Chapter 3

Amédée de la Ponce—He teaches me what work is—M. Arnault and his two sons—A journey by diligence—A gentleman fights me with cough lozenges and I fight him with my fists—I learn the danger from which I escaped

After the unjust sentence that was passed upon us in Villers-Hellon, I returned to Villers-Cotterets, and, disgusted with my sojourn in the aristocratic regions whence I had just been cast forth, I returned with delight to the world I preferred to theirs, wherein I could find complete satisfaction for all my heart-longings and all my proud cravings. Adèle at first received me back very coldly, and I had to endure a fit of the sulks for some hours. At the end of that time, little by little her pretty face cleared, and she ended by smiling upon me with the freshness and sweetness of an opening flower. One might have said of this lovely child that her smile itself was like a rose. While these youthful love affairs were in progress—all of them, alas! of the ephemeral character of love at sixteen—there were friendships taking root in my heart that were to last the whole of my life.

I have already spoken of Adolphe de Leuven, who suddenly took a prominent place in my life, apart from my childish friendships. Here let me also be allowed to say a word about another friend, who was to finish in certain other directions the work of opening out future vistas before me that had been begun by the son of Count de Ribbing. One day we saw a young man of twenty-six or twenty-seven go along the streets of Villers-Cotterets, wearing the uniform of an officer of Hussars with an unusually stately grace. No one could possibly havebeen handsomer or more distinguished in appearance than this young man. His face perhaps might have been criticised as a trifle too feminine-looking, if it had not been for a fine sword-cut which, without spoiling in any way the regularity of his features, began at the left side of his forehead and ended at the right corner of his upper lip, adding a touch of manliness and courage to his gentle features. His name was Amédée de la Ponce. I do not know what chance or whim or necessity led him to Villers-Cotterets. Had he come as an idle tourist, to spend his income of five or six thousand livres in our town? I do not know.... It is probable. He liked the country, he stayed among us and, at the end of a year of residence, he became the husband of a charmingly pretty young girl, Louise Moreau, a friend of my sister. They had a beautiful fair-haired child, whom I should much like to see to-day: we nicknamed itMouton, on account of its gentleness, the whiteness of its skin and its flaxen hair.

I lost sight of you such a long while ago, my dear de la Ponce! Whatever part of the world you may be in, if you read these pages, you will find therein a testimony of my ever living, sincere and lasting friendship for you. For, my friend, you did a great deal for me. You said to me: "Believe me, my dear boy, there are other things in life besides pleasure and love, hunting and dancing, and the silly ambitions of youth! There is work. Learn to work ... that is the true way to be happy." And you were right, dear friend. Apart from the death of my father, the death of my mother and the death of the Duc d'Orléans, how is it I have never experienced a sorrow that I have not crushed beneath my feet or a disappointment that I have not overcome? It is because you introduced me to the only friend who can give comfort by day and by night, who is ever near, who hastens to console at the first sigh, who lends healing balm at the first tear: you made me acquainted withwork.O dear and most excellent Work,—thou who bearest in thy strong arms that heavy burden of humanity which we call sorrow! Thou divinity, with hand ever stretched open and with face ever smiling!... Oh! dearand most excellent Work, thou hast never cast the shadow of deception on me ... my blessings upon thee, O Work!

De la Ponce spoke Italian and German as fluently as his own language; he offered to teach them to me in my leisure moments—and God knows I had plenty of spare moments at that time.

We started with Italian. It was the easiest language—the honey of which Horace speaks, the gilding that clothes the outside of the cup of bitter drink given to a sick child. One of the books out of which I learnt Italian was Ugo Foscolo's fine novel, which I have since translated under the title of theLast Letters of Jacopo Ortis.That book gave me an idea of, an insight into and a feeling for romantic literature of which previously I had been totally ignorant. In two months' time I could talk Italian fairly correctly, and I began to translate poetry. I much preferred this to my sales and my marriage contracts and the drawing up of bonds and transfers at Maître Mennesson's. Furthermore, a change took place in the office greatly to the advantage of my literary education, but not to my legal education. Niguet, that precious head clerk who had told tales to M. Mennesson of my love-disappointments, had bought in a neighbouring village a lawyer's practice, which I believe Lafarge had been obliged to sell as he had not been able to find the wherewithal to take it up; and Paillet, a friend of mine, who was six or eight years my senior, had succeeded Niguet as head clerk over me. Paillet was well-to-do; he had a delightful property two leagues from Villers-Cotterets; his tastes were luxurious; consequently, he let me off more readily than Niguet (who was an old Basochian[1]without any fun in him and entirely wrapped up in his business) to pursue the simple luxuries I could indulge in, namely, shooting, flirting and dancing.

So it came about that instead of encouraging me in treading the narrow and difficult path of a provincial solicitor, Paillet allowed me to cast my eyes abroad, instinctively understanding, doubtless, that the work they had put me to was not what Iwas cut out for. It can easily be seen that Paillet exercised material influence over my future destiny, apart from the moral influence exercised by de la Ponce and de Leuven. I was then perfectly happy in the love of my mother, and in a younger and sweeter love growing up side by side with hers without injuring it, and in the friendship of de la Ponce and of de Paillet, when de Leuven came to complete my happiness: I lacked nothing save that golden mean of which Horace speaks; had I had that too, I should have had scarcely aught to wish for.

Suddenly we heard that M. Deviolaine was going to retire with his family to his estate of Saint-Remy, and let his house at Villers-Cotterets to the Count de Ribbing. So the house wherein I had been brought up, the house peopled for me with a host of memories, was to pass from the hands of a relative into the hands of a friend The beautiful garden had taken M. de Leuven's special fancy; he hoped to give vent in it to his hobby for gardening interrupted by the successive sales of Brunoy and Quincy. Furthermore, the count had not met with any more persecution, and whether it was because Louis XVIII. did not know of his being in France, or whether the king closed his eyes to the fact, he was left in undisturbed peacefulness.

De Leuven and his father settled, then, in Villers-Cotterets, where Madame de Leuven joined them in a fortnight's time. As for de la Ponce, he rented a house at the end of the rue de Largny, the first house on the left as you come from Paris: it had a large garden and a fine courtyard. My time was soon divided into three portions—one was devoted to my friendships, another to love-makings, and the third to my legal work. The reader may suggest that my mother was perhaps a little neglected in all this. Is a mother ever forgotten? Is she not always there, whether present or absent? Did I not go in and out of my home ten or twenty times a day? Did I not kiss my mother each time I went in? Every day de Leuven, de la Ponce and I managed to meet. Generally it was at de la Ponce's house: we transformed the courtyard which I have mentioned into a shooting range, and every day we used up twenty or thirty balls. De Leuven had excellent German pistols (Kukenreiter).These pistols were marvellously true, and we soon were able to shoot with such precision, all three of us, that when anyone doubted our powers, we would take it in turn to hold the piece of cardboard which served as a target, whilst the others fired. And we never any of us received a single graze! I remember one day after heavy rain we found I do not know how many frogs in that gloomy, damp courtyard. Here was novel game for us to pot at, and we exterminated every frog with our pistols. Every little while de Leuven read us a fable or an elegy of his own composition; but he was cured of making geographical errors by the nocturnal misadventure at Villers-Hellon and no longer mistook the South for the North, or Spain for Siberia. One morning great news spread through the town. Three strangers had just come to stay with M. de Leuven: M. Arnault and his two sons, Telleville and Louis Arnault. M. Arnault, the author ofGermanicusand ofMarius à Minturnes, was at that time a splendid-looking old man of sixty, still full of life in spite of his curling white locks, which were as fine as silk. He had a most superabundant flow of spirits and excelled at repartee; he could strike as rapidly at his object as the most accomplished fencing-master could parry a blow or deal a right-handed stroke. The only fault one could find with this wit was its keen, biting edge; but, like bites made by healthy teeth, the poet's bites never left poison behind them. M. Arnault had made the acquaintance of the Count de Ribbing at that famoustable d'hôtewhere the latter had struck the foreign colonel in the face. Since that day, M. de Leuven, Frenchman at heart, and M. Arnault, Frenchman in mind, had struck up a friendship which though broken by death was continued between their children. Telleville Arnault was a handsome young officer of a charming disposition and of tested valour. He had fought a Dud overGermanicuswith Martainville which had made a great sensation in the literary world. Louis was still a young lad of about my own age.

I prudently kept from visiting Adolphe all the time M. Arnault and his sons were staying with his father; but M. Deviolaine having invited them to a rabbit shooting in theTillet woods, I was present, and the acquaintance which began by chance during the walks in the park was sealed gun in hand. Telleville had a little gun made by Prélat, with which he did wonders. This gun had a barrel not fourteen inches long, which filled me with wonder, for I still believed in length of barrel and hunted with siege-guns.

When M. Arnault left Villers-Cotterets, he took de Leuven with him. It was heart-breaking to me to see Adolphe depart. I had two memories of visits to Paris, one in 1806, the other in 1814. These two recollections sufficed to make me passionately envious of the lot of every favoured being who was going to Paris. I remained behind with de la Ponce, and I redoubled my devotion to the study of Italian. I was soon sufficiently far advanced in the language of Dante and of Ariosto to be able to pass on to that of Schiller and of Goethe; but this was quite a different matter. After three or four months' work, de la Ponce put one of Auguste Lafontaine's novels in my way: the task was too difficult, I soon had enough of it. German was dropped, and I have never had the courage to take it up again. My first serious dramatic impression dates from this period. Some nabob who had done business through M. Mennesson, out of unheard-of generosity, left a hundred and fifty francs to be divided among the lads in the office. M. Mennesson distributed it in the following way: thirty-seven francs fifty cents each to Ronsin and myself, seventy-five francs to Paillet. It was the first time I had found myself possessed of so much money. I wondered what I should do with it.

One of the four great fêtes of the year was approaching, when we should have Sunday and Monday as holidays. Paillet proposed we should both club our thirty-seven francs fifty cents to his seventy-five francs, and that we should go and sink this fabulous sum of fifty crowns in the delights that Soissons, the seat of thesous-prefecture, could offer us. The suggestion was hailed with joy. Paillet was deputed cashier, and we boldly took seats on the diligence for Paris, which passes through Villers-Cotterets at half-past three in the morning, and arrivesat Soissons at six o'clock. Paillet and Ronsin each took a place in the coupé, where one was already taken, and I went inside, where there were four other passengers, three of whom got out at la Vertefeuille, a post three leagues away from Villers-Cotterets, the fourth continuing his journey to Soissons. From la Vertefeuille to Soissons, therefore, I was left alone with this person, who was a man of forty years or thereabouts, very thin of body, pale of face, with auburn hair and well groomed. He had laid great stress on my sitting near him, and, in order to leave me as much room as possible, squeezed himself as closely into a corner of the coach as he could. I was much touched by this attention, and felt sensibly drawn to the gentleman, who had condescended to treat me with so much consideration.

I slept well and anywhere in those days. So, as soon as we got out of the town I fell asleep, only to wake when the horses were changed, and I should most certainly not have waked up then if the three passengers who left us had not trodden on my toes as they got out, with the habitual heavy-footed tread travellers indulge in at the expense of those who remain behind. When the passenger saw I was awake, he began to talk to me, and asked me, in a kindly, interested way, my age, my name and my occupation. I made haste to supply him with full particulars, and he seemed much interested therein. I told him the object of our journey to Soissons; and, as I coughed while I related my tale, he good-naturedly offered me two different sorts of cough lozenges. I accepted both, and in order to get the full benefit of them I put them both in my mouth together; then, although I found the gentleman's conversation agreeable and his manners fascinating, there was something even more seductive and pleasing than that conversation and those manners, namely sleep, so I wished him a good-night, and, with plenty of room to dispose myself in, I settled down in the corner parallel with his, with my back upon one seat and my feet on the other. I do not know how long I had slept when I felt myself awakened in the oddest fashion in the world. My sleeping fellow-traveller had apparently passed from mere interest to a more lively expression of hissentiments, and was embracing me. I imagined he had a nightmare, and I tried to awake him; but as I saw that the more soundly he slept, the worse his gesticulations became, I began to strike him hard, and as my blows had no effect, I cried aloud with all my might. Unluckily, they were descending the hill of Vaubuin and they could not stop the coach; the struggle therefore lasted ten minutes or more, and without in the least knowing what danger I was combating, I was just about to succeed in getting the better of my enemy, by turning him over under my knee, when the door opened and the conductor came to my rescue. Paillet and Ronsin were sleeping as I should have slept if my travelling-companion had not waked me up by his overpowering friendliness. I told the conductor what had happened and blamed him for having put me along with a somnambulist or a madman, begging him to put me in any other corner of the coach convenient to him, when, to my intense astonishment, whilst the traveller was readjusting his toilet, which had been considerably damaged by my struggle with him, without uttering any sort of complaint against me, the conductor began apostrophising him in the severest terms, made him get down out of the coach, and told him that, as there only remained three-quarters of a league from where we were to thehôtel des Trois-Pucelles, where the coach stopped, he must have the goodness to do it on foot, unless he would consent to mount up on the roof, where he could not disturb anybody else. The gentleman of the auburn locks hoisted himself on the roof, without opening his lips, and the diligence started off again. Although I was now alone once more and consequently more at my ease inside the coach, I was too much excited by the struggle I had just gone through, to think of going to sleep again. I could hear the conductor, in the cabriolet, relate my story to my two fellow travelling-companions, and apparently he presented it to them under a gayer light than that in which I had looked at it myself, for they roared with laughter. I did not know what there could be to laugh at in an interchange of fisticuffs with a somnambulist or a maniac. A quarter of an hour after the gentleman had been installed onthe imperial, and I reinstated in the carriage, I heard by the heavy sound of the coach wheels that we were crossing under the drawbridge. We had reached our destination.

Five minutes after we had left the coach, Paillet and Ronsin told me why they had laughed, and it sounded so ridiculous that I rushed off in search of my gentleman of the cough lozenges almost before they had finished; but I searched the imperial in vain in every corner and cranny:—he had disappeared.

This nocturnal struggle upset me so greatly that I felt dazed the whole of the day.

[1]Translator's note.—Member of the Society of Law Clerks.

First dramatic impressions—TheHamletof Ducis—The Bourbons en 1815—Quotations from it

Among the pleasures we had promised ourselves in the second capital of the department of Aisne we had put the theatre in the first rank. A company of pupils from the Conservatoire, who were touring in the provinces, were that night to give a special performance of Ducis'sHamlet.I had absolutely no idea whoHamletwas; I will go farther and admit that I was completely ignorant who was Ducis. No one could have been more ignorant than I was. My poor mother had tried to induce me to read Corneille's and Racine's tragedies; but, I confess it to my shame, the reading of them had bored me inexpressibly. I had no notion at that time what was meant by style or form or structure; I was a child of nature in the fullest acceptance of the term: what amused me I thought good, what wearied me—bad. So I read the wordtragedyon the placard with some misgivings.

But, after all, as this tragedy was the best that Soissons had to offer us to pass away the evening, we put ourselves in the queue waiting outside; in good time, and in spite of the great crowd, we succeeded in getting into the pit.

Something like thirty-two years have rolled by since that night, but such an impression did it make upon my mind that I can still remember every little detail connected with it. The young fellow who took the part of Hamlet was a tall, pale, sallow youth called Cudot; he had fine eyes, and a strong voice, and he imitated Talma so closely, that when I saw Talma act the same part, I almost thought he imitated Cudot.

As I have said, the subject of literature was completely unknown to me. I did not even know that there had ever existed an author named Shakespeare, and when, on my return, I was instructed by Paillet thatHamletwas only an imitation, I pronounced, before my sister, who knew English, the name of the author ofRomeoand ofMacbethas I had seen it written, and it cost me one of those prolonged jokings my sister never' spared me when occasion offered. Of course on this occasion I delighted her. Now, as theHamletof Ducis could not lose in my estimation by comparison, since I had never heard Shakespeare's spoken of, the play seemed to me, with Hamlet's grotesque entrance, the ghost, visible only to himself, his struggle against his mother, his urn, his monologue, the gloomy questionings concerning the fear of death, to be a masterpiece, and produced an immense effect upon me. So, when I returned to Villers-Cotterets, the first thing I did was to collect together the few francs left over from the trip to Soissons and to write to Fourcade (who had given up his place to Camusat, of whom I spoke in connection with old Hiraux, and who had returned to Paris) to send me the tragedy ofHamlet.

For some reason or other Fourcade delayed sending it to me for five or six days: so great was my impatience that I wrote him a second letter, filled with the keenest reproaches at his negligence and want of friendliness. Fourcade, who would never have believed anyone could accuse a man of being a poor friend because he did not hurry over sendingHamlet, sent me a charming letter the gist of which I did not appreciate until I had studied more deeply the question of what was good and what was bad, and was able to place Ducis's work in its due rank. In the meantime I became demented. I asked everybody, "Do you knowHamlet? do you know Ducis?" The tragedy arrived from Paris. At the end of three days I knew the part of Hamlet by heart and, worse still, I have such an excellent memory that I have never been able to forget it. So it came to pass thatHamletwas the first dramatic work which produced an impression upon me—a profound impression, composed of inexplicable sensations, aimless longings,mysterious rays of light which only made my darkness more visible. Later, in Paris, I again saw poor Cudot, who had played Hamlet. Alas! the grand talent that had carried me away had not obtained him the smallest foothold, and I believe he has long since given up hope—that daughter of pride so hard to kill in the artist's soul—the hope of making a position on the stage.

Now—as if the spirit of poetry, when wakened in me, had sworn never to go to sleep again and used every means to that end, by even succeeding in making Maître Mennesson himself his accomplice—scarcely had I returned from Soissons, when, instead of giving me a deed of sale to copy out or a bond to engross, or sending me out on business, Maître Mennesson gave me a piece of poetry of which he wanted three copies made. This piece of poetry was entitledLes Bourbons en 1815.

M. Mennesson, as I have said, was a Republican; I found him a Republican in 1830, and when I saw him again in 1848 he was still a Republican. And to do him justice, he had the courage of his opinions through all times and under all regimes; so freely did he express his opinions that his friends were frightened by them and made their observations thereon with bated breath. He only shrugged his shoulders.

"What the devil will they do to me?" he would exclaim. "My office is paid for, my clientèle flourishing; I defy them to find a flaw in any of my contracts; and that being the case, one can afford to mock at kings and parsons."

Maître Mennesson was right, too; for, in spite of all these demonstrations, all these accusations of imprudence made by timid souls, his practice was the best in Villers-Cotterets and improved daily. At this very moment he was in the seventh heaven of delight. He had got hold of a piece of poetry, in manuscript, against the Bourbons—I do not know how. He had read it to everybody in the town, and then after reading it to everybody, when I came back from Soissons, he, as I have said, ordered me to make two or three copies of it, for those of his friends who, like himself, were anxious to possess this poetical pamphlet. I have never seen it in print, I have never read it since the dayI copied it out three times, but such is my memory that I can repeat it from beginning to end. But lest I alarm my readers, I will content myself with quoting a few lines of it.

This was how it began:—

"Où suis-je? qu'ai je vu? Les voilà donc ces princesQu'un sénat insensé rendit à nos provinces;Qui devaient, abjurant les prejugés des rois,Citoyens couronnés, régner au nom des lois;Qui venaient, disaient-ils, désarmant la victoire,Consoler les Français de vingt-cinq ans de gloire!Ils entrent! avec eux, la vengeance de l'orgueil.Ont du Louvre indigné franchi l'antique seuil!Ce n'est plus le sénat, c'est Dieu, c'est leur naissance,C'est le glaive étranger qui leur soumet la France;Ils nous osent d'un roi reprocher l'échafaud:Ah! si ce roi, sortant de la nuit dutombeau,Armé d'un fer vengeur venait punir le crime,Nous les verrions pâlir aux yeux de leur victime!"

Then the author exclaims—in those days authors all exclaimed—abandoning general considerations for the detailed drawing of individuals, and passing the royal family in review:—

"C'est d'Artois, des galants imbécile doyen,Incapable de mal, incapable de bien;Au pied des saints autels abjurant ses faiblesses,Et par des favoris remplaçant ses maîtresses;D'Artois, dont rien n'a pu réveiller la vertu,Qui fuit a Quiberon sans avoir combattu,Et qui, s'il était roi, monterait à la FranceDes enfants de Clovis la stupide indolence!C'est Berry, que l'armée appelait à grands cris,Et qui lui prodigua l'insulte et le mépris;Qui, des ces jeunes ans, puisa dans les tavernesCes mœurs, ce ton grossier, qu'ignorent nos casernes.C'est son frère, avec art sous un masque imposteur,Cachant de ses projets l'ambitieuse horreur!Qui, nourri par son oncle aux discordes civiles,En rallume les feux en parcourant nos villes;Ce Thersite royal, qui ne sut, à propos,Ni combattre ni fuir, et se croit un héros!C'est, plus perfide encor, son épouse hautaine,Cette femme qui vit de vengeance et de haine,Qui pleure, non des siens le funeste trépas,Mais le sang qu'à grands flots elle ne verse pas!Ce sont ces courtisans, ces nobles et ces prêtres,Qui, tour à tour flatteurs et tyrans de leur maîtres,Voudraient nous ramener au temps où nos aieuxNe voyaient, ne pensaient, n'agissaient que par eux!"

Then the author ends off his discourse with a peroration worthy of the subject and exclaims once more in his liberal enthusiasm:—

"Ne balonçons done plus, levons-nous! et semblablesAu fleuve impétueux qui rejette les sables,La fange et le limon qui fatiguaient sous cours,De notre sol sacré rejetons pour toujoursCes tyrans sans vertu, ces courtisans perfides,Ces chevaliers sans gloire et ces prêtres avides,Qui, jusqu'à nos exploits ne pouvant se hausser,Jusques à leur néant voudraient nous abaisser!"

Twelve years later the Bourbons were hounded out of France. It is not only revolutionary bullets which overturn thrones; it is not only the guillotine that kills kings: bullets and the guillotine are but passive instruments in the hands of principles. It is the deadly hatred, it is the undercurrent of rebellion, which, so long as it is but the expression of the desires of the few, miscarries and spends its fury; but which, the moment it becomes the expression of general requirements, swallows up thrones and nations, kings and royal families.

It is easy to understand how theMesséniennesof Casimir Delavigne, which appeared in print the same time as these manuscript pamphlets, seemed pale and colourless. Casimir Delavigne was one of those men who celebrate in song revolutions that were accomplished facts, but who do not help revolutions in the making. The Maubreuil trial was the outcome of the piece of poetry from which I have just quoted these brief extracts—a most mysterious and ill-omened business, in which names, if not the most illustrious in Europe, yet atleast the best known at that time, were mixed up with acts of thievery and premeditated assassination.

Probably I am the only person in France who now thinks of the "affaire Maubreuil." Perhaps also I am the only person who has kept a shorthand account of the sittings of that terrible trial, during which the horrors of the dungeon and secret torture were employed in the endeavour to drive a man mad whom they dare not kill outright, to whom they could not succeed in giving the lie. I made a copy at the time from a manuscript in a strange and unknown hand, which gave an account of the sittings. Later, I read the account the illustrious Princess of Wurtemberg took down in her own writing, first for her husband, Marshal Jérôme Bonaparte, and then intended to be included in her Memoirs, which are in the hands of her family, and are still unpublished.

The events of 1814 again—Marmont, Duc de Raguse, Maubreuil and Roux-Laborie at M. de Talleyrand's—TheJournal des Débatsand theJournal de Paris—Lyrics of the Bonapartists and enthusiasm of the Bourbons—End of the Maubreuil affair—Plot against the life of the Emperor—The Queen of Westphalia is robbed of her money and jewels

Let us now try to clear away the litter left by the events of the year 1814. When the Almighty prophesied the destruction of Jerusalem, He said to Ezekiel, "I will make thee eat thy bread prepared with cow-dung" (Ezek. iv. 15). Oh! my God, my God! Thou hast served us more hardly than Thou didst the prophet, and hast made us eat far worse than that at times!

Napoleon was at Fontainebleau, the empress at Blois; a Provisional Government, occult and unknown, carried on its operations on the ground floor of a house in the rue Saint-Florentin. Is it necessary that I should add that the house in the rue Saint-Florentin belonged to M. de Talleyrand? On 16 March Napoleon had written from Rheims:—

"DEAR BROTHER,—In accordance with the verbal instructions I gave you, and the wishes expressed in all my letters, you must on no account allow the Empress and the King of Rome to fall into the hands of the enemy. You will not have any news from me for several days. If the enemy advances upon Paris in such force that you decide any resistance to be useless, send away my son and the regent, the grand dignitaries, ministers, officers of the Senate, presidents of the State Council, chief officers of the Crown, Baron de la Bouillerie and the treasure, towards the Loire. Do not desert my son, andremember that I would rather know that he was in the Seine than that he had fallen into the hands of the enemies of France. The fate of Astyanax, prisoner of the Greeks, has always seemed to me the unhappiest in history."NAPOLEON"

"NAPOLEON"

This letter was addressed to Joseph. The treasure referred to by Napoleon was, be it understood, his own private possessions. On 28 March the departure of the empress was discussed. MM. de Talleyrand, Boulay (de la Meurthe), the Duc de Cadore and M. de Fermon were of opinion that the empress should remain. Joseph, with the emperor's letter in his hand, insisted upon her departure. It was decided that she should leave on the following day, at nine o'clock in the morning. Afterwards M. de Talleyrand was blamed for having urged that Marie-Louise should stay in Paris. A pale and cold smile flitted over the vast chasm which served the diplomatist for a mouth.

"I knew that the empress would defy me," he said, "and that, if I advised her going, she would stay. I urged that she should stay to further her departure."

O monseigneur, Bishop of Autun! you put into the mouth of Harel, inle Nain Jaune, the famous epigram, "Speech was given to man to conceal his thoughts." And, monseigneur, you were eminently capable of exemplifying the truth of the saying yourself.

On the morning of 29 March, through the uncurtained windows of the Tuileries, the empress's women could have been seen in the dubious light of the growing dawn, by the still more dubious light of lamps and dying candles, running about, pale with fatigue and fear, after a whole night spent in preparing for the journey. The departure, as we have said, was fixed for nine o'clock. At ten o'clock the empress had not yet left her apartments. She was hoping to the last that a counter order would arrive either from the emperor or from Joseph. At half-past ten the King of Rome clung to the curtains of the palais des Tuileries in tears; for he too, poor child, did not want to go.

Alas! at a distance of seventeen years between, three children, all suffering through the mistakes of their fathers, clung in vain to those same curtains: for sixty years the Tuileries was little more than a royal hostelry wherein the fleeting dynasties put up in turn. By a quarter to eleven, the empress, clad like an amazon in brown, stepped into a carriage with the King of Rome, surrounded by a strong detachment of the Imperial Guard. On the same day and at the same hour, the emperor set off from Troyes for Paris with his flying squadrons. It is well known that the emperor was arrested at Fromenteau, but what follows is not known, or but imperfectly known.

When time and occasion serve—aproposof the July Revolution, probably—we shall revert to one of the men whom fate, for some unknown reason, branded with a fatal seal. We refer to Marmont. We will show what he was, rather than what he did: he was superb, during that retreat, in which he left neither gun nor prisoner in the hands of the enemy; superb when—like a lion at bay against the walls of the customhouse at Paris, surrounded by Russians and Prussians, in the main street ofBelleville, his right arm still in a sling, after the battle of Arapiles, holding his sword in his left hand, mutilated at Leipzig, his clothes riddled with bullets, wedged in between the dead and the wounded who fell all round him, with only forty grenadiers behind him—he forced his way to the barrier where he abandoned, pierced with wounds, the fifth horse that had been killed under him since the beginning of the campaign! Alas! why did he not cross Paris from the barrier of Belleville to the barrier of Fontainebleau? Why did he stop at his house in the rue Paradis-Poissonnière? Why did he not go to Napoleon, with his coat in shreds and his face blackened with powder? How determinedly fate seemed to oppose him! How different would have been the verdict of the future! But we, who are now a part of that future, and well-nigh disinterested spectators of all those great events, we who by nature are without private hatreds, and by position have nothing to do with political animosities, it is for us to enlighten posterity, for we are poised between the worldsaristocratic and democratic, the one in its decadence and the other in its adolescence: it is ours to seek for truth wherever it may be buried, and to exalt it wherever it may be found.

And now, having defined our position, let us return to Napoleon and Marie-Louise. Let us pass over several days and say naught of great betrayals and shameful dishonour; even so we are not, unhappily, at the end of these things. From 29 March to 7 April the following events happened:—

On 30 March, Paris capitulated. On the 31st, the Allied armies entered the capital. On I April, the Senate appointed a Provisional Government. On the 2nd, the Senate declared Napoleon to have forfeited the throne. On the 3rd, the Legislative Body confirmed the forfeiture. On the 4th, Napoleon abdicated in favour of his son. On the 5th, Marmont treated with the enemy. On the 6th, the Senate drew up a scheme for a constitution. On the 7 th, the troops of the Duc de Raguse rose in insurrection and refused to obey his orders. Also, Napoleon made his plans for withdrawing across the Loire.

It will be seen that the Government of the rue Saint-Florentin had been quick about its work. The empress remained at Blois, where she learnt in rapid succession the declaration of dethronement by the Senate, the emperor's first abdication and the defection of the Duc de Raguse. On the 7th, she learned in the morning of the recall of the Bourbons.

Until that moment, as a cloud hid the future from sight, the self-seekers watching and waiting had not yet ventured to show their hands in her presence. But at the news of the return of the Bourbons everyone sought to make his peace with the new power. The same thing that happened to Napoleon happened to Marie-Louise. It was a race as to who could most openly and with the greatest speed desert her; it was a race of ingratitude, it was a steeplechase of treason.

She had left Paris a week before, the daughter of an emperor, the wife of an emperor, the mother of a king! Orléans had saluted her, as she passed through, with the pealingof its bells and the firing of its artillery. She had a court around her, a treasure in her arms; two peoples, those of France and Italy, some forty millions of souls, were her subjects. In a week she lost rank, power, inheritance, kingdom; in an hour she found herself left alone with a poor deserted child, and treasure that was speedily taken away from her. God forbid that I should pity the lot of this woman! But those who betrayed her, those who deserted her, those who immediately robbed her could not plead the excuse of an unknown future still hid from them.

On the 7th, as we have said, the whole court fled. On the morning of the 8th, the two kings, Jérôme and Joseph, also left. On the evening of the 8th, General Schouwaloff arrived with orders from the sovereigns to take her from Blois to Orléans and from Orléans to Rambouillet. Finally, on the morning of the 9th, this announcement appeared in theMoniteur:—

"The Provisional Government having been informed that by order of the sovereign whose dethronement was solemnly pronounced on 3 April, considerable funds were taken away from Paris, during the days which preceded the occupation of that city by the allied troops:It is decreed—"That these funds be seized wherever they may be found, in whose-soever hands they may be found, and that they be deposited immediately in the nearest bank."

It is decreed—

"That these funds be seized wherever they may be found, in whose-soever hands they may be found, and that they be deposited immediately in the nearest bank."

This order was elastic: it did not make any distinction between the public treasure of the nation and the emperor's private property. Moreover, they confided the execution of this order to a man whose hatred for the fallen house would naturally incline him to the most violent measures. They chose M. Dudon. I am happily too young to be able to say who this M. Dudon was; I have therefore asked the Duc de Rovigo, whose accuracy is well known. Here is his reply to my questions:—

"M. Dudon was imprisoned at Vincennes, for having deserted his post, for having left the army of Spain and, full ofcowardly fears himself, for having communicated them to whomsoever he met."

Nevertheless, M. Dudon hesitated; he looked about for an intermediary; he did not dare to put his hand directly upon this wealth, which was so much needed to pay for past treacheries and defections to come.

Again, what has M. le Duc de Rovigo to say? Let him be unto us the bronze mouthpiece of truth: I write under his dictation.

"An officer of the special police corps, M. Janin de Chambéry, who is now a general officer, was made use of. He had been charged to escort the money. This young man, seeing the way to make his fortune, gave himself up to M. Dudon. He collected his regiment, carried off, with a very high hand, the coffers which contained the Emperor Napoleon's treasure (for they had not yet been unloaded) and set off for Paris, which he reached without striking a blow."

But even all this did not satisfy them: they had robbed the empress, they would now kill the emperor. "Only the dead do not return," said the man who was felicitously styled the "Anacreon of the guillotine."

So many sayings have been attributed to M. de Talleyrand that we may well borrow one from Barère for a change. Moreover, it must be acknowledged that the question what to do with Napoleon, on 31 March, was a very awkward one. We must not be too angry with the people who wished to rid themselves of him. Who were these people? Maubreuil himself shall name them. A conference was being held in the house in the rue Saint-Florentin.

"Yes," said the president to someone who had not yet opened his lips,—"yes, you are right; we must rid ourselves of this man."

"We must!" cried the other members in concert.

"Well, then, that is decided: we will get rid of him."

"Only one other thing is lacking," said one of the members of the conventicle.

"What is that?"

"The principal thing: the man who will deal the blow."

"I know the man," said a voice.

"A trustworthy man?"

"A ruined man, an ambitious man—one who has fallen from a high position and would do anything for money and a position."

"What is his name?"

"Maubreuil."

This took place on the evening of 31 March. That same day, Marie-Armand de Guerry, Count de Maubreuil, Marquis d'Orvault, had fastened the cross of the Legion of Honour, which he had won bravely in Spain, to his horse's tail, and showed himself thus in the boulevards and on the place Louis XV. He even did better than this in the place Vendôme. He tied a rope round the neck of the emperor's statue, and, with a dozen other worthy men of his kidney, pulled with might and main; then, seeing that his forces were not strong enough, he attached the rope to his horse. Even that was not enough. They then asked for a relay of horses from the Grand-duke Constantin, who refused, saying, "It is no business of mine."

Now, who went to seek this relay? Who made himself Maubreuil's emissary? A very great lord, upon my word, a most excellent name, renowned in history! True, this most puissant seigneur, the bearer of this honourable name, had to forget a slight obstacle—namely, that he owed everything to the emperor. You ask his name. Ah! indeed, search for it as I have done. Maubreuil had indeed fallen from a high rank, as his patron Roux-Laborie had said. There! I see I have named his patron, though I did not mean to name anyone. Never mind! let us continue.

Maubreuil, who was of an excellent family, had fallen indeed. His father, who had married, for his second wife, a sister of M. de la Roche-jaquelein, was killed in the Vendéean Wars, together with thirty other members of his family. M. Roux-Laborie, then Secretary to the Provisional Government, answered for Maubreuil. He did more: he said to M. de Talleyrand, "Come, come! here I am tearing offanother mask without thinking what I am doing; upon my word, so much the worse! Since that pale face is unmasked, let it remain!" He did much more: he said to M. de Talleyrand, "I will bring him to you." But M. de Talleyrand, who was always cautious, exclaimed, "What are you thinking of, my dear sir? Bring M. de Maubreuil to me! Why so? He must be conducted to Anglès, he must go to Anglès! You know quite well it is Anglès who is attending to all this." "Very well, be it so; I will take him there," replied the Secretary to the Provisional Government. "When?" "This very evening." "My dear fellow, you are beyond price." "Take back that word, monseigneur." And Roux-Laborie bowed, went out and ran to Maubreuil's house. Maubreuil was not at home.

When Maubreuil was not at home, everyone knew where he was. He was gaming. What game was it? There are so many gambling hells in Paris!

Roux-Laborie ran about all night without finding him, returned to Maubreuil's house and, as Maubreuil had still not returned, he left word with his servant that he would expect Maubreuil at his house the next day, 1 April. He waited for him the whole day. Evening came and still no Maubreuil.

It is distracting to a man of honour to fail in his word. What would M. de Talleyrand think of a man who had promised so much and performed so little? Twice during the day he wrote to Maubreuil: his second note was as pressing as time was. This is what he said—

"Why have you not come? I have expected you all day. You are driving me to desperation!"

Maubreuil returned to change his dress at six o'clock that evening. He found the note: he ran off to Roux-Laborie.

"What is it?"

"You can make your fortune."

"I am your man, then!"

"Come with me."

They entered a carriage and went to M. Anglès'. M. Anglès was at the house in the rue Saint-Florentin. They rushed tothe house in the rue Saint-Florentin; M. Anglès had just gone out. They asked to see the prince.

"Impossible! the prince is very busy: he is in the act of betraying. True, he is betraying in good company,—he is betraying along with the Senate." The Senate was next day going to declare that the emperor had forfeited his throne.

Be it remembered that it was this same Senate—Sénat conservateur—which, on the return from the disastrous Russian campaign, fifteen months earlier, had said to the emperor—

"Sire, the Senate is established for the purpose of preserving the fourth dynasty; France and posterity will find it faithful to thissacred duty, and every one of its members will be ever ready to perish in defence of thispalladiumof the national prosperity."

We must admit that it was drawn up in very bad French. It is also true that it was drawn up by very poor specimens of Frenchmen.

The next day, Maubreuil and Roux-Laborie returned. The prince was no more visible than on the previous evening; the prince was at the Luxembourg. But it did not matter: they could be introduced into his cabinet presently, which was occupied at the moment. Besides, perhaps he might return. "We will wait," said Roux-Laborie.

And they waited a short while in the green salon,—that green salon which became so famous, you will remember, in history,—they waited, reading the papers. The newspapers were very amusing. TheJournal des Débatsand theJournal de Parisabove all vied with each other in being facetious and witty.

"To-day," said the oldJournal de l'Empire, which since the previous evening had donned a new cassock and now called itself theJournal des Débats,—"to-dayHis Majestypassed in front of the colonne Vendôme ..."

Forgive me if I pause a moment: I am anxious that there should not be any confusion.His Majesty! You would imagine that this meant the Emperor Napoleon, to whom a week beforetheJournal de l'Empirehad published these beautiful lines:—

I"'Ciel ennemi, ciel, rends-nous la lumière!DisaitAJAX, et combats contre nous!'Seul contre tous, malgré le ciel jaloux,De notre Ajax void la voix guerrière:Que les cités s'unissent aux soldats;Rallions-nous pour les derniers combats!Français, la Paix est aux champs de la gloire,La douce Paix, fille de la Victoire.'IIIl a parlé, le monarque, le père;Qui serait sourd à sa puissante voix?Patrie, honneur! c'est pour vos saintes lois,Nous marchons tous sous la même bannière.Rallions-nous, citoyens et soldats,Rallions-nous pour les derniers combats!Français, la Paix est au champ de la gloire,La douce Paix, fille de Victoire.IIINapoleon, roi d'un peuple fidèle,Tu veux borner la course de ton char;Tu nous montrasAlexandreetCésar;Oui, nous verronsTrajanetMarc-Aurèle!Nous sommes toustes enfants, tes soldats,Nous volons tous à ces derniers combats,Elle est conquise aux nobles champs de gloire,La douce Paix, fille de la Victoire."

For, indeed, it is very easy to call a man His Majesty five days before his abdication and amonarchand afatherwhom one has just addresssed asAjax, Alexander, Cæsar, TrajanandMarcus Aurelius.Undeceive yourselves! To-day, His Majesty is the Emperor Alexander; as for that other emperor, the Emperor Napoleon, we shall see, or rather we have already seen, what has become of him since his return from the isle of Elba. After having been amonarch,afather, Ajax, Alexander,Cæsar, TrajanandMarcus Aurelius, he has becomeTEUTATÈS. Ah! what a villainous fall was there!

Let us proceed, or we shall never finish: we have had more trouble in getting over this wordMajestythan Cæsar had in crossing the Rubicon.

"To-day His Majesty passed in front of the colonne de la place Vendôme, and looking at the statue, he said to the noblemen who surrounded him, 'Were I placed so high, I should be afraid of being giddy.' So philosophic a remark is worthy of a Marcus Aurelius."

Pardon me, Monsieur Bertin, to which Marcus Aurelius do you refer? Is it the one to whom you recently compared Napoleon, or some other Marcus Aurelius with whom we are unacquainted? Ah! Monsieur Bertin, you are like Titus: you have not wasted your day, or rather your night! We will relate what happened during the night in which Monsieur Bertin worked so energetically, and in the course of which the serpent changed his tricoloured skin for a white skin and theJournal de l'Empirebecame theJournal des Débats. It has to be admitted, however, that during the night of 20-21 March 1815 you resumed your old tricoloured skin which you had sold Monsieur Bertin, but which you had not delivered up.

Now let us pass on to theJournal de Paris. "It is a good thing to know," quoth theJournal de Paris, "that Bonaparte's name is notNapoleon, butNicolas."

Really, Mr. Editor, what an excessively sublime apotheosis you make of yesterday's poor emperor! Instead of showing base ingratitude, like your contemporary, you flatter outrageously. Bonaparte did no more than presume to call himselfNapoléon,—that is, thelion of the desert,—and here you make him Nicolas, which meansConqueror of the peoples. Ah! my dear Mr. Editor, if yourJournal de Parishad been a literary paper, like theJournal des Débats, you would have known Greek like yourconfrère—that is to say, like an inhabitant, and you would not have made such blunders. But you did not know Greek. Let us see if you are better acquainted with French. We will complete the quotation.

"It is a good thing to know that Bonaparte's name is notNapoléon, butNicolas; not Bonaparte, but Buonaparte; he cut out the U in order to connect himself with a distinguished family of that name."

"You know that the Balzacs of Entraigues make out that you do not belong to their family," said someone once to M. Honoré de Balzac, the author ofPère Goriotand ofles Parents pauvres.

"If I do not belong to their family," retorted M. Honoré de Balzac, "so much the worse for them!"

We will return to theJournal de Paris, and let it have its say:—

"Many people have amused themselves by making different anagrams from the name ofBuonaparteby taking away the U. The following seems to us to depict that personage the best:NABOT PARÉ."[1]

What a misfortune, Mr. Editor, that in order to arrive at such a delightful conclusion you have been obliged to sacrifice your U, like the tyrant himself!

Now, as a sequel to the verses in theJournal des Débats, we must quote some lines from theJournal de Paris; they only amount to a single strophe, but it alone, in the eyes of all lovers of poetry, is fully equal to three. Besides, these lines are of great importance: M. de Maubreuil actually waxes prophetic in the last line.

TESTAMENT DE BONAPARTE"Je lègue aux enfers mon génie,Mes exploits aux aventuriers,A mes partisans l'infamie,Le grand-livre à mes créanciers,Aux Français l'horreur de mes crimes,Mon exemple à tous les tyrans,La France à ses rois légitimes,Et l'hôpital à mes parents."

Finally, to conclude our series of quotations, we promised to return once more to theJournal des Débats.There shall be no cause for complaint: we will return to it twice. We will placea double-columned account, with itsDoitand itsAvoir, before our readers' eyes. There was only an interval of fourteen days between the two articles, as can be seen from the dates.

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