These words spoken, Napoleon raised his tent, which covered the world.
*
Bonaparte had applied to the Allies for commissaries, so that he might be protected by them on his journey to the island which the sovereigns granted him as his absolute property and as an installment on the future. Count Schouvaloff was appointed for Russia, General Roller[167] for Austria, Colonel Campbell[168] for England, and Count Waldburg-Truchsess[169] for Prussia: the latter wrote the Itinerary of Napoleon from Fontainebleau to Elba. This pamphlet and the Abbé de Pradt's on the Polish Embassy are the two reports by which Napoleon was most pained. No doubt he then regretted the time of his liberal censorship, when he had poor Palm[170], the German bookseller, shot for distributing, at Nuremberg, Herr von Gentz's[171] work, Deutschland in seiner tiefsten Erniedrigung. Nuremberg, at the time of the publication of this work, was still a free city, and did not belong to France: ought not Palm to have been able to foresee that conquest?
Count Waldburg begins by relating several conversations that took place at Fontainebleau previous to the departure. He states that Bonaparte awarded the greatest praise to Lord Wellington[172] and inquired as to his character and habits. He excused himself for not having made peace at Prague, Dresden and Frankfort; he agreed that he had been wrong, but that at that time he had had other views.
"I was no usurper," he added, "because I accepted the crown only in compliance with the unanimous wish of the whole nation, whereas Louis XVIII. has usurped it, being called to the throne only by a vile Senate, more than ten of whose members voted for the death of Louis XVI."
He leaves for Elba.
Count Waldburg pursues his narrative as follows:
"The Emperor started, with his four carriages, about twelve o'clock on the 21st, not till after he had held a long conversation with General Roller, which he commenced with these words:
"'Well, you heard my speech to the Old Guard yesterday; it pleased you, and you have seen the effect it produced. That is the way to speak and act with them, and if Louis XVIII. does not follow this example, he will never make anything of the French soldier.'...
"From the spot where the French troops ceased, the cries of 'Long live the Emperor!' also had an end. Already in Moulins we saw the white cockades, and the inhabitants saluted us with 'Long live the Allies!' In Lyons, which we passed through at about eleven o'clock at night, a few people collected who received the Emperor with 'Long live Napoleon!' As he had expressed a wish to be escorted by an English frigate to the island of Elba, Colonel Campbell left us at Lyons for the purpose of procuring one either from Toulon or Marseilles.
"About mid-day on the 24th, on this side Valence, Napoleon met Marshal Augereau[173]. Both alighted from their carriages. The Emperor saluted the marshal, embraced him, and took off his hat to him. Augereau returned none of these civilities. The Emperor, as he asked him, 'Where are you off to? Are you going to the Court?' took the marshal by the arm and led him forwards. Augereau replied, his present journey extended only to Lyons. They walked together for a quarter of a league on the road towards Valence, and, according to authentic information, the Emperor reproached the marshal for his proclamation. Among other things he observed:
"'Your proclamation is very silly; why those insults against myself? All you need have said was, "The Nation having pronounced its wish in favour of a new sovereign, the duty of the Army is to conform to it. God save the King! Long live Louis XVIII.!'"
"Augereau, who now likewise thou'd him, reproached him, on the other hand, with his insatiate love of conquest, to which he had sacrificed the happiness of France. At length, tired of the discourse, the Emperor turned suddenly towards the marshal, embraced him, again took off his hat to him, and got into the carriage. Augereau, who stood with his hands behind him, did not move his cap from his head, and as Napoleon was already in the carriage, drew one hand forwards in order to wave, with a mien bordering on contempt, a kind of farewell....
"On the 25th, as we arrived at Orange, we were received with 'Long live the King! Long live Louis XVIII.!'
"On the same morning, close to Avignon, where the relays of horses awaited us, the Emperor found a crowd assembled, whose tumultuous cries saluted him with 'Long live the King! Long live the Allies! Down with Nicolas! Down with the tyrant, the scoundrel, the wretched beggar!' and still coarser abuse. In compliance with our instructions, we did everything in our power to lighten the evil, but could only partially effect it.... The people ... likewise conceived that we should not deny them the liberty of venting their indignation against the man who had made them so unhappy, and even had the intention of rendering them still more miserable.... In Orgon, the next place where we changed horses, the conduct of the populace was most outrageous. Exactly on the spot where the horses were taken out, a gallows was erected, on which a figure in French uniform, sprinkled with blood, was suspended. On its breast it bore a paper with this inscription:
Napoleon insulted.
"'Sooner or later this will be the Tyrant's fate.'
"The rabble pressed around his carriage, and elevated themselves on both sides in order to look and cast in their abuse. The Emperor pressed into a corner behind General Bertrand[174], and looked pale and disfigured; but at length, through our assistance, he was happily brought off.
"Count Schouwaloff harangued the people from the side of Buonaparte's carriage.
"'Are you not ashamed,' said he, 'to insult an unfortunate who has not the means of defending himself? His situation is sufficiently humiliating for one who, expecting to give laws to the world, now finds himself at the mercy of your generosity. Leave him to himself; behold him: you see contempt is the only weapon you ought to employ against this man, who is no longer dangerous. It would be unworthy of the French nation to take any other vengeance.'
"The crowd applauded this harangue, and Buonaparte, seeing the effect it produced, made signs of approbation to Count Schouwaloff, and afterwards thanked him for the service he had rendered him.
"When he had proceeded about a quarter of a league from Orgon he changed his dress in his carriage, put on a plain blue great-coat and a round hat with a white cockade, mounted a post-horse, and rode on before as a courier. As it was some time ere we overtook him, we were perfectly ignorant of his being no longer in the carriage and in Saint Cannat, where the horses were again changed. We still believed him to be in the greatest danger, for the people attempted to break open the doors, which, however, were fortunately locked. Had they succeeded, they would certainly have destroyed General Bertrand, who sat there alone.... Characteristic is the prayer with which some of the women assailed me:
"'For the love of God, deliver him up as a pillage to us! He has so well deserved it, both from you and us, that nothing can be more just than our request!'
"Having overtaken the Emperor's carriage about half a league on the other side of Orgon, it shortly afterwards entered into a miserable public-house, lying on the roadside, called the Calade. We followed it, and here first learnt Buonaparte's disguise, who in this attire had arrived here, accompanied by one courier only. His suite, from the generals to the scullions, were decorated with white cockades, which he appeared previously to have provided himself with. His valet-de-chambre, who came to meet us, begged we would conduct ourselves towards the Emperor as if he were Colonel Campbell, for whom on his arrival he had given himself out. We entered and found in a kind of chamber this former ruler of the world buried in thought, sitting with his head supported by his hand. I did not immediately recognise him, and walked towards him. He started up as he heard somebody approaching, and pointed to his countenance bedewed with tears. He made a sign that I might not discover him, requested me to sit down beside him, and as long as the landlady was in the room, conversed on indifferent subjects. As soon, however, as she was gone out he resumed his former position. We left him alone; he sent, however, to request we would pass backwards and forwards, to prevent any suspicion of his being there. We informed him it was known Colonel Campbell had passed through here the day before on his way to Toulon; on which he determined upon assuming the name of Lord Burghersh. Here we dined, but as the dinner had not been prepared by his own cooks, he had not courage to partake of it, for fear of being poisoned. He felt ashamed, however, at seeing us all eat, both with good appetites and good conscience, and therefore helped himself from every dish, but without swallowing the least morsel. He spat everything out upon his plate or behind his chair. A little bread and a bottle of wine taken from his carriage, and which he divided with us, constituted his whole repast. In other respects he was conversible and extremely friendly towards us. Whenever the landlady, who waited upon us at table, left the room, and he perceived we were alone, he repeated to us his apprehensions for his life, and assured us the French Government had indisputably determined to destroy or arrest him here. A thousand plans passed through his brain how he might escape, and what arrangements ought to be made to deceive the people of Aix, whom he had learnt awaited him by thousands at the post-house. The most eligible plan in his estimation would be to go back again to Lyons, and from thence strike into another road by way of Italy to the island of Elba. This, however, we should on no account have allowed, and we therefore endeavoured to persuade him to proceed either directly to Toulon, or by way of Digne to Fréjus. We assured him that, without our knowledge, it was impossible the French Government would entertain such insidious intentions against him, and although the people allowed themselves the greatest improprieties, they would never charge themselves with a crime of the nature he feared. In order to inform us better, and to convince us the inhabitants of that part of the country meditated his destruction, he related to us what had happened to him as he arrived here alone. The landlady, who did not recognise him, asked him:
"'Well, have you met Buonaparte?'
"He replied in the negative.
"'I am curious,' she answered, 'to see how he will save himself. I do believe the people will murder him: and it must be confessed he has well deserved it, the scoundrel! Tell me, are they going to put him on board ship for his island?'
"'Yes, of course.'
"'They will drown him, I hope?'
"'Oh, no doubt,' returned the Emperor. 'And so you see,' he added, turning towards us, 'the danger I am exposed to.'
His fears and apprehensions.
"And now again, with all his apprehensions and indecision, he renewed his solicitations of counsel. He even begged us to look around and see if we could not anywhere discover a private door through which he might slip out, or if the window, whose shutters upon entering he had half-closed at the bottom, was too high for him to jump out in case of need. On examination I found the window was provided with an iron trellis-work on the outside, and threw him into evident consternation as I communicated to him the discovery. At the least noise he started up in terror, and changed colour. After dinner we left him alone, and as we went in and out found him frequently weeping....
"As... General Schouwaloff's Adjutant had... announced that the major part of the populace assembled on the road were dispersed, the Emperor towards midnight determined on proceeding. For greater precaution, however, another disguise was assumed. General Schouwaloff's Adjutant was obliged to put on the blue great-coat and round hat in which the Emperor had reached the inn, that in case of necessity he might be regarded, insulted, or even murdered for him.
"Napoleon, who now pretended to be an Austrian colonel, dressed himself in the uniform of General Roller, with the Order of Theresa, wore my camp cap, and cast over his shoulders General Schouwaloff's mantle. After the Allies had thus equipped him, the carriages drove up, and we were obliged to march them through the other rooms of the inn in a certain order, which had been previously tried in our own chamber. The procession was headed by General Drouot[175]; then came, as Emperor, General Schouwaloff's Adjutant; upon this General-Roller, the Emperor, General Schouwaloff, and lastly, myself, to whom the honour of forming the rear-guard was assigned. The remainder of the Imperial suite united themselves with us as we passed by, and thus we walked through the gaping multitude, who vainly endeavoured to distinguish their Tyrant amongst us. Schouwaloff's Adjutant (Major Olewieff) placed himself in Napoleon's carriage, and the latter sat beside General Roller in his calash....
"Still, however, the Emperor was constantly in alarm. He not only remained in General Roller's calash, but even begged he would allow the servant to smoke who sat before, and asked the General himself if he could sing, in order that he might dissipate, through such familiar conduct, any suspicion in the places where we stopped, that the Emperor sat with him in the carriage. As the General could not sing, Napoleon begged him to whistle, and with this singular music we made our entry into every place; whilst the Emperor, fumigated with the incense of the tobacco-pipe, pressed himself into the corner of the calash, and pretended to be fast asleep....
"At Saint-Maximin he breakfasted with us, and having learnt that the sub-prefect of Aix was there, he ordered him into his presence, and received him with these words:
"'You ought to blush to see me in an Austrian uniform, which I have been obliged to assume to protect myself against the insults of the Provençals. I came among you in full confidence, whilst I might have brought with me six thousand of my guard, and I find nothing but a band of maniacs who put my life in danger. The Provençals are a disgraceful race; they committed every kind of crime and enormity during the Revolution, and are quite ready to begin over again: but when it is a question of fighting bravely, then they are cowards. Provence has never supplied me with a single regiment with which I could be satisfied. But to-morrow they will be as much against Louis XVIII. as to-day they appear to be against me,' etc....
His protests.
"To us he again spoke of Louis XVIII., and said he would never effect anything with the French nation if he treated them with too much forbearance. He would, from necessity, be obliged to lay large imposts upon them, and hence cause himself to be immediately hated. He likewise told us that 'eighteen years before, he had marched through this place with some thousand men to liberate two Royalists who were to have been executed for wearing the white cockade. In spite, however, of the fury of the populace with which he had to contend, he fortunately saved them, and to-day, he continued, would that man be murdered by this same populace, who should refuse to wear a white cockade,—so contradictory and vacillating are they in everything they do.'
"Having learnt that two squadrons of Austrian hussars were stationed at Luc, an order was sent at his request to the commanders to await our arrival there, in order to escort the Emperor to Fréjus[176]."
*
Here ends Count Waldburg's narrative: those accounts are painful to read. What! Were the commissaries unable to afford better protection to him for whom they had the honour to be responsible? Who were they, to affect these airs of superiority with such a man? Bonaparte truly said that, if he had wished, he might have travelled accompanied by a portion of his guard. It is evident that men were indifferent to his fate; they enjoyed his degradation; they gladly acquiesced in the marks of indignity which the victim demanded for his safety: it is so sweet to hold beneath one's feet the destiny of him who walked over the highest heads, to avenge pride with insult! Therefore the commissaries do not expend a word, not even a word of philosophic sensibility, on such a change of fortune, to remind man of his nothingness and of the greatness of the judgments of God! In the ranks of the Allies, Napoleon had had numerous adulators: he who has gone on his knees before brute force is not entitled to triumph over misfortune. Prussia, I admit, had need of an effort of virtue to forget what she had suffered, herself, her King and her Queen; but that effort should have been made. Alas! Bonaparte had taken pity on nothing; all hearts had cooled towards him. The moment in which he showed himself most cruel was at Jaffa[177]; the smallest, on the way to Elba: in the first case, military necessity served as his excuse; in the second, the harshness of the foreign commissaries changes the course of the reader's feelings and lessens his own abasement.