The informal meeting held in the courtyard at Fontainebleau was a historical event. Its members chatted about the course taken by the senate, about Caulaincourt's mission, and discussed in particular the suggestion of abdication. The marshals and great generals, long since disgusted with campaigning, wounded in their dignity by the Emperor's rebukes, and attributing their recent failures to the wretched quality of the troops assigned to them, were eager for peace, and yearned to enjoy their hard-earned fortunes. They caught at the seductive idea presented by Caulaincourt. The abdication of Napoleon would mean the perpetuation of the Empire. The Empire would be not merely peace, but peace with what war had gained; to wit, the imperial court and society, the preservation and enjoyment of estates, the continuity of processes which had done so much to regenerate France and make her a modern nation. The prospect was irresistible, and Ney only expressed the grim determination of his colleagues when he gave the watchword so unexpectedly at the mounting of the guard. When Napoleon entered his cabinet he found there Berthier, Maret, Caulaincourt, and Bertrand. Concealing his agitation, he began the routine of such familiar labors as impend on the eve of battle. Almost instantly hurrying footsteps were heard in the corridor, the door was burst open, and on the threshold stood Ney, Lefebvre, Oudinot, and Macdonald. The leader of the company quailed an instant under the Emperor's gaze, and then gruffly demanded if there were news from Paris. No, was the reply--a deliberate falsehood, since the decree of the senate had arrived the night before. "Well, then, I have some," roared Ney, and told the familiar facts.
At Nogent, six weeks earlier, Ney and Oudinot had endeavored to bully Napoleon in a similar way; then they were easily cowed. But now Napoleon's manner was conciliatory and his speech argumentative. Long and eloquently he set forth his situation. Enumerating all the forces immediately and remotely at his disposal, describing minutely the plan of attack which Macdonald had stamped with his approval, explaining the folly of the course pursued by the allies, contrasting the perils of their situation with the advantages of his own, he sought to justify his assurance of victory. The eloquence of a Napoleon, calm, collected, clear, but pleading for the power which was dearer to him than life, can only be imagined. But his arguments fell on deaf ears; not one of his audience gave any sign of emotion. Macdonald was the only one present not openly committed, and he too was sullen; during the last twenty-four hours he had received, through Marmont, a letter from Beurnonville, the contents of which, though read to Napoleon then and there, have not been transmitted to posterity. What happened or what was said thereafter is far from certain, so conflicting and so biased are the accounts of those present. Contemporaries thought that in this crisis, when Ney declared the army would obey its officers and would not march to Paris in obedience to the Emperor, there were menacing gestures which betrayed a more or less complete purpose of assassination on the part of some. If so, Napoleon was never greater; for, commanding a calm by his dignified self-restraint, he dismissed the faithless officers one and all. They went, and he was left alone with Caulaincourt to draw up the form of his abdication.