About six weeks after that incident two small parties of soldiers of the garrison passed repeatedly through the market-place, on a market-day, with drawn swords, flourishing them in the air, and crying incessantly, “Vive Napoleon! vive l’Empereur!” but they did not manifest the slightest disposition towards riot or disturbance, and no body appeared either to be surprised at or to mind them much. I was speaking to a French officer at the time, and he, like the rest of the spectators, showed no wish to interfere with these men, or to prohibit the continuance of their exclamations, nor did he remark in any way upon the circumstance. I hence naturally enough inferred the state of public feeling, and the very slight hold which Louis le Désiré then had upon the crown of his ancestors.
A much more curious occurrence took place, when a small detachment of Russian cavalry, which had remained in France from the termination of the campaign, were sent down to Havre, there to sell their horses and embark for their native country. The visit appeared to me to be a most unwelcome one to the inhabitants of the place, and still more so, as might be expected, to the military stationed there. The Russians were very fine-looking fellows, of large size, but with a want of flexibility in their limbs and motions; and were thence contrasted rather unfavourably with the alert French soldiery, who, in manœuvring and rapid firing, must have a great advantage over the northern stiffness.
I had the pleasure of becoming acquainted at Havre with Mr. Wright, a very respectable gentleman, and I believe, by affinity, a nephew of Mr. Windham. We had been in a café together, and were returning to our hotel about ten o’clock at night, when we saw a small assemblage of people collected at the church-door in the main street. There were some women amongst them, and they seemed earnestly employed on some business which the total darkness of the night prevented us from seeing. There was in fact no light around save one glimmering lamp in the porch of the church-door, where the people appeared fairly knotted together. There was scarcely any noise made above a sort of buzz, or as it were, rather a suppression of voices. Mr. Wright remained stationary whilst I went across the street to reconnoitre; and after a good deal of peeping over shoulders and under arms, I could perceive that the mob was in the act of deliberately cutting off the ears of two powerful-looking Russian soldiers, who were held so fast by many men, that they had not the least capability of resistance. They seemed to bear the application of the blunt knives of their assailants with considerable fortitude, and the women were preparing to complete the trimming with scissors!—but one glance was quite enough for me. I got away as quick as thought; and as the circumstance of Mr. Wright wearing mustaches might possibly cost him his ears, I advised him to get into a house as soon as possible: he took to his heels on the suggestion, and I was not slow in following. The next day I saw one of the Russians in the street with a guard to protect him—his head tied up with bloody cloths, and cutting altogether a most frightful figure. All the French seemed highly diverted, and shouted out their congratulations to the Russian, who however took no manner of notice of the compliment.
I believe the authorities did all they could in this affair to apprehend the trimmers, but unsuccessfully. Some individuals were, it is true, taken up on suspicion; but as soon as the Russians were embarked they were liberated. In fact the local dignitaries knew that they were not as yet sufficiently strong to enforce punishment for carving a Russian.
I often received great entertainment from sounding many of the most respectable Frenchmen whose acquaintance I made at Havre with regard to their political tendencies; and the result as well of my queries as of my observations led me to perceive that there were not wanting numerous persons by whom the return of Bonaparte, sooner or later, was looked forward to as an occurrence by no means either violently improbable, or undesirable.
Nevertheless, no very deep impression was made on my mind as to these matters, until one morning Lady Barrington, returning from Havre, brought me a small printed paper, announcing the emperor’s actual return from Elba, and that he was on his route for Paris. I believed the evidence of my eye-sight on reading the paper; but I certainly did not believe its contents. I went off immediately to my landlord, Mr. Poulet, a great royalist, and his countenance explained circumstances sufficiently before I asked a single question. The sub-prefect soon left the town: but the intelligence was scarcely credited, and not at all to its full extent. I went into every café and public place, and through every street. In all directions I saw groups of people, anxious and busily engaged in converse. I was much amused by observing the various effects of the intelligence on persons of different opinions, and by contrasting the countenances of those who thronged the thoroughfares.
I did not myself give credence to the latter part of this intelligence—namely, that Bonaparte was on his way to Paris. I could not suppose that the king had found it impracticable to command the services of a single regiment; and it must be confessed that his majesty, a man of excellent sense, had, under all the circumstances, made a very bad use of his time in acquiring popularity, either civil or military. Notwithstanding the addition of Désiré to his Christian name, (wherewith it had been graced by Messieurs les émigrés,) it is self-evident that outward demonstrations alone had been conceded to him of respect and attachment. I never heard that surname appropriated to him at Havre, by-the-bye, except by the prefects and revenue officers.
The dismal faces of the Bourbonites, the grinning ones of the Bonapartists, and the puzzled countenances of the neutrals were mingled together in the oddest combinations: throughout the town every body seemed to be talking at once, and the scene was undoubtedly of the strangest character, in all its varieties. Joy, grief, fear, courage, self-interest, love of peace, and love of battle—each had its votaries. Merchants, priests, douaniers, military officers, were strolling about, each apparently influenced by some distinctive feeling: one sensation alone seemed common to all—that of astonishment.
The singularity of the scene every moment increased. On the day immediately ensuing fugitives from Paris, full of news of all descriptions, came in as quick as horses and cabriolets could bring them. Bulletin after bulletin arrived—messenger after messenger! But all the dispatches in any shape official combined in making light of the matter. The intelligence communicated by private individuals, however, was very contradictory. One, for instance, stated positively that the army had declared against Napoleon; another that it had declared for him; a third that it had not declared at all! One said that Napoleon was surrounded:—“Yes,” returned a bystander, “but it is by his friends!” Towards evening every group seemed to be quite busy making up their minds as to the news of the day, and the part they might think it advisable to take: as for the English, they were frightened out of their wits, and the women had no doubt that they should all be committed to gaol before next morning.
I observed, however, that amidst all this bustle, and mass of conflicting opinions, scarce a single priest was visible: these cunning gentry had (to use a significant expression) determined, if possible, “not to play their cards till they were sure what was trumps.” On the preceding Sunday they had throughout the entire day been chanting benedictions on Louis le Désiré and on St. Louis his great-grandfather; but on the sabbath which followed, if they chanted at all, (as they were bound to do,) they would necessarily run a great risk of chanting for the last time in their lives, if they left out Napoleon; and, inasmuch as they were unable to string together Louis le Désiré, Napoleon, and St. Louis, in one benedicite, a most distressing dilemma became inevitable amongst the clergy! Common sense, however, soon pointed out their safest course: a plea of compulsion operating on the meek resignation of their holy trade, might serve as an excellent apology, on the part of an ecclesiastical family, in the presumption of Louis’s becoming victor; but in the emperor, they had to deal with a different sort of person, as they well knew—with a man who would not be put off with unmeaning excuses, and in due homage to whom it would be dangerous to fail. Under all circumstances, therefore, they took up a line of conduct which I cannot but think was very wise and discreet, proceeding as it did upon the principle “of two evils choose the least.” Their loyalty was decided by their fears, which sufficed to stimulate the whole body of priests and curés at Havre, old and young, to uplift their voices with becoming enthusiasm in benediction of “Napoleon le Grand!” Indeed they seemed to be of opinion that, having taken their ground, it would be as well to appear in earnest; and never did they work harder than in chanting a Te Deum laudamus in honour of their old master’s return: to be serious, I believe they durst not have done otherwise; for I heard some of the military say very decidedly, that if the priests played any tricks upon the occasion, they would hash them!