“In October, the Emperor quitted Dresden to proceed to Magdeburg, by the left bank of the Elbe, in order to deceive the enemy. His intention was to recross the Elbe at Wittenburg and to march on Berlin. Several corps of the army had already arrived at Wittenburg, and the enemy’s bridges at Dessau had been destroyed, when a letter from the King of Wurtemburg informed the Emperor that the King of Bavaria had suddenly gone over to the enemy; and that, without any declaration of war or any previous intimation, the Austrian and Bavarian forces, cantoned on the banks of the Inn, had formed themselves into one camp; that these forces, amounting to 80,000, under the orders of General Wrede, were marching on the Rhine; that he (the King of Wurtemberg), seeing the impossibility of his opposing this united force, had been obliged to add his contingent to it. The letter farther added that 100,000 men would soon surround Mentz, the Bavarians having made common cause with Austria. Upon receiving this unexpected intelligence, the Emperor found himself compelled to change the plan of the campaign which he had projected two months previously, and for which he had prepared the fortresses and magazines. This plan had for its object to drive the Allies between the Elbe and the Saale; and, under the protection of the fortresses and magazines of Torgau, Wittemberg, Magdeburg, and Hamburg, to establish the seat of war between the Elbe and the Oder (the French army being at that time in possession of the fortresses of Glogau, Cüstrin, and Stettin), and, according to circumstances, to raise the blockades of the fortresses of the Vistula, Dantzick, Thorn, and Modlin. It was anticipated that the success of this vast plan would have been the means of breaking up the coalition, and that, in consequence, all the German Princes would have been confirmed in their allegiance and their alliance with France. It was hoped that Bavaria would have delayed for a fortnight to change sides, and then it was certain that she would not have changed at all.
“The armies met on the plains of Leipsic, on the 16th of October. The French were victorious; the Austrians were beaten and driven from all their positions; and Count Meerfeld, who commanded one of the Austrian corps, was made prisoner. On the 18th, notwithstanding the check sustained by the Duke of Ragusa on the 16th, victory was still on the side of the French, when the whole of the Saxon army, with a battery of sixty guns, occupying one of the most important positions of the line, passed over to the enemy, and turned its artillery on the French ranks. Such unlooked-for treachery could not but cause the destruction of the French army, and transfer all the glory of the day to the Allies. The Emperor galloped forward with half his guard, repulsed the Swedes and Saxons, and drove them from their positions. This day (the 18th) was now ended: the enemy made a retrograde movement along the whole of his line, and bivouacked in the rear of the field of battle, which remained in the possession of the French. In the night, the French army made a movement, in order to take its position behind the Elster, and thus to be in direct communication with Erfurt, whence were expected the convoys of ammunition that were so much wanted. In the engagements of the 16th and 18th, the French army had fired more than 150,000 discharges of cannon. The treachery of several of the German corps of the Confederation, who were seduced by the example of the Saxons on the preceding day, and the destruction of the bridge of Leipsic, which was blown up by mistake, occasioned the French army, though victorious, to experience the losses which usually result from the most disastrous engagements. The French re-crossed the Saale by the bridge of Weissenfeld: they intended to rally their forces, and await the arrival of the ammunition from Erfurt, which had abundant supplies.
“Intelligence was now received of the Austro-Bavarian army, which, by forced marches, had reached the Maine. It was necessary therefore to repair thither, in order to come up with the Bavarians; and, on the 30th of October, the French fell in with them, drawn up in order of battle before Hanau and intercepting the Frankfort roads. The Bavarian force, though numerous, and occupying fine positions, was completely routed, and driven beyond Hanau, which was in the possession of Count Bertrand. General Wrede was wounded. The French forces continued their movement with the view of falling back behind the Rhine, and they re-crossed the river on the 2nd of November. A parley ensued: Baron de St. Aignan repaired to Frankfort, where he had conferences with Counts Metternich and Nesselrode and Lord Aberdeen, and he arrived at Paris with proposals for peace on the following bases:—That the Emperor Napoleon should renounce the Protectorship of the Confederation of the Rhine, Poland, and the departments of the Elbe; but that France should retain her boundaries of the Alps and the Rhine, together with the possession of Holland, and that a frontier line in Italy should be determined upon, for separating France from the States of the House of Austria.[Austria.] The Emperor agreed to these bases; but the Congress of Frankfort, like that of Prague, was merely a stratagem employed in the hope that France would reject the terms which were proposed. It was wished to have a new subject for a manifesto to operate on the public mind; for at the moment when these conciliatory propositions were made, the Allied army was violating the neutrality of the cantons, and entering Switzerland. However, the Allies at last developed their real intentions; they named Chatillon-sur-Seine, in Burgundy, as the seat of the Congress. The battles of Champ-Aubert, Montmirail, and Montereau, destroyed the armies of Blucher and Witgenstein. No negotiations took place at Chatillon; but the coalesced Powers presented an ultimatum, the conditions of which were as follows:
“1st, That France should surrender the whole of Italy, Belgium, Holland, and the departments of the Rhine; 2nd, that France should return to her limits as they existed previously to 1792. The Emperor rejected this ultimatum. He consented to sacrifice Holland and Italy to the circumstances in which France was then placed; but he refused to resign the limits of the Alps and the Rhine, or to surrender Belgium and particularly Antwerp. Treason secured the triumph of the Allies, notwithstanding the victories of Arcis and St. Dizier. Hitherto the Allies had intimated no design of interfering in the internal affairs of France; this is proved by the ultimatum of Chatillon, signed by England, Austria, Russia, and Prussia. At length, however, some of the returned emigrants, excited by the presence of the Austrian, Russian, and Prussian armies, in whose ranks they had long borne arms, imagined that the moment had arrived in which their dreams were to be realized: some mounted the white cockade, and others displayed the cross of St. Louis. This conduct was disapproved by the Allied Sovereigns; and it was even censured by Wellington at Bourdeaux, though in reality he secretly favoured all who endeavoured to raise the ensigns of the House of Bourbon. In the transactions which detached Prussia from her alliance with France, and bound her to Russia by the treaty of Kalisch; in the treaty which united Austria with the coalition; in the diplomatic proceedings, public and private, which took place down to the treaty of Chatillon; and even in that concluded in France, in 1814, the Allies never made any reference to the Bourbons.”
The VIIth, VIIIth, and IXth Chapters shew that the Bourbons after their return ought to have commenced a fifth dynasty, and not to have endeavoured to continue the third. The first course would have rendered all easy, the second has involved every thing in difficulty.
The Xth Chapter closes with a passage of a few lines which forcibly describe the magical effect of the Emperor’s return on the 20th of March. These last chapters contain the most nervous and energetic writing, but the applications are direct, and indeed often personal. I have suppressed the details, because I wish not to afford any ground for my being accused of bringing forward a hostile statement. Time, which modifies all things, will render this work merely an historical document, which is the only light in which I wish it to be considered here, as well, indeed, as all works of a similar nature that I may think it necessary to quote. I have written in France and other countries, under different laws and circumstances, and I have always found the liberty of the press existing for me.
I hope to experience its influence on the present occasion, although my subject is one of a most delicate nature. I now look forward to the speedy termination of my voyage; the port is within sight, and I hope to reach it safely, in spite of all the shoals I may encounter.
MY DOMESTIC AFFAIRS.—THE EMPEROR’S VIEWS IN
HIS MUNIFICENCE.
9th—10th. The Emperor passed a bad night. He desired me to be called early in the morning. When I went to him, he told me that he was half dead, that he had had no rest, and was feverish. He has continued very ill for these two days, and has reclined almost constantly on his couch, which in the evenings is drawn near the fire. He has been unable to eat, and has drunk nothing but warm lemonade. I have been in continual attendance on him during these two days; he has enjoyed a little sleep at intervals, and the rest of the time he has spent in conversing with me upon various subjects. He spoke of the expense of giving parties in Paris; and, passing from that subject to my domestic affairs, he expressed a wish that I should make him acquainted with the minutest details on that point.
I told him that my income had amounted only to 20,000 francs a year, 15,000 of which were derived from my own property, and 5000 from my salary as a Councillor of State. On hearing this he exclaimed: “You must have been mad! How could you venture to approach the Tuileries with so straitened an income? The expenses of attending the Court were enormous!”—“Sire,” I replied, “I contrived to keep up my dignity as well as the rest: and yet I never solicited any thing from your Majesty.” The Emperor observed, “I do not say you did; but you must have been ruined in less than four or five years.”—“No, Sire,” I rejoined, “I had been an emigrant during the greater part of my life; I had lived amidst privations, and, with a few exceptions, I still subjected myself to them. It is true that, in spite of all my economy, I ran through 7 or 8000 francs of my capital every year. But I calculated thus: it was well known that every person about you must, by dint of zeal and attention to their duties, sooner or later, attract your notice, and that he who once gained your favour might consider his fortune made. I had still four or five years left to try this chance; at the expiration of which, if fortune did not smile on me, I was determined to renounce the illusions of the world, and to retire from the capital with an income of ten or twelve thousand livres; poor enough, to be sure, but, nevertheless, richer than ever I had been in Paris.”—“Well,” said the Emperor, “your scheme was not a bad one, and the moment had just arrived when you would have been indemnified for all your losses. I was just about to do something for you, and it was wholly your own fault that you did not make a more rapid and brilliant fortune. I believe I have told you before that you did not know how to avail yourself of favourable opportunities for securing your own advancement.”