All of whom, as members of the provisional government, or agents of the royal party, had concurred in the subversion of the imperial government, previous to the abdication of Napoleon.
This decree, though supposed to have originated at Lyons, first saw the light at Paris; and was, as I have just said, the result of the ill humour, into which the plots of the royalists had thrown Napoleon. The terms, in which it was originally couched, too clearly attested its source: the first article said; "are declared traitors to their country, and shall be punished as such, &c."
It was I, who wrote this decree, from the dictation of the Emperor. When I had finished it, he ordered me, to go and get it signed by Count Bertrand, who had countersigned the decrees of Lyons. I went to the marshal. He read the decree, and returned it to me, saying: "I will never sign it: this is not what the Emperor promised us; they who advise him, to take such measures, are his bitterest enemies; I will speak to him about it." I related this firm and courageous answer to Napoleon word for word. He ordered me, to return to the grand Marshal, to endeavour to overcome his repugnance, and, if he still persisted, to bring him to him. Count Bertrand instantly followed me, with head erect, into the Emperor's closet. "I am astonished," said Napoleon to him in a dry tone, "that you make such difficulties about it to me. The severity I wish to display is necessary for the good of the state."—"I do not think so, Sire."—"I do, I tell you: and it is my business alone to judge of it. I did not ask your advice, but your signature, which is only a matter of form, and cannot in any way compromise you."—"Sire, a minister, who countersigns the act of a sovereign, is morally responsible for that act; and I should think myself wanting in my duty to your Majesty, and perhaps to myself, if I were weak enough to set my hand to such measures. If your Majesty choose to reign by the laws, you have no right, arbitrarily to pronounce, by a simple decree, sentence of death, and forfeiture of property, against your subjects. If you choose to act as a dictator, and to have no law but your own will, you have no need of the addition of my signature. Your Majesty has declared, by your proclamations, that you would grant a general amnesty. I countersigned them most cordially; and I will not countersign the decree, that revokes them."—"But you well know, I always told you, that I never would pardon Marmont, Talleyrand, and Augereau; and that I promised only to overlook, what had passed since my abdication. I know better than you, what I ought to do, to keep my promises, and ensure the tranquillity of the state. I begun with being indulgent, even to weakness and the royalists, instead of appreciating my moderation, have abused it: they bestir themselves, they conspire, and I ought and will bring them to their senses. I would rather have my blows fall on traitors, than on men who are misled. Besides, all those who are on the list, Augereau excepted, are out of France, or in concealment. I shall not seek for them: my intention is to terrify them more than harm them. You see, therefore," continued the Emperor, softening his voice, "you have not rightly considered the business: sign this for me, my dear Bertrand: you must."—"I cannot, Sire. I request your Majesty's permission, to submit my observations to you in writing."—"All that, my dear sir, will make us lose time: you are startled, I assure you, without any reason; sign, I tell you; I request you, you will do me pleasure."—"Permit me, Sire, to wait, till your Majesty has seen my observations." The marshal went away. This noble resistance did not offend the Emperor: the language of truth and honour never displeased him, when it issued from a pure heart.
General Bertrand delivered to Napoleon a statement of his reasons. It did not alter his resolution; it only determined him, to give it a legal form.
The Emperor, persuaded that General Bertrand would equally retain his opinion, would not have this new decree presented to him, and it appeared without being countersigned.
The effect it produced justified the apprehensions of the grand Marshal. It was considered as an act of despotism and vengeance; as the first infraction of the promises made to the nation. The murmurs of the public were echoed even within the walls of the imperial palace. Labedoyère, at a moment when Napoleon was passing by, said loud enough to be heard, "If the system of proscriptions and sequestrations begin again, all will soon be over."
The Emperor, according to his custom on such occasions, affected to be perfectly satisfied with himself, and appeared no way apprehensive of the storm. Being at table with several personages and ladies of distinction belonging to the court, he asked the Countess Duchâtel, if her husband, who was director-general of the domains, had executed the order for sequestrating the estates of Talleyrand and company. "There is no hurry for that," answered she drily. He made no reply, and changed the conversation.
The persons about him are incessantly reproached, with having basely crouched to his will and opinions: this anecdote, and many others that I might relate, prove, that all of them at least did not deserve this reproach. But, supposing it to be just with regard to some, is it as easy, as is commonly thought, to overcome the will of a sovereign?
From pride, and perhaps from a conviction of superiority, Napoleon did not readily endure counsel.
In affairs of state, he imposed upon himself the law of consulting his counsellors, and his ministers. Endowed by nature with the faculty of knowing every thing, or of divining every thing, he almost always took an active part in the discussion: and I must say, to the honour of the Emperor, his ministers, and his counsellors, in common, an inexpressible degree of confidence, frankness, and independence, prevailed in these discussions, highly animated as for the most part they were. The Emperor, far from being shocked when any one contradicted him, endured, nay provoked contradiction and adopted without resistance the advice of his opponents, when he thought it preferable to his own opinion.