THE FALL OF PARIS[12]
[Footnote 12: References: Mueffling (genannt Weiss),
Geschichte des Feldzugs der
englisch-hannoversch-niederlandischen und braunschweigischen
Armee unter dem Fuersten Bluecher im Jahre 1815. Houssaye,
1814. Memoires of Bourrienne. Haussonville, Souvenirs.
Gervinus, Geschichte des 19. Jahrhunderts seit den Wien
Vertraegen.]
The Battle before Paris -- The Armistice -- The Position of
Marmont -- Legitimacy and the Bourbons -- The Provisional
Government -- Napoleon's Fury -- Suggestions of Abdication --
Napoleon's New Policy Foreshadowed -- His Troops and Officers --
The Treason of Marmont -- The Marshals at Fontainebleau --
Napoleon's Despair.
From early dawn until midday on March thirtieth the fighting before
Paris was almost continuous, the assailants displaying an assurance of
victory, the defenders showing the courage of despair. Marmont and
Mortier kept their ranks in order, and the soldiers fought gallantly;
elsewhere the militia and the boys emulated each other and the
regulars in steadfastness. But when, shortly after noon, it became
evident that Paris was doomed to fall before superior force, Joseph,
as deputy emperor, issued to Marmont full powers to treat, and
followed the Empress, whom he overtook at Chartres, far beyond
Rambouillet, where she had expected to halt. She had determined, for
greater safety, to cross the Loire. At four in the afternoon the
Prussians captured Montmartre, and prepared to bombard from that
height; at the same moment the last ranks of the allied armies came
up.
Marmont felt further resistance to be useless; his line of retreat
was endangered, and he had special directions not to expose the city
to a sack. There was still abundant courage in the citizens, who stood
behind the barricades within the gates clamorous for arms and
ammunition. A messenger came galloping in with the news that Napoleon
was but half a day distant. The lookouts now and then espied some
general riding a white horse, and called, "'Tis he!" But for all the
enthusiasm, the expected "he" did not appear. Further carnage seemed
useless, since French honor had been vindicated, and when the war-worn
Marmont withdrew into the town he was received as one who had done
what man could do. Negotiations once fairly begun, the allies
abandoned the hard conditions with which they opened the parley, and
displayed a sense of great relief. Their chief representative, Count
Orloff, behaved with much consideration. Recognizing the force of the
French plea that their army was quite strong enough, if not to defend
the city another twenty-four hours, at least to contest it street by
street until, arrived at last on the left bank of the Seine, they
could regain Fontainebleau in safety, Orloff assented to what were
virtually the stipulations of Marmont and Mortier. The terms adopted
made provision for an armistice, assured kind treatment to the city,
and permitted the withdrawal of the troops.
Throughout the afternoon and evening Marmont's house was the
rendezvous of the negotiators and of the few political personages left
in the city. There was the freest talk: "Bonaparte" was conquered; the
Bourbons would be restored; what a splendid man was this Marmont! Some
weeks earlier the marshal had been significantly informed by his
brother-in-law Perregaux, a chamberlain of Napoleon's, that in case of
a restoration he and Macdonald would be spared, whatever happened to
the other great imperial leaders. Talleyrand had ostensibly taken
flight with his colleagues, but by an interesting coincidence his
coachman had sought the wrong exit from the city, and had been turned
back. That night he appeared in Marmont's presence with direct
overtures from the Bourbons. His interview was short, and he seemed to
have gained nothing; but he had an air of victory as he withdrew. He
saw that Marmont was consumed with vanity, feeling that the destinies
of France, of Napoleon, of all Europe, perhaps, were in his hands
alone. This was much. Passing through the corridors, the sly
diplomatist respectfully greeted Prince Orloff, and begged to lay his
profound respects at the feet of the Czar. "I shall not forget to lay
this blank check before his majesty," was the stinging retort.
Talleyrand smiled almost imperceptibly with his lips, and went his
way. But Alexander said on hearing the facts: "As yet this is but
anecdote; it may become history."
The triumphal entry of the allies into Paris began next morning, March
thirty-first, 1814, at seven o'clock. It was headed by Alexander and
Frederick William, now universally regarded as the Czar's satellite
king. Francis was in Dijon; he was represented by Schwarzenberg. The
three leaders, with their respective staff officers, were solemnly
received by a deputation of the municipal authorities. Their soldiers
were orderly, and there was no pillage or license. Crowds of royalists
thronged the streets acclaiming the conquerors and shouting for Louis
XVIII. Throughout the afternoon Talleyrand and Nesselrode were
closeted in the former's palace; and when, toward evening, they were
joined by the Czar and the King, both of whom had devoted the day to
ceremony, the diplomats had already agreed that France must have the
Bourbons. The sovereigns had actually been deceived by the noisy
royalist manifestations into believing that France welcomed her
invaders, and they assented to the conclusion of the ministers. A
formal meeting was instantly arranged; there were present, besides the
monarchs and their ministers, Schwarzenberg, Lichtenstein, Dalberg,
and Pozzo di Borgo. Alexander assumed the presidency, but Talleyrand,
with consummate skill, monopolized the deliberations. The Czar
suggested, as various bases for peace, Napoleon under all guaranties,
Maria Louisa as regent for the King of Rome, the Bourbons, and, it is
believed, hinted at Bernadotte or the republic as possibilities. Of
all these courses there was but one which represented the notion of
legitimacy with which Alexander had in the coalition identified
himself, and by which alone he, with his shady title, could hope to
assert authority in western Europe. This was expounded and emphasized
by the wily Talleyrand with tremendous effect. The idea of the
republic was of course relegated to oblivion; of Bernadotte there
could not well be a serious question. If France wanted a mere soldier,
she already had the foremost in the world. Napoleon still alive, the
regency would be only another name for his continued rule; the
Bourbons, and they alone, represented a principle. There was little
difficulty, therefore, in reaching the decision not to treat with
Napoleon Bonaparte or with any member of his family.
This was the great schemer's first stroke; his second was equally
brilliant: the servile senate was appointed to create a provisional
government and to construct a new constitution, to be guaranteed by
the allies. That body, however obsequious, was still French; even the
extreme radicals, as represented by Laine of Bordeaux, had to
acknowledge this. The new and subservient administration was at work
within twenty-four hours; Talleyrand, with his two creatures, Dalberg
and Jaucourt; Montesquiou, the royalist; and Beurnonville, a
recalcitrant imperialist, constituting the executive commission. Two
days later the legislature was summoned, and seventy-nine deputies
responded. After considerable debate they pronounced Napoleon
overthrown for having violated the constitution. The municipal council
and the great imperial offices, with their magistrates, gave their
assent. The heart of the city appeared to have been transformed: on
the street, at the theater, everywhere the white Bourbon cockades and
ribbons burst forth like blossoms in a premature spring. But outside
the focus of agitation, and in the suburbs, the populace murmured, and
sometimes exhibited open discontent. In proportion to the distance
west and south, the country was correspondingly imperial, obeying the
imperial regency now established at Blois, which was summoning
recruits, issuing stirring proclamations, and keeping up a brave show.
In a way, therefore, France for the moment had three governments, that
of the allies, that of the regency, and that of Napoleon himself.
When, in the latest hours of March thirtieth, Napoleon met Belliard,
and heard the disastrous report of what had happened, he gave full
vent to a frightful outburst of wrath. As he said himself in calmer
moments, such was his anger at that time, that he never seemed to have
known anger before. Forgetful of all his own shortcomings, he raged
against others with a fury bordering on insanity, and could find no
language vile or blasphemous enough wherewith to stigmatize Joseph and
Clarke. In utter self-abandonment, he demanded a carriage. There were
noise and bustle in the stable. With a choked, hoarse voice the
seeming maniac called peremptorily for haste. No vehicle appeared.
Probably Caulaincourt had dared to cross his Emperor's command for the
sake of his Emperor's safety. Finally Napoleon strode forth into the
darkness toward Paris. Questioning and storming as he walked, he
denounced his two marshals for their haste in surrendering. His
attendants reasoned in vain until, a mile beyond La Cour de France,
Mortier's vanguard was met marching away under the terms of the
convention, and Napoleon knew that he was face to face with doom; to
advance farther would mean imprisonment or worse. General Flahaut was
therefore sent to seek Marmont's advice, and Caulaincourt hurried away
to secure an audience with the Czar. There were still wild hopes which
would not die. Perhaps the capitulation was not yet signed, perhaps
Caulaincourt could gain time if nothing else, perhaps by sounding the
tocsin and illuminating the town the populace and national guard would
be led to rise and aid the army. The reply from Marmont came as
swiftly as only discouraging news can come; the situation, he said,
was hopeless, the public depressed by the flight of the court, the
national guard worthless; he was coming in with the twenty thousand
troops still left to himself and Mortier. Napoleon, now calm and
collected, issued careful orders for the two marshals to take position
between the Essonne and the Seine, their left on the former stream,
their right on the latter, the whole position protected by these
rivers on the flanks, and by the Yonne in the rear. It was clear there
was to be a great battle under the walls of Paris. Macdonald was the
only general who advised it; Berthier, Drouot, Belliard, Flahaut, and
Gourgaud all wished to return into Lorraine; but the divisions were
coming in swiftly, and in the short midnight hour before returning to
Fontainebleau, Napoleon's decision was taken.
On the afternoon of April first the Emperor rode from Fontainebleau to
Marmont's headquarters. While he was in the very act of
congratulating Marmont on his gallantry, the commissioners who had
signed the capitulation arrived and opened their budget of news. They
told of the formal entry by the allies, of their resolution not to
treat with Napoleon, and declared that the white cockade of the
Bourbons was everywhere visible. Napoleon grew pensive and somber as
he listened, and then, almost without speaking, rode sadly back to
Fontainebleau. Next morning he was cheerful again, and as he stepped
into the White Horse court of the palace at the hour of guard-mounting
two battalions cheered him enthusiastically. His step was elastic, his
countenance lighted with the old fire; the onlookers said, "It is the
Napoleon of Potsdam and Schoenbrunn." But in the afternoon Caulaincourt
returned, and the sky seemed darkened; the Czar had listened to the
envoy's eloquence only so far as to take into consideration once again
the question of peace with the Empire under a regency; as a condition
antecedent, Napoleon must abdicate.
The stricken man could not hear his faithful servant's report with
equanimity. He restrained his violent impulses, but used harsh words.
Soon it seemed as if ideas of a strange and awful form were mastering
him, the gloomy interview was ended, and the Emperor dismissed his
minister. For such a disease as his there was no remedy but action;
next morning two divisions, one each of the old and young guard,
arrived, and they were drawn up for review. Napoleon, in splendid garb
and with a brilliant suite, in which were two marshals, Ney and
Moncey, went through the ceremony. At its close he gathered the
officers present into a group, and explained the situation in his old
incisive phrase and vibrating tones, closing with the words: "In a few
days I am going to attack Paris; can I count on you?" There was dead
silence. "Am I right?" rang out, in a final exhausting effort, the
moving call of the great actor. Then at last came the hearty, ringing
response so breathlessly expected. "They were silent," said General
Petit in gentle tones, "because it seemed needless to reply." Napoleon
continued: "We will show them if the French nation be master in their
own house, that if we have long been masters in the dwellings of
others we will always be so in our own." As the officers scattered to
their posts and repeated the "little corporal's" words, the old
"growlers," as men had come to call the veterans of the Empire, gave
another cheer. The bands played the two great hymns of victory, the
"Marseillaise" and the "Chant du Depart," as the ranks moved away.
Napoleon must now have certain clear conceptions. Except Mortier,
Drouot, and Gerard, his great officers were disaffected; but the
ambitious minor generals were still his devoted slaves. The army was
thoroughly imperialist, partly because they represented the nation as
a whole, partly because they were under the Emperor's spell. Of such
troops he appeared to have at hand sixty thousand, distributed as
follows: Marmont, twelve thousand five hundred; Mortier, six thousand;
Macdonald, two thousand seven hundred; Oudinot, five thousand five
hundred; Gerard, three thousand; Ney, two thousand three hundred;
Drouot, nine thousand; and about eleven thousand six hundred guard and
other cavalry. Besides these, there were sixteen hundred Poles, two
thousand two hundred and fifty recruits, and fifteen hundred men in
the garrisons of Fontainebleau and Melun. Farther away were
considerable forces in Sens, Tours, Blois, and Orleans, eight thousand
in all; and still farther the armies of Soult, Suchet, Augereau, and
Maison. Although the allies had lost nine thousand men before Paris,
they had quickly called up reinforcements, and had about a hundred and
forty thousand men in readiness to fight. This situation may not have
been entirely discouraging to the devotee of a dark destiny, to which
as a hapless worshiper he had lately commenced to give the name of
Providence. Be that as it may, when Macdonald arrived on the morning
of the fourth the dispositions for battle had been carefully studied
and arranged; every corps was ordered to its station. As usual,
Napoleon appeared about noon for the ceremony of guard-mounting, and
the troops acclaimed him as usual. But a few paces distant from him
stood the marshals and higher generals in a little knot, their heads
close bunched, their tongues running, their glances averted. From out
of this group rang the thunderous voice of Ney: "Nothing but the
abdication can draw us out of this." Napoleon started, regained his
self-control, pretended not to hear the crushing menace, and withdrew
to his work-room.
Concurrent with the resolve of the marshals at Fontainebleau ran the
actual treason of one who alone was more important to Napoleon's cause
than all of them. "I am ready to leave, with my troops, the army of
the Emperor Napoleon on the following conditions, of which I demand
from you a written guaranty," are the startling words from a letter of
Marmont to the Czar, dated the previous day. On April first agents of
the provisional government had made arrangements with a discredited
nobleman named Maubreuil for the assassination of Napoleon; the next
day Schwarzenberg introduced into the French lines newspapers and
copies of a proclamation explaining that the action of the senate and
of all France had released the soldiers from their oaths. Marmont
forwarded the documents he received to Berthier, and while most of the
officers flung their copies away in contemptuous scorn, some read and
pondered. On April third an emissary from Schwarzenberg appeared at
Marmont's headquarters, and what he said was spoken to willing ears.
Still under the influence of the homage he had received in Paris, the
vain marshal saw himself repeating the role of Monk; he beheld France
at peace, prosperity restored, social order reestablished, and himself
extolled as a true patriot--all this if only he pursued the easy line
of self-interest, whereby he would not merely retain his duchy, but
also secure the new honors and emoluments which would be showered on
him. So he yielded on condition that his troops should withdraw
honorably into Normandy, and that Napoleon should be allowed to enjoy
life and liberty within circumscribed limits fixed by the allied
powers and France. Next morning, the fourth, came Schwarzenberg's
assent, and Marmont at once set about suborning his officers; at four
in the afternoon arrived an embassy from Fontainebleau on its way to
Paris. The officers composing it desired to see Marmont.
The informal meeting held in the courtyard at Fontainebleau was a
historical event. Its members chatted about the course taken by the
senate, about Caulaincourt's mission, and discussed in particular the
suggestion of abdication. The marshals and great generals, long since
disgusted with campaigning, wounded in their dignity by the Emperor's
rebukes, and attributing their recent failures to the wretched quality
of the troops assigned to them, were eager for peace, and yearned to
enjoy their hard-earned fortunes. They caught at the seductive idea
presented by Caulaincourt. The abdication of Napoleon would mean the
perpetuation of the Empire. The Empire would be not merely peace, but
peace with what war had gained; to wit, the imperial court and
society, the preservation and enjoyment of estates, the continuity of
processes which had done so much to regenerate France and make her a
modern nation. The prospect was irresistible, and Ney only expressed
the grim determination of his colleagues when he gave the watchword so
unexpectedly at the mounting of the guard. When Napoleon entered his
cabinet he found there Berthier, Maret, Caulaincourt, and Bertrand.
Concealing his agitation, he began the routine of such familiar labors
as impend on the eve of battle. Almost instantly hurrying footsteps
were heard in the corridor, the door was burst open, and on the
threshold stood Ney, Lefebvre, Oudinot, and Macdonald. The leader of
the company quailed an instant under the Emperor's gaze, and then
gruffly demanded if there were news from Paris. No, was the reply--a
deliberate falsehood, since the decree of the senate had arrived the
night before. "Well, then, I have some," roared Ney, and told the
familiar facts.
At Nogent, six weeks earlier, Ney and Oudinot had endeavored to bully
Napoleon in a similar way; then they were easily cowed. But now
Napoleon's manner was conciliatory and his speech argumentative. Long
and eloquently he set forth his situation. Enumerating all the forces
immediately and remotely at his disposal, describing minutely the plan
of attack which Macdonald had stamped with his approval, explaining
the folly of the course pursued by the allies, contrasting the perils
of their situation with the advantages of his own, he sought to
justify his assurance of victory. The eloquence of a Napoleon, calm,
collected, clear, but pleading for the power which was dearer to him
than life, can only be imagined. But his arguments fell on deaf ears;
not one of his audience gave any sign of emotion. Macdonald was the
only one present not openly committed, and he too was sullen; during
the last twenty-four hours he had received, through Marmont, a letter
from Beurnonville, the contents of which, though read to Napoleon
then and there, have not been transmitted to posterity. What happened
or what was said thereafter is far from certain, so conflicting and so
biased are the accounts of those present. Contemporaries thought that
in this crisis, when Ney declared the army would obey its officers and
would not march to Paris in obedience to the Emperor, there were
menacing gestures which betrayed a more or less complete purpose of
assassination on the part of some. If so, Napoleon was never greater;
for, commanding a calm by his dignified self-restraint, he dismissed
the faithless officers one and all. They went, and he was left alone
with Caulaincourt to draw up the form of his abdication.