The fatality attending the military movements was such that the Allies entered Paris without the concurrence of the Austrian Cabinet. Alexander’s famous declaration against Napoleon Buonaparte and his family was also made without the Austrian Power being consulted; and the Count d’Artois only entered France by contriving to slip in secretly in spite of the orders at the Austrian head-quarters, where he had been refused passports.
It appears that Austria, on the retreat from Moscow, exerted sincere efforts in London for negotiating a peace with Napoleon; but the influence of the Russian Cabinet was all-powerful in London, and no proposals for peace were listened to. The armistice of Dresden then arrived, and Austria declared for war.
During this interval, the Austrian minister in London could never obtain a hearing. He however remained for a considerable time in the English capital, and did not leave it until the Allies had reached the heart of France, and Lord Castlereagh hinted at the possibility, for a moment, that the heroic success of Napoleon might render negotiations indispensable.
If this minister had not previously been sent to London, he would have been destined for Paris; and there probably his influence might have brought about a turn of negotiations different from those which arose during his absence between the Tuileries and Vienna.
In the height of the crisis he found himself detained in England as if by force. In his impatience to reach the grand centre of negotiations, he quitted his post, and proceeded to Holland, braving a violent tempest. No sooner had he arrived on the theatre of events than he fell into the hands of Napoleon at Saint-Dizier; but the fate of France was then decided, though the fact was not yet known at the French head-quarters. Alexander was entering Paris.
The Austrian minister in London exerted every endeavour to procure a passport to enable him to join his Sovereign by passing through Calais and Paris; but in vain. This circumstance; whether accidental, or premeditated, was another fatality. But for this disappointment, the Austrian minister would have reached Paris before the Allies, would have joined Maria-Louisa, would have defeated the last projects of M. de Talleyrand, and would have altogether produced new combinations.
Opinion was divided in the Austrian Cabinet. One party was for the union with France; the other was for the alliance with Russia. Intrigue or chance decided in favour of Russia, and Austria, from that moment, was merely led on.
14th.—The coffee that was served at our breakfast this morning was better than usual; it was even good. The Emperor expressed himself pleased with it. Some moments after he observed, placing his hand on his stomach, that he felt the benefit of it. It would be difficult to express what were my feelings on hearing this simple remark. The Emperor, by thus appreciating so trivial an enjoyment, contrary to his custom, unconsciously proved to me the effect of all the privations he had suffered, but of which he never complained.
When we returned from our evening walk, the Emperor read to me a chapter on the Provisional Consuls, which he had dictated to M. de Montholon. Having finished reading, the Emperor took a piece of ribbon, and began to tie together the loose sheets of paper. It was late; the silence of night prevailed around us. My reflections were on that day of a melancholy cast. I gazed on the Emperor. I looked on those hands which had wielded so many sceptres, and which were now tranquilly, and perhaps, not without some degree of pleasure, occupied in the humble task of tying together a few sheets of paper. On these sheets, indeed, were traced events that will never be forgotten; portraits that will decide the judgment of posterity. It is the book of life or death to many whose names are recorded in it. These were the reflections that passed in my mind. “And the Emperor,” thought I, “reads to me what he writes; he familiarly converses with me, asks my opinion, and I freely give it. After all, I am not to be pitied in my exile at St. Helena.”
15th.—Immediately after dinner the Emperor walked in his favourite path. He had his coffee carried down to him in the garden, and he drank it as he walked about. The conversation turned on love. I must have made some very fine and sentimental remarks on this important subject; for the Emperor laughed at what he styled my prattle, and said that he understood none of my romantic verbiage. Then speaking with an air of levity, he wished to make me believe that he was better acquainted with sensations than sentiments. I made free to remark that he was trying to be thought worse than he was described to be in the authentic, but very secret, accounts that were circulated about the palace. “And what was said of me?” resumed he, with an air of gaiety. “Sire,” I replied, “it is understood that, when in the summit of your power, you suffered yourself to be bound in the chains of love; that you became a hero of romance; that, fired by an unexpected resistance, you conceived an attachment for a lady in private life; that you wrote her above a dozen love-letters; and that her power over you prevailed so far as to compel you to disguise yourself, and to visit her secretly and alone, at her own residence, in the heart of Paris.”—”And how came this to be known?” said he, smiling; which of course amounted to an admission of the fact. “And it was doubtless added,” continued he, “that that was the most imprudent act of my whole life; for, had my mistress proved treacherous, what might not have been my fate—alone and disguised, in the circumstances in which I was placed, amidst the snares with which I was surrounded? But what more is said of me?”—“Sire, it is affirmed that your Majesty’s posterity is not confined to the King of Rome. The secret chronicle states that he has two elder brothers: one the offspring of a fair foreigner, whom you loved in a distant country; the other, the fruit of a connection nearer at hand, in the bosom of your own capital. It was asserted that both had been conveyed to Malmaison, before our departure; the one brought by his mother, and the other introduced by his tutor; and they were described to be the living portraits of their father.”[[23]]