This was the second time of the chamber's being the dupe of its eagerness: yet it reckoned among its members men of great judgment and talents; but the greater number, and it is the majority always that gives the law, never having had a seat in our assemblies, allowed themselves to be subjugated by the illusions of eloquence, and with so much the more facility, because there existed in the assembly no fixed notion, no paramount will, that might serve it as a beacon and guide.
The provisional government, influenced by M. Fouché, soon evinced, that it had caught the true sense of M. Manuel's proposal. Two days after, its acts were issued in the name of the French people. This insult to the sincerity of the chamber, and to the sovereign it had acknowledged, excited its astonishment, and its complaints. The capital and the patriots murmured. The president of the government was summoned, to explain and justify this strange proceeding. He answered: "That it had never been the intention of the committee, to disavow Napoleon II.; but this prince not having been yet acknowledged as sovereign of France by any of the foreign powers, they could not treat with them in his name; and the committee had thought it its duty, to act provisionally in the name of the French people, in order to deprive the enemy of every pretext for refusing to admit the negotiation."
This explanation, strengthened by the hacknied support of the potent words, our country, the public safety, foreign armies, appeared plausible; and no more was said.
The Emperor himself, stunned by the force and rapidity of the blows, that his enemies inflicted on him, thought no longer of defending himself; and seemed to leave to Providence the care of watching over him and his son. He complained: but his dissatisfaction expired on his lips, and excited in him none of those resolutions, that might have been expected from the fire and energy of his character.
The Duke of Otranto, however, and the deputies who had concurred with him in pulling down Napoleon from his throne, did not look on his residence at the Elyseum without alarm. They dreaded, lest, emboldened by the daring counsels of Prince Lucien, by the attachment the army retained for him, by the acclamations of the federates, and citizens of all classes, who assembled daily under the walls of his palace, he should attempt to renew a second 18th Brumaire. They demanded of the chamber, therefore, by the mouth of M. Duchesne, that the ex-Emperor should be desired, in the name of their country, to remove from the capital. This demand having no effect, recourse was had to other means. Endeavours were made to frighten him. Every day officious advisers warned him, that attempts were making against his life: and to give more probability to this clumsy scheme, his guard was suddenly reinforced. Nay, one night, we were roused out of our beds by a messenger from the commandant of Paris, General Hulin, who warned us to be on our guard, as the Elyseum was going to be attacked, &c. But so great was our contempt for these wretched impositions, we did not even think it necessary, to mention it to Napoleon; and saw the return of day, without having lost a single moment's rest. Nothing however could have been more easy, than to carry off or assassinate Napoleon. His palace, which ten days before could scarcely contain the bustling crowd of ambitious men and courtiers, was now one vast solitude. All those men, destitute of faith and honour, whom power attracts, and adversity keeps at a distance, had deserted it. His guard had been reduced to a few old grenadiers: and a single sentry, scarcely in uniform, watched the gate of that Napoleon, that king of kings, who lately reckoned millions of soldiers under his banners.
Napoleon himself, however, was aware, that his presence at Paris, and in an imperial palace, might give the allies room to question the sincerity of his abdication, and be detrimental to the re-establishment of peace. He determined, therefore, to remove.
His private correspondence with the sovereigns, and some original letters, concealed from their search in 1814, he caused to be delivered into his own hands. He then directed us to burn the petitions, letters, and addresses, that had been received since the 20th of March. I was employed in this business one day, when Napoleon passed through the closet. He came up to me, and took a letter I had in my hand. It was one from the Duke of .... He ran it over, and said to me with a smile: "Don't burn this: keep it for yourself. It will be an excellent recommendation, if you find yourself in any trouble. * * * [**TN: Missing words in the book] will not fail to swear to those people, that he has maintained his fidelity toward them inviolate; and when he knows, that you have in your hands substantial proof of his having laid himself at my feet, and that I refused both him and his services, he will be ready to quarter himself to serve you, for fear you should blab." I thought the Emperor was jesting: he perceived it, and resumed: "No, I tell you; don't burn that letter, or any of those from persons of the same description: I give them to you for your protection."—"But, Sire, they will accuse me of having stolen them."—"If they complain, threaten, that you will print them all as they are, and they will say no more: I know them."—"Since it is your Majesty's desire, I will keep them." I did, in fact, set aside a certain number of these letters. After the return of the king, I had the complaisance, to restore some of them to the writers. This is not said gratuitously: scarcely had their authors, whom I could name, these letters in their possession, when they extolled their pretended fidelity to the skies; and became the most virulent detractors, both in their conversation and writing, of all who had embraced or served the cause of the 20th of March.
On the 25th, at noon, Napoleon set off for Malmaison. He was received there by the Princess Hortensia. This princess, so odiously calumniated, and so worthy of respect, set us an example of courage and resignation. Her situation, and that of Napoleon, must have wounded her to the heart: yet she found sufficient strength of mind, to suppress her sorrows, and console ours. She was attentive to the Emperor, she was attentive to us, with such constant solicitude, such perfect courteousness, that you would have supposed, she had nothing to think of but the misfortunes of others. If the fate of Napoleon and of France drew from us groans or imprecations, she ran to us; and, restraining her own tears, reminded us with the wisdom of a philosopher, and the sweetness of an angel, that we should surmount our sorrows and regrets, and submit with docility to the decrees of Providence.
Napoleon was roused by the shock, that his departure from the Elyseum gave him. At Malmaison he recovered his spirit, his activity, his energy. Accustomed to see all his wishes, all his enterprises, crowned with success, he had not learned, to contend against the sudden attacks of misfortune; and, notwithstanding the firmness of his character, they threw him occasionally into a state of irresolution, during which a thousand thoughts, a thousand designs, jostled each other in his mind, and deprived him of the possibility of coming to any decision. But this moral catalepsy was not the effect of a cowardly dejection, as has been asserted. His great mind remained erect amid the temporary numbness of his faculties; and Napoleon, when he awoke, was but so much the more terrible, and the more formidable.
A few minutes after his arrival, he was desirous of addressing once more his old companions in arms, and expressing to them for the last time his sentiments and regrets. The affection he bore them, and his despair at being unable to avenge at their head the affront received at Mont St. Jean, made him forget in his first sketch of a proclamation, that he had broken with his own hands his sceptre and his sword. He soon perceived, that the impassioned style, in which he addressed his army, was not such, as his abdication imposed on him: and accordingly he substituted the following address in the place of the too animated effusions of his heart.