Buch lesen: «Personal Sketches of His Own Times, Vol. 2 (of 3)», Seite 13
I believe the authorities did all they could in this affair to apprehend the trimmers, but unsuccessfully. Some individuals were, it is true, taken up on suspicion; but as soon as the Russians were embarked they were liberated. In fact the local dignitaries knew that they were not as yet sufficiently strong to enforce punishment for carving a Russian.
I often received great entertainment from sounding many of the most respectable Frenchmen whose acquaintance I made at Havre with regard to their political tendencies; and the result as well of my queries as of my observations led me to perceive that there were not wanting numerous persons by whom the return of Bonaparte, sooner or later, was looked forward to as an occurrence by no means either violently improbable, or undesirable.
Nevertheless, no very deep impression was made on my mind as to these matters, until one morning Lady Barrington, returning from Havre, brought me a small printed paper, announcing the emperor’s actual return from Elba, and that he was on his route for Paris. I believed the evidence of my eye-sight on reading the paper; but I certainly did not believe its contents. I went off immediately to my landlord, Mr. Poulet, a great royalist, and his countenance explained circumstances sufficiently before I asked a single question. The sub-prefect soon left the town: but the intelligence was scarcely credited, and not at all to its full extent. I went into every café and public place, and through every street. In all directions I saw groups of people, anxious and busily engaged in converse. I was much amused by observing the various effects of the intelligence on persons of different opinions, and by contrasting the countenances of those who thronged the thoroughfares.
I did not myself give credence to the latter part of this intelligence – namely, that Bonaparte was on his way to Paris. I could not suppose that the king had found it impracticable to command the services of a single regiment; and it must be confessed that his majesty, a man of excellent sense, had, under all the circumstances, made a very bad use of his time in acquiring popularity, either civil or military. Notwithstanding the addition of Désiré to his Christian name, (wherewith it had been graced by Messieurs les émigrés,) it is self-evident that outward demonstrations alone had been conceded to him of respect and attachment. I never heard that surname appropriated to him at Havre, by-the-bye, except by the prefects and revenue officers.
The dismal faces of the Bourbonites, the grinning ones of the Bonapartists, and the puzzled countenances of the neutrals were mingled together in the oddest combinations: throughout the town every body seemed to be talking at once, and the scene was undoubtedly of the strangest character, in all its varieties. Joy, grief, fear, courage, self-interest, love of peace, and love of battle – each had its votaries. Merchants, priests, douaniers, military officers, were strolling about, each apparently influenced by some distinctive feeling: one sensation alone seemed common to all – that of astonishment.
The singularity of the scene every moment increased. On the day immediately ensuing fugitives from Paris, full of news of all descriptions, came in as quick as horses and cabriolets could bring them. Bulletin after bulletin arrived – messenger after messenger! But all the dispatches in any shape official combined in making light of the matter. The intelligence communicated by private individuals, however, was very contradictory. One, for instance, stated positively that the army had declared against Napoleon; another that it had declared for him; a third that it had not declared at all! One said that Napoleon was surrounded: – “Yes,” returned a bystander, “but it is by his friends!” Towards evening every group seemed to be quite busy making up their minds as to the news of the day, and the part they might think it advisable to take: as for the English, they were frightened out of their wits, and the women had no doubt that they should all be committed to gaol before next morning.
I observed, however, that amidst all this bustle, and mass of conflicting opinions, scarce a single priest was visible: these cunning gentry had (to use a significant expression) determined, if possible, “not to play their cards till they were sure what was trumps.” On the preceding Sunday they had throughout the entire day been chanting benedictions on Louis le Désiré and on St. Louis his great-grandfather; but on the sabbath which followed, if they chanted at all, (as they were bound to do,) they would necessarily run a great risk of chanting for the last time in their lives, if they left out Napoleon; and, inasmuch as they were unable to string together Louis le Désiré, Napoleon, and St. Louis, in one benedicite, a most distressing dilemma became inevitable amongst the clergy! Common sense, however, soon pointed out their safest course: a plea of compulsion operating on the meek resignation of their holy trade, might serve as an excellent apology, on the part of an ecclesiastical family, in the presumption of Louis’s becoming victor; but in the emperor, they had to deal with a different sort of person, as they well knew – with a man who would not be put off with unmeaning excuses, and in due homage to whom it would be dangerous to fail. Under all circumstances, therefore, they took up a line of conduct which I cannot but think was very wise and discreet, proceeding as it did upon the principle “of two evils choose the least.” Their loyalty was decided by their fears, which sufficed to stimulate the whole body of priests and curés at Havre, old and young, to uplift their voices with becoming enthusiasm in benediction of “Napoleon le Grand!” Indeed they seemed to be of opinion that, having taken their ground, it would be as well to appear in earnest; and never did they work harder than in chanting a Te Deum laudamus in honour of their old master’s return: to be serious, I believe they durst not have done otherwise; for I heard some of the military say very decidedly, that if the priests played any tricks upon the occasion, they would hash them!
The observation which surprised me most of all was, that though the two parties had declared themselves, and the fleur-de-lis and eagle were displayed in direct opposition to each other throughout the town; – though the sub-prefect had run away, whilst the tricoloured flag was floating in one place, and the white one in another, – no practical animosity or ill blood whatsoever broke out amongst the respective partisans. The bustle somewhat resembled that of an English election, but had none of the violence or dissipation, and only half the noise, which circulate on those august occasions. On the contrary, civility was maintained by every one: the soldiers were very properly kept in their barracks; and an Englishman could scarcely conceive so polite, peaceable, temperate, and cheerful a revolution– more particularly as neither party could tell on which side the treason would ultimately rest.
At length orders came from Napoleon, at Lyons, that the imperial army should be recruited; while, at the very moment this order arrived, some of the merchants and officers of the national guards were actually beating up for the royal armament. The drums of the respective partisans rattled away through every street, and the recruiters often passed each other with the utmost courtesy: not one man was seen in a state of intoxication on either side. Meanwhile there was no lack of recruits to range themselves under either standard; and it was most curious to observe that these men very frequently changed their opinions and their party before sunset! I think most recruits joined the king’s party: his serjeants had plenty of money, while Napoleon’s had none; and this was a most tempting distinction – far better than any abstract consideration of political benefit. Many of the recruits managed matters even better than the priests, for they took the king’s money in the morning, and the emperor’s cockade in the afternoon; so that they could not be accused on either side of unqualified partiality. The votaries of le Désiré and le Grand were indeed so jumbled and shuffled together, (like a pack of cards when on the point of being dealt,) that nobody could possibly decipher which had the best chance of succeeding.
The English alone cast a dark and gloomy shade over the gay scene that surrounded them; their lengthened visages, sunken eyes, and hanging features proclaiming their terror and despondency. Every one fancied he should be incarcerated for life, if he could not escape before Napoleon arrived at Paris, which seemed extremely problematical; and I really think I never saw a set of men in better humour for suicide than my fellow-countrymen, who stalked like ghosts along the pier and sea-side.
The British consul, Mr. Stuart, (a littérateur and a gentleman, but whose wine generally regulated his nerves, while his nerves governed his understanding,) as good-natured a person as could possibly be about a couple of bottles after dinner, (for so he counted time, – a mode of computation in which he certainly was as regular as clockwork,) called a general meeting of all the British subjects in Havre, at his apartments; and after each had taken a bumper of Madeira to “George the Third,” he opened the business in as long and flowery an harangue, in English and Latin, as the grape of Midi and its derivative distillations could possibly dictate.
“My friends and countrymen,” said Mr. Stuart, “I have good consular reasons for telling you all, that if Bonaparte gets into Paris, he will order every mother’s babe of you, men, women, and children, et cetera, into gaol for ten or twelve years at the least computation! and I therefore advise you all, magnus, major, maximus, and parvus, minor, minimus, to take yourselves off without any delay great or small, and thereby save your bacon while you have the power of doing so. Don’t wait to take care of your property; nulla bona is better than nulla libertas. As for me, I am bound ex-officio to devote myself for my country! I will risk my life (and here he looked heroical) to protect your property; I will remain behind!”
The conclusion of the consul’s speech was a signal for the simultaneous uplifting of many voices. – “I’ll be off certainly!” exclaimed one terrified gentleman. – “Every man for himself, God for us all: the devil take the hindmost!” shouted another. – “Do you mean to affront me, Sir?” demanded the worthy self-devoted consul, starting from his seat. A regular uproar now ensued; but the thing was soon explained, and tranquillity restored.
Two ships were next day hired, at an enormous price, to carry the English out of the reach of Bonaparte. The wind blew a gale, but no hurricane could be so terrific as Napoleon. Their property was a serious consideration to my fellow-countrymen; however, there was no choice: they therefore packed up all their small valuables, and relinquished the residue to the protection of Providence and the consul.
In a short time all was ready; and, as Mr. Stuart had advised, men, women, children, and lap-dogs, all rushed to the quay; while, in emulation of the orator at the consul’s, “the devil take the hindmost,” if not universally expressed, was universally the principle of action. Two children, in this most undignified sort of confusion, fell into the sea, but were picked up. The struggling, screeching, scrambling, &c. were at length completed; and in a shorter time than might be supposed, the English population were duly shipped, and away they went under a hard gale. Dr. Johnson calls a ship a prison with the chance of being drowned in it; and as if to prove the correctness of the doctor’s definition, before night was over one vessel was ashore, and the whole of its company just on the point of increasing the population of the British Channel.
Havre de Grace being thus emptied of the king of England’s subjects, who were “saving their bacon” at sea, in a violent hurricane, the consul began to take care of their property: but there being a thing called loyer, or rent, in France as well as in England, the huissiers (bailiffs) of the town saved the consul a great deal of trouble respecting his guardianship in divers instances. Nevertheless, so far as he could, he most faithfully performed his promise to the fugitives, for the reception of whose effects he rented a large storehouse, and so far all was wisely, courteously, and carefully managed: but not exactly recollecting that the parties did not possess the property as tenants in common, the worthy consul omitted to have distinct inventories taken of each person’s respective chattels, though, to avoid any risk of favouritism, he had all jumbled together; and such an heterogeneous medley was perhaps never seen elsewhere. Clothes, household furniture, kitchen utensils, books, linen, empty bottles, musical instruments, &c. strewed the floor of the storehouse in “most admired disorder.” All being safely stowed, locks, bolts, and bars were elaborately constructed, to exclude such as might feel a disposition to picking and stealing; but, alas! the best intentions and the most cautious provisions are sometimes frustrated by accident or oversight. In the present instance, in his extraordinary anxiety to secure the door, Mr. Stuart was perfectly heedless of the roof; and in consequence, the intrusion of the rain, which often descended in torrents, effectually saved most of the proprietors the trouble of identifying their goods after the result of the glorious battle of Waterloo. Disputes also were endless as to the right and title of various claimants to various articles; and in the result, the huissiers and the landlord of the storehouse were once more intruders upon the protected property.
To return – Havre being completely evacuated by my countrymen, it now became necessary to strike out some line of proceeding for myself and family. Sir William Johnson, who was in the town, had participated in the general alarm, and had set off with his household for the Netherlands, advising me to do the same. I was afterward informed, though falsely, that they all foundered in a dyke near Antwerp. In the mean time, the transformation of things at Havre became complete, and perfect order quickly succeeded the temporary agitation. The tri-coloured flag was again hoisted at the port; and all the painters of the town were busily employed in changing the royal signs into imperial ones. One auberge, Louis le Désiré, was changed into a blue boar: the Duchesse d’Angoulême became the Virgin Mary: royal was new-gilt into imperial once more at the lottery offices: fleurs-de-lis were metamorphosed, in a single day, into beautiful spread-eagles: and the Duc de Berry, who had hung creaking so peaceably on his post before the door of an hotel, became, in a few hours, St. Peter himself, with the keys of Heaven dangling from his little finger!
COMMENCEMENT OF THE HUNDRED DAYS
A family council – Journey from Havre to Paris – Attention of the French officers to the author and his party – Peaceable condition of the intervening country – Thoughts on revolutions in general – Ireland in 1798 – Arrival in the French capital – Admirable state of the police – Henry Thevenot – Misgivings of the author – His interview with Count Bertrand – Polite conduct of the Count – The Emperor’s chapel – Napoleon at mass – His deportment – Treasonable garments – Col. Gowen – Military inspection after mass – Alteration in the manner of the Emperor – Enthusiasm of the soldiers.
To see Napoleon, or not to see Napoleon, – that was the question! and well weighed it was in my domestic republic. After a day’s reasoning, pro and con, (curiosity being pitted against fear, and women in the question,) the matter was still undecided, when our friends the colonel and the dirty doctor came to visit us, and set the point at rest, by stating that the regiments at Havre had declared unanimously for the emperor, and that the colonel had determined to march next day direct upon Paris; that therefore if we were disposed to go thither, and would set off at the same time, the doctor should take care of our safety, and see that we had good cheer on our journey to the metropolis.
This proposal was unanimously adopted; we were at peace with France, and might possibly remain so; and the curiosity of three ladies, with my own to back it, proved to be totally irresistible. A new sub-prefect also having arrived in the town, came to see us; expressed his regret that the English should have deemed it necessary to quit the place; and gave us a letter of introduction to his wife, who lived in the Rue St. Honoré, at Paris. We all believed there would be no war.
We immediately packed up. I procured three stout horses to my carriage, and away we went after the advanced guard of the (as well as I recollect) 41st regiment. The soldiers seemed to me as if they thought they never could get to Napoleon soon enough: they marched with surprising rapidity; and after a most agreeable journey, we arrived at the good city of Paris without any let or hindrance; having experienced from the dirty doctor every possible attention. We were sure of the best cheer at any place we halted at; and the more so as the advanced guard only preceded us one stage, and the main body of the troops was a stage behind us. We were immediately escorted by four mounted soldiers, who were in attendance upon our medical friend. I have learnt since that this kind and firm-hearted man escaped the campaign and returned to Italy: the colonel was shot dangerously at Quatre Bras, but I understand his wounds did not prove mortal.
Our route from Havre to Paris exhibited one general scene of peace and tranquillity, not dashed by the slightest symptom of revolution. The national guards every where appeared to have got new clothing, and were most assiduously learning in the villages to hold up their heads, and take long strides and lock steps, but (for any thing that appeared to the contrary) solely for their own amusement. The same evidences of undisturbed serenity and good-humour were displayed in all directions, and the practice of military exercises by the national guards was the only warlike indication of any kind throughout the whole extent of country we traversed.
On our arrival at the capital we found no exception therein to the tranquillity of the provinces. People at a distance are apt to conceive that a revolution must necessarily be a most terrific affair – a period of anarchy and confusion, when every thing is in a state of animosity, bustle, and insecurity. This is in some instances a great mistake; (although, generally speaking, true enough;) for, on the other hand, many modern revolutions have been effected, governments upset, dynasties annihilated, and kings trucked, with as little confusion as the exchanging a gig-horse. I have indeed seen more work made about the change of a hat than of a diadem; more anxiety expressed touching a cane than a sceptre; and never did any revolution more completely prove the truth of these remarks than that in France during March, 1815, when Napoleon quietly drove up post, in a chaise and four, to the palace of the Bourbons, and Louis XVIII. as quietly drove off post, in a chaise and four, to avoid his visitor. Both parties, too, were driven back again, within three months, pretty nearly in the same kind of vehicle! Let my reader compare, for his edification, this bloodless revolution with the attempt at revolution in the obscure corner of the globe from whence I sprang, Anno Domini 1798 during the brief summer of which year there was, in secluded Ireland, (the kingdom of Ireland, as it was then called,) more robbery, shooting, hanging, burning, piking, flogging, and picketing, than takes place in half a dozen of the best got-up continental revolutions – always excepting that great convulsion which agitated our French neighbours toward the close of the eighteenth century.
During the interval of the Hundred Days, and some time subsequently, I kept a regular diary, wherein I accurately took down every important circumstance, except some which I then considered much safer in my mind than under my hand; and a few of these are now, for the first time, submitted to the public. After some days’ stay in Paris, I began to feel rather awkward. I found very few of my fellow-countrymen had remained there, and that there seemed to exist but little partiality toward the English. But the police was perfect, and no outrage, robbery, or breach of the peace was heard of; nor could I find that there were any political prisoners in the gaols, or in fact many prisoners of any kind. No dissolutes were suffered to parade the streets or contaminate the theatres; and all appeared polite, tranquil, and correct. I kept totally clear, meanwhile, both in word and deed, of political subjects.
I hired as footman a person then very well known in Paris, Henry Thevenot. I have since heard (but cannot vouch for the fact) that he is the Thevenot who attended Mr. Wakefield and Miss Turner. I have likewise recently been apprised that, at the time I engaged him, he was actually on the police establishment. Be that as it may, I certainly always considered Thevenot to be a mysterious kind of person, and, on one particular occasion, which will be hereafter mentioned, discharged him suddenly, without enlarging on my reasons: he was however an excellent servant. I had brought a passport from the new Sous-Préfet at Havre, which having lodged at the police-office, I felt quite at my ease; but, reflecting afterward upon the probable consequence in case of war or change of circumstances, I determined at once to take a bold step and go to the Palais de Bourbon Elysée, (where Napoleon resided,) and endeavour to see Count Bertrand, whom I proposed to inform truly of my situation, and ask for a carte de sureté, or a passport to return.
On the second day whereon I made an attempt to see him, with difficulty I succeeded in obtaining an audience. I told the count who I was, and all the facts, together with my doubts as to the propriety of remaining. He very politely said I should have what I required, but that a gentleman in my station was perfectly safe, and there could be no difficulty as to my remaining as long as I chose; and concluded by bowing me out, after a very short interview. As I was going down the steps an officer recalled me, and asked if I had any family in Paris. I replied in the affirmative – three ladies: mutual bows ensued, and I returned very well satisfied with the result of my visit to the Palais de Bourbon Elysée. At that time the emperor was employed day and night on business in the palace: at daybreak he occasionally rode out with some of his staff, to inspect the works at Montmartre; and on hearing this, my ancient curiosity to see so distinguished a person came afresh upon me.
The ensuing day, a man with a large letter-box buckled before him entered our apartment without the least ceremony, and delivered a letter with “Bertrand” signed at the corner. I was rather startled at the moment, as the occurrence certainly looked singular: nevertheless, the man’s appearance and manner were not such as to confirm unpleasant surmises, and I proceeded to unseal the envelope, which enclosed a billet to the Commissaire de Police at the prefecture, desiring him to grant me a carte de sureté and a sauf conduit through any part of France, if I chose to travel in that country – (the signature was not that of Bertrand): – the packet also contained a polite note from an aide-de-camp of the count, mentioning that he was directed to enclose me an admission to the emperor’s chapel, &c. and to say that, on production of my carte de sureté, our party would find a free admission to the theatres and other spectacles of Paris. – So much politeness (so very different from what would have been the case in England) both gratified and surprised me. I wrote a letter of thanks; but at our privy council, we agreed that, under existing circumstances, it would be better to say nothing of the latter favour. I afterward discovered the friendly quarter through which it originated.
We hired a calèche by the month, and set out with a determination to lose no time in seeing whatever was interesting; and in fact every thing was at that moment interesting to strangers. We spoke French sufficiently well for ordinary purposes; and determined, in short, to make ourselves as comfortable as possible.
I have already observed that I kept a diary during the Hundred Days, but afterward thought it most prudent not to commit any thing very important to writing. From that diary, so far as I pursued it, (and from scraps which nobody could understand but myself,) I have since selected some details and observations which have not hitherto been published, and for the collection of which my peculiar situation at Paris, and consequent opportunities, abundantly qualified me. Consistently with the foregoing part of these fragments, I shall not even attempt any thing like strict order or chronological arrangement, but leave, generally speaking, the various subjects brought before the reader’s attention to illustrate and explain each other. On this principle, I shall now, without further prelude, describe the first scene which impressed itself on my imagination.
The first Sunday after the receipt of our permission we repaired to the emperor’s chapel, to see that wonderful man, and to hear mass chanted in the first style of church music. Napoleon had already entered: the chapel was full; but we got seats very low down, near the gallery in which the emperor sat; and as he frequently leaned over the front, I had opportunities of partially seeing him. In the presence of so celebrated a man as Bonaparte, all other things sank into comparative insignificance, and the attention of the spectator was wholly absorbed by the one great object. Thus, in the present case, there was nothing either in the chapel or congregation that had power to divide my regards with the great Napoleon. As I have said, he often leaned over the front of the gallery wherein he sat; and I had thence an opportunity of observing that he seemed quite restless, took snuff repeatedly, stroked down his head with an abstracted air – and, in fact, was obviously possessed by feelings of deep anxiety. I should not suppose he had at the moment the least consciousness as to where he was, and that, of all things, the priests and the mass were the last likely to occupy his thoughts.
Whilst thus employed in reconnoitring the emperor as intensely as stolen glances afforded me means of doing, a buzz in the chapel caused me to turn round to ascertain its cause. Though low, it increased every moment, and was palpably directed toward us – so much so, that no doubt remained of our being somehow or other the sole objects of it. I then whispered my companions that our presence was evidently offensive in that place, and that we had better retire, when a French lady who sat near Lady Barrington, said to her, “Madame, you perceive that you are the object of this uncourteous notice.” – “Yes,” replied she, “it is become quite obvious.” The French lady smiled, and continued, “You had better lay aside your shawls!” – Lady Barrington and my daughter accordingly, taking the hint, threw off the shawls, which they suffered to drop at their feet, and at once the buzzing subsided, and no further explanation took place until the conclusion of the service.
At that moment several French ladies came up with great courtesy, to apologise for the apparent rudeness of the congregation, which they begged Lady Barrington to excuse on account of its cause, and to examine her shawl, on doing which, she would perceive that it was very unlucky (bien mal à propos) to wear such a one in presence of the emperor. She did so, and found that both hers and my daughter’s (though very fine ones) were unfortunately speckled all over with fleurs-de-lis! They had been sold her the preceding day by a knavish shopkeeper at the Passage Feydeau, who, seeing she was a foreigner, had put off these articles, thinking it a good opportunity to decrease his stock in that kind of gear, the sale whereof would probably be pronounced high treason before the month was over.
The confusion of the ladies at this éclaircissement may be well conceived; but it was speedily alleviated by the elegant consolations and extreme politeness of the Frenchwomen. Among those who addressed us was a gentleman in the uniform of a colonel of the national guards; he spoke to me in perfect English, and begged to introduce his family to mine. I told him who I was, and he asked us to a dinner and ball next day at his house in the Rue de Clichy. We accepted his invitation, and were magnificently entertained. This was Colonel Gowen, the proprietor of the first stamp-paper manufactory in France – a most excellent, hospitable, and friendly person, but ill-requited, I fear, afterward by some of our countrymen. I subsequently experienced many proofs of his hospitality and attention.
An English lady (the wife of Dr. Marshall, an English physician) was also remarkably attentive and polite on this occasion, and gave her card to Lady Barrington, No. 10, Rue Pigale: – so that the affair of the shawl, so far from being mal à propos, seemed to turn out quite a lucky adventure.
In viewing Napoleon that day, it was not the splendid superiority of his rank; it was neither his diadem, sceptre, nor power, which communicated that involuntary sensation of awe it was impossible not to feel: – it was the gigantic degree of talent whereby a man of obscure origin had been raised so far above his fellows. The spectator could not but deeply reflect on the mystic nature of those decrees of Providence which had placed Napoleon Bonaparte on one of the highest of earthly thrones and at the very pinnacle of glory; had hurled him from that eminence and driven him into exile; and now seemed again to have warranted his second elevation, replacing him upon that throne even more wondrously than when he first ascended it.
