Memoirs of Napoleon Bonaparte — Complete
order and treated with what was called a solemn festival, as they moved
along the boulevards to the Court of the Tuileries, they coupled the
name of Napoleon with Jacobin curses and revolutionary songs. The airs
and the words that had made Paris tremble to her very centre during
the Reign of Terror--the "Marseillaise," the "Carmagnole," the "Jour
du depart," the execrable ditty, the burden of which is, "And with the
entrails of the last of the priests let us strangle the last of the
kings," were all roared out in fearful chorus by a drunken, filthy, and
furious mob. Many a day had elapsed since they had dared to sing these
blasphemous and antisocial songs in public. Napoleon himself as soon as
he had power enough suppressed them, and he was as proud of this feat
and his triumph over the dregs of the Jacobins as he was of any of
his victories; and in this he was right, in this he proved himself the
friend of humanity. As the tumultuous mass approached the triumphal
arch and the grand entrance to the Palace he could not conceal his
abhorrence. His Guards were drawn up under arms, and numerous pieces of
artillery, already loaded were turned out on the Place du Carrousel.
He hastily dismissed these dangerous partisans with some praise, some
money, and some drink. On coming into close contact with such a mob
he did not feel his fibre respond to that of the populace! Like
Frankenstein, he loathed and was afraid of the mighty monster he had put
together.
But it was not merely the mob that checked the liberalism or
constitution of Napoleon, a delicate and doubtful plant in itself, that
required the most cautious treatment to make it really take root and
grow up in such a soil: Some of his councillors, who called themselves
"philosophical statesmen," advised him to lay aside the style of
Emperor, and assume that of High President or Lord General of the
Republic! Annoyed with such puerilities while the enemy was every day
drawing nearer the frontiers he withdrew from the Tuileries to the
comparatively small and retired palace of the Elysee, where he escaped
these talking-dreamers, and felt himself again a sovereign: Shut up with
Benjamin Constant and a few other reasonable politicians, he drew up
the sketch of a new constitution, which was neither much better nor much
worse than the royal charter of Louis XVIII. We give an epitome of its
main features.
The Emperor was to have executive power, and to exercise legislative
power in concurrence with the two Chambers. The Chamber of Peers was
to be hereditary, and nominated by the Emperor, and its number was
unlimited. The Second Chamber was to be elected by the people, and to
consist of 629 members; none to be under the age of twenty-five. The
President was to be appointed by the members, but approved of by the
Emperor. Members were to be paid at the rate settled by the Constituent
Assembly, which was to be renewed every five years. The Emperor might
prorogue, adjourn, or dissolve the House of Representatives, whose
sittings were to be public. The Electoral Colleges were maintained. Land
tax and direct taxes were to be voted only for a year, indirect taxes
might be imposed for several years. No levy of men for the army nor
any exchange of territory was to be made but by a law. Taxes were to be
proposed by the Chamber of Representatives. Ministers to be responsible.
Judges to be irremovable. Juries to be established. Right of petition,
freedom of worship, inviolability of property, were recognised. Liberty
of the press was given under legal responsibility, and press offences
were to be judged with a jury. No place or part of the territory could
be placed in a state of siege except in case of foreign invasion
or civil troubles. Finally, the French people declared that in the
delegation it thus made of its powers it was not to be taken as giving
the right to propose the re-establishment of the Bourbons, or of any
Prince of that family on the throne, even in case of the extinction of
the imperial dynasty. Any such proposal was formally interdicted to the
Chambers or to the citizens, as well as any of the following measures,
viz. the re-establishment of the former, feudal nobility, of the
feudal and seignorial rights, of tithes, of any privileged and
dominant religion, as well as of the power of making any attack on the
irrevocability of the sale of the national goods.
Shortly after the return of Napoleon from Elba, believing it to
be impossible to make the Emperor of Austria consent to his wife's
rejoining him (and Maria Louisa had no inclination to a renewal of
conjugal intercourse), Napoleon had not been many days in Paris when he
concocted a plan for carrying off from Vienna both his wife and his son:
In this project force was no less necessary than stratagem. A number of
French of both sexes much devoted to the Emperor, who, had given them
rank and fortune, had accompanied Maria Louisa in 1814 from Paris to
Blois and thence to Vienna. A correspondence was opened with these
persons, who embarked heart and soul in the plot; they forged passports,
procured relays, of horses; and altogether arranged matters so well that
but for a single individual--one who revealed the whole project a few
days previously to that fixed upon for carrying it into effect--there
is little room to doubt that the plan would have succeeded, and that the
daughter of Austria and the titular King of home would have given
such, prestige as their presence could give at the Tuileries and the
Champs-de-Mai. No sooner had the Emperor of Austria discovered this
plot, which, had it been successful, would have placed him in a very
awkward predicament, than he dismissed all the French people about his
daughter, compelled her to lay aside the armorial bearings and liveries
of Napoleon, and even to relinquish the title of Empress of the French:
No force, no art, no police could conceal these things from the people
of Paris; who, moreover, and at nearly the same time; were made very
uneasy by the failure of Murat's attempt in Italy, which greatly
increased the power and political influence of Austria. Murat being
disposed of, the Emperor Francis was enabled to concentrate all his
forces in Italy, and to hold them in readiness for the re-invasion of
France.
"Napoleon," says Lavallette, "had undoubtedly expected that the Empress
and his son would be restored to him; he had published his wishes as a
certainty, and to prevent it was, in fact, the worst injury the Emperor
of Austria could have done, him. His hope was, however, soon destroyed.
"One evening I was summoned to the palace. I found the Emperor in a
dimly-lighted closet, warming himself in a corner of the fireplace, and
appearing to suffer already from the complaint which never afterwards
left him. 'Here is a letter,' he said, 'which the courier from Vienna
says is meant for you--read it.' On first casting my eyes on the letter
I thought I knew the handwriting, but as it was long I read it slowly,
and came at last to the principal object. The writer said that we ought
not to reckon upon the Empress, as she did not even attempt to conceal
her dislike of the Emperor, and was disposed to approve all the measures
that could be taken against him; that her return was not to be thought
of, as she herself would raise the greatest obstacles in the way of it;
in case it should be proposed; finally, that it was not possible for him
to dissemble his indignation that the Empress, wholly enamoured of ----,
did not even take pains to hide her ridiculous partiality for him. The
handwriting of the letter was disguised, yet not so much but that I was
able to discover whose it was. I found; however, in the manner in which
the secret was expressed a warmth of zeal and a picturesque style that
did not belong to the author of the letter. While reading it, I all of
a sudden suspected it was a counterfeit, and intended to mislead the
Emperor. I communicated this idea to him, and the danger I perceived in
this fraud. As I grew more and more animated I found plausible reasons
enough to throw the Emperor himself into some uncertainty. 'How is it
possible,' I said, 'that ------ should have been imprudent enough to
write such things to me, who am not his friend, and who have had so
little connection with him? How can one suppose that the Empress should
forget herself, in such circumstances, so far as to manifest aversion
to you, and, still more, to cast herself away upon a man who undoubtedly
still possesses some power to please, but who is no longer young, whose
face is disfigured, and whose person, altogether, has nothing agreeable
in it?' 'But,' answered the Emperor, ----- is attached to me; and though
he is not your friend, the postscript sufficiently explains the motive
of the confidence he places in you.' The following words were, in
fact, written at the bottom of the letter: 'I do not think you ought to
mention the truth to the Emperor, but make whatever use of it you think
proper.' I persisted, however, in maintaining that the letter was a
counterfeit; and the Emperor then said to me, 'Go to Caulaincourt.
He possesses a great many others in the same handwriting. Let the
comparison decide between your opinion and mine.'
"I went to Caulaincourt, who said eagerly to me, 'I am sure the letter
is from -----, and I have not the least doubt of the truth of the
particulars it contains. The best thing the Emperor can do is to be
comforted; there is no help to be expected from that side.'
"So sad a discovery was very painful to the Emperor, for he was
sincerely attached to the Empress, and still hoped again to see his son,
whom he loved most tenderly.'
"Fouché had been far from wishing the return of the Emperor. He was
long tired of obeying, and had, besides, undertaken another plan, which
Napoleon's arrival had broken off. The Emperor, however, put him
again at the head of the police, because Savary was worn out in that
employment, and a skillful man was wanted there. Fouché accepted the
office, but without giving up his plan of deposing the Emperor, to put
in his place either his son or a Republic under a President. He had
never ceased to correspond with Prince Metternich, and, if he is to be
believed, he tried to persuade the Emperor to abdicate in favour of
his son. That was also my opinion; but; coming from such a quarter,
the advice was not without danger for the person to whom it was given.
Besides, that advice having been rejected, it: was the duty of the
Minister either to think no more of his plan or to resign his
office. Fouché, however, remained in the Cabinet; and continued his
correspondence. The Emperor, who placed but little confidence in him;
kept a careful eye upon him. One evening the Emperor: had a great deal
of company at the Elysee, he told me not to go home, because he wished
to speak to me. When everybody was gone the Emperor stopped with Fouché
in the apartment next to the one I was in. The door remained half open.
They walked up and down together talking very calmly. I was therefore
greatly astonished when, after a quarter of, an hour, I heard the
Emperor say to him' gravely, 'You are a traitor! Why do you remain
Minister of the Police if you wish to betray me? It rests with me to
have you hanged, and everybody would rejoice at your death!' I did not
hear Fouché's reply, but the conversation lasted above half an hour
longer, the parties all the time walking up and down. When Fouché went
away he bade me cheerfully, good-night, and said that the Emperor had
gone back to his apartments.
"The next day the Emperor spoke to me of the previous night's
conversation. 'I suspected,' he said, 'that the wretch was in
correspondence with Vienna. I have had a banker's clerk arrested on his