Books: NAPOLEON AND BLUCHER

L >> L. Muhlbach >> NAPOLEON AND BLUCHER

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35 | 36 | 37 | 38 | 39 | 40 | 41 | 42 | 43 | 44 | 45 | 46 | 47

"We ought to have taken all their colors!" cried Blucher, eagerly.
"What say the monarchs now, Nostiz? Will they still leave the
Parisians the choice to suffer a bombardment or not?"

"The negotiations are still pending."

"Are the monarchs themselves taking part in them? Do they condescend
to negotiate in person?"

"No, your excellency. The monarchs have returned to their quarters;
the King of Prussia has gone to the village of Pantin, the Emperor
of Russia to Bondy, and their representatives have repaired to the
suburb of La Chapelle, where they are treating with Marshals Mortier
and Marmont and their two adjutants in regard to the capitulation of
Paris."

"Would that their negotiations were unsuccessful--that we might have
the pleasure of bombarding this infamous city which, for twenty
years past, has brought so much misery on Europe!"

"There is some prospect of it," said Nostiz, smiling. "The allies
have demanded that the French corps should surrender as prisoners of
war. To this the marshals refused to accede, declaring that they
would perish first in the streets, so the allies agreed to abandon
this article. A discussion next rose as to the route by which the
corps of Marmont and Mortier should retire, so as to be prevented
from joining the approaching forces of the emperor, the allies
insisting for that of Brittany, the French for any that they might
choose. The marshals refused positively to agree to these demands."

"They did!" cried Blucher, in an angry voice. "Well, I am glad of
it, for I see now that we shall have a bombardment. Let us
immediately make all necessary dispositions for it, in order that
when the fun commences we may be ready. Bring me my horse!" With the
activity of a youth Blucher opened his carriage and vaulted on the
horse, which the groom led close to the carriage. For a moment he
reeled in the saddle; for he felt as if red-hot daggers were
piercing his eyes, but he overcame his faintness and pain. "Where
are the members of my staff, Nostiz?" he asked, eagerly.

"They are near, your excellency, at La Villette."

"Let us ride, then, to La Villette, and thence up the Montmartre.
Nostiz, you will have immediately eighty or ninety pieces planted on
the Montmartre, that, when the bombardment commences early in the
morning, there may be no delay. [Footnote: Varnhagen von Esse, "Life
of Blucher," p. 380.] Make haste, Nostiz! There must be at least
eighty pieces! We shall startle the Parisians out of their slumber,"
growled Blucher, riding along the road to La Villette, attended by
his orderlies; "let them see that another state of affairs exists,
and that they are no longer the masters of the world, and able to
trample others in the dust!"

At La Villette, Blucher met the members of his staff, and, with
Gneisenau and Muffling by his side, and followed by the other
officers, rode up the heights of Moutmartre. The sun had set, but
his last beams still lingered in the evening clouds. The silence
reigning around them after the uproar of the day, made upon their
minds a solemn impression. At first the party engaged in an animated
conversation, but it gradually ceased. Peaceful nature in this
spring eventide contrasted the noise and bloodshed of the day with
her own indifference, so that even Blucher himself was deeply moved.

They reached the crest of the Montmartre. Paris--the long-feared,
but now vanquished Paris, which for centuries had not seen a
conquering enemy near its walls--lay at their feet. The steeples of
Notre-Dame, of St. Genevieve, the large cupola of the Hotel des
Invalides, the countless spires proudly looming up, the vast pile of
the Tuileries, the Louvre, the Palais-Royal, where for twenty years
Napoleon had given laws to trembling Europe, were plainly discerned.
And this great city, with its temples and palaces, was in the hands
of the enemy. They were Prussian generals who looked down from the
heights of the Montmartre, and who for seven years had borne the
disgrace of their country with sad yet courageous hearts; but this
moment was a sufficient indemnity for the long years of
wretchedness.

"This, then, is Paris," said Blucher, after a long pause, and his
voice was gentle and tremulous. "This is Paris, for which I have
longed during seven years--the city which I knew my eyes would see,
that I might die in peace! Good God," he cried, lifting his blue
eyes toward heaven, and taking off his cap, "I thank Thee for having
permitted us to be here, for lending us Thy assistance in attaining
our object, and hurling from the throne the man who has so long been
a terror to humanity. I thank Thee for having called us, the men who
saw the disastrous day of Jena, to participate in the day of
liberation! Blessed spirit of our Queen Louisa! if thou, with thine
heavenly eyes that wept so much on earth, now lookest down upon us,
behold our hearts full of gratitude toward God, and of love for thee
as when thou wast among us! Thou hast assisted us in gaining the
victory; assist us now, too, in profiting by it in a manner worthy
ourselves, and for the welfare of the fatherland!" he paused, and,
shading his face with his cap, prayed in a low voice. The generals
followed his example; removing their hats, they offered silent
prayers of gratitude to God. "Now," cried Blucher, putting on his
cap again, "we have paid homage to Heaven, let us think a little of
ourselves. I am still in hope that there will be a bombardment, and
that we shall send our balls to the Parisians for breakfast to-
morrow. I will, therefore, remain on the Montmartre, and establish
here my quarters for the night."

"Field-marshal!" shouted a voice at a distance. "Field-Marshal
Blucher, where are you?"

"Here I am!" shouted Blucher.

"And here I am!" cried Hennemann, galloping up.

"Pipe-master, is it you?" asked Blucher, in amazement. "Well, what
do you want, and where have you been so long?"

"I have just brought an eye-shade for you, and here it is," said
Christian, handing with profound gravity a lady's bonnet of green
silk, with a broad green brim.

"A bonnet!" exclaimed Blucher, laughing. "What am I to do with it?"

"Put it on," said Christian, composedly. "We can cut off the crown,
then it will be a good shade; your excellency will put it on, and
wear your general's hat over it."

"That will do," said Blucher. "But tell me, my boy, where did you
get it?"

"I saw this afternoon a lady with a green bonnet at a villa near
which I passed, and when you told me you ought to have an eye-shade,
I thought immediately of the bonnet. Well, I rode to the house, and
knocked so long at the door that they opened it. There were none but
women at the house, and they cried and wailed dreadfully on seeing
me. Well, I told them at once that I would not hurt them, but was
only desirous of getting the green bonnet. While the women were
raising such a hue-and-cry, another door opened, and the lady who
owned the house came in, with the bonnet on. Well, I went directly
to her, made her an obeisance, and said, 'Madame, be so kind as to
give me your green bonnet for my field-marshal, who has sore eyes.'"

"Well, and did she understand your good Mecklenburg German?"
inquired Blucher, smiling.

"No, she did not understand me apparently, but I made myself
understood, your excellency."

"Well, what did you do?"

"Oh, your excellency, I simply stepped near her, took hold of the
large knot by which her bonnet was tied under her chin, loosened it,
seized the bonnet by the brim, and took it very gently from her
head. She cried a little, and fainted away--but that will not hurt a
woman; I know she will soon be better. I secured my prize, and here
I am, and here is your excellency's eye-shade."

"And a good one it is. I thank you, my boy; I will wear it in honor
of you, for my eyes are aching dreadfully, and I have need of a
shade. I will raise this standard when we make our entrance into
Paris, and I believe, pipe-master, the fair Parisians will rejoice
at seeing me dressed in the latest Parisian fashion. But now,
milliner, cut off the crown, else I cannot use it."

"I will do so at once," said Christian, taking a pair of scissors
from his dressing-pouch, and transforming a lady's bonnet into an
eye-shade.

A few hours afterward, all was quiet on the Montmartre, and on all
the other heights around Paris. After the battle the armies needed
sleep, and it was undisturbed, for there was no longer an enemy to
dispute their possession of the French capital.

CHAPTER LII.

NIGHT AND MORNING NEAR PARIS.

So the allied armies encamped and rested round the bivouac-fires,
while, at a house in the suburbs of La Chapelle, the
plenipotentiaries of the sovereigns were still negotiating with the
French marshals the terms on which the city was to be surrendered.
But he who now rode along the road to Paris at a gallop in an open
carriage knew no peace or rest. His quivering features were
expressive of alarm; ruin sat enthroned on his forehead, covered
with perspiration. By his side sat Caulaincourt; behind him,
Berthier and Flahault. The carriage thundered along at the utmost
speed. "Caulaincourt, I shall arrive at Paris in time," murmured the
emperor; "we are already at Fromenteau; in an hour we shall be
there. The watch-fires of the enemy are seen on the opposite bank of
the Seine. Ah, I shall extinguish them; to-morrow night the enemy
will not be so near.--But what is that? Do you hear nothing? Have
the carriage stopped!"

Berthier shouted to the driver--the carriage stopped. They all heard
a sort of hollow noise.

"It is a squad of cavalry riding along this road," whispered
Caulaincourt.

"It is artillery," murmured Napoleon. "Forward! They can only be our
own men. But why are they retreating from Paris? Forward!"

The carriage rolled on. And from the other side of the road a dark
mass, with a rumbling noise, moved toward them. Napoleon was not
mistaken, nor was Caulaincourt mistaken.

"Who is there?" shouted the emperor to the horsemen at the head of
the column. "Halt!"

"It is the emperor!" cried a voice, in amazement, and a horseman
dismounting in a moment approached the carriage.

"It is General Belliard," exclaimed the emperor, and alighted
hastily from his carriage. "General, whither are you moving? What
about Paris?"

"Sire, all is lost!" said Belliard, after a mournful pause.

"How so?" cried Napoleon, vehemently. "You see I am coming! I shall
be in Paris in an hour. I will call out the National Guard, and put
myself at the head of the troops."

"Sire, we are too weak; the enemy is five times stronger."

"But I am there, and my name will increase the strength of my army
fivefold."

"Sire, it is too late."

"Too late! What do you mean?"

"Marmont and Mortier have capitulated; we are taking advantage of
the night to evacuate Paris, while the marshals are still
negotiating the terms of capitulation."

A single cry of anger burst from Napoleon's lips; then, as if
crushed by the blow, his head dropped on his breast. Recovering
himself in a moment, he said, imperiously: "General Belliard! return
with your troops; I shall be there before you reach the city.
Resuming hostilities, I will call upon all Paris to take up arms;
the people love me, they will remain faithful; the majority of the
working-men are composed of old soldiers. They know how to fight,
and I will lead them. We shall fight as the Spaniards fought against
us at Saragossa, defending with our blood the streets of our
capital; detaining the enemy at least for a day, my army will
arrive, and we shall be strong enough to give battle. I must go to
Paris; when I am not there, they do nothing but blunder! My brother
Joseph is a pusillanimous and easily-disheartened man, and Minister
Clarke is a blockhead. Marmont and Mortier are traitors deserving
death, for they violated my express instructions. I asked them to
hold out only two days, and the traitors capitulated before they had
elapsed! Oh, I shall hold them responsible for it: I know how to
punish traitors and poltroons!" He hurried on in a rapid step,
General Belliard walking by his side, and Caulaincourt, Berthier,
and Flahault following him. "I must go to Paris," cried the emperor,
after a momentary pause. "Order my carriage!"

"Sire," said Belliard, solemnly, "it is no longer possible for your
majesty to reach Paris. You would run the risk of falling into the
hands of the vanguard of the allies. If your majesty were at Paris,
it would be of no avail. The enemy is in possession of all the
heights, and they can bombard the city without being interfered with
by the exhausted troops of Mortier and Marmont. Sire, all is lost;
there is no prospect which would justify us to hope for a favorable
change."

"To Paris!" cried the emperor. "You say I can no longer enter the
city. Well, then, I shall put myself at the head of the troops of
Marshals Mortier and Marmont, and, while the allies are making their
entrance into the city, resume the struggle."

"Sire," said Belliard, mournfully, "it is too late, the marshals
have agreed to surrender Paris; it was only on this condition that
our troops were allowed to move out. The capitulation cannot be
broken."

"What do I care for the capitulation of traitorous marshals?" said
the emperor, stamping; "my will alone reigns here, and my will is,
that the troops face about and follow me.--Say, Hulin," said the
emperor, turning toward the commander of Paris, who had just
approached him, "are you not of my opinion? The troops should return
to Paris?"

"No, sire," said General Hulin, sighing, "the capitulation has
already been concluded, and it does not permit the soldiers to
return on any pretext."

"Are you of the same opinion?" asked Napoleon, turning toward
General Curial, who had just come up with a corps of infantry, and
saluted the emperor.

"I am, sire," said Curial. "The capitulation has been concluded, and
we are happy to have received permission for our troops, who are
exhausted, to evacuate the city. We are already on the march in the
direction of Fontainebleau. We have no hope of conquering, and we
could only be involved in a last dreadful but useless carnage. Your
majesty cannot desire that. Have pity on poor France, bleeding from
a thousand wounds; you do not wish the enemy to bombard the heart of
our country."

"And you?" asked Napoleon, turning his eyes, with an expression of
agony, toward his attendants. "Caulaincourt, do you, too, share the
views of these gentlemen?"

"Yes, sire," said Caulaincourt, with tears in his eyes. "It is too
late to conquer; it only remains for us to save what we can."

"And you, Berthier and Flahault?"

"Sire, that is our opinion! It is too late; all is lost!"

Napoleon's sigh sounded like a death-rattle. "Well, then," he said,
in a faint, hollow voice, "I will return to Fontainebleau."

Napoleon reentered his carriage. When his three attendants had taken
seats, he rose and called out in a commanding voice, "General
Belliard!" The general approached the carriage hesitatingly; he was
still afraid lest the emperor should change his mind.

"Belliard," said Napoleon, "dispatch immediately an orderly to
Marshals Marmont and Mortier, and communicate to them that they
march their troops to Essonne, ten leagues south of Paris; there
they are to take a position, and await further orders.--To
Fontainebleau!"

The carriage passed again along the road by which it had arrived,
bearing away a wearied and despairing man, who a moment before was
full of hope and energy. The clock of the village of Jurissy struck
twelve, when he halted in front of the "Cour de France," and had the
horses changed. "Caulaincourt," he said, hurriedly, "alight, take
post-horses, and hasten to Paris! Penetrate to the headquarters of
the Emperor Alexander! Prevent the capitulation--do so in my name;
you have full powers! Negotiate, consent to any treaty that
recognizes me as sovereign of France!" [Footnote: Beitzke vol. iii.,
p. 496.]

It was past midnight, and with a new day began a new era. The rising
sun shone upon the brilliant array of the allies. The terms of the
capitulation had been adjusted at two in the morning. It was
stipulated that the marshals should evacuate Paris at seven on the
same day; that the public arsenals and magazines be surrendered in
the same state in which they were when the capitulation was
concluded; that the National Guard, according to the pleasure of the
allies, be either disbanded, or employed under their direction in
the service of the city; that the wounded and stragglers, found
after ten in the morning, be considered prisoners of war; and that
Paris be recommended to the generosity of the sovereigns. [Footnote:
"Memoires du Duc de Rovigo," vol. iii.]

It was now eight in the morning, and the corps of the allied troops
that were to make their entrance into the city were in readiness. A
staff, composed of hundreds of Austrian, Russian, Prussian,
Wurtemberg, Bavarian, and Swedish generals, awaited the arrival of
the Emperor of Russia and the King of Prussia, when the triumphal
march into Paris would take place.

Overcoming his pain, and keeping erect by a violent effort, Field-
Marshal Blucher had himself dressed by his servants. The toilet was
finished, and, attired in his uniform, covered with glittering
orders, he stepped from his bedroom, and sent for Christian. "Pipe-
master," he said, "I am ready now, and believe I look quite
imposing; but you must adjust the last ornament of my toilet. You
captured it, and ought to add it to my uniform."

"What ornament, your excellency?"

"Well, the eye-shade, Christian. Come and adorn me!" He handed the
crownless bonnet to Christian, and sat down on a chair. The article
was carefully placed on the head of the field-marshal, so that his
bald scalp protruded from the aperture of the shade like a full moon
surrounded by a green halo. He then carefully put on it the field-
marshal's hat, with its waving plumes and gold-lace. [Footnote:
Varnhagen, "Life of Blucher," p. 382]

"Now I am ready," said Blucher, rising.

At this moment the door opened, and General Gneisenau, accompanied
by Surgeon-General Voelzke, entered the room.

"What!" exclaimed Gneisenau, in amazement. "An hour ago I found you
in bed, a prey to a raging fever, complaining of your eyes; and now
you have not only risen, but are in full feather, and ready for the
march into the city!"

"Why, yes, of course, I am," said Blucher, sullenly. "I must make my
entry, I must keep my word, and get into Paris after aiding in
getting HIM out of it."

"That is to say," cried Dr. Voelzke, "you intend to break your
pledge, and prove faithless to your oath?"

"What oath?" asked Blucher, greatly surprised.

"Did you not solemnly pledge me your word four days ago, your
excellency, to submit to my treatment for two weeks, and adhere to
my instructions?"

"Yes, and I think I have kept my word. I have swallowed your
medicines, pills, and powders, rubbed in your salves, and applied
your plasters, in accordance with your directions, although I must
say that all this did not help me any."

"But your eyes have not grown any worse, and they will soon improve,
if you continue my treatment."

"Well, what do you want me to do, then?"

"You must stay here. You must not be six or eight hours on
horseback; you must not expose yourself so long to the dust and
sun."

"What! I am not to participate in the entrance of the monarchs into
Paris?" cried Blucher, indignantly.

"I implore your excellency not to do so," said the physician, in an
impressive tone. "Give yourself a few days' rest and recreation, and
your eyes will get well; but if you expose yourself to-day I shall
never again cross your threshold, for I do not care to be disgraced
by the report that Field-Marshal Blucher lost his eyesight while
under my care; and I tell you, you will be blind, and then I can do
nothing for you."

"Stay here, your excellency," begged Gneisenau; "do not trifle with
your dear eyes, destined to see still many beautiful things, and
gladden the world by their heroic glances! What can a triumph of a
few hours' duration be to you to whom every day will be a triumph,
and whom delivered Germany awaits to greet with manifestations of
love and gratitude?"

"Ah, it is not for the sake of the triumph that I wish to go," cried
Blucher, morosely. "But I have sworn, for seven years, and it has
been my only consolation, that, in spite of Bonaparte, I would make
my triumphal entrance into Paris, as Bonaparte did into Berlin, and
now you insist on my not fulfilling my oath!"

"You will nevertheless make your entrance into Paris," exclaimed
Gneisenau; "though your person be absent, your name will float as
our banner of victory over the monarchs, and all know full well that
Blucher is THE conqueror."

"Stay!" begged Voelzke; "think of the pain which you have already
suffered, and of that you will suffer, and of which I give you
sufficient warning."

"Yes, field-marshal," begged Hennemann, with tearful eyes, "pray do
what the doctor says; do not hazard your sight; for, let me say,
field-marshal, a blind man is like a pipe that will not draw; both
of them will go out."

"Well, I do not care," cried Blucher, "I will stay. It will not hurt
me. My task is performed, and it makes no difference to me how I
enter Paris. I have my share of the victory, and no one can take it
from me. HE has been cast down, and none will deny that I assisted."

"Well, I think I have also assisted a little in it," said Christian,
solemnly; "for had I not always kept the pipes in so good a state,
the field-marshal would not have had such successful ideas, nor
could he have so well said, 'Forward!'"

"You are right, pipe-master," said Blucher, pleasantly. "The pipe--
but what is that? Was not that a gun, and there another? Have the
negotiations miscarried, after all, and the bombardment commenced in
earnest?"

"No, your excellency," said Gneisenau, smiling, "you must give up
that hope! These are the guns which give the troops the signal that
the monarchs have arrived, and that the march into the city is to
commence."

"Well, good-by, then; make haste and leave!" cried Blucher, pushing
Gneisenau and Voelzke toward the door.

They left, and the field-marshal was again alone with Christian
Hennemann.

"Well," he said, "give me a pipe: while the others are making their
entrance into Paris, I want you to afford me a little pleasure, too.
Come here, therefore, and sing to me the Low-German song which you
sang to me on the day when you arrived at Kunzendorf."

The reports of the artillery continued; the monarchs were entering
Paris. The field-marshal in the mean time sat with the green bonnet
on his head, puffing his pipe. No one was with him but Christian
Hennemann, who sang in a loud voice, "Spinn doch, spinn doch, mihn
lutt lewes Dochting!"

CHAPTER LIII.

NAPOLEON AT FONTAINEBLEAU.

Napoleon passed seven days of indescribable mental anguish at
Fontainebleau. Adversity had befallen him, but he bore it with the
semblance of calmness, uttering no complaint. His was still the
cold, inscrutable face of the emperor, such as it had been on his
triumphal entrance into Berlin and Madrid, after the victories of
Austerlitz and Jena, in the days of Erfurt and Tilsit, at the
conflagration of Moscow, at the Beresina, and at Leipsic. He gave no
expression to his soul's agony. It was only in the dead of night
that his faithful servants heard him sometimes sigh, pacing his
room, restless and melancholy. He did not yet feel wholly
discouraged; he still hoped. His bravest marshals were still with
him; his Old Guard had not yet gone, and at Paris there were many
devoted friends, because they owed to him honor and riches.

He was hopeful that Marmont's troops would arrive at Fontainebleau,
when, concentrating all his corps, he would march with them and
reconquer his capital. Engrossed with this idea, he was alone in his
cabinet; bent over his maps, he examined the various positions of
his troops, and considered when they might all reach him. But while
he was thinking of war, his marshals were thinking of peace. They
had withdrawn into one of the remote apartments of Fontainebleau for
the purpose of holding a secret consultation. There were his old
comrades Ney, Prince de la Moskwa; Macdonald, Duke de Tarento;
Lefebvre, Duke de Dantzic; Oudinot, Duke de Reggio--all of them
owing their glory to Napoleon: it was, therefore, pardonable if he
confided in their gratitude--but gratitude to the fallen, who had
nothing more to give, and whose misfortunes resembled an infectious
disease, repelling even his dearest friends.

"He is lost," said Oudinot, in an undertone; "he is on the edge of
the precipice, and those who abide by him will fall with him."

"We must, therefore, leave him," whispered Lefebvre. "We are unable
to keep him back; prudence commands us to keep aloof."

"We have suffered and bled for him for years," said Macdonald; "it
is time now for him to suffer and bleed for us. His death would be a
relief."