"The time when kings reigned in virtue of right divine is far removed from us: their rights are no longer founded on any thing but the formal or tacit consent of nations: the moment nations reject them, the contract is broken; the conditional oaths taken to them are annulled in law and in fact, without their intervention or consent being necessary; for, as the proclamations of Napoleon say, kings are made for the people, not the people for kings.
"As to the abdication of Napoleon, whether voluntary or compulsive, and the rights newly acquired by Louis XVIII., it would be requisite, in order to answer this part of your objections, to inquire, whether the chief of a nation have a right to relinquish the authority entrusted to him, without the consent of that nation; and whether a government imposed by foreigners, either through influence or force of arms, unite those characters of legitimacy, which you ascribe to it. I have read in our publicists, that we owe obedience to a government de facto: and since the Emperor has in fact resumed the sceptre, I think we cannot do better, than submit to his laws; with the proviso," added I jocularly, "of leaving to posterity the task of deciding the question of right between Napoleon and Louis XVIII.
"However," continued I, "I leave you perfectly at liberty to embrace which side you judge best: it is not my intention to take you by surprise, or to put any violence on your conscience; and I beg you to consider the attempts I have made to convince you, only as a proof of my desire to bring you over to my opinion by the force of reason."
"Well, sir," said he, "I yield to your observations: be so good as to announce me to his Majesty."
The next day he was displaced!
On the 16th we slept at Avalon. Napoleon was received there as he had been every where; that is to say, with demonstrations of joy, that were actually bordering on madness. People crowded, thronged, to see, to hear, to speak to him; his quarters were instantly surrounded, besieged, by such a numerous and obstinate multitude, that it was impossible for us to enter or go out, without walking on the heads of all the population of the country. Those men who made part of the national guard would remain on duty from morning to night. Women of the greatest distinction in the place spent the day and night on the stairs and in the passages, to watch for his going by. Three of them, tired with standing the whole day for want of seats, requested permission to sit down by us: it was in the hall (adjoining the Emperor's chamber), in which some mattresses had been laid on the floor, in order that we might gain a few minutes' rest. It was pleasant enough, to see these three young and elegant Bonapartists timidly huddling together on a little couch in the midst of our dirty guardroom. We endeavoured to keep them company but our eyes closed in spite of us. "Go to sleep," said they to us, "we will watch over the Emperor." In fact, fatigue got the better of gallantry; and, to our shame be it spoken, we were soon asleep at their feet. When we awoke, we found one of these ladies keeping guard at Napoleon's door. We heard of it, and thanked her for her attachment, in very polite and pleasing terms.
I think it was at Avalon[61], that an officer of the staff came and brought us Marshal Ney's submission, and his orders of the day[62]. These orders of the day were printed that night; but the Emperor, after having read them over, directed them to be changed and reprinted. I know not whether his Majesty judged it proper to alter them, or whether the printer had made any mistake.
On the 17th the Emperor arrived at Auxerre, where he was received for the first time by a prefect. He alighted at the prefect's house. On the mantel-piece of the first saloon were the busts of the Empress, and of her son; and in the next was a whole-length portrait of Napoleon, in his imperial robes: it might have been supposed, that the reign of the Emperor had never been interrupted.
Napoleon immediately received the congratulations of all the authorities, and of the tribunals. These congratulations began to be no longer a mark of attachment in our eyes, but the fulfilment of a duty. After having discoursed with them on the grand interests of the state, the Emperor, whose good humour was inexhaustible, began to joke about the court of Louis XVIII. "His court," said he, "has the air of that of King Dagobert: we see nothing in it but antiques; the women are old and frightfully ugly; there were no pretty women in it but mine, and those were so ill-treated, that they were obliged to desert it. All those people are made up of nothing but haughtiness and pride: I have been reproached with being proud; I was so to strangers; but never did any one see me suffer my chancellor to set one knee to the ground to receive my orders, or oblige my prefects and mayors to wait at table on my courtiers and dowagers[63]. They say, that the men about the court are little better than the women; and that, to distinguish them from my generals, whom I had covered with gold lace, they are dressed like beggars. My court, it is true, was superb: I was fond of magnificence; not for myself, a plain soldier's coat was sufficient for me; I was fond of it, because it encourages our manufactures: without magnificence there is no industry. I abolished at Lyons all that parchment nobility; it was never sensible of what it owed me: it was I that exalted it, by making counts and barons of my best generals. Nobility is a chimera; men are too enlightened to believe, that some among them are noble, others not: they all spring from the same stock; the only distinction is that of talents, and of services rendered the state: our laws know no others."
The Emperor imagined, that he should find Ney at Auxerre on his arrival: "I cannot conceive," said he to General Bertrand, "why Ney is not here: I am surprised at it, and uneasy: has he changed his opinions? I cannot think so; he would never have suffered Gamot[64] to implicate himself. Yet we must know on what we are to depend; see to it." A few hours after, the marshal arrived. It was about eight o'clock, and Count Bertrand came to inform the Emperor of it. "The marshal, before he comes into your Majesty's presence," said he, "is desirous of collecting his ideas, and justifying in writing his conduct both previous and subsequent to the events of Fontainbleau."—"What need is there of any justification to me?" answered Napoleon: "tell him, that I love him still, and that I will embrace him to-morrow." He would not receive him the same day, as a punishment for having had to wait for him.