by Emil Ludwig
Thus do the old adversaries eye one another across mountains and seas and across the documents of the diplomats, until it seems as if all these people of importance had come together in Vienna to furnish a lively setting for the game of chess the two experts are playing. Does either of them recall that night
On the Alert
just before the Eighteenth Brumaire, when they had been scared by the clatter of hoofs from the mounted patrol, and had turned pale in their dread of arrest ?
This much is certain, that at Vienna Talleyrand remains a shrewd judge of men. Regarding Murat as a dangerous personality, he would like to have the king of Naples shipped off to the Azores, nearly a thousand miles from the nearest continent. But his ruling passion, avarice, comes in the way. At the congress, Murat, driven into a corner in the defence of his kingdom, promises Talleyrand a large sum of money in return for the minister's princedom of Benevento. Talleyrand therefore drops the plan against Murat, and concocts a new scheme. The Emperor is to be kidnapped. But the spies in Leghorn report that this will only be possible if one of the four captains who command his ships can be suborned.
When Napoleon gets wind of these intrigues, the adventurer's blood of his Corsican home runs swiftly through his veins. He has the defences of Elba strengthened, and his artillerymen are trained in the use of hand-grenades. " I am a soldier, and am ready to face a firing squad. But I will not be deported ! Before they can do that they will have to take my citadel by storm." No attempt is made. In Vienna there is now a better understanding, and the likelihood of the rupture of negotiations diminishes. In France, however, disaffection to the Bourbons is growing. The general upshot is to stimulate the Emperor's determination. His thoughts run as follows :
" If the congress closes with a peace festival after all the documents have been signed, the phalanx will have been reconstituted. But now, when it is still imperfectly consolidated, a touch will break it to pieces. France is murmuring against the Bourbons ; Paris makes fun of them ; every one detests the allies. There are a hundred signs to show that the old army is devoted to me—the Emperor. The Bourbons are fainthearts, and will run away. As soon as I regain my position, my son and heir will be sent back to me."
The Emperor and His Mother
Calculations, only calculations ; and never has he reckoned more soberly. None the less, though he considers his figures with the utmost care, in the last resort he relies upon psychological reactions. " I count upon taking them by surprise. A bold deed upsets people's equanimity, and they are dumbfounded by a great novelty." He adds : " I am the cause of France's unhappiness. I must effect a cure." In the end of February, he sends for his treasurer. " Have you plenty of money ? How much does a million in gold weigh ? What is the weight of a hundred francs ? How much does a box filled with books weigh ? . . . Take a couple of packing cases, put all the gold coin you have at the bottom, and fill up the case with my books ; my valet will give them to you. Discharge the present staff of servants ; pack their trunks and pay them off. Everything must be kept strictly secret."
In alarm, the man hastens to General Drouot. They exchange glances, but keep their own counsel. Next day, Napoleon orders that no ships are to leave the harbour. Everything has been quietly prepared; an expedition like that to Egypt, but on a small scale.
On the eve of his departure, he plays a game of ecarte with the ladies ; but he soon leaves the table and goes into the garden, whence he does not return. His mother, according to her own story, finds him sitting under a fig tree. After brief hesitation, he lays his hand on her forehead, and says, much moved :
" I will tell you all about it. No one else must know, not even Pauline."
Then he goes back to his old tone, as if he were talking to Berthier:
" I must tell you that I am leaving next evening."
" Where are you going ? "
" To Paris." A pause. " I should like your advice."
The mother's heart stops beating for a moment. How she has enjoyed the last six months ; the period of quiet intercourse with her son. An end to the tranquillity and the security ! But Letizia
" Follow Your Destiny"
is a proud woman and a clever one. She knows that nobody can hold him back when he has made up his mind, and that the only effect of anxious dissuasion will be to disturb his composure. She says :
" Follow your destiny. It cannot be God's will that you are to die from poison, or after an inactive old age ; though it may well be his will that you are to die sword in hand. Let us put our trust in Mother Mary."
On the last evening, the authorities are summoned by their sovereign. He announces his imminent departure. " I have been extraordinarily well pleased here. As a sign of confidence, I am leaving my mother and my sister. To your care, too, I entrust this country, to which I attach great importance." The governor and the mayor express their lively regret. The tone befits the departure of a distinguished guest, who has been spending a few months in a lovely island for the benefit of his health, and is sorry that the time has come for his return home.
He goes on board, and at dawn seven little frigates, carrying a thousand men and a few guns, set sail for the French coast. He stands on the deck. The outlines of Elba, where he has lived so peacefully, and of Corsica, where many years before he had made stormy attempts to force his way upwards, fade into the distance. Slowly the coast of the French Riviera begins to show clearly through the mists of the first day of March. Let us look into the Emperor's mind :
" What is the minimum ? Defeat and death. What is the maximum ? Europe ? No use thinking any more about Europe ! The dream of the United States of Europe is finished. I cannot get another million Frenchmen, and the foreign nations are not ready for my scheme. I must give France a constitution, and must accommodate myself to governing through Chambers. The time for dictatorships is over. Besides, we are not in Paris yet. What will the army do ? "
His thoughts are coloured with the spirit of the time. He is a man of forty-five, with more past than future ; no longer young
Return of the Emperor
enough to take the world by storm, but not too old for a desperate venture. Thus does Napoleon again draw near to French shores, in a mood betwixt courage and renunciation.
XVI
The mountains are calling, the valleys are echoing, as the procession of a thousand men who landed at Cannes wends its way through one Alpine village after another. An enthusiastic crowd encircles the old guard which has pursued its way along the road of history without jubilation and without sorrow, imperturbable as a rock. The peasants, these sons of the hills, in the selfsame hamlets, had once before seen him, a lean, small, unknown general; in those days he had relieved them from the burden of maintaining an undisciplined soldiery, and had led the troops over the Alps to victory. These mountain folk were the first to see the miracle he wrought; they plumed themselves on the thought that from their villages the Emperor had gone forth. And now, of a sudden, he is among them again ! Surely the procession of the thousand will work a spell, and seem to be the march of prophets and saviours ?
They come from their mountain fastnesses; women and children bring up the rear; songs against the king are composed and sung; in the lesser towns, the bolder spirits force the city fathers to go forth to meet the new comer; for more than a hundred miles he encounters none but peasants.
Napoleon had reckoned upon this. He would not face a march through Aix and Avignon, through the monarchical provinces. He preferred to leave his few cannon behind in the snow-covered mountain paths, in order the quicker to reach Dauphine. Here the peasants had received the most generous distribution of the nobles' lands. They are full of anger now against king, priest, and emigre, who, after the lapse of twenty-five years, are contesting the peasants' right to hold these lands. Was not the great revolution made to protect the poor ? Was it
March of the Thousand
not made by peasants in the country and workmen in the town ? The Consul had not taken back anything from
them; even the Emperor had only called up their sons ; they have never ceased to look upon him as one of themselves, for their minds moved slowly and their hearts were constant. Now, the king had come back again, and forthwith the nobles had begun to squabble over the fields the peasant had tilled.
The souls of the countryfolk were heavy at the change of fortune. Fifteen years ago the mood had been similar when Napoleon, returning from Egypt in his little ship, had landed, and the whole of southern France had hailed him as saviour. What can have happened in the last ten months, to make these people receive with every token of joy the man whom they had so recently execrated ? True, he had passed through another part of the country at that time ; and the national misfortune had needed a scapegoat. His disfavour among the folk had been as brief as his defeat. But belief in him lasted as long as the years of his glory.
What will the first troops we meet do ? He himself, when he took leave, had urged them to serve the fatherland. And the fatherland was the king! They wear the Bourbon's white cockade, they eat the king's bread, from the lips of patrician officers they have received a new and ugly picture of the erstwhile leader. Everything will depend on his power of suggestion. Uncertain feelings govern his heart as he strides inland from Cannes. To his left, lies the fort of Antibes. Does he recognise the tower wherein he was thrown when Robespierre fell ? In just such a tower, the Bourbon will fling him, against just such a wall Europe will stand him, if he should fail on the morrow to accomplish what his glance and his word have so often succeeded in doing before.
Outside Grenoble, near La Mure, he has his first encounter with the royal troops. They have orders to exterminate him and his " band of brigands " ; the officers have taken the oath to the king just as in former days they had taken the oath to the
Don't You Know Me?
Emperor. The order to attack is given. Is the blood of brethren to be shed ? That is what Napoleon has spent a lifetime in avoiding. Is this highway to be turned into a battlefield ? He alights from his horse, takes ten strides towards them, and shouts :
" Soldiers of the fifth army corps ! Don't you know me ? If there is one among you who wishes to kill his Emperor, let him come forward and do so. Here I am ! " Saying which, he throws open his grey cloak.
A terrible pause. What will happen ?
Those are our brethren ! This is our general! We have seen him in so many battles, standing on a hillock, or sitting over the bivouac fire, or facing the musket shots and cannon balls ! Must not nature and remembrance overpower the influence of recent vows ? The soldiers cry : " Vive l'Empereur ! " A general running to and fro ensues, guards and soldiers mingling; caps are stuck upon bayonet points—what does one more hole in the blue cloth matter ? An hour later, two thousand instead of one thousand fall in behind their leader.
This encounter on the high road to Grenoble, this moment of time, his call, his aspect, were decisive. The man of action had won back to leadership through his own deed ; the middle-aged warrior had regained life, power, and realm, by a look and a word. Thus he reaches Grenoble. By a manifesto he communicates his thoughts to the people :
" Frenchmen ! . . . After the fall of Paris my heart was torn, but my spirit remained unshaken. . . . My life belongs to you, and must once more be made useful to you. In my exile, I heard your plaints and your cries. . . . You accused me of too long a slumber, saying I was sacrificing the interests of the country to my own repose. Encompassed by dangers, I have sailed over the sea. Now I am in your midst, to demand my rights, which are also your rights.
" Soldiers ! We are not conquered ! . . . Marmont's treachery delivered the capital into the hands of the enemy, and dis-
Where Is Ney?
organised our army. . . . Now I have come ! Your general, who was elected to the throne by the suffrage of the people, and raised aloft on your shields, has returned to you. Rally to him! . . . Wear the tricolour cockade again, the cockade of our days of victory ! Let the eagles which you bore at Ulm and Austerlitz, at Jena, Eylau, and Friedland, at Eckmiihl and Wagram, at Smolensk and on the Moskva, at Liitzen and Montmirail, once more wave on high! . . . Possessions, rank, and glory, for yourselves and for your children, have no worse foes than those princes who have been forced upon you by foreign powers. . . . Victory will guide us forward through the storms, and the eagles shall fly from one church steeple to the other until at last they alight on Notre Dame ! "
Vive l'Empereur! The troops in Grenoble, together with the imperial nobles, come over. Seven thousand men follow him to Lyons. Lyons comes over. Massena, who had been serving the king, journeys from Marseilles and pays homage to the Emperor.
" Where is Ney ? " Embarrassed silence. " With the king ? "
They tell him about the council of war in Paris. Since the terrible news was brought, the fat king and his lean court have sat there trembling. The " Moniteur," which had lied in Napoleon's favour for fifteen years, now lies on behalf of the king: the Emperor, it announces, is dead. Just as they are deliberating what to do, old Count Conde enters the room and asks his royal cousin whether on Maundy Thursday the king himself should not officiate at the washing of feet. The king is writing a manifesto to the army. But who is sitting by him, his mainstay, the true leader of the Bourbon army ? What is the man's name ?
It is Marshal Ney. When, on the retreat from Moscow, he had been cut off from the main body and appeared to be lost, his master had cried : " Ney is lost! I would give the two hundred millions from my cellars in the Tuileries, if I had him again ! "
We Must Be Content
Now he rises from among the royal plenipotentiaries gathered round the conference table; he swears to annihilate his sometime master. But when the breeze of general enthusiasm sweeps by him, he veers ; his corps dons the tricolour cockade, and in Besancon he sends word to the Emperor that he would like to write a vindication of his conduct. But the Emperor waves the proposal aside, saying : " Tell him I love him the same as ever, and that to-morrow I shall embrace him."
What a master-stroke ! True, he forgives ; but he leaves Ney on tenterhooks till the morrow. Next day, the marshal stammers : " I love you, Sire ; but as a son of the fatherland ... I was forced to kneel down before that fat hog to receive the cross of St. Louis ! Had you not come, we should have chased him away ourselves."
" Marvellous ! How vacillating he is, how pale ! " These thoughts flit through the Emperor's mind as he asks his questions.
The count of Artois has fled. The very morning of the flight, the guards had sworn to die with him; by midday, they had rallied to the Emperor. Such behaviour does not please Napoleon, and he keeps this portion of the guard at arm's length. But there is one man who had remained loyal to Louis until the Bourbon was in safety; not till then does he change sides. This recruit, Napoleon welcomes, and with his own hand decorates him with the emblem of the Legion of Honour!
But what a change ! The more this avalanche of soldiers grows as he marches forward towards Paris, the more peaceful do his speeches become. In one town after another, he addresses the municipal councillors and the citizens in the following words : " War is at an end. Peace and liberty ! The principles of the revolution must be protected from the onslaughts of the emigres. The treaties with Europe must be adhered to. France will win back her glory without war. We must be content to be the most esteemed nation, without trying to dominate other countries."
The New Programme
Does the people grasp the significance of the new tone ? If the nation understands, is there belief in its genuineness ? Must one be content ? Glory without war ? To a high official, an old acquaintance whom he meets on the march and in whom at length he finds an intelligent listener after addressing dull-witted citizens and partisan officers, he gives this political explanation :
" The spirit of the people is changed. In earlier days, the nation thought only of glory; now it thinks only of liberty. In the past, I brought the nation glory; I will not withhold liberty now. Freedom can be enjoyed in full, when power rests up
on a good constitution. . . . Only—no anarchy! That would bring us back to the days of the despotic republicans, when every one had a finger in the pie. I shall retain only so much power as is essential for governing properly."
In the naive closing sentence lies the new problem. He has broached the question; he is determined to stabilise the basic ideas of democracy. One thing is the same as on the Eighteenth Brumaire : no party politics ! "I don't want to write to them," he says, when advised to forgive the turncoats. " They would believe that I was pledged to them. How are things in the Tuileries ? "
" Nothing has been changed; not even the eagles have been removed." He is gay, bubbling over with good humour. He laughs.
" I suppose King Louis found the eagles decorative ! What are they playing at the theatre ? How is Talma ? Were you at court ? I've been told that the Bourbons looked like parvenus, did not know what to talk about, nor how to behave."
How inquisitive he is ! How full of malicious joy ! How he yearns for the air of Paris! He seeks his revenge in mockery, he whom the others had so long held up to ridicule. He is told of the parsimony of the court. He is shown the king's effigy on a twenty-franc piece.
