On the evening of 2 April, Caulaincourt returned to Fontainebleau, where Napoleon had set up his headquarters in the vast Renaissance chateau. He reported that while the chances for a regency were good, the allies insisted on the Emperor’s own abdication. In response, Napoleon made it clear that he intended to march on Paris and decide his future in battle. At midday the following day he reviewed the Imperial Guard. He then made a short speech, announcing that he planned to recapture Paris from the allies and the French traitors who were collaborating with them. This was greeted with a huge cheer of‘Vive l’Empereur! A Paris! A Paris!’ Orders were issued for the army to advance, and for Napoleon’s command post to be moved to the Chateau de TiUy, further up the road to the capital.1
If the soldiers were enthusiastic, the marshals were dismayed. They were well aware ofwhat was happening in Paris, and were increasingly convinced that Napoleon himself was doomed. The prospect of a battle in the city, where many of them had families and all had property, was deeply unappealing. Above all, like the rest of France, the marshals were desperate for peace. None desired it more than Berthier, but he still felt unable openly to oppose Napoleon. Others had fewer inhibitions, especially Ney, whose disaffection had been growing since before Leipzig, and Lefebvre, who at almost 60 was unwilling to continue fighting indefinitely. The marshals simply refused to contemplate an attack on Paris. On 4 April, they finally acted. During the changing of the guard, they gathered close to Napoleon, muttering ominously. While the soldiers cheered, Ney exclaimed, loudly enough for the Emperor to hear, ‘Nothing but abdication can save us!’2 The next scenes were dramatic. Napoleon went back into his study to work with Berthier, Caulaincourt, and Bassano. Shortly afterwards, Ney, Lefebvre, and Marshal Moncey burst into the room. Ney acted as
Spokesman. He told Napoleon that the situation was desperate, and that his only course was to abdicate. The Emperor replied that he was going to advance and defeat the enemy. His temper rising, Ney burst out that the army would not march on Paris. ‘The army will obey me!’ Napoleon shouted. ‘The army will obey its chiefs,’ riposted Ney, directly challenging his master’s authority. It was a dangerous moment for Napoleon; his obstinacy was making him almost as obstructive to his own marshals as to Talleyrand and the allies. There was the potential for violence in the room. Ney certainly felt it, for he tried awkwardly to defuse the situation. ‘Don’t worry,’ he added, ‘we’re not going to act out a scene from St Petersburg’—a reference, in questionable taste, to the murder of Czar Paul I by his own officers thirteen years before.3
In the middle of this confrontation, Marshals Macdonald and Oudinot, who had just reached Fontainebleau with their troops, were announced. Napoleon hoped for support from Macdonald, who just four days before had advocated fighting to the end. But Macdonald, under pressure from his subordinate generals, had now changed his mind. When Napoleon asked him what his soldiers were saying among themselves, he replied: ‘That you are ordering us to march on the capital.. . and I’ve come to tell you, in their name, that they don’t want to expose it to the same fate as Moscow.’ This intervention was decisive. Napoleon’s mood changed; he became calm and almost resigned. ‘Ah well, gentlemen,’ he said, ‘since that’s how things stand, I abdicate. I wanted to make France happy, I’ve failed; events have turned against me. I don’t want to add to our misfortunes; but if I abdicate, what will you do? Do you want the King of Rome to succeed me, with the Empress as regent?’ Everyone in the room signalled assent.4
Napoleon wrote out a short statement abdicating in favour ofhis son. He named three commissioners to take it to the allies in Paris—Caulaincourt, Macdonald, and Ney. Given his altercation with Ney just a few minutes before, his last choice may seem surprising. Ney, however, was extremely popular in the army, and his inclusion would send a powerful message to the victors that it supported the regency. Napoleon then threw himself on a sofa, looked around at his companions, and uttered some extraordinary words: ‘Bah, gentlemen, let’s drop all this and march out tomorrow; we’ll certainly beat them!’ Even now, he could not contain his gambler’s instinct to stake his future on a final battle. The marshals swiftly stamped on the idea. ‘No,’ they replied, ‘we’ve had enough, and beware that each passing hour doesn’t make the commissioners’ task more difficult.’5
Figure 13. The study at Fontainebleau in which Napoleon abdicated on 6 April 1814.
At 4 p. m. Ney, Caulaincourt, and Macdonald set off in two coaches for the capital. On the way, they stopped off at Essonnes to inform Marshal Marmont of Napoleon’s abdication. Marmont’s corps now formed the advance guard of the French army, just a few miles away from Schwarzen-berg’s troops further down the road, and it was essential to keep its commander abreast of the situation. But on entering Marmont’s headquarters, the three commissioners immediately realized something was wrong. While they told Marmont about their mission, his staff looked on with concern, whispering among themselves. Finally the marshal, visibly embar-assed, told them some astonishing news. The previous day, he had received a letter from Schwarzenberg, announcing the political changes in Paris and urging him to join the allies and bring the war to a speedy end. On his own
Authority, Marmont had agreed, on condition that Napoleon himself was guaranteed his liberty and generous treatment. In this exchange, the regency had nowhere been mentioned. Just before the commissioners arrived, Schwarzenberg had sent a messenger accepting these terms.6
Of all the actors in Napoleon’s downfall, Marmont has received the worst press. He has even bequeathed a verb to the French language—raguser, derived from his title of Duke of Ragusa—meaning ‘to betray’. His action, though admittedly a form of treason, has not even been credited with a political motivation. Instead, it is usually seen as a product of pure bad character: weakness, ingratitude, and vanity. Certainly negotiating secretly with Schwarzenberg was a shabby way to repay Napoleon’s trust. Just a few hours before, the Emperor had remarked to Caulaincourt: ‘I have more confidence in Marmont than anybody.’ Marmont may also have been flattered that the allied commander-in-chief was treating him as an equal.7
Concentrating on his character flaws ignores the fact that Marmont sincerely supported peace. In November 1813, at Mainz after the retreat from Leipzig, he had spoken to Napoleon and, according to Caulaincourt, ‘tried to make clear to him his position and the need for peace’. Marmont himself added, in his memoirs, that at this time he, Berthier, and Caulaincourt ‘did everything we could to persuade [Napoleon] to make peace’.8 Now, in April 1814, Marmont found himself in a unique position to end the war without delay. Some of his motives were no doubt self-interested. In contrast, his impatience for the conflict to stop was widely shared, and perfectly consistent with his actions over the past five months. It led him into treacherous waters, but was genuinely felt.
Marmont had assumed that Napoleon’s next move would be to march on Paris, and had seen Schwarzenberg’s overture as one means of avoiding a final bloody battle around the capital. Now the commissioners presented him with a far more honourable way of achieving peace, by supporting Napoleon’s abdication. It meant breaking offhis negotiations with Schwar-zenberg, which would be awkward, but although an agreement had been reached, it had not actually been signed, which gave him a little leeway. Marmont agreed to accompany the commissioners to Paris, and on the way to see Schwarzenberg and inform him of his decision. He told his divisional generals that the pact with Schwarzenberg, of which they were aware, was over, and that they should hold their positions until his return. He then climbed into Caulaincourt’s carriage and the party drove on to Schwarzenberg’s headquarters at the Chateau de Petit-Bourg. The allied commander-
In-chief accepted Marmont’s change of heart with good grace, and invited him and his companions to dinner before resuming their journey.9
Caulaincourt and the three marshals arrived at Talleyrand’s house at 3 a. m. on 5 April. They were immediately ushered in to see the Czar. Alexander had been impressed by Caulaincourt’s advocacy of the regency two days before. Now Caulaincourt was supported by three famous military commanders, underlining the fact that the alternative to the regency would probably be continued war. All the witnesses to the meeting agree that the Czar was ‘shaken’ by their arguments. He objected, rather weakly, that the Senate had already deposed Napoleon and his family, but the marshals replied by demanding to be allowed to address the assembly and force a retraction. After two hours of heated discussion, Alexander asked them to return at 9 a. m., by which time, he said, he would have made his decision. As the envoys left through the great salon, they encountered the members of the provisional government waiting there anxiously, and the two groups almost came to blows.10
At this moment the regency was within an ace ofbeing agreed. The Czar had little sympathy for the Bourbons, and was unwilling to fight on to impose them on France. Furthermore, the French army appeared to be solidly behind the Bonaparte dynasty. The allies’ military position was also far from ideal. If the war continued, they risked being caught between Napoleon attacking in their front and a possibly insurgent Paris at their back. Caulaincourt and the marshals assumed that when they returned to Talleyrand’s house in a few hours’ time, the Czar would support the proclamation of Napoleon II, with his mother as regent. As Ney later wrote: ‘The negotiations seemed to promise the happiest results.’11
Macdonald felt the same way, and clearly expected to stay in the capital for some days helping organize the new dispensation. Just after seeing Alexander, he wrote to his daughter Nancy, who was still in Paris, with detailed instructions. He was particularly concerned that no details of his secret talks should leak out, which meant keeping his family close by him. ‘If I still have any power over you,’ he told Nancy, ‘I demand absolutely that you dine with me every day you are free, excepting only your father-in-law [the duc de Massa, ex-minister of justice], that is to say you should have no visitors, and that I wish us to spend all our available time together.’12
The four men decided to go to Ney’s house in the Rue de Lille for breakfast. They did not in fact return to Talleyrand’s house at 9, probably because they were waiting for a formal summons to do so, which arrived in
The late morning. They were stiU eating when Marmont was informed that his aide-de-camp Colonel Fabvier had appeared and wished to speak to him. Marmont left the room, and returned a few minutes later with unbelievable news: in his absence, his second-in-command General Sou-ham had led his corps over to the allies. ‘I am lost!’ he stammered, ‘I am in despair! What a terrible mistake!’ Everyone at the table dropped their forks in shock.13
Souham’s action, it later turned out, had been less premeditated treachery than the product of fear and suspicion. A few hours after Marmont had left with the commissioners, Souham had received an invitation to dine with Napoleon that evening. He already had a bad conscience that he had done nothing to stop Marmont’s negotiations with Schwarzenberg. Now he jumped to the conclusion that Napoleon’s invitation was a ruse to lure him to Fontainebleau and have him arrested. ‘I may be tall,’ he remarked to one of his colonels, ‘but I don’t want to make myself shorter by a head.’ At ii p. m., he ordered his troops to march, telling them simply that they were moving to a new position. In the dark, they did not see the Austrians, whom Souham had warned to make way for them. By the time dawn broke and they realized where they were, it was too late.14
Marmont was not wholly responsible for his ‘treason’, since he had tried to undo it once he heard that Napoleon had abdicated. It was General Souham, against his orders, who eventually carried it through. Yet Marmont’s initial disloyalty set in motion a train of events he proved unable to control. Its first consquences were felt by the commissioners around Ney’s breakfast table. The moment the Czar learned what had happened, their principal weapon, the French army’s united support of the Bonapartes, would be useless. All they could do was rush to Talleyrand’s house and hope to snatch Alexander’s agreement to the regency before he heard the news. At first, they thought they would succeed. Receiving them, the Czar rehearsed his previous reservations, but gave ground before their counterarguments. At that moment, one of his aides-de-camp entered the room and, in order to conceal his message from the Frenchmen, spoke to Alexander in Russian. But Caulaincourt, who had been French ambassador to St Petersburg, understood enough to know that the subject was the defection of Marmont’s corps. He turned to Macdonald next to him and whispered: ‘Bad news. .. We are lost. .. He knows everything.’15
When Alexander turned his attention back to them, Caulaincourt and the marshals could see that everything had changed. The Czar announced
Briefly that the regency would be unworkable, and that the Bourbons offered the only hope of stability for France. ‘The Emperor must abdicate unconditionally,’ he concluded. ‘He will be provided for; we will give him an independent state.’ Devastated, the commissioners left to report the news to Napoleon. At the foot of the staircase, Caulaincourt was called back. Alexander wanted to know what territory he thought most suitable as Napoleon’s future realm. After Corsica, Sardinia, and Corfu had been discussed and rejected, Caulaincourt suggested the small island of Elba, off the Tuscan coast. The Czar accepted the proposal.16
The exhausted envoys now returned to Fontainebleau, where they arrived at 2 a. m. on 6 April. Napoleon was fast asleep, so Caulaincourt went into his bedroom, shook him awake, and told him of the failure of their mission. Napoleon initially considered withdrawing to fight behind the Loire, but soon decided this would only lead to civil war, and that if he continued fighting more of his commanders might follow Marmont’s example. Caulaincourt then left, leaving his master to his own thoughts. A few hours later, Napoleon summoned him, along with Ney and Macdonald, and told them he would abdicate unconditionally. He wrote out a short statement and handed it to Caulaincourt:
The allied Powers having declared that the Emperor Napoleon is the sole obstacle to the restoration of peace in Europe, the Emperor Napoleon, faithful to his coronation oath, declares that he renounces, for himself and his successors, the thrones of France and Italy, and that there is no personal sacrifice, even that ofhis life, that he is not prepared to make in the interests ofFrance.
With those short lines, an extraordinary European empire came to an end. It had lasted for twenty years, and dominated the continent from Spain to the borders of Russia. Ultimately, it had been brought down by a revolt of army commanders driven to breaking-point by Napoleon’s intransigence. Marmont’s disobedience was the most critical; without it, Napoleon would still have been forced to abdicate, but his throne would probably have been saved for his son. The other marshals’ refusal to fight on was also an act of mutiny, though less spectacular than Marmont’s. This was underlined on the morning of 6 April, even before Napoleon had abdicated, when Ney, Macdonald, and Caulaincourt instructed Berthier, as chief of staff, to transmit no further orders from Napoleon to the troops.18
Ifthe empire was dead, its funeral still had to be arranged. This was left to the commissioners. First, an armistice had to be signed. The details of
Figure 14. The table on which Napoleon wrote his abdication.
Napoleon’s future, and that of his family, also needed to be settled. To draw up the armistice, the cooperation of Berthier, to whom command of the army now devolved, was essential. Berthier readily offered to help, since peace had been his dearest wish ever since the retreat from Moscow. However, he had no wish to be chosen as one of the commissioners required to implement the agreement. He was exhausted, and probably still suffering from the effects ofthe lance-thrust to his head in February. Just before the armistice was completed, he excused himselfto Caulaincourt in a letter showing he was on the verge of a breakdown:
I have just received the armistice announcement: I have distributed it to all the army corps and to the forward posts, and ordered the end of all hostilities. The most urgent thing is to nominate commissioners. You know I need a rest. Would it be possible to name someone other than me [as a commissioner]? ... Who is the allied commissioner? Where must he report to?
It seems to me that he should come to headquarters. Shouldn’t we inform our garrisons of the armistice? Let me know, please, about all these things... Can one authorize troop movements before the commissioners arrive? This is
Urgent, since we are camped so close together that supplies will soon run out... Can I give passes to those [officers] who want to go to Paris? How will we get money for the army? Who should one go to to get what it needs? What should my relations be with the [new] minister of war? ... During the armistice, I think it would be best for either [Macdonald or Ney] to command the army. You know that I need a rest, at least for some time.
At the time of writing, Berthier was clearly incapable of taking a decision about anything. The next day he rallied a little. He still refused to become a commissioner, but told Caulaincourt he would stay on for the moment as commander of the army. He had no intention, however, of going to Elba, even for a short time, and within four days had left Fontainebleau. He never saw Napoleon again. He was reproached at the time, and subsequently, for abandoning his old friend and patron. Caulaincourt was more sympathetic. ‘Without doubt,’ he wrote in his memoirs,
[Berthier] would have done better not to leave until the Emperor had himself departed, but before judging him, one should injustice consider the thousand embarrassments and pitfalls of his situation. One should also remember the state he was in, suffering, tormented by the restlessness of the Emperor, who had been worrying him for some time, and even frightening him by proposing plans for which he feared he would be made responsible. The Emperor’s feverish mood made Berthier genuinely ill... sleepless nights, fatigue, and age had been undermining [Berthier’s] faculties for two years... The Emperor, who saw this change, sometimes treated him quite badly.
Napoleon’s own status, and that of his family, was resolved by the treaty of Fontainebleau, which was signed on ii April. He retained the courtesy title of Emperor, and was given the sovereignty of Elba for life, with an annual income of two million francs to be paid by his Bourbon successors. He was also permitted a guard of four hundred of his own soldiers. Marie-Louise was given the three north Italian duchies of Parma, Piacenza, and Guastalla, which her son and his descendants would inherit. Napoleon’s mother, brothers, sisters, nephews, and nieces were all accorded princely rank and substantial pensions. Even his ex-wife Josephine was not forgotten; her divorce settlement was reduced slightly, but she remained an extremely wealthy woman.
On 12 April, Napoleon appeared calm, but exhausted and depressed. He talked to Caulaincourt for hours about the problems facing France, and the humiliations he foresaw for her. Twice he exclaimed: ‘Life is unbearable to me!’ Caulaincourt eventually left, but was summoned again at 3 a. m. Napoleon was lying in bed in semi-darkness, and told Caulaincourt to sit
Near him. In a weak voice, he said he was convinced that Marie-Louise and the king of Rome would not be allowed to join him on Elba, and that attempts would be made to assassinate him. He asked Caulaincourt to remain attached to his wife and son, and then began hiccuping and groaning in pain. Horrified, Caulaincourt asked if he had taken poison. Napoleon replied that he had swallowed a preparation of opium he had kept in a bag hung round his neck since the retreat from Moscow, when he had feared being taken prisoner.
Caulaincourt started for the door to get help, but Napoleon struggled desperately to prevent him. Eventually Caulaincourt broke free and alerted a servant. At this moment Napoleon began vomiting up the opium, which saved his life. As it had been kept for two years the poison had lost some of its potency, and given his body a chance to expel it. By 7 a. m. he was out of danger, but ‘his face was extremely haggard, almost distraught, its features shrunken’. Two hours later, though still very weak, he was receiving visitors. His recovery was helped by an affectionate letter from Marie-Louise, written on the road from Orleans to Rambouillet. While some rumours of his attempted suicide leaked out, those who knew the truth kept it a close secret. It was only confirmed beyond doubt by the publication of Caulaincourt’s memoirs in 1933.21
Meanwhile, Marie-Louise had been having troubles of her own. Since leaving Paris, she, her son, her brother-in-law Joseph, and the regency council had travelled to Blois, then Orleans. For some weeks, it is probable that Joseph had been attempting to seduce her. Rumours of this have occasionally been mentioned since, but much more solid evidence comes in unpublished notes of Caulaincourt’s, which for reasons of discretion he did not include in his memoirs. Caulaincourt twice met and had long conversations with Marie-Louise towards the end of April, and she may well have confided in him then. He also claimed that Napoleon himself confirmed the story the following year. Napoleon, he recalled, told him that in March 1814
A phrase in a letter from the Empress Marie-Louise, which revealed that Prince Joseph had behaved badly to her but did no go into any further details, made the Emperor realize that [Joseph] had tried to rape her...A report from the minister of police gave details, which had been only too clear since the Empress in her indignation had complained ofthis to her household. The Emperor said to me: ‘How can I trust people... who behaved in this way in the situation we were in then? Joseph is... without honour, as ambitious as he is incapable.’
Figure 15. The bed in which Napoleon attempted suicide at Fontainebleau during the night of 12—13 April 1814.
This incident may well have had important political consequences, deciding Marie-Louise not to share her husband’s exile. Napoleon’s brothers and sisters had always treated her badly, particularly jerlame and Pauline, Princess Borghese. In Caulaincourt’s view, Joseph’s conduct was the last straw. Had Marie-Louise not feared that Joseph and the rest of Napoleon’s family might come to Elba too, he thought, she would have resisted much more fiercely the allies’ efforts to separate her from her husband. ‘The result of aU these iniquities’, Caulaincourt concluded,
Was [to give the Empress] a pronounced aversion for [the Bonaparte] family, and a secret reluctance to follow the Emperor to a place where she might meet them and suffer their malice. When the Empress learned the details of the abdication she announced she was ready to share the Emperor’s fate and console him, but then she reflected... ‘I don’t want to go to Elba with Joseph and jerdme; I don’t want to see Princess Borghese again, they’d make me too miserable... She cried, lamented the Emperor’s misfortune, repeated that that
She was willing to die with him, but not to go to Elba with him because of his family.23
On 12 April, the Bourbons took possession of Paris. Louis XVIII was immobilized in England by a sharp attack of gout, so his younger brother the comte d’Artois, who had been in eastern France with the allies since February, entered the city in his name as lieutenant-general of the kingdom. Mounted on a white horse, he rode up to the Porte de Pantin, where the provisional government had assembled to meet him. Talleyrand came forward and, leaning against Artois’ horse to take the weight off his club foot, uttered some flattering words of welcome: ‘Monseigneur, the joy we feel on this day of regeneration wiU be beyond aU expression, if you accept, with the celestial goodness that distinguishes your august house, the homage of our profound emotion and respectful devotion.’ Artois, who was seeing Paris for the first time in twenty-five years, was so moved he was unable to reply.24
Napoleon stayed at Fontainebleau for a further week, preparing his departure for Elba. It was now clear that Marie-Louise would not accompany him, but would return to Vienna with her father, taking her son with her. During this time four commissioners, one from each of the allied Powers, arrived to escort him to his destination and ensure his safety: General KoUer for Austria, Count Shuvalov for Russia, Sir Neil Campbell for England, and General von Waldburg-Truchsess for Prussia. At midday on 20 April, Napoleon held his last parade, to say farewell to the Imperial Guard, in the Courtyard of the White Horse in front of the chateau. Of his entourage, only the diehards were left, including his secretary Fain and the duc de Bassano. Caulaincourt was absent, negotiating final details on his behalf in Paris. The scene has become legendary. Napoleon faced his veterans and made a short, emotional speech:
Soldiers of my Old Guard, I have come to say goodbye. For twenty years, you have always followed the path of honour and glory. In these last days, as in those of our prosperity, you have never ceased to be models of courage and loyalty... Do not lament my fate; if I have decided to go on living, it is to serve your glory. I wish to write the history of the great things we have done together!... Farewell, my children! I would like to embrace you all; let me at least embrace your flag!
General Petit came forward with one of the standards, and the Emperor buried his face in its folds. By this time everybody present was in tears, from
The Guardsmen to the allied commissioners. Napoleon tore himself away, walked quickly to the carriage drawn up at the gates of the courtyard, and took the road south.
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