Memoirs of the Private Life, Return, and Reign of Napoleon in 1815 Part 8

Orders and counter-orders were given on the one hand, and revoked on the other. Schemes of every kind, all equally inconsiderate and impracticable, were approved and rejected, resumed and abandoned.

The chambers and the government had ceased to act in unison. The ministers complained of the deputies; the deputies publicly demanded of the King the dismissal of his ministers, and that he would place around himself men, "who have been the constant defenders of justice and liberty, and whose names shall be a guarantee for the interest of all[50]."

The same disorder, the same disunion, manifested themselves every where at the same time: there was only one point in which people agreed; that all was lost.

In fact so it was.

The people, whom the n.o.bles had humbled, vexed, or terrified by haughty and tyrannical pretensions;

They who had acquired national domains, whom they had wished to dispossess;

The protestants, who had been sacrificed;

The magistrates, who had been turned out;

The persons in office, who had been reduced to want;

The soldiers, officers, and generals, who had been despised and ill-treated;

The revolutionists, who had been incessantly insulted and menaced;

The friends of justice, and of liberty, who had been abused;

All the French, whom the government had reduced, as it were, in spite of themselves, to wish for another order of things; eagerly embraced the cause of Napoleon, which had become the national cause through the faults of the government.

Royalty had no defenders left but women and their handkerchiefs; priests without influence; n.o.bles without courage; body guards without youth, or without experience.

The legions of the national guard, on which such great reliance had been placed, were reviewed by their colonel-general: he harangued them on the charter, and the tyranny of Bonaparte; he told them, that he would march at their head, and said: "Let those, who love their King, come out from their ranks, and follow me." Scarcely two hundred obeyed the order.

The royal volunteers, who had made so much noise, when they expected to be victors without incurring any peril, had gradually dispersed; and those, whom the approach of danger had neither intimidated nor cooled, were too few to have any weight in the balance.

The government had one sole and last hope remaining: it was, dare I say it? that Napoleon would be a.s.sa.s.sinated.

The same men who had preached up a civil war, and declared, that it would be shameful not to have one; soiled the walls of Paris with provocations to murder, and fanatic praises bestowed beforehand on murderers. Emissaries, mixing in the various groups of the people, endeavoured to put the poniard into the hands of the new Jacques Clements. A public act had proscribed Napoleon; a reward was publicly offered for his head. This call for a crime, which indignant France first heard from the a.s.sa.s.sins of Coligny, was repeated by men, who, like them, had the sacred words of morality, humanity, and religion, continually in their mouths, and who, like them, thirsted only after vengeance and blood.

But while they were conspiring at Paris to a.s.sa.s.sinate Napoleon, he peaceably pursued his triumphant march.

Quitting Gren.o.ble on the 9th, he came that night and slept at Burgoing. [51]""The crowd and the enthusiasm continued to increase: "We have long expected you," said all these brave fellows to the Emperor; "at length you are come, to deliver France from the insolence of the n.o.bility, the pretensions of the priests, and the disgrace of a foreign yoke."

""The Emperor, being fatigued[52], was in his calash, the horse walking, surrounded by a crowd of peasants, singing songs, that expressed the n.o.ble sentiments of these brave Dauphinese. "Ah!" said the Emperor, "I here find again the sentiments, which twenty years ago led me to hail France by the name of the great nation! Yes, you are still the great nation, and you shall ever be so."""

They approached Lyons: the Emperor had sent his emissaries before him, who informed him, that the Count d'Artois, the Duke of Orleans, and Marshal Macdonald, had determined to defend the city, and that they were going to break down the bridges de la Guillotiere and Moraud. ""The Emperor laughed at these ridiculous preparations: he could not doubt the disposition of the Lyonese, still less those of the soldiers; yet he gave orders to General Bertrand, to collect boats at the Mirbel, intending to cross the river in the night, and cut off the roads to Moulins and Macon for the Prince, who wanted to prevent his pa.s.sing the Rhone. At four o'clock a reconnoitring party of the fourth hussars arrived at la Guillotiere, and were received with shouts of "Long live the Emperor!" by the immense population of the suburb, that has always been distinguished for its attachment to its country.""

The Emperor immediately countermanded the pa.s.sage at Mirbel, and desirous of availing himself of this first enthusiastic movement, as at Gren.o.ble, galloped forward to the suburb of Guillotiere.

The Count d'Artois, less fortunate, could not even succeed in opposing to his adversary a shadow of defence.

He was desirous of destroying the bridges, but the city opposed it.

The troops, whose attachment he fancied he could purchase by the distribution of money, or the bait of rewards, had remained deaf to his words, his entreaties, his promises. Pa.s.sing before the thirteenth regiment of dragoons, he said to a brave fellow, decorated with three chevrons and with scars: "Come, comrade, shout Long live the King!"-"No, Sir," answered the brave dragoon, "No soldier will fight against his father; I can only answer you by saying Long live the Emperor!" Confused and in despair, he exclaimed in a sorrowful tone, "All is lost!" and these words, instantly spreading from one to another, only strengthened the prevailing ill will or discouragement[53].

Marshal Macdonald, however, who was well known to the troops, had succeeded in barricading the bridge of la Guillotiere, and led two battalions of infantry thither in person; when the hussars of Napoleon came out from the suburb, and presented themselves before the bridge, preceded, surrounded, and followed, by all the youth of the place.

The marshal restrained the soldiers a few minutes: but moved, seduced, borne away, by the incitements of the people and the hussars, they rushed to the barricadoes, burst them, and were quickly in the arms and in the ranks of the soldiers of Napoleon.

The Count d'Artois, foreseeing this defection, had quitted Lyons, unaccompanied by a single gendarme, but escorted by a detachment of the thirteenth dragoons, commanded by lieutenant Marchebout. It is due to the troops to say, that they did not cease to respect him, and that he ran no risk[54].

At five in the evening the whole garrison rushed out to meet Napoleon.

An hour after, the imperial army took possession of the city.

At seven Napoleon made his solemn entry, proceeding alone before his troops, but preceded and followed by an immense crowd, expressing, by incessant acclamations, the intoxication, happiness, and pride, they felt at seeing him again. He alighted at the archbishop's palace, and quietly took his rest in the very places, which the Count d'Artois, yielding to despair, had just watered with his tears.

Napoleon immediately entrusted the guarding of his person, and the interior charge of the palace, to the national guard. He would not accept the services of the horse-guards. "Our inst.i.tutions," said he to them, "know nothing of national guards on horseback; besides, you behaved so ill with the Count d'Artois, that I will have nothing to say to you."

In fact the Emperor, who had always respected misfortune, had made inquiries concerning the Count d'Artois on his arrival; and had learned, that the n.o.bles, of whom the horse-guards were chiefly composed, after having sworn to the prince to die for him, had deserted him; one excepted, who remained faithfully attached to his escort, till the moment he thought his life and liberty out of all danger.

The Emperor did not confine himself to commendation of the conduct of this generous Lyonese. "I never left a n.o.ble action," said he, "without reward:" and he appointed him a member of the Legion of Honour.

I was at Lyons the moment when Napoleon arrived. He knew it, and sent for me that very evening. "Well!" said he to me with a smile, "you did not expect to see me again so soon[55]."-"No, Sire; your Majesty alone is capable of occasioning such surprises."-"What do they say of all this at Paris?"-"Why, Sire, there, as here, they are rejoiced, no doubt, at your Majesty's happy return."-"And public opinion, how is that?"-"Sire, it is greatly changed: formerly we thought of nothing but glory, now we think only of liberty. The struggle that has arisen between the Bourbons and the nation has revealed to us our rights; it has engendered in men's minds a number of liberal ideas, that did not exist in your Majesty's time; people feel, people experience, the necessity of being free; and the most certain means of pleasing the French would be to promise, and to give them, laws truly popular."-"I know that the discussions they[56] have suffered to take place, have diminished the respect for power, and enfeebled it. Liberal ideas have resumed all the ground I had gained for it. I shall not attempt to reconquer it: no one should attempt to contend with a nation; it is the earthen pot against the iron pot. The French shall have reason to be satisfied with me. I know, that there is both pleasure and glory in rendering a great people free and happy. I will give pledges to France: I did not stint it in glory, I will not stint it in liberty. I will retain no farther power than is necessary to enable me to govern. Power is not incompatible with liberty: on the contrary, liberty is never more entire, than when power is well established. When it is weak, it is captious: when it is strong, it sleeps in tranquillity, and leaves the reins loose on the neck of liberty. I know what is requisite for the French; we shall settle that point: but no licentiousness, no anarchy; for anarchy would lead us to the despotism of the republicans, the most fertile of all despotisms in tyrannic acts, because every body takes a share in it.... Do they suppose we shall come to a battle?"-"They do not think it: the government have never had confidence in the soldiery; it has made itself detested by the officers; and all the troops that may be opposed to your Majesty's, will be so many reinforcements sent you."-"I think so too: and the marshals?"-"Sire, they cannot but be apprehensive, that your Majesty will remember Fontainbleau; and perhaps it will be well to remove their fears, and to make known to them personally your Majesty's intention of consigning every thing to oblivion."-"No, I will not write to them; they would consider me as under obligations to them; and I will be obliged to no person. The troops are well disposed, the officers are good, and if the marshals wished to restrain them, they would be hurried along by them ... where is my guard?"-"I believe at Metz and at Nancy."-"Of that I am sure, do what they will, they will never corrupt it. What are Augereau and Marmont about?"-"I do not know."-"What is Ney doing? On what terms is he with the king?"-"Sometimes good, sometimes bad: I believe he has had reason to complain of the court on account of his wife."-"His wife is an affected creature; no doubt she has attempted to play the part of a great lady, and the old dowagers have ridiculed her. Has Ney any command?"-"I do not think he has, Sire."-"Is he one of us?"-"The part he took in your abdication"--"Ay, I read that at Porto Ferrajo: he boasted of having ill-treated me, of having laid his pistols on my table: it was all false. Had he dared to fail of respect to me, I would have ordered him to be shot. A heap of tales has been spread respecting my abdication. I abdicated, not in consequence of their advice, but because my army was out of its senses: besides, I would not have a civil war. It was never to my taste. It was said, that Augereau, when I met him, loaded me with reproaches ... it was a lie: no one of my generals would have dared, in my presence, to forget what was due to me. Had I known of the proclamation of Augereau, I would have forbidden him my presence[57]: cowards only insult misfortune. His proclamation, which I was reported to have had in my pocket, was unknown to me till after our interview. It was General Koller who showed it me; but let us quit these popular rumours. What has been done at the Tuileries?"-"Nothing has been altered, Sire; even the eagles have not yet been removed."-(Smiling) "They must have thought my arrangement of them admirable."-"So I presume, Sire: it has been said, that the Count d'Artois went through all the apartments immediately after his arrival, and could not cease to admire them."-"I can readily believe it. What have they done with my pictures?"-"Some have been taken away, but that of the battle of Austerlitz is still in the council-chamber."-"And the theatre?"-"It has not been touched: it is no longer used."-"What is Talma doing?"-"Why, Sire, he continues to deserve and obtain public applause."-"I shall see him again with pleasure. Have you been at court?"-"Yes, Sire, I have been presented."-"I am told, they all have the air of upstarts of yesterday; that they know not how to utter a word, or take a single step, with propriety: have you seen them on grand public days?"-"No, Sire, but I can a.s.sure your Majesty, that people pay as little regard to ceremony at the Tuileries, as at their own homes: they go thither in dirty boots, common frock-coats, and round hats."-"That must have a very majestic appearance. But how do all those old thicksculls spend their money? for every thing has been restored to them."-"But, probably, Sire, they wish to wear out their old clothes."-"Poor France! into what hands hast thou thrust thyself! And the king, what sort of a countenance has he?"-"He has a tolerably fine head."-"Is his coin handsome?"-"Of this your Majesty may judge: here is a twenty-franc piece."-"What! they have not re-coined louis: I am surprised at this. (Turning the piece over) He does not look as if he would starve himself: but observe, they have taken away Dieu protege la France (G.o.d protect France), to restore their Domine, salvum fac regem (Lord, preserve the King). This is as they always were: every thing for themselves, nothing for France. Where is Maret? where is Caulincourt? where is Lavalette? where is Fouche?"-"They are all at Paris."-"And Mole?"-"He, too, is at Paris; I observed him a short time ago at the Queen's."-"Have we any persons hereabout, who were nearly attached to me?"-"I do not know, Sire."-"You must inquire, and bring them to me. I should be glad to be thoroughly acquainted with the spirit of the times, and know something of the present state of affairs. What does Hortense do?"-"Sire, her house is still the resort of men, who know how to appreciate wit and elegance: and the Queen, though without a throne, is not less an object of the respect and homage of all Paris."-"She did a very foolish thing, in exhibiting herself as a spectacle before the tribunals. They who advised her to it were blockheads. Why, too, did she go and demand the t.i.tle of d.u.c.h.ess?"-"She, Sire, did not demand it, it was the Emperor Alexander...."-"No matter, she ought not to have accepted, any more than demanded it: she should have called herself Madame Bonaparte: this name is full as good as any other. Besides, what right had she to have her son made a duke of St. Leu, and a peer of the Bourbons? Louis was in the right to oppose it: he was sensible, that the name of her son was sufficiently honourable, not to suffer himself to change it. If Josephine had been alive, she would have prevented her from engaging in such a foolish piece of business. Was she much regretted?"-"Yes, Sire, your Majesty knows how much she was beloved and honoured by the French."-"She deserved it. She was an excellent woman: she had a great deal of sense. I greatly regretted her too, and the day when I heard of her death was one of the most unhappy of my life. Was there a public mourning for her?"-"No, Sire. Indeed I think she would have been refused the honours due to her rank, had not the Emperor Alexander insisted on their being paid her."-"So I heard at the time, but I did not believe it. He was no way interested in it."-"The generosity of Alexander was not confined within any limits: he showed himself the protector of the Empress, the Queen, Prince Eugene, the Duke of Vicenza, and a number of other persons of distinction, who, but for him, would have been persecuted or ill treated."-"You love him, it seems."-"Sire...."-"Is the national guard of Paris well disposed?"-"I cannot positively affirm it; but of this at least I am certain, that if it do not declare for your Majesty, at least it will not act against us."-"I imagine so too. What is it supposed, that the foreigners will think of my return?"-"It is thought, that Austria will connect itself with your Majesty, and that Russia will behold the disgrace of the Bourbons without regret."-"Why so?"-"It is said, Sire, that Alexander was not pleased with the princes while at Paris. That the predilection of the king for England, and his attributing his crown to the Prince Regent, offended him."-"It is well to know that. Has he seen my son?"-"Yes, Sire: I have been a.s.sured, that he embraced him with a tenderness truly paternal, and exclaimed: He is a charming fellow: how have I been deceived!"-"What did he mean by that?"-"They say he had been informed, that the young prince was rickety and imbecile."-"Wretches! he is an admirable child: he gives every indication of becoming a distinguished character. He will be an honour to his age. Is it true, that so much was made of Alexander at Paris?"-"Yes, Sire, n.o.body else was attended to but he: the other sovereigns appeared as if they were his aides-de-camp."-"In fact, he did a great deal for Paris: but for him the English would have ruined it, and the Prussians would have set it on fire.-He acted his part well ... (with a smile) if I were not Napoleon, perhaps I would be Alexander."

The next day he reviewed the division of Lyons in Bellecour Square. "I shall see that square again with pleasure," said he, to the chiefs of the national guard, who stood round him: "I remember, that I raised it from its ruins, and laid the first stone of it fifteen years ago." He went out merely preceded by a few hussars. A crowd of men, old men, women and children, thronged the bridges, the quays, and the streets. They rushed under the horses' feet to hear him, to see him, to have a closer view of him, to touch his garments ... it was an actual delirium. Scarcely had he proceeded a few steps, when the crowd, that had already seen him, ran to another spot, to see him again. The air rung with uninterrupted acclamations. It was a rolling volley of "The nation for ever! The Emperor for ever! Down with the priests! Down with the royalists!" &c.

The division of Brayer, as soon as reviewed, set out on its march to Paris.

When the Emperor returned to the archiepiscopal palace, the great gallery was crowded with generals, colonels, magistrates, and public officers of all ranks and kinds. You might have thought yourselves in the Tuileries.

The Emperor stopped a few minutes: he embraced Generals Mouton Duvernay, Girard, and other officers, whom Paris supposed to be in pursuit of him; and after having distributed on the right and left a few smiles and many compliments, he proceeded to his saloon, and admitted to be presented to him the imperial court, the munic.i.p.al body, and the chiefs of the military corps and the national guard.

He conversed a long time with them on the faults of the Bourbons, and the deplorable situation in which he found France. He confessed to them with n.o.ble frankness, that he was not altogether inculpable for its misfortunes. "I was hurried on," said he, "by the course of events, into a wrong path. But, taught by experience, I have abjured that love of glory, so natural to the French, which has had such fatal consequences to them and to me.... I was mistaken in supposing, that the time was arrived for rendering France the metropolis of a great empire: I have renounced for ever that grand enterprise; we have enough of glory, we want repose.

"It is not ambition, that has brought me back to France: it is the love of the country. I could have preferred the tranquillity of the island of Elba to the cares of a throne, had I not known, that France was unhappy, and had need of me.

"On setting foot on our dear France," continued he, after a few unimportant answers from his auditors, "I made a vow to render it free and happy: I bring nothing to it but benefits. I am returned to protect and defend those interests, to which our revolution has given birth: I return to concur with the representatives of the nation in a family compact, that shall preserve for ever the liberty and the rights of every Frenchman: henceforward it will be my ambition, and my glory, to effect the happiness of the great people from whom I hold every thing. I will not, like Louis XVIII., grant you a revocable charter; I will give you an inviolable const.i.tution, and it shall be the work of the people, as well as of myself."

Such were his words. He p.r.o.nounced them with an air of such satisfaction, he appeared so confident of himself and of the future, that a man would have thought himself criminal to suspect the purity of his intentions, or to doubt the happiness he was about to secure to France.

The language he held at Lyons we perceive was not the same, as that he had uttered at Gap and at Gren.o.ble. In the last-mentioned towns he sought princ.i.p.ally to excite in men's minds hatred of the Bourbons, and the love of liberty: he had spoken as a citizen, rather than a monarch. No formal declaration, not a single word, revealed his intentions. It might as well have been supposed, that he thought of restoring the republic, or the consuls.h.i.+p, as the empire. At Lyons, there was no longer any thing vague, any thing uncertain: he spoke as a sovereign, and promised to give a national const.i.tution. The idea of the Champ de Mai had recurred to him.

Not one of us suspected the sincerity of the promises and resolves of Napoleon.

Time, reflection, misfortune, the grand teacher of mankind, had effected the most favourable changes in the principles of Napoleon.

Formerly, when unforeseen obstacles arose, suddenly to thwart his projects, his pa.s.sions, accustomed to no restraint, to respect no bridle, burst forth with the fury of a raging sea: he spoke, he ordered, he decided, as if he had been master of the earth and of the elements; nothing appeared to him impossible.

After his reverse of fortune, he had learned in the calm of solitude and meditation, to control the violence of his will, and to subject it to the yoke of reason and prudence. He had read attentively the writings, pamphlets, and even libels, published against him: and amid the revilings, calumnies, and absurdities, which they frequently contained, he had found useful truths, judicious observations, and profound views, of which he knew how to benefit himself.

"Princes," observes the learned author of the Spirit of Laws, "have in their lives periods of ambition to which other pa.s.sions, and even indolence, succeed." Napoleon's hour of indolence was not yet come: but to the ambition of increasing his power without limit, had succeeded the desire of rendering France happy, and of repairing by a durable peace, and a paternal government, all the evils that had been brought upon it by war.