The Prince of Eckmuhl was at the Tuileries when M. de Flahaut made his appearance there. In the mission of this general he saw nothing but a subterfuge of the Emperor, to defer his departure. "This Bonaparte of yours," said he to him in a tone of anger and contempt, "will not depart: but we must get rid of him: his presence hampers us, is troublesome to us; it is injurious to the success of our negotiations. If he hope, that we shall take him again, he deceives himself: we will have nothing more to do with him. Tell him from me, that he must go; and if he do not depart instantly, I will have him arrested, I will arrest him myself." M. de Flahaut, burning with indignation, answered: "I could not have believed, M. marshal, that a man, who was at the knees of Napoleon but a week ago, could to-day hold such language. I have too much respect for myself, I have too much respect for the person and misfortunes of the Emperor, to report to him your words; go yourself, M. marshal, it will befit you better than me."—The Prince of Eckmuhl, irritated at this, reminded him, that he was speaking to the minister at war, to the general in chief of the army: and enjoined him, to repair to Fontainebleau, where he should receive his orders.—"No, sir," replied Count de Flahaut briskly, "I will not go; I will not abandon the Emperor I will preserve to the last moment that fidelity to him, which so many others have sworn."—"I will have you punished for your disobedience."—"You have no longer the right to do so. From this moment I give in my resignation. I can no longer serve under your orders, without disgracing my epaulettes."
He went away. The Emperor perceived on his return, that something had cut him to the heart. He questioned him; and at length brought him to confess all that had passed. Accustomed since his abdication, to be surprised at nothing, and to endure every thing without complaint, Napoleon appeared neither astonished nor displeased at the insults of his former minister. "Let him come," answered he coolly: "I am ready, if he desire it, to hold out my throat to him. Your conduct, my dear Flahaut, touches me; but your country wants you: remain in the army, and forget, like me, the Prince of Eckmuhl and his dastardly menaces."
History, more rigid, will not forget them. Respect for misfortune has always been placed in the foremost rank of military virtues. If the warrior, who insults his disarmed enemy, lose the esteem of the brave, what sentiment should he inspire, who abuses, insults, and threatens, his friend, his benefactor, his prince, when under misfortunes?
In the bosom of faithful friendship the Emperor disburdened his mind of the chagrin, that the refusal of his services by the committee occasioned him. "Those people," said he to M. de Bassano, "are blinded by their avidity of enjoying power, and continuing to act the sovereign. They feel, that, if they replaced me at the head of the army, they would be no longer any thing more than my shadow; and they are sacrificing me and their country to their pride, to their vanity. They will ruin every thing." After a few moments silence he added: "But why should I let them reign? I abdicated, to save France, to save the throne of my son. If this throne must be lost, I had rather lose it in the field of battle than here. I can do nothing better for all of you, for my son, and for myself, than throw myself into the arms of my soldiers. My presence will electrify the army, will be a clap of thunder to the foreign powers. They will be aware, that I return to the field, to conquer or die: and, to get rid of me, they will grant all you ask. If, on the contrary, you leave me to gnaw my sword here; they will laugh at you, and you will be forced to receive Louis XVIII. cap in hand. We must come to a close: if your five Emperors will not have me, to save France, I must dispense with their consent. It will be sufficient for me, to show myself, and Paris and the army will receive me a second time, as their deliverer."—"I do not doubt it, Sire," answered M. de Bassano: "but the chamber will declare against you: perhaps it will even venture, to declare you outlawed. On the other hand, Sire, if fortune should not prove favourable to your efforts; if the army, after performing prodigies of valour, should be overpowered by numbers; what will become of France? what will become of your Majesty? The enemy will be justified in abusing their victory; and perhaps your Majesty would have to reproach yourself with having caused the ruin of France for ever."—"Come, I see, I must always give way." The Emperor remained some minutes, without uttering another word. He then said: "You are right: I ought not to take upon myself the responsibility of so great an event. I ought to wait, till the voice of the people, of the soldiers, of the chambers recall me. But how is it, that Paris does not call for me? Do not the people then perceive, that the allies give you no credit for my abdication?"—"Sire, so much uncertainty pervades their minds, that they cannot come to an understanding with each other. If they were fully convinced, that it is the intention of the allies, to restore Louis XVIII., perhaps they would not hesitate to speak out; but they entertain hopes, that the allies will keep their promises."—"That infamous Fouché deceives you. The committee suffers itself, to be led by him. It will have severe reproaches to make itself. There is nobody in it worth any thing, except Caulincourt and Carnot: and they are badly fitted with associates. What can they do with a traitor, a couple of blockheads[74], and two chambers, that do not know what they would be at? You all believe, like innocents, the fine promises of the foreign powers. You believe, that they will give you a fowl in the pot, and a prince of your own liking, do you not? You deceive yourselves. Alexander, in spite of his magnanimous sentiments, suffers himself to be influenced by the English: he is afraid of them; and the Emperor of Austria will do, as he did in 1814, what others think proper."
This conversation was interrupted by the arrival of Generals P. and Chartran. They had already been refused admittance twice: but this time they declared, that they would not go away, till they had spoken with the Emperor. Their business was, to get money from him. General Chartran, as fatally inspired as Labedoyère, told him, that he had ruined himself in his service; that the Bourbons were on the point of returning; that he should be shot, if he had not money to make his escape; and that money he must have. Napoleon caused a thousand crowns, to be given to each; and they went away. The Princess Hortensia, afraid that these illustrious Cossacks should do the Emperor some ill turn, would generously have given them whatever they asked. I had infinite difficulty in tranquillising her, and making her understand, that they had more design on the purse than the person of Napoleon.
After they were departed, Napoleon gave me some commands for Paris. I returned thither. The moment I entered the Tuileries, the committee had just been informed, that the enemy, after having beaten our troops, was advancing with all speed to Paris. This news rendered the government uneasy; and, as there was no orderly officer then at hand, the Duke of Vicenza requested me, to go and reconnoitre. I set off. On my arrival at the entrance of Bourget, I met General Reille with his army. He informed me, that the enemy was following him; but that there was no reason, to be in fear for the capital. "I know not what is passing there," said he to me; "but this very moment the brother of M. de Talleyrand was brought before me. He had with him a false passport, under the name of Petit. I had an inclination, to send him before the committee of government: but he declared to me, that he was employed by it on a mission as important as it was urgent; and as, at all events, one enemy more can do us no injury, I thought it better to let him pass, than risk the frustrating of his mission by useless delays." I hastened to return, to calm the anxiety of the government.
As soon as I was at liberty, I flew to Malmaison. Napoleon, who felt himself obliged by this continual posting, always condescended to receive me immediately. I gave him an account of every thing, that could be interesting to him. I did not omit to inform him, that the enemy was already master of part of the environs of Paris; and that it was important for him, to be on his guard. "I shall have no fear of them to-morrow," said he to me; "I have promised Decrès to set out, and I will be gone to-night. I am tired of myself, of Paris, of France. Make your preparations, and do not be out of the way."—"Sire," answered I, "when I promised yesterday, to attend your Majesty, I consulted only my attachment; but when I imparted this resolution to my mother, she conjured me by her gray hairs, not to desert her. Sire, she is seventy-four years old[75]: she is blind; my brothers have perished in the field of honour; she has only me, me alone in the world, to protect her: and I confess to your Majesty, that I had not the heart to refuse her."—"You have done well," said Napoleon to me, "you owe yourself to your mother: remain with her. If at some future time you should be master of your own actions, come to me: you will always be well received."—"Your Majesty is resolved, then," I replied, "to depart?"—"What would you have me do here now?"—"Your Majesty is right: but...."—"But what? would you have me remain?"—"Sire, I confess to your Majesty, I cannot look on your departure without alarm."—"In fact the path is difficult; but fortune and a fair wind...."—"Ah, Sire! fortune is no longer in our favour: besides, whither will your Majesty go?"—"I will go to the United States. They will give me land, or I will buy some, and we will cultivate it. I will end, where mankind began: I will live on the produce of my fields and my flock."—"That will be very well, Sire: but do you think, that the English will suffer you, to cultivate your fields in peace?"—"Why not? what harm could I do them?"—"What harm, Sire! Has your Majesty then forgotten, that you have made England tremble? As long as you are alive, Sire, or at least at liberty, she will dread the effects of your hatred and your genius. You were perhaps less dangerous to her on the degraded throne of Louis XVIII., than you would be in the United States. The Americans love and admire you: you have a great influence over them; and you would perhaps excite them to enterprises fatal to England."—"What enterprises? The English well know, that the Americans would lose their lives to a man in defence of their native soil; but they are not fond of making war abroad. They are not yet arrived at a pitch, to give the English any serious uneasiness. Some future day perhaps, they will be the avengers of the seas; but this period, which I might have had it in my power to accelerate, is now at a distance. The Americans advance to greatness but slowly."—"Admitting, that the Americans can give England no serious uneasiness at this moment, your presence in the United States will at least furnish it with an occasion, to stir up Europe against them. The combined powers will consider their work as imperfect, till you are in their possession; and they will compel the Americans, if not to deliver you up, at least to expel you from their territory."—"Well! then I will go to Mexico. I shall there find patriots, and will put myself at their head."—"Your Majesty forgets, that they have leaders already: people bring about revolutions for themselves, not for others; and the chiefs of the independents would be disconcerted by your Majesty's presence, if they did not oblige you, to seek an asylum elsewhere...."—"Well, I will leave them as they are; and go to Caracas; if I do not find myself well received there, I will go to Buenos Ayres; I will go to California; in fine, I will go from shore to shore, till I meet with an asylum against the malignancy and persecutions of men."—"Supposing your Majesty to speak seriously, can you reasonably flatter yourself with continually escaping the snares and fleets of the English?"—"If I cannot escape them, they will take me: their government is good for nothing, but the nation is great, noble, generous; they will treat me as I ought to be treated. After all, what would you have me do? Do you wish, that I should suffer myself to be taken here like a dolt by Wellington, and give him the pleasure of parading me in triumph through the streets of London like King John? Since my services are refused, there is but one step I can take: to depart. The destinies will do the rest."—"There is still another, Sire, if I dared suggest it to you: your Majesty is not a man to run away."—"What do you call running away?" said Napoleon with a proud and angry look: "where do you see me running away?"—"I entreat your Majesty not to dwell on that expression."—"Go on, go on."—"I think then, Sire, that your Majesty ought not thus to quit France, first, for your safety's sake, next for your honour's. The English are informed, that you have the intention of going to the United States; and no doubt our coasts already swarm with their cruisers. This is not all: your Majesty is aware of the hatred and perfidy of the Duke of Otranto: and who can say, whether secret orders have not been issued, to delay your departure, or retard the progress of the vessels, that you may be taken by the English? I consider it impossible, therefore, that your Majesty should escape them; or, if you should escape, but that you must ultimately fall into their hands, sooner or later. In this dilemma, it is right, at least, to endeavour to fall as nobly as possible."—"What are you driving at?" said Napoleon peevishly, thinking I meant to propose suicide to him: "I know, I might say, like Hannibal, 'Let us deliver them from the terror my name inspires:' but suicide is the business only of minds not thoroughly steeled, or of distempered brains. Whatever my destiny may be, I will never hasten my end a single moment."—"Such is not my meaning, Sire; and, since your Majesty condescends to listen to me, were I in your place, I would renounce the chimerical hope of finding an asylum in a foreign country; and I would say to the chambers: I abdicated, in order to disarm our enemies; I learn, that they are not satisfied; if they must have my liberty, or my life, I am ready, to place myself in their hands, happy to be able at this price, to save France and my son. How noble it would be," exclaimed I, "to see Napoleon the Great, after having laid down the crown placed on his head by twenty years of victory, offering himself as a sacrifice to the independence of his country!"—"Yes, yes," said Napoleon, "the sacrifice would be noble; but a nation of thirty millions of souls, that could suffer it, would be dishonoured for ever. Besides, to whom shall I surrender myself? to Blucher? to Wellington? They have not the power necessary, to treat with me on such conditions. They would begin with making me their prisoner; and then would do with me, and with France, whatever they took into their heads."—"I would surrender myself, Sire, to the Emperor Alexander."—"To Alexander! you know nothing of those Russians. It would cost the lives of both of us. However, your idea deserves consideration: I will reflect upon it. Before taking a step, that cannot be retracted, it is proper to look at it twice. The sacrifice of myself would be nothing on my own account; but perhaps it would be lost to France. The faith of an enemy is never to be trusted. See if Maret and Lavalette be here, and send them to me."
Every thing, that bears the stamp of greatness of mind, seduces and transports me. I confess, that my imagination was fired at the idea of Napoleon generously devoting himself for France, and for his son. But this remark of Napoleon's, "A nation of thirty millions of men, that could suffer such a sacrifice, would be for ever dishonoured," a remark that I had not foreseen, dissipated the enchantment. On quitting the closet, I was stopped by the Duke of Rovigo, who said to me: "You have been talking a long while with the Emperor, has any thing new passed?"—"No," answered I; "we have been talking of his departure:" and I gave him an account of our conversation. "Your advice was noble," replied he; "but what I gave him was, I think, preferable. It was, to come and fall with us before the walls of Paris. He will not do so; because, in the first place, Fouché will not leave it in his power; and, in the next, because the fear of endangering every thing has laid hold of him. He will set off to-night. God knows whither we shall go: but no matter, I will follow him. My first object is, to know that he is out of danger. Besides, I would rather ramble at a venture with him, than remain here. Fouché thinks, that he shall get himself out of the scrape: he is mistaken; he will be hanged like the rest, and more richly deserve it. France is sunk, lost! I wish I was dead!"
While I was conversing with the Duke of Rovigo, Napoleon was discussing the proposal, which I had ventured to submit to him. Several times he was on the point of adopting it; but still recurred to his prevailing idea, that such a sacrifice was unworthy a great nation; and that France probably would derive no more advantage from it, than had been derived from his abdication. All things considered, therefore, Napoleon resolved, to entrust his fate "to fortune and the winds." But the committee, advised by a despatch from our plenipotentiaries, which I shall transcribe farther on, "that the escape of Napoleon, before the conclusion of the negotiations, would be considered by the allies as an act of bad faith on our part, and would compromise the safety of France," directed him to be informed, that unforeseen political circumstances compelled it, to subject his departure anew to the arrival of the safeconduct. Thus Napoleon was obliged to remain.
I returned to Paris. Here I learned, that the enemy had made immense progress; and, according to custom, I was desirous of getting off, to acquaint Napoleon with it. The barriers were strictly closed, and no one could go out without permission. I endeavoured to obtain one. The Duke of Otranto answered me, that my presence with the cabinet was necessary; and ordered me to remain. I knew, that one Chauvin, who was to go with the Emperor, was setting out for Malmaison. I ran to acquaint him with what was passing; and directed him, to give the information to Count Bertrand. At the same moment M. G. D.[76], informed, I know not by what means, that the Prussians designed, to carry off the Emperor; that Blucher had said, "If I can catch Bonaparte, I will hang him up at the head of my army;" and that Wellington had strenuously opposed this cowardly and criminal design, M. G. D. hastened, to transmit this information to Napoleon; and soon after found means, by favour of his employment in the national guard, to repair in person to Malmaison. Napoleon made him relate at large all he knew. When he was acquainted with the position of the Prussians, he laid it down on the map[77], and said with a smile: "Aha! so I have suffered myself in fact to be turned." He then sent an orderly officer, to see whether the bridges of Bezons and Peck had been broken down. He found, that the latter was not. "I desired it, however: but I am not surprised at it."