I find in Baron Fain’s Manuscript of 1814, a complete explanation of certain remarks made by the Emperor, which I noted down at the time, without exactly comprehending their meaning. In a former part of this Journal, the Emperor, alluding to the treaty of Fontainebleau, says, “I will have nothing to do with that treaty; I disclaim it. Far from being proud of it, I blush for it. It was discussed for me, and against my will,” &c. And, on another occasion, he says, “When the history of the events of Fontainebleau comes to be known, it will afford ample room for surprise.” The Manuscript of 1814 proves that Napoleon had, indeed, nothing to do with the treaty of Fontainebleau. The utmost exertions were employed to prevail on him to sign the treaty; and he was, at length, only influenced by the public considerations that were adduced in support of it. He thought it both degrading and useless to sign the treaty. Having survived his greatness, he wished thenceforth to live as a private individual; and he was mortified to reflect that the vast sacrifice which had been made, for the peace of the world, should be mingled with pecuniary arrangements. “Of what use is a treaty,” said he, “since they will not settle the interests of France with me? If only my personal interests are concerned, there is no need of a treaty. I am conquered; I yield to the fate of arms. All I ask is that I may not be accounted a prisoner of war: and for that a mere cartel is sufficient!”

Every endeavour to turn his thoughts to his personal situation, his existence, and future wants, proved unavailing. To all such suggestions, he energetically replied, “What matters it? A horse and a crown a day are all that I want.”

I, for my own part, can bear witness that the Emperor infinitely regretted having ratified the treaty of Fontainebleau; and this was not the only decision of the period which weighed heavily on his mind. He also very much regretted having yielded, when in his position at St. Dizier and Doulevant, to the various representations and suggestions by which he was assailed, and which brought him back against his inclination upon Paris. “Here[Paris. “Here] I wanted firmness,” said he; “I should have followed up my intention of advancing to the Rhine, collecting reinforcements from all the garrisons on my way, and exciting the peasantry to rise. By this means, I should soon have possessed an immense army. Murat would immediately have rejoined me; and he and the Viceroy would have made me master of Vienna, if the Allies had presumed to deprive me of Paris. But no: the enemy would have shrunk from the dangers with which he would have been surrounded. The Allied Sovereigns would have regarded it as a favour to have been permitted to retire; and then the volcano of foreigners against us would have been completely extinguished. Peace would have been concluded and sincerely maintained; for all were exhausted; all had wounds to heal!... Abroad, war could no longer have been thought of; and at home, such a result must have had the effect of destroying all illusion, frustrating every evil design, and permanently blending the opinions, views, and interests of all parties. I should once more have seated myself triumphantly on the throne, surrounded by my invincible bands. The heroic and faithful portion of the people would have harmonized those who had wavered; and the men who had shewn themselves so eager for repose might have enjoyed it. A new generation of chiefs would have remoulded our character. Every effort would have been directed to the internal welfare of the country; and France would have been happy!”

When speaking of the confusion created in Paris, by the approach of the Allies; the dejection, to use no stronger term, that was evinced by the upper classes; the good spirit and enthusiasm manifested by the great body of the people, who were ready to fight, if they could have procured arms,—I observed that the departure of the Empress had produced a fatal effect on the public mind. I mentioned, as a singular circumstance, that the young King of Rome, contrary to custom, obstinately refused to quit the palace: he wept bitterly, and it was found necessary to carry him away by force. I also added that it was universally reported that the Empress wished to remain, and that the Council was inclined to second her wishes, until precise orders were received from the Emperor, directing her to quit Paris, in case of urgent danger on the part of the enemy. “Yes,” said the Emperor, “and[“and] those orders were very necessary. The Empress was young and totally inexperienced. Had she been capable of personal decision, my directions would have been quite the contrary. Paris then would have been her proper post. But I foresaw the intrigues of which she would be the object; and I wished to prevent at Paris what subsequently occurred at Orleans. There the men who were planning the Regency, in the expectation of ruling under the Empress, prevented her from joining me. What fatal consequences were thus produced! Would to Heaven that I had also despatched timely orders, directing her to quit Orleans!”

It is certain that at Fontainebleau[Fontainebleau] Napoleon was, almost at one and the same moment, the victim of every kind of mental distress with which man can possibly be assailed. Subdued by defection and not by force of arms, he felt all that could rouse the indignation of a lofty mind, or break an affectionate heart. His friends forsook him; his servants betrayed him; one surrendered his army; another his treasure. The men whom he had reared, maintained and loaded with favours, were those who wrought his overthrow. The members of the senate, who, only the day before, had supplied him profusely with conscripts to oppose the enemy, scrupled not to become the instruments of that very enemy. Under the impulse of foreign bayonets, they imputed to him as a crime that which was their own work; and basely broke the idol which they had themselves created, and so servilely worshipped. What a depth of disgrace and degradation!... Finally (and this stroke Napoleon felt more severely than all the rest), his wife and child were carried away from him; and, in defiance of treaties and laws, in opposition to all moral principle, he was never allowed to see them more!...

It appears that Napoleon, oppressed by this weight of affliction, surrounded by this odious turpitude, in his utter contempt of human nature, and all things connected with this world, formed the resolution of putting an end to his life. A letter has been preserved, written in his own hand to the Empress, in which he says that the moment has arrived when she must prepare her mind for every thing; that all is possible, even the death of the Emperor. This was, doubtless, an allusion to the mysterious event of the night of the 12th of April, which was wrapt in profound secrecy. The Manuscript of 1814, however, contains some particulars relative to this occurrence, which, if they be correct, will not leave the furious enemies of Napoleon even the satisfaction of repeating the stupid and vulgar remark, that he had not courage to die; ... for, according to the Manuscript, it appears, on the contrary, that he could not die! This is not the least extraordinary event in Napoleon’s career. His remark, Heaven has ordained that I shall live! and the calm and noble resignation, which from that moment succeeded, appear truly sublime.

Napoleon’s celebrated farewell address to his troops, and his last embrace of those eagles which he had immortalized, are well known. A Prussian diplomatist, who was present, has assured me that the scene produced an impression on him which time can never obliterate. He added that the English Commissioner, who stood near him, and who had previously been an inveterate enemy of Napoleon’s, was so deeply moved that he shed tears.

Such were the sentiments of respect and veneration naturally inspired by Napoleon that, in spite of the danger and inconvenience occasioned by his presence in France, no one presumed to hasten his departure; and he was allowed full time to make all the arrangements that he wished.

The treaty of abdication is dated the 11th of April, and Napoleon did not quit Fontainebleau until the 20th, nine days after. Throughout the first part of his journey, he was the object of universal respect, and often of the warmest and most affectionate interest.[[10]]

Hitherto, foreigners seemed to have formed no idea of the spirit that prevailed in France, or of the real feelings of the people with regard to the Emperor. However, it was deemed prudent to arrange matters so that Napoleon should reach Lyons in the night; or, I rather believe, it was intended to prevent his entering that city at all. I received the following particulars from an English gentleman, one of those who had been long detained in France, and who happened, at the period in question, to be residing at Lyons. My informant and the Austrian General went out in disguise, and mingled with the crowd that had assembled to see the dethroned monarch pass by. They expected to be much amused with the imprecations of which, they concluded, he would be the object. But, as soon as the Emperor appeared, deep silence prevailed among the multitude; and an old woman, to all appearance above the common class, habited in deep mourning, and with a countenance full of enthusiasm, rushed forward to the door of the Emperor’s carriage. “Sire,” said she, with an air of solemnity, “may the blessing of Heaven attend you! Endeavour to make yourself happy. They tear you from us; but our hearts are with you wheresoever you go.” The Austrian General, quite disconcerted, said to his companion, “Let us begone; I have no patience with this old mad woman. The people have not common sense.”