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 institutions," 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 nobles, 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 noble 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 assure 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 protège la France (God 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 Fouché?"—"They are all at Paris."—"And Môlé?"—"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 title of duchess?"—"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 assured, 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, nobody 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 municipal body, and the chiefs of the military corps and the national guard.