the glacis, or amidst the flying troops at Waterloo, with uncovered

head and broken sword, black with powder, on foot, his fifth horse

killed under him, knowing that life, honour, and country were lost,

still hoping against hope and attempting one more last desperate rally.

If he had died--ah! if he had died there--what a glorious tomb might

have risen, glorious for France as well as for him, with the simple

inscription, "The Bravest of the Brave."

Early on the 19th June a small band of officers retreating from the

field found Ney asleep at Marchiennes, "the first repose he had had for

four days," and they did not disturb him for orders. "And indeed what

order could Marshal Ney have given?" The disaster of the day, the

overwhelming horror of the flight of the beaten army, simply crushed Ney

morally as well as physically. Rising in the Chambers he denounced all

attempt at further resistance. He did not know, he would not believe,

that Grouchy was safe, and that the army was fast rallying. Fresh from

the field, with all its traces on him, the authority of Ney was too

great for the Government. Frightened friends, plotting Royalists, echoed

the wild words of Ney brave only against physical dangers. Instead of

dying on the battle-field, he had lived to ensure the return of the

Bourbons, the fall of Bonaparte, his own death, and the ruin of France.

Before his exception from the amnesty was known Ney left Paris on

the 6th of July, and went into the country with but little attempt at

concealment, and with formal passports from Fouché. The capitulation of

Paris seemed to cover him, and he was so little aware of the thirst of

the Royalists for his blood that he let his presence be known by leaving

about a splendid sabre presented to him by the Emperor on his marriage,

and recognised by mere report by an old soldier as belonging to Ney or

Murat; and Ney himself let into the house the party sent to arrest

him on the 5th of August, and actually refused the offer of Excelmans,

through whose troops he passed, to set him free. No one at the time,

except the wretched refugees of Ghent, could have suspected, after the

capitulation, that there was any special danger for Ney, and it is very

difficult to see on what principle the Bourbons chose their victims or

intended victims. Drouot, for example, had never served Louis XVIII., he

had never worn the white cockade, he had left France with Napoleon for

Elba, and had served the Emperor there. In 1815 he had fought under his

own sovereign. After Waterloo he had exerted all his great influence,

the greater from his position, to induce the Guard to retire behind the

Loire, and to submit to the Bourbons. It was because Davoust so needed

him that Drouot remained with the army. Stilt Drouot was selected for

death, but the evidence of his position was too strong to enable the

Court to condemn him. Cambronne, another selection, had also gone with

Napoleon to Elba. Savory, another selection, had, as was eventually

acknowledged, only joined Napoleon when he was in full possession of the

reins of Government. Bertrand, who was condemned while at St. Helena,

was in the same position as Drouot. In fact, if any one were to draw up

a list of probable proscriptions and compare it with those of the 24th

of July 1815, there would probably be few names common to both except

Labedoyere, Mouton Duvernet, etc. The truth is that the Bourbons, and,

to do them justice, still more the rancorous band of mediocrities who

surrounded them, thirsted for blood. Even they could feel the full

ignominy of the flight to Ghent.

While they had been chanting the glories of the Restoration, the

devotion of the people, the valour of the Princes, Napoleon had landed,

the Restoration had vanished like a bad dream, and the Princes were the

first to lead the way to the frontier. To protest that there had been a

conspiracy, and that the conspirators must suffer, was the only possible

cloak for the shame of the Royalists, who could not see that the only

conspiracy was the universal one of the nation against the miserable men

who knew not how to govern a high-spirited people.

Ney, arrested on the 5th of August, was first brought before a Military

Court on the 9th of November composed of Marshal Jourdan (President),

Marshals Massena, Augereau, and Mortier, Lieutenants-General Gazan,

Claparede, and Vilatte (members). Moncey had refused to sit, and Massena

urged to the Court his own quarrels with Ney in Spain to get rid of

the task, but was forced to remain. Defended by both the Berryers, Ney

unfortunately denied the jurisdiction of the court-martial over him as

a peer. In all probability the Military Court would have acquitted him.

Too glad at the moment to be free from the trial of their old comrade,

not understanding the danger of the proceeding, the Court, by a majority

of five against two, declared themselves non-competent, and on the 21st

of November Ney was sent before the Chamber of Peers, which condemned

him on the 6th of December.

To beg the life of his brave adversary would have been such an obvious

act of generosity on the part of the Duke of Wellington that we maybe

pardoned for examining his reasons for not interfering. First, the

Duke seems to have laid weight on the fact that if Ney had believed the

capitulation had covered him he would not have hidden. Now, even before

Ney knew of his exception from the amnesty, to appear in Paris would

have been a foolish piece of bravado. Further, the Royalist reaction was

in full vigour, and when the Royalist mobs, with the connivance of the

authorities, were murdering Marshal Brune and attacking any prominent

adherents of Napoleon, it was hardly the time for Ney to travel in full

pomp. It cannot be said that, apart from the capitulation, the Duke had

no responsibility. Generally a Government executing a prisoner, may,

with some force, if rather brutally, urge that the fact of their being

able to try and execute him in itself shows their authority to do

so. The Bourbons could not even use this argument. If the Allies had

evacuated France Louis le Desiree would have ordered his carriage and

have been at the frontier before they had reached it. If Frenchmen

actually fired the shots which killed Ney, the Allies at least shared

the responsibility with the French Government. Lastly, it would seem

that the Duke would have asked for the life of Ney if the King, clever

at such small artifices, had not purposely affected a temporary coldness

to him. Few men would have been so deterred from asking for the life of

a dog. The fact is, the Duke of Wellington was a great general, he was

a single-hearted and patriotic statesman, he had a thousand virtues,

but he was never generous. It cannot be said that he simply shared

the feelings of his army, for there was preparation among some of his

officers to enable Ney to escape, and Ney had to be guarded by men of

good position disguised in the uniform of privates. Ney had written to

his wife when he joined Napoleon, thinking of the little vexations the

Royalists loved to inflict on the men who had conquered the Continent.

"You will no longer weep when you leave the Tuileries." The unfortunate

lady wept now as she vainly sought some mercy for her husband. Arrested

on the 5th of August, sentenced on the 6th of December, Ney was shot on

the 7th of December, and the very manner of his execution shows that, in

taking his life there was much more of revenge than of justice.

If Ney were to be shot, it is obvious that it should have been as a high

act of justice. If neither the rank nor the services of the criminal

were to save him, his death could not be too formal, too solemn, too

public. Even an ordinary military execution is always carried out with

grave and striking forms: there is a grand parade of the troops, that

all may see with their own eyes the last act of the law. After the

execution the troops defile past the body, that all may see the criminal

actually dead: There was nothing of all this in the execution of Ney.

A few chance passers, in the early morning of the 7th of December 1815,

saw a small body of troops waiting by the wall of the garden of the

Luxemburg. A fiacre drove up, out of which got Marshal Ney in plain

clothes, himself surprised by the everyday aspect of the place. Then,

when the officer of the firing party (for such the spectators now knew

it to be) saw whom it was he was to fire on, he became, it is said,

perfectly petrified; and a peer, one of the judges of Ney, the Duke de

la Force, took his place. Ney fell at the first volley with six balls

in his breast, three in the head and neck, and one in the arm, and in

a quarter of an hour the body was removed; "plain Michel Ney" as he had

said to the secretary enunciating his title in reading his sentence,

"plain Michel Ney, soon to be a little dust."

The Communists caught red-handed in the streets of Paris in 1870 died

with hardly less formality than was observed at the death-scene of the

Prince of the Moskowa and Duke of Elchingen, and the truth then became

plain. The Bourbons could not, dared not, attempt to carry out the

sentence of the law with the forms of the law. The Government did not

venture to let the troops or the people face the Marshal. The forms of

the law could not be carried out, the demands of revenge could be. And

if this be thought any exaggeration, the proof of the ill effects of

this murder, for its form makes it difficult to call it anything else,

is ready to our hands. It was impossible to get the public to believe

that Ney had really been killed in this manner, and nearly to this day

we have had fresh stories recurring of the real Ney being discovered in

America. The deed, however, had really been done. The Marshals now knew

that when the Princes fled they themselves must remain to die for the

Royal cause; and Louis had at last succeeded in preventing his return

to his kingdom amongst the baggage waggons of the Allies from being

considered as a mere subject for jeers. One detail of the execution of

Ney, however, we are told nothing of: we do not know if his widow, like

Madame Labedoyere, had to pay three francs a head to the soldiers of

the firing party which shot her husband. Whatever were the faults of the

Bourbons, they at least carried out their executions economically.

The statesmen of France, distinguished as they were, certainly did not

rise to a level with the situation either in 1814 or in 1815. In 1814,

it is true, they were almost stunned by the crash of the Empire, and

little as they foresaw the restoration of the Bourbons, still less

could they have anticipated the extraordinary follies which were to be

perpetrated. In 1815 there was less excuse for their helplessness, and,

overawed as they were by the mass of foes which was pouring on them to

complete the disaster of Waterloo, still it is disappointing to find

that there was no one to seize the helm of power, and, confronting the

Allies, to stipulate proper terms for France, and for the brave men who

had fought for her. The Steady Davoust was there with his 100,000 men

to add weight to their language, and the total helplessness of the older

line of the Bourbons had been too evidently displayed to make their

return a certainty, so that there is no reason to doubt that a

firm-hearted patriot might have saved France from much of the

degradation and loss inflicted on her when once the Allies had again got

her at their mercy. At-the least the Bourbons might have been deprived

of the revenge they sought for in taking some of the best blood of

France. Better for Ney and his comrades to have fallen in a last

struggle before Paris than to be shot by Frenchmen emboldened by the

presence of foreign troops.

Talleyrand, the most prominent figure among the statesmen, was away. His

absence at Vienna during the first Restoration was undoubtedly the cause

of many of the errors then committed. His ability as displayed under

Napoleon has been much exaggerated, for, as the Duke of Wellington said,

it was easy enough to be Foreign Minister to a Government in military

possession of Europe, but at least he was above the petty trivialities

and absurdities of the Bourbon' Court. On the receipt of the news of the

landing of Napoleon he really seems to have believed that the enterprise

would immediately end in disaster, and he pressed on the outlawing of

the man who had overwhelmed him with riches, and who had, at the worst,

left him when in disgrace in quiet possession of all his ill-gotten

wealth. But, as the power of Napoleon became more and more displayed,

as perhaps Talleyrand found that the Austrians were not quite so firm as

they wished to be considered, and as he foresaw the possible chances of

the Orleans family, he became rather lukewarm in his attention to

the King, to whom he had recently been bewailing the hardships of his

separation from his loved monarch. He suddenly found that, after a

Congress, the first duty of a diplomatist was to look after his liver,

and Carlsbad offered an agreeable retreat where he could wait till he

might congratulate the winner in the struggle.

Louis deeply resented this conduct of his Foreign Minister, and when

Talleyrand at last joined him with all his doubts resolved, the

King took the first opportunity of dismissing him, leaving the calm

Talleyrand for once stuttering with rage. Louis soon, however, found

that he was not the free agent he believed. The Allies did not want to

have to again replace their puppet on the throne, and they looked

on Talleyrand and Fouché as the two necessary men. Talleyrand was

reinstated immediately, and remained for some time at the head of the

Ministry. He was, however, not the man for Parliamentary Government,

being too careless in business, and trying to gain his ends more by

clever tricks than straightforward measures. As for the state into which

he let the Government fall, it was happily characterised by M.

Beugnot. "Until now," said he, "we have only known three sorts of

governments--the Monarchical, the Aristocratic, and the Republican.

Now we have invented a new one, which has never been heard of

before,--Paternal Anarchy."