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Memoirs of the Private Life, Return, and Reign of Napoleon in 1815, Vol. I · Pierre Alexandre Édouard Fleury de Chaboulon — chapter 7 of 40 · ~3,168 words · public domain

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At the same moment his sovereign will guided the hands which curbed the waves of the ocean, and caused them to roll over a new abyss. He directed those labours which substituted wide harbours, superb dock-yards, and fertilizing canals, in the place of desert shores and pestilential marshes, restoring commerce and existence to the innumerable inhabitants of the sea coast, and of the banks of the Scheld and the Somme. At the same moment his voice created those Roman highways, branching through all parts of France, and Germany, and Italy, equally useful and majestic, and which afforded to the inhabitants of those countries means equally speedy and secure of communicating with each other, and of exchanging the products of their industry: and never will the friend or even the enemy of Napoleon cross the summits of the Alps, or ascend their craggy sides, without venerating the magnanimous sovereign, who, anxious to guide the steps and protect the life of the traveller, has enclosed the precipice, chained the torrent, and linked the great mountains of the earth, which during so many ages have braved the might of man and time. When future ages shall gather up in memory the glorious and transcendent deeds of Napoleon; when they shall number the blessings which he dispensed, and the victories which he gained, never will they believe that one man can have worked such miracles in so short a period. They will rather fancy that the historian was playing with the credulity of posterity, that he culled out all the great deeds performed by successive generations of the greatest men during an infinite series of ages, and that he has attributed them all to his ideal hero.

The soldiers who had bled beneath the banners of Napoleon would not listen in silence to the praises which others bestowed upon his name. His foreign conquests, which even they had lately considered as the causes of our misfortunes, became again the sources of inexhaustible admiration.

They recollected that Napoleon had ruled as the master of Madrid, of Lisbon, of Munich, of Warsaw, of Hamburgh, of Berlin, of Vienna, of Milan, of Amsterdam, of Rome, of Moscow, of Cairo.

Some recalled the memory of the day of Lodi. They saw him standing on the bridge re-animating his dispirited followers, defying danger and death whilst he waved the national flag, and drove the enemy from their entrenchments, and blasted their glory. Others pointed him out whilst crossing the perpetual snows and yawning chasms of Mount St. Bernard, and then victorious on the plains of Marengo, where he won that battle which insured the peace and glory of the country.

Austerlitz had its chroniclers, who described Napoleon as he fell with the rapidity and violence of the thunderbolt on the battalions of the Austrian and the Russian, and when he afforded to those trembling monarchs an example of magnanimity which they knew not how to imitate when generosity became their duty. Nor did his enthusiastic advocates omit the field of Jena, where his victorious ensigns chased the flying troops of Frederic, who, deceived by their recollections, yet held themselves to be the paragons of military worth. They retraced his paths amidst the burning sands of Egypt, amidst the icy wastes of Muscovy; and in either region Napoleon supported fire and frost without ostentation, and taught resignation and endurance to his soldiers by his unshaken constancy.

More recent and more painful victories contributed equally to endear him. They saw Napoleon in Champagne, when his veteran army scarcely equalled one of the numerous divisions of the enemy. At the head of his scanty troops he watched, and avoided, and surprised the Austrians, the Russians, and the Prussians: wounding them on all sides by his victorious weapons, and with such promptitude, that he seemed to have bestowed wings upon iron and death. They placed him at Arcis sur Aube, advancing before his squadrons, and rushing forward to meet the balls and bullets of the enemy; for he sought to sacrifice on the field of battle that life, which he foresaw he could no longer dedicate on the throne, to the glory and prosperity of the nation.

In short, generals, officers, and soldiers, all vied with each other in calling to mind the marches, the sieges, the conflicts, the attacks, the days, which had immortalized their general; and is there a heart amongst us which does not beat higher at these recollections?

The sentiments thus awakening in favour of Napoleon were cherished by his friends, and by all those who, wearied of the Bourbons or discontented with their government, now wished for his return. His name, which lately we had scarcely dared to utter, was now in every mouth, his image in every mind. The nation began to regret the Emperor, then they longed for him; and every one was impressed by a secret presentiment that these expectations would soon be realized.

Whilst this formidable revulsion of opinion was increasing and appearing throughout the kingdom, it was scarcely heeded by the ministry, the court, and the emigrants, who reposed with complacent security on the volcano which they had kindled, and without entertaining the slightest apprehension of the approaching explosion.

"If they wish to go out of the kingdom," said M. de Chateaubriand, when alluding to the partisans of the Emperor, "if they wish to return again, to receive or despatch letters, to send expresses, to make proposals, to circulate false intelligence, and even to distribute bribes, to assemble in secret or in public, to menace, to disseminate libels, in short, to conspire against the government,--they are at liberty to do their worst. The royal government, which began but eight months ago, now rests upon so sure a basis, that, were it now to be obstinate in repeating folly after folly, it would hold good in spite of all its errors."

This infatuation, however, soon diminished. Without understanding the full extent of the evil, the government ascertained that the army and the nation were agitated and discontented, and they deliberated on the methods which it would be proper to employ, not for the purpose of conciliation, but for enforcing silence.

Acquainted with the uneasiness of the government, certain frantic Chouans gave out that it was full time to despatch the Bonapartists. One chieftain, celebrated in the annals of La Vendee, was even so audacious as to declare to general Ex..... that he only waited for the arrival of his faithful Vendeans, and then he would fall upon the Jacobins.

The news of this massacre soon reached the ears of the intended victims. Some quitted Paris, others armed themselves, and prepared to sell their lives as dearly as they could. It is said that the government became acquainted with the bloody conspiracy of the Chouans, and that they relieved France and the world from the spectacle of another St. Bartholomew's day.

This intended massacre (I have never been able to believe in it,) persuaded the revolutionists that they could expect neither respite nor mercy from the royalists, and that one of the two parties would be compelled to destroy the other. The soldiers of Napoleon began to unite, and to make themselves ready. The ministers were anxious to disperse these assemblages, which gave them uneasiness; orders were issued, by which all officers, whether of the staff or regimental, were prohibited from residing at Paris without permission; and all who were not Parisians by birth were ordered to return to their native provinces. This measure increased the exasperation of the military, and it did not diminish the danger. The reduced officers, instead of conforming to the order, encouraged each other in disobedience. According to the regulations of the war department, their contumacious residence at Paris would subject them to the loss of their half-pay; and many of them, though in poverty, preferred independence to submission. The ministers were irritated by this resistance, and they determined to make an example. It happened that a letter of congratulation which General Excelmans addressed to his former sovereign, the king of Naples, was intercepted. This opportunity was gladly seized by the new Minister at war. He put the General on the half-pay list, and ordered him to retire immediately, and until further orders, to the distance of sixty leagues from Paris. Excelmans maintained that the Minister at war had no right to remove an officer, not being in active service, from his domicile; and he would not go: upon this he was immediately taken into custody. It was pretended that he had been guilty of a traitorous intercourse with the enemies of the King, and that he was also guilty of disobedience to his Majesty's orders. The government expected that this blow would produce the best possible effect; but it recoiled against them: Excelmans was known to all France; he was valued as one of her bravest and most estimable children. The spite and hatred of the ministers had loaded him with accusations; but his alleged treasons, far from depriving him of public esteem and public affection, only endeared him to his companions in arms, and to the nation at large.

Excelmans was brought to trial, and the court acquitted him. The council of war, by sanctioning the disobedience of the General, declared that the government did not possess that authority over reduced officers which they had assumed; and from this moment the government was ruined. The decision by which the half-pay military were enfranchised, and which left them at liberty to brave the commands of the government, was a shock which beat the royal authority to the ground.

Here I shall stop. It would be of no further use to lengthen the history and the investigation of the absurd tyranny of the government. If we trace the progress of the principles successively enounced by the ministry, and the actions of which they were the authors, we shall see that they had formed and executed the project of re-establishing the old monarchy, and of overturning the constitutional government either by artifice or by main force. The royal charter was spurned by them, and they trampled without scruple on the civil and political rights which it consecrated. Every guarantee given to the army, the magistracy, the public functionaries, or the nation, was forgotten, attacked, or violated. Our national glory was insulted; public feeling was wounded. The manners and customs and opinions of the new era were all treated with harshness: all ranks and classes of citizens experienced those vexations which filled them with discontent. By injustice and bad faith the government deprived the King of our confidence and love, and caused the restoration of the Emperor to become the hope of the nation. In spite of the obstacles experienced by the ministry, in spite of the affronts to which they had been subjected, in spite of the retrograde steps which they had been compelled to take, they still clung to the baneful system which they had fostered; and, bigoted to these plans, they continued to persevere in those errors which recalled Napoleon from his exile, just as Napoleon persevered in the errors which recalled the Bourbons back from theirs.

But whilst the storm was gathering in France, how was Napoleon employed? Ambition had taken flight, and he was seen to prefer a life of unostentatious retirement to all his former grandeurs. Repose had greater charms for him than the noble turmoil of war; and his genius, no longer teeming with meditation, yielded to the pleasures of retirement. The study of botany, the cares of his household, the plantations which he had made, and those which he was still planning, beguiled his hours; and, like the Roman Diocletian, he might have said to those who suspected that he longed in secret after the throne, "Come and see me in my retirement: I will show you the gardens which I have planted, and you will talk no more to me about the empire."

Napoleon, during the early part of his retirement in Elba, felt only a vague desire of reigning. Grieved by the miseries of France, the country which he loved so truly, wearied by the vicissitudes of fortune, disgusted with mankind, he feared that, if he attempted to seize the sceptre again, he should involve France and himself in new troubles; and, without abandoning his expectation of re-ascending the throne, he resolved to allow his resolutions to be guided by futurity.

The turn taken by public affairs soon roused the Emperor from this state of indifference and hesitation. At first he hoped, and I have heard him say so, that the Bourbons, instructed by adversity, would confer liberty and happiness upon the nation. But when he witnessed the power which was bestowed upon the priesthood, the emigrants, and the courtiers, he foresaw that the very same causes which had produced the first revolution, would soon occasion a second. From that period he watched the continent; nor did he lose sight, even for a moment, of the congress, or of France, or of the Bourbons. He could tell the talents, the principles, the vices, and the virtues of all those who had acquired the confidence of Louis XVIII, either by intrusion or by favour. He could measure the degrees of influence which each was capable of acquiring and exercising, and he calculated beforehand on the errors which they would inevitably induce his docile successor to commit.

Napoleon now employed himself again in reading the public journals of France and of foreign countries; he read assiduously all periodical works of a political tendency; he studied these productions; he investigated them with acuteness, and he could well divine the meaning of a writer who was compelled to be silent, and conjecture the nature of intelligence which an editor was forced to suppress.

Strangers of distinction, and particularly the English, were received by Napoleon with affability and kindness, and he used to talk freely with his visitors on public affairs. He knew how to draw them out, and to lead them to expatiate on points which he wished to penetrate; and he seldom failed to obtain much useful information from those interviews. By these simple methods Napoleon obtained a correct idea of the events which were taking place on the continent; he was too well acquainted with revolutions not to be sensible that the sway of events would open the gates of France, and admit him; and he was too wary to enter into a private correspondence with his partisans, when any accident might have revealed his secret wishes, and have afforded a pretext to his enemies for attacking his independence and his liberty.

Napoleon thus waited in silence till the fated time of his re-appearance in France should arrive, when a French Officer, disguised as a sailor, disembarked at Porto Ferrajo.

Some few days before this Officer set out to join the army in the year 1815, he gave over to me the manuscript narrative of his voyage to the Isle of Elba. "To you," added he, "I deliver my history, which is also that of the revolution of the 20th of March. As the Emperor, when regaining his throne, did not think fit to speak of me, I was therefore bound to be silent; but I am as eager to live in the memory of after-ages as he can possibly be. It is my wish that posterity may learn, that I too shared in the glorious enterprise of subverting the Bourbon government, and of bringing back the Emperor. My mind misgives me. I have a presentiment that I shall die in this campaign. Keep my manuscript, and promise to publish it when the time shall arrive." I gave my word accordingly; and the forebodings of my friend were realised, for he was killed at Waterloo.

I now fulfil my promise. I have not dared to make any alterations in the narrative: if I had, I should have felt that I was betraying the wishes of my friend. But I have suppressed the names of the parties concerned, and I have expunged some passages, in which the Bourbon family were treated with disrespect.

HISTORY OF THE REVOLUTION OF THE 20th OF MARCH.

When Napoleon resigned his crown, I broke my sword. I swore that I never more would use it in the service of France, or of the new Sovereign of the nation. But the generous farewell of the Emperor could not fail to affect me; and, conquered by the irresistible influence which the love of glory and of our native land exercises upon a French soldier, I soon awoke to more praiseworthy and more tempered feelings. My recollections faded, my regrets were softened, and I aspired most sincerely to the honour of being again useful to my country, and to my country's King.

At first the character which I had earned, procured for me the most gratifying reception. Dazzling prospects were held out to me. I believed that I was treated with sincerity. This error was of short duration. Deceived and baffled, I now understood that they were cheating the army and myself. They affected to honour us in the aggregate, because they were afraid of us; and they insulted us individually, in conformity to their systematic hated. My character was too proud to allow me to bear with the insults and the contempt which they wished to pour out upon me. I resigned my commission. France and her government sickened me; but my military enthusiasm had not abated. I thought that I should be recollected by the Emperor, who had distinguished me in the field of battle; and that he would deign to grant that boon which was dearest to my heart; that he would allow me to live and die in his service. I therefore made up my mind to visit the isle of Elba.

Just, however, as I was on the point of departing, I was stopped by a sudden thought. Abandoned, betrayed, and denied, by men whom he has heaped with rewards and honours, will the Emperor really believe that I am really attached to him? Perhaps he will even suspect that I am a spy, and that the Bourbons have sent me to watch his words and actions. I was still in relation with those persons who had formerly enjoyed the confidence of the Emperor. Since the restoration, their conduct had been marked by frankness and honesty. Their feelings led them to be faithful to the person of Napoleon; their patriotism and their principles led them to be devoted to his cause; and they had not sought to conceal either their fidelity or their devotion. Many efforts had been made to gain them over to the royal party, but they had continued immoveable. I therefore thought, that whatever recommendation I could obtain from any one of the persons in question, would protect me from the suspicions of the Emperor; and to them I therefore confided my plans and the causes of my uneasiness, without hesitation or reserve.

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