In this depressed state, the civilized world was preparing its last united onset upon her. From the Baltic to the Bosphorus, from the Archangel to the Mediterranean, Europe had banded itself against Napoleon. Denmark and Sweden had struck hands with Austria and Russia and Prussia and England; while, to crown all, the princes of the Confederation of the Rhine put their signatures to the league, and one million and twenty-eight thousand men stood up in battle array on the plains of Europe to overthrow this mighty spirit that had shaken so terribly their thrones. And all this resistless host were pointing their bayonets towards Paris. What man or nation could meet such an overwhelming foe? Never did Napoleon’s genius shine forth with greater splendor than in the almost super-human exertions he put forth in this last great struggle for his empire. The Allies entered the capital, and Napoleon was compelled to abdicate, preferring exile, rather than involve France in more terrible bloodshed. He then penned this memorable abdication:—
“The allied sovereigns having declared that the Emperor Napoleon is the sole obstacle to the re-establishment of a general peace in Europe, the Emperor Napoleon, faithful to his oath, declares that he renounces, for himself and his heirs, the throne of France and Italy; and that there is no personal sacrifice, not even that of life itself, which he is not willing to make for the interests of France.”
Then followed his mournful farewell to his soldiers.
“As Napoleon arrived at the landing of the grand staircase, he stood for a moment and looked around upon the Guard drawn up in the court, and upon the innumerable multitude which thronged its surroundings. Every eye was fixed on him. It was a funereal scene, over which was suspended the solemnity of religious awe. Acclamations in that hour would have been a mockery. The silence of the grave reigned undisturbed. Tears rolled down the furrowed cheeks of the warriors, and their heads were bowed in overwhelming grief. Napoleon cast a tender and a grateful look over the battalions and the squadrons who had ever proved so faithful to himself and to his cause. Before descending to the courtyard, he hesitated for a moment, as if his fortitude were forsaking him. But immediately rallying his strength, he approached the soldiers. The drums commenced beating the accustomed salute. With a gesture Napoleon arrested the martial tones.” A breathless stillness prevailed. With a voice clear and firm,—every articulation of which was heard in the remotest ranks,—he said:—
“Generals, officers, and soldiers of my Old Guard, I bid you farewell. For five and twenty years I have ever found you in the path of honor and of glory. In these last days, as in the days of our prosperity, you have never ceased to be models of fidelity and of courage. Europe has armed against us. Still, with men such as you, our cause never could have been lost. We could have maintained a civil war for years. But it would have rendered our country unhappy. I have therefore sacrificed our interests to those of France. I leave you; but, my friends, be faithful to the new sovereign whom France has accepted. The happiness of France was my only thought; it shall ever be the object of my most fervent prayers. Grieve not for my lot; I shall be happy so long as I know that you are so. If I have consented to outlive myself, it is with the hope of still promoting your glory. I trust to write the deeds we have achieved together. Adieu, my children! I would that I could press you all to my heart. Let me at least embrace your general and your eagle.”
“Every eye was now bathed in tears. At a signal from Napoleon, General Petit, who then commanded the Old Guard, advanced and stood between the ranks of the soldiers and their emperor. Napoleon, with tears dimming his eyes, encircled the general in his arms, while the veteran commander, entirely unmanned, sobbed aloud. All hearts were melted, and a stilled moan was heard through all the ranks.
“Again the Emperor recovered himself, and said, ‘Bring me the eagle.’ A grenadier advanced, bearing one of the eagles of the regiment. Napoleon imprinted a kiss upon its silver beak, then pressed the eagle to his heart, and said, in tremulous accents, ‘Dear eagle, may this last embrace vibrate forever in the hearts of all my faithful soldiers! Farewell, again, my old companions, farewell!’”
But Elba could not long hold that daring, restless spirit. The next year he again unrolled his standard in the capital of France, and the army opened its arms to receive him. He at length staked all on the field of Waterloo. There the star of his destiny again rose over the horizon, and struggled with its ancient strength to mount the heavens of fame. The battle-cloud rolled over it, and when it again was swept away, that star had gone down, sunk in blood and carnage, to rise no more forever.
“Volumes have been written on this campaign and last battle; but every impartial mind must come to the same conclusion,—that Napoleon’s plans never promised more complete success than at this last effort. Wellington was entrapped, and with the same co-operation on both sides, he was lost beyond redemption. Had Blücher stayed away as Grouchy did, or had Grouchy come up as did Blücher, victory would once more have soared with the French eagles. It is in vain to talk of Grouchy’s having obeyed orders. It was plainly his duty, and his only duty, to detain Blücher or to follow him.”
Even yet Napoleon could have placed himself at the head of fifty thousand men in a few hours. He was entreated by his friends to grasp these powerful resources and again attack the foe. But treachery had already invaded the Chamber of Deputies. The wily Fouché—the same who had largely instigated the divorce of Josephine—had obtained the control, and joining with the Bourbons, persuaded the Chamber to demand the second abdication of the Emperor.