NAPOLEON'S FIRST ABDICATION[13]
[Footnote 13: References: Campbell, Sir Neil, Napoleon at
Fontainebleau and Elba, being a journal of occurrences in
1814-1815, with notes of conversations. Laborde, Napoleon et
sa garde, ou relation du voyage de Fontainebleau a l'ile
d'Elbe en 1814, etc. Ussher, A narrative of events connected
with the first abdication of Napoleon, his embarkation at
Frejus and voyage to Elba on board his majesty's ship
_Undaunted_; his embarkation at Elba on board the Elbese brig
of war _l'Inconstant_; and a journal of his extraordinary
march to Paris, narrated by Colonel Laborde, who accompanied
the Emperor on that occasion. Waldburg, L. F. Graf Truchsess
von, Napoleon Bonaparte's Reise von Fontainebleau nach Frejus
vom 17-29 April, 1814.]
The Meaning of Napoleon's Abdication -- The Paper and its Bearers
-- Progress of Marmont's Conspiracy -- Alexander Influenced by
Napoleon's Embassy -- Marmont's Soldiers Betrayed -- Marmont's
Reputation and Fate -- Napoleon's Scheme for a Last Stroke --
Revolt of the Marshals -- Napoleon's First Attempt at Suicide --
Unconditional Abdication -- Restoration of the Bourbons --
Napoleon's New Realm -- Flight of the Napoleons -- Good-by to
France, but not Farewell.
There is no doubt that Napoleon sincerely and dearly loved his
"growlers"; there is no doubt that with grim humor he constantly
circumvented and used them for his own ends; even in his agony he
contemplated a course which, leaving them convinced of their success,
would yet render their action of no effect. After a short conference
with his minister he took a pen and wrote: "The allied powers having
declared the Emperor Napoleon to be the sole obstacle to the
establishment of peace in Europe, and since the Emperor cannot
assuredly, without violating his oath, surrender any one of the
departments which were united with France when he ascended the throne,
the Emperor Napoleon declares himself ready to abdicate and leave
France, even to lay down his life for the welfare of his country and
for the preservation of the rights of his son the King, of the
Empress-regent, and of the laws and institutions, which shall be
subject to no change until the definite conclusion of peace and while
foreign armies stand upon our soil."
But these words carried too plainly a meaning which was not intended
to be conspicuous, and the paper, as finally written and executed,
runs as follows: "The allied powers having declared the Emperor
Napoleon to be the sole obstacle to the reestablishment of peace in
Europe, the Emperor Napoleon, faithful to his oath, declares that he
is ready to descend from the throne, to leave France, and even to lay
down his life for the good of the country, [which is] inseparable from
the rights of his son, from those of the Empress's regency, and from
the laws of the Empire." Who should constitute the embassy to present
the document to the Czar? Caulaincourt, of course, would necessarily
be one; Ney, dangerous if thwarted, must be the second; and the third?
Marmont certainly, was Napoleon's first thought, and he ordered full
powers to be made out for him. But on second thought he felt that his
aide-de-camp in Egypt, his trusted friend from then onward, his
confidential adviser, "brought up in his tent," as he said, might
injure the cause as being too certainly influenced by personal
considerations. Macdonald, therefore, was named in his stead. The
embassy should, however, pass by Essonnes, and if Marmont desired to
go he might send back for his credentials.
This was the company which, arriving about four in the afternoon at
Marmont's headquarters, presented Napoleon's message. The busy
conspirator was stunned, but he had already won at least five of his
generals--Souham, Merlin, Digeon, Ledru des Essarts, and Megnadier,
his chief of staff; the tide of treason was in full flow, and could
not be stemmed. Should the Czar assent to the regency, where would
Marmont be? Or, on the other hand, should Napoleon learn the truth,
there was no question but that a few hours might see the emulator of
Monk a corpse. In quick decision, the traitorous marshal confessed the
steps already taken, and then at the loud cry of reprobation with
which his statement was met, he falsely asserted that he was not yet
committed, and demanded to join the embassy. The others, willing to
remove their colleague from further temptation, assented; and Souham
was left in command, with strict injunctions to inform the troops of
Napoleon's abdication, but to take no further steps. At
Schwarzenberg's headquarters Marmont found means to betray the
situation to that general. The Austrian, by Marmont's own account,
absolved his fellow-intriguer from all engagements so far made; but
somehow that very evening about nine Talleyrand knew the whole story,
and hastening, pale with terror, to Alexander's presence, poured out a
bitter remonstrance against the regency. The Czar listened, but
contemptuously dismissed the petitioner with the non-committal remark
that no one would repent having trusted him.
It was almost midnight when Alexander gave audience to the embassy.
Marmont was not of the number, having slunk away in guilty uneasiness
to await the event at Ney's house. To Caulaincourt, as the spokesman
of the Empire, the Czar listened attentively and sympathetically. He
now felt himself to have taken a false step when, five days earlier,
he had virtually assented to the restoration of the Bourbons. In the
interval their cause had steadily grown more and more unpopular;
neither people nor soldiers, not even the national guard, would give
any declaration of adherence to the acts of the provisional
government; the imperial army, on the other hand, stood firm. His own
and Russia's honor having been redeemed, the earlier instincts of
hatred for absolutism had returned; the feeling that the Empire was
better for his purposes than any dynasty welled up as he listened to
Caulaincourt's powerful argument that France as a nation, and her
undivided army, alike desired the regency. In fact, the listener
wavered so much that, two days later, Ney and Macdonald asserted their
belief that at a certain instant their cause had been won.
But at two in the morning an aide-de-camp entered and spoke a few
words in Russian. The Czar gave a startled attention, and the officer
repeated his words. "Gentlemen," said the monarch, "you base your
claim on the unshaken attachment of the army to the imperial
government. The vanguard of Napoleon's army has just deserted. It is
at this moment within our lines." The news was true. The announcement
of Napoleon's abdication had spread consternation among Marmont's men,
and they were seriously demoralized. When a routine message came from
Fontainebleau requiring Souham's presence there, his guilty conscience
made him tremble; and when Gourgaud requested an interview the uneasy
general foresaw his own arrest and was terror-stricken. Summoning the
others who, like himself, were partly committed, he told his fears,
and the soldiers were ordered under arms. Toward midnight the march
began. Ignorant at first of whither they were going, the men were
silent; but finding themselves before long between two Austrian lines,
they hooted their officers. Thereupon they were told that they were
to fight beside these same Austrians in defense of the Empire, and,
believing the lie, were reconciled.
Arriving finally at Versailles, and learning the truth, they mutinied;
but Marmont soon appeared, and partly cowed them, partly persuaded
them to bend before necessity. After learning of Souham's deed he had
hurried to the Czar's antechamber. In an adjoining room were assembled
the members of the provisional government. Like Marmont, they had
learned the result of Souham's efforts and had regained their
equanimity. After grasping the appalling fact that twelve thousand
men, the whole sixth corps, with arms and baggage, were prisoners
within the Austrian lines, of course there had been nothing left for
Caulaincourt and the marshals but to withdraw. With much embarrassment
the Czar promised an answer to their request on the following
afternoon. All knew that the knell of the Empire had struck. To the
waiting royalists it seemed a fit moment for pleasantry as the members
of the embassy came filing out with stony gaze. The thwarted
imperialists sternly repulsed their tormentors. Marmont breathed hard
as his colleagues passed without a glimpse of recognition, and
murmured: "I would give an arm if this had not happened." "An arm?
Sir, say your head," rejoined Macdonald, bitterly. For some time after
the first Restoration Marmont was a hero, but soon his vanity and true
character combined to bring out his conduct into clear view, and from
his title of Ragusa was coined the word "ragusade" as a synonym for
treason. During the "Hundred Days" his name was of course stricken
from the list of marshals. Loaded with honors in the second
Restoration, he proved a second time faithless, and in 1830 betrayed
his trust to the republicans. The people called him "Judas," and he
died in exile, honored by nobody.
There can be little doubt of Napoleon's conviction that his offer to
abdicate would be rejected by Alexander. No sooner was it signed than,
with his characteristic astuteness, he set about preparing an
alternative course. At once he despatched a messenger requesting the
Empress to send Champagny immediately to Dijon as an ambassador to
intercede with her father. Then, on April fourth, he summoned a
conclave of his officers to secure their assent to the battle which he
believed inevitable. It was the call to this meeting which had
stampeded Souham and his colleagues in desertion. The greater officers
being absent from Fontainebleau, the minor ones were unanimous and
hearty in their support of Napoleon's plans. But at the very close of
the session came the news of what had happened at Essonnes. When
finally assured of every detail, Napoleon took measures at once to
repair as best he could the breaches in his defense, saying of Marmont
quietly and without a sign of panic: "Unhappy man, he will be more
unhappy than I." Only a few days before he had declared to
Caulaincourt: "There are no longer any who play fair except my poor
soldiers and their officers that are neither princes nor dukes nor
counts. It is an awful thing to say, but it is true. Do you know what
I ought to do? Send all these noble lords of yesterday to sleep in
their beds of down, to strut about in their castles. I ought to rid
myself of these frondeurs, and begin the war once more with men of
youthful, unsullied courage." He was partly prepared, therefore, even
for the defection of Marmont. Next morning, on the fifth, was issued
the ablest proclamation ever penned by him; at noon the veterans from
Spain were reviewed, and in the afternoon began the movements
necessary to array beyond the Loire what remained of the army and
rally it about the seat of imperial government. But at nine the
embassy returned from Paris with its news--the Czar had refused to
accept the abdication; the senate was about to proclaim Louis XVIII;
Napoleon was to reign thereafter over the little isle of Elba. To this
the undaunted Emperor calmly rejoined that war henceforth offered
nothing worse than peace, and began at once to explain his plans.
But he was interrupted--exactly how we cannot tell; for, though the
embassy returned as it left, in a body, the memoirs of each member
strive to convey the impression that it was he alone who said and did
everything. If only the narrative attributed to Caulaincourt were of
undoubted authenticity, cumulative evidence might create certitude;
but it is not. The sorry tale of what probably occurred makes clear
that all three were now royalists more or less ardent, for in passing
they had concluded a truce with Schwarzenberg on that basis. Macdonald
asserts that his was the short and brutal response to Napoleon's
exhibition of his plans; to wit, that they must have an abdication
without conditions. Ney was quite as savage, declaring that the
confidence of the army was gone. Napoleon at first denounced such
mutiny, but then, with seeming resignation, promised an answer next
day. He did not yet know that in secret convention the generals were
resolving not to obey the orders issued for the morrow; but as the
door closed behind the marshals the mind so far clear seemed suddenly
eclipsed, and murmuring, "These men have neither heart nor bowels; I
am conquered less by fortune than by the egotism and ingratitude of my
companions in arms," the great, homeless citizen of the world sank
into utter dejection.
It appears to have been a fixed purpose with Napoleon never to fall
alive into his enemy's hands. Although they acted under legal forms,
yet some European monarchs of the eighteenth century were no more
trustworthy in dealing with foes than their great prototype Julius
Caesar in his faithlessness to a certain canton of the Helvetians. They
did not display sufficient surprise when enemies were assassinated.
Since 1808 the European colossus had worn about his neck as a kind of
amulet a little bag which was said to contain a deadly poison, one of
the salts of prussic acid. During the night, when the terrors of a
shaken reason overpowered him, he swallowed the drug. Whether it had
lost its efficacy, or whether the agitated victim of melancholy did
not take the entire dose, in either case the effects were imperfect.
Instead of oblivion came agony, and his valet, rushing to his master's
bedside at the sound of a bitter cry, claimed to catch the words:
"Marmont has struck me the final blow! Unhappy man, I loved him!
Berthier's desertion has broken my heart! My old friends, my comrades
in arms!" Ivan, the Emperor's body physician, was summoned, and
administered an antidote; the spasm was allayed, and after a short
sleep reason resumed her seat. It is related in the memoirs of
Caulaincourt, and probably with a sort of Homeric truth, that when the
minister was admitted in the early morning, Napoleon's "wan and sunken
eyes seemed struggling to recall the objects round about; a universe
of torture was revealed in the vaguely desolate look." Napoleon is
reported as saying: "God did not will it. I could not die. Why did
they not let me die? It is not the loss of the throne that makes
existence unendurable; my military career suffices for the glory of a
single man. Do you know what is more difficult to bear than the
reverses of fortune? It is the baseness, the horrible ingratitude, of
men. Before such acts of cowardice, before the shamelessness of their
egotism, I have turned away my head in disgust and have come to
regard my life with horror.... Death is rest.... Rest at last.... What
I have suffered for twenty days no one can understand."
What throws some shadow on this account is the fact that on the
following morning Napoleon appeared outwardly well and perfectly calm
when he assembled his marshals and made a final appeal. It is certain,
from the testimony of his secretary and his physician, that he had
been violently ill, but the sobriety of the remaining chronicle is to
be doubted. Possibly, too, the empty sachet had contained a
preparation of opium intended to relieve sharp attacks like that at
Pirna; but in view of the second attempt at suicide made after
Waterloo, this is not likely. Yet the circumstances may easily have
been exaggerated; for the evident motive of what has been called the
imperial legend is to heighten all the effects in the Napoleonic
picture. Whatever was the truth as to that gloomy night, Napoleon's
appeal next morning, though eloquent, was in vain; the marshals were
unshaken in their determination, though less bitter and violent in
their language. "You deserve repose," were the Emperor's last words to
them; "well, then, take it." Thereupon the act of unconditional
abdication was written in these words: "The allied powers having
declared the Emperor Napoleon to be the sole obstacle to the
reestablishment of peace in Europe, the Emperor Napoleon, faithful to
his oath, declares that for himself and his heirs he renounces the
thrones of France and of Italy, because there is no personal sacrifice
which he is not ready to make for the welfare of the nation." These
last words were, after some consideration, erased, and the phrase "in
the interest of France" was substituted for them. Some think, and it
may well be true, that this change of form, taken in connection with
Napoleon's calmness, was another proof of his deep purpose. Unable to
thwart his "growlers," he may have recollected that once before he had
crossed the Mediterranean to give a feeble government full scope for
its own destruction. France might easily recall her favorite son in
her own interest. He was scarcely more than forty-four, a young man
still, and this he probably recalled as he made ready to play a new
role.
Armed with the document necessary to secure his pardon, Ney hurried
back to the capital. The elderly, well-meaning, but obtuse Louis XVIII
was immediately proclaimed king by the senate. Having "learned
nothing, and forgotten nothing," he accepted the throne, making
certain concessions to the new France, sufficient, as he hoped, to
secure at least the momentary support of the people. The haste to join
the white standard made by men on whom Napoleon's adventurous career
had heaped honor and wealth is unparalleled in history. Jourdan,
Augereau, Maison, Lagrange, Nansouty, Oudinot, Kellermann, Lefebvre,
Hulin, Milhaud, Latour-Maubourg, Segur, Berthier, Belliard--such were
the earliest names. Among the soldiers near by some bowed to the new
order, but among the garrisons there was such widespread mutiny that
royalist hate was kindled again and fanned to white heat by the scoffs
and jeers of the outraged men. Their behavior was the outward sign of
a temper not universal, of course, but very common among the people.
At Paris both the King and the King's brother were cheered on their
formal entry, but many discriminating onlookers prophesied that the
Bourbons could not remain long.
Fully aware that Napoleon was yet a power in France, and challenged by
the marshals to display a chivalric spirit in providing for the
welfare of their former monarch, Alexander gave full play to his
generous impulses. His first suggestion was that his fallen foe
should accept a home and complete establishment in Russia; but this
would have been to ignore the other members of the coalition. It was
determined finally to provide the semblance of an empire, the forms of
state, and an imperial income, and to make the former Emperor the
guest of all Europe. The idea was quixotic, but Napoleon was not a
prisoner; he had done nothing worthy of degradation, and throughout
the civilized world he was still regarded by vast numbers as the
savior of European society, who had fallen into the hands of cruel
oppressors. The paper which was finally drawn up was a treaty between
Napoleon, for the time and purposes of the instrument a private
citizen, as one party, and the four sovereign states of Austria,
Prussia, Russia, and England as the other. It had, therefore, no
sanction except the public opinion of France and the good faith of
those who executed it, the former being bound by her allies to a
contract made by them. It was France which was to pay Napoleon two
millions of francs a year, and leave him to reign undisturbed over
Elba; the allies granted Parma, Placentia, and Guastalla as a realm in
perpetuity to Maria Louisa and her heirs, through the King of Rome, as
her successors. The agreement was unique, but so were the
circumstances which brought it to pass. There was but one important
protest, and that was made by Castlereagh in regard to the word
Napoleon and the imperial style! His protest was vain, but to this day
many among the greatest of his countrymen persistently employ
"Bonaparte" in speaking of the greater, and "Napoleon" in designating
the lesser, of the two men who have ruled France as emperors.
Four commissioners, one from each of the powers, proceeded to
Fontainebleau. They were careful to treat Napoleon with the
consideration due to an emperor. To all he was courteous, except
to the representative of Prussia, Count Truchsess-Waldburg, whose
presence he declared unnecessary, since there were to be no
Prussian troops on the southern road toward Elba. With Colonel
Campbell, the British commissioner, he was most friendly,
conversing enthusiastically with the Scotch officer about the
Scotch poet known as Ossian. What was particularly admired in his
remarkable outpourings was their warlike tone. As the preparations
for departure went forward, it became clear that of all the
imperial dignitaries only Bertrand and Drouot would accompany the
exile. The others he dismissed with characteristic and appropriate
farewells: to Caulaincourt he assigned a gift of five hundred
thousand francs from the treasure at Blois; Constant, the valet,
and Rustan, the Mameluke, were dismissed at their own desire, but
not empty-handed. For his line of travel, and for a hundred
baggage-wagons loaded with books, furniture, and objects of art,
Napoleon stipulated with the utmost nicety and persistence. With
every hour he showed greater and greater anxiety for his personal
safety. Indifferent to life but a few short days before, he was now
timid and over-anxious. If he had been playing a part and pondering
what in a few years, perhaps months, his life and person might
again be worth in European politics, he could not have been more
painstaking as to measures for his personal safety. The stoic could
have recourse to the bowl, the eighteenth-century enthusiast must
live and hope to the last. Napoleon seems to have struggled for the
union of both characters. "They blame me that I can outlive my
fall," he remarked. "Wrongfully.... It is much more courageous to
survive unmerited bad fortune." Only once he seemed overpowered,
being observed, as he sat at table, to strike his forehead and
murmur: "God, is it possible?" Sometimes, too, he appeared to be
lost in reverie, and when addressed started like one awakened from
a dream. All was ready on the twentieth; but the Empress, who by
the terms of the "treaty" was to accompany her consort as far as
the harbor of St. Tropez, did not appear. Napoleon declared that
she had been kidnapped, and refused to stir, threatening to
withdraw his abdication. Koller, the Austrian commissioner, assured
him of the truth, that she had resolved of her free will not to be
present. In the certainty that all was over, the Empress had
determined to take refuge with her father, and the imperial
government at Blois had dispersed, Joseph and Jerome flying to
Switzerland.
The announcement staggered Napoleon, but he replied with words
destined to have great significance: "Very well; I shall remain
faithful to my promise; but if I have new reasons to complain, I shall
consider myself absolved." Further, he touched on various topics as if
seeking to talk against time, remarking that Francis had impiously
sought the dissolution of his daughter's marriage; that Russia and
Prussia had made Austria's position dangerous; that the Czar and
Frederick William had shown little delicacy in visiting Maria Louisa
at Rambouillet; that he himself was no usurper; and that he had been
wrong not to make peace at Prague or Dresden. Then, suddenly changing
tone and topic, he asked with interest what would occur if Elba
refused to accept him. Koller thought he might still take refuge in
England. Napoleon rejoined that he had thought of that; but, having
always sought to do England harm, would the English make him welcome?
Koller replied that, as all the projects against her welfare had come
to naught, England would feel no bitterness. Finally, about noon
Napoleon descended into the courtyard, where the few grenadiers of the
old guard were drawn up. The officers, commissioned and
non-commissioned, were called forward, and in a few touching words
their former leader thanked all who had remained true for their
loyalty. With their aid he could have continued the war beyond the
Loire, but he had preferred to sacrifice his personal interests to
those of France. "Continue to serve France," runs the Napoleonic text
of this fine address: but the commissioners thought they heard "to
serve the sovereign which the nation has chosen." He could have ended
his life, he went on to say, but he wished to live and record for
posterity the great deeds of his warriors. Then he embraced Petit, the
commanding officer, and, snatching to his breast the imperial eagle,
his standard in so many glorious battles, he pressed it to his lips,
and entered the waiting carriage. A swelling sob burst from the ranks,
and tears bedewed the weather-beaten cheeks of men who had not wept
for years.