In spite of all that Joachim’s envoy, General Carrascosa, could do, Pius’s determination to proceed was unaffected, and the General returned to his master, begging him for his own sake to give way before the popular enthusiasm, which every day was increasing. Murat, however, decided upon a middle course. He would render to the Pope all the honour in his power, but he would give him no assistance.
At Bologna the Pope called upon Murat, and, though alone and helpless in the face of his opponent’s armed strength, extracted from him the return of the Patrimony of Peter to the Church. Pius did not relinquish his claim to the rest of the Papal possessions either, and continued on his way to Cesena, his native place, by the Strada Emilia, among his own subjects, although Murat, fearing the excited feeling among the latter, wished him to go through Tuscany.
Murat’s power was toppling over, for, do what he might, his interests were the interests of the France that he was fighting. But what could he do? It would take a clever man to find his way safely out of such an impasse as confronted Joachim. Could he have remained neutral, it is possible that he might have survived the hurricane; but that was almost impossible, cut off as he was from France and encircled by the allies. Besides, the quarrel with England had brought such misery to his subjects that this condition alone was reason enough for attempting the impossible. Napoleon was battling with his back to the wall, and even though he fought as man never fought before or since, the tide was engulfing him. His own Ministers were carrying on secret correspondence with the enemy, and preparing their own salvation, careless either of their duty or of their country’s humiliation.
When on April 15, 1814, Murat received the news of the capitulation of Paris and the abdication of the Emperor, he paled as he read the dispatch, and betrayed great agitation and nervousness, and for several days afterwards he was gloomy and unapproachable.
He repaired quietly to Bologna, and, while Italy went mad and raved in its madness, while the Milanese murdered Prina, and Eugène Beauharnais took refuge with the King of Bavaria, he returned to Naples, where he was received like a conqueror and was compelled to bow his appreciation and render his thanks for a display not one word or one smile of which, as he well knew, was genuine. The people expected very naturally that a new order of things would bring them a new Government, and Murat’s own suspicions were confirmed when the treaty of peace was signed at Paris, and the Congress of Vienna was summoned without any mention of him at all. Legitimacy was now the rage, and Joachim, though without an invitation, dispatched the Duke di Campochiaro and Prince de Cariati as his representatives to Vienna. That done, he turned to his kingdom and, taking time by the forelock, summoned the most able men of the country to him and set them to work upon the land, the finances, and the army, only warning them not to follow too hard after the latest fashion, nor to “run backwards blindfold.”
At the same time, on his own account, he lightened the heaviest of the taxes, brought in measures for the encouragement of trade with England, and permitted the free export of grain. Then he decreed that the offices of State were to be given only to Neapolitans, and that foreigners holding them, who refused to be naturalized, must resign, after which he sat down to wait upon events.
By these measures he contrived to win over a large part of the people, and, by degrees, the old Murat began to emerge from his hiding-place in the personality of the new. His council had agreed with him in almost every question of importance; the counsels which he received, while suggesting a constitution, were really sincere in their hopes for the maintenance of his dynasty. His army, which he had had time to put into shape again, was with him; the newspapers were obsequious in their praises of his virtues; and all the corporate bodies in the State announced their readiness to pledge their lives and property in his support.
The Congress of Vienna began to pay some attention to these signs of popular approval, and it was noised abroad that the Emperor of Russia had let fall the remark that “it was impossible to restore the ‘Butcher King’ now that the interests of the people had to be considered.” Then Caroline of Austria, Ferdinand’s wife, died suddenly, and so little was her decease lamented that Francis forbade the Court to go into mourning for her.
It may well be imagined that Joachim began to feel safe on his throne, and the fact that, by an agreement concluded at Charmont some little time before the fall of Napoleon, Austria, Russia, Prussia, and England had confirmed the principles of the alliance between Austria and Murat helped him to hope that after all, and in spite of everything, he might be allowed to remain. He had not reckoned, though, with Talleyrand, whose desire it was, just then, to show himself as a reformed character who was ready to do anything to prove his detestation of the fiend whom he had been serving, and of all the fiend’s family, which, of course, included Joachim.
Talleyrand had besides a private grudge against Joachim, for the latter had openly mistrusted him for years, and Napoleon’s parting remarks on the subject of his late Minister for Foreign Affairs must still have been tingling in that gentleman’s ears when he set out for Vienna. “I should have hanged him long ago,” said the Emperor: “I always knew that he would be the first to betray me when the occasion offered itself!”